Qass t i~-^ i Book ,r- .. /a '■ f €hxm)ion ^r^ss ^txm THE PHILOLOGY Siff ENGLISH TONGUE JOHN EARLE, M.A. RECTOR OF SWANSWICK Formerly Feliow and Tutor of Oriel College, and sotnetime Professor of Anglo-Saxo7i in the University of Oxford AT THE CLARENDON PRESS M DCCC LXXI \_All rights reserved'] Hoution MACMILLAN AND CO. PUBLISHERS TO THE UNIVERSITY OF I PREFACE. Philology may be described as a science of language based upon the comparison of languages. It is the aim of Philology to order the study of language upon principles indicated by language itself, so that each part and function shall have its true and natural place assigned to it, according to the order, relation, and proportion dictated by the nature of language. What the nature of language is, can be ascer- tained only by a wide comparison of languages taken at various stages of development. Such a work is to be per- formed, not by any one man, but by the co-operation of many : and many have now been co-operating this three quarters of a century past, and sending in from every land their contributions towards it. «■ In this newly gotten knowledge of human language there is matter for educational use. The relations of language to culture are so intimate that what betters our knowledge of the one should improve the process of the other. It is an open question in what way the lessons of language may best be converted to the purpose of education, but there is one fault which might at least be somewhat mended: — our know- ledge of language has been too broken and divided : we have most of us known one language best vernacularly, and another best grammatically. Something would be gained if our cultivation of language could be rather more centred upon the mother tongue, so that our vernacular and our IV ^ PREFACE. philological acquirements might more effectually support one another. The lessons of philology would be taught more . thoroughly, as well as more conveniently, if the materials for the instruction were supplied by the mother tongue. The effect of philological study is to quicken the perception of analogy between languages ; and this advantage would be more immediate in its returns if our philology were more based on the mother tongue. Nothing would put the learner so readily or so implicitly in possession of all the essence of philological gains ; nothing would be of such good prac- tical avail when the knowledge of one language was needed to bear on the acquisition of another. Were the English language studied philologically, the faculty of acquiring other languages would soon be more generally an English faculty. There are two chief ways of entering upon a scientific study. One is by the way of Principles, and the other is by the way of Elements. If the learner approaches Philology by the way of principles, it is necessary that the principles should be familiarised to him by the aid of examples and illustrations drawn from various languages. Each of the methods excels in its own peculiar way ; and the excellence of this method is, that the subject is presented with the greatest fullness and totality of effect — as a mountain is most imposing to the view on its most precipitous side. But it has this great drawback, — that the learner can ill judge of the examples ; he must take them on authority ; and so far forth as the instruction is based on facts which are not within the cognisance of the learner, the teaching is unscientific. The other method is by the examination of a single lan- guage ; and here the course of treatment follows the order of natural growth, introducing the principles in an occasional and incidental manner, just as they happen to be called for PREFACE. y in the course of the investigation. If the object-language be the learner's own vernacular, this course will be something like climbing a mountain by the side where the slope is easiest. When this path is chosen, the complete and com- pact view of principles as a whole will be deferred until such time as the learner shall have reached them severally by means of facts which He within his own experience. It is upon this, which may be called the Elementary method, that the present manual has been constructed ; the aim of which has been to find a path through most familiar ground up to philological principles. > It was assumed at starting that the English language would furnish examples of all that is most typical in human speech, and it has been the reward of the labourer in this instance that his anticipation of the fecundity of his material has been most abundantly and even unexpectedly verified.' I owe thanks for help to various friends, and to two more especially, for perusing and annotating my sheets — affording me thereby not only useful hints, but also a support and encouragement that they probably had little intention of. The excellent verbal Index is the work of H. N. Harvey, Esq., of the Ordnance Survey Office, Southampton ; and while it is the most valuable addition that this handbook could have received, it is by me still more highly esteemed as a new token of an old friendship. . CONTENTS. Historic Sketch of the Rise and Formation of the English i-,AINUUAUJi Chapter I. On the English Alphabet 99 Chapter II. Spelling and Pronunciation 121 Chapter III. Of Interjections 158 Chapter IV. Of the Parts of Speech .... 176 Chapter V. Of Presentive and Symbolic Words, and oi Inflections 193 Chapter VI. The Verbal Group 224 I. Strong Verbs .... 228 2. Mixed Verbs 246 3. Weak Verbs 253 4. Verb Making .... 256 Chapter VII. The Noun Group 261 I. Of the Substantive 265 2. Of the Adjective .... 321 3. Of the Adverb .... 359 § The Numerals 381 Chapter VIII. The Pronoun Group 387 I. Substantival Pronouns . 390 2. Adjectival Pronouns 408 3. Adverbial Pronouns 417 VIU CONTENTS. PAGE The Link- Word Group 434 1. Of Prepositions 435 2. Of Conjunctions ..... 444 Of Syntax 460 1. Flat or CoUocative Syntax . . .461 2. Syntax of Flexion 474 3. Syntax by Symbolic Words . . -487 Of Compounds 501 1. Compounds of the First Order . . 504 2. Compounds of the Second Order . .510 3. Compounds of the Third Order . -513 Chapter XII. Of Prosody, or the Musical Element in Speech . 516 1. Of Sound as an Illustrative Agency . 519 2. Of Sound as a Formative Agency . '536 3. Of Sound as an Instinctive Object of Attraction 542 Chapter IX. Chapter X. Chapter XL HISTORIC SKETCH OF THE RISE AND FORMATION OF THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE. The first thing in the description of a language is its affinities with other languages : and the consideration of this belongs to what is called Comparative Philology. The English is one of the languages of the great Indo-European family, the members of which have been traced across the double continent of Asia and Europe through the Sanscrit, Persian, Greek, Latin, Slavonic, Gothic, and Keltic lan- guages. In order to illustrate the right of our English language to a place in this series, it will suffice to exhibit a few proofs of definite relationship between our language on the one hand, and the classical languages of Greece and Italy on the other. The readiest illustration of this is to be found in the transition of consonants. When the same words appear under altered forms in different members of the same family of languages, the diversity of form is found to have a regular method and analogy. Such an analogy has been established between the varying consonants which B '2, SKETCH OF THE RISE hold analogous positions in cognate languages, and their variation has been reduced to rule by the German philo- loger Jacob Grimm. He has founded the law of consonantal transition, or consonantal equivalents. A few easy examples will put the reader in possession of the nature of the thing. When a Welshman speaks Enghsh in Shakspeare he often substitutes p for b, as Fluellen in Henry V. act v. sc. i : ' pragging knave, Pistoll, which you and your self and all the world know to be no petter than a fellow, looke you now, of no merits : hee is come to me, and prings me pread and sault yesterday, looke you, and bid me eate my leeke,' &c. The Welsh parson, Sir Hugh Evans, in Merry Wives, puts T for D : 'it were a goot motion' — ' The tevil and his tarn' — and ' worts' for words, as : 'Evans. Pauca verba; {^\x Johii) good worts. Falstaffe. Good worts .? good cabidge.' Likewise f for v: 'It is that ferry^person for all the orld ' ; and ' fidelicet' for videhcet — ' I most fehemently desire you,' &c. Between closely cognate languages an interchange of this sort often exhibits great system and regularity. Everybody knows that Hebrew and Chaldee are cognate languages. Between them there is a well-marked interchange of z and D ; while a third dialect, which we may call Phoenician, would in the same place put a t. The Hebrew pronoun for this is zeh; but in Chaldee it becomes daa and DEN and Di : the Hebrew word for male is zakae ; but in Chaldee it appears as dekar : the Hebrew verb to sacrifice is zavach; but in Chaldee it is devach: the Hebrew verb for being timid is zachal ; but in Chaldee it is DECHAL. But if we compare Hebrew with the third dialect we get t for z. The Hebrew word for rock is zooR or TsooR, after which a famous Phoenician city seated OF THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE. 3 on a rock was called Zok, as it is always called in the Old Testament; but this word sounded in Greek ears from Phoenician mouths so as to cause them to write it Tvpos, Tyrus, whence we have the name of Tyre. The same word (probably) passing with an early migration westward is found in the Dartmoor Tors. It is to this sort of play upon the gamut or scale of consonants, a play which is kept up between kindred dialects, that Grimm, when he had reduced it to a sort of law, gave the name of Lautverschiehung ; sound-shunting of consonantal equivalents ; reciprocity of consonants. \^' As, on the one side, we find this reciprocity where we find cognate dialects; so on the other hand, if we can establish the fact that there is or has been such a con- sonantal reciprocity between two languages, we have ob- tained the strongest proof of their relationship. There are traces of this kind between the English on the one hand and the Classical languages on the other. ' We suppose the reader is familiar with the twofold divi- sion of the mute consonants into lip, tooth, and throat consonants in the one direction ; and into thin, middle, and aspirate consonants in the other direction. If not, he should learn this little table by heart, before he proceeds a step further. Learn it by rote, both ways, both horizontally and vertically. . Lip. Thin p Middle b Aspii'ate f Tooth. t d ]i or "^ or th Throat. cor'k g h (Saxon). By means of these classifications of consonants we are able to shew traces of a law of transition having existed B 2 4 SKETCH OF THE RISE between English and the Classical languages. We find instances of words, for example, which begin with a thin consonant in Greek or Latin or both, and the same word is found in English or its cognate dialects beginning with an aspirate. Thus if the Latin or Greek word begins with p the English word begins with f. Examples : Trvp and fire: npo, irpatTos, primus, compared with the Saxon w^ords fruma,frem; with the modern preposition _/r,fm' and de : Examples of the Danish passive form : — Active. Passive, At give, to give At gives, to he given At elske, to love At elskes, to he loved At finde, to find At findes, to he found At faae, to get At faaes, to he gotten At drive, to drive At drives, to he driven So Strongly marked a characteristic might seem to forbid the classifying of these languages with the Low Dutch. But on the other hand there are between the two best preserved forms of each group — that is, between the Icelandic of the north and the Gothic of the south — such deep traces of affinity, that they must be embraced, as against the High Dutch dialects, in one category. And it is a circumstance worthy of observation, that these languages have no ancient and domestic name by which they are characterized, except that of the Northern (Norrsena) Speech. This seems like an internal testimony that they are the northern branch of the Low Dutch family. A large proportion of the consonantal variations between OF THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE. • S O c^ SI J-H _^^ a H (D > «+H be o .22 O j:^ d r^ 'H _&o (tJ J %-t O To a o ^ a en > o 2 s o c^ m d ■S -13 1 bo OJ a 1 a O a rt ^ OJ "3 a3 a Hi 3 i S 0) S h-1 o a; o 1 CD ^ .0 2^ X! 23 2^ b€ ^ 2 of E3 g •5 c3 o 1 1 a ^< QQPQQQQQQQQQ IS a 8 QQOQQQQQQQQQ d H H H H H H H H H H H H '-'2_2<5J-5ooqjt;.l2 t^ rt cs S (U .2: .Si .S :^ .- (U =f " ^ :o3 S D 'C NNNNNNNNNNNNNN SKETCH OF THE RISE^ Compare also the following German and English words, as an illustration of j r in other parts than the initials of words : — weiss, wMe : wasser, wa/er : heiss, ko^ : essen, ea^ ; and as an example of ^ > mut, 7?wod. To the same effect is the following list, in which the Old High Dutch is compared with the English and others of the same division : O.H.D. English, &c. Zuo To Zagal Tail Zahar Tear Zala Tale Zeljan Tell Zand Tooth Zehan Ten Zeichan Token Zelt Tent Zam Tame Zerjan Tear Ziagal Tile O.H.D. English, &c. Zies-tag Ziht Zil Tuesday Tiht (A.S.) Till Zimbar Timber Zit Tide Ziuhan Zugil Teon (A.S.) Tackle Zol Toll Zomi Zorn rTom(Dan.&Swed t Tomr (Isl.) ? Torn (A.S.) \ Toorn (Dutch) In like manner the Old High Dutch Zofa, = tuft, corre- sponds to our Tof in local names, as Tothill, or Tuthill. The Old High German zouvi is in Dutch tooni : in Swedish toem : in Danish toemme : in Icelandic ^aum : in Anglo-Saxon /yme : and in English fea??i. These examples are all drawn from one set of consonants, the tooth-consonants or dentals, and it is in this class of con- sonants that the most conspicuous examples occur. The throat-consonants or gutturals would provide but a com- paratively feeble set of examples. And as to the lip-con- sonants or labials, they are for the most part alike in the High and Low Dutch divisions. The Old High Dutch words hachan, had, bach, bald, bancli, hart, bein, bo ran, bar a, . OF THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE. II biian, botah, Sec, correspond to the English bake, bath, beck, bold, bench, beard, bone, born, bier, bide, body, &c. Yet a marked tendency in Old High Dutch to spell many words with p instead of b, goes to sustain our law, which requires the High Dutch to have a thin consonant where Low Dutch has a middle. These illustrations of the reciprocity of con- sonants are not co-extensive with the whole scheme as de- vised by Grimm, but they contain the more obvious and con- spicuous parts of it. What has been said will shew the nature of the thing ; and a little reflection will make it clear how strong an evidence of primaeval relationship these analo- gies carry with them. This evidence would be far less perfect than it is, but for the material which has been supplied by means of Christianity. To this cause we trace the preservation of the oldest Hterary records of our family of languages. In the fourth century Scripture was translated into Moeso- Gothic, at a stage in the condition of the Moeso-Goths when by their own natural literary efforts they could barely have recorded a name on a tomb-stone. In the seventh century Anglo-Saxon was cultivated by means of Chris- tianity, and over five centuries were produced those writings which have partly survived. In the eleventh and twelfth centuries the spread of Christianity northwards had the effect of getting the Norsk Sagas to be committed to writing. Literary culture has been transplanted from the old into the midst of the young and rising peoples of the world, and hence it has come to pass that among the nations which have sprung into existence since Christianity, a better record of their primitive language has been preserved. Hence the striking fact that we can trace the written history of our English language within this island for the space of twelve hundred years. Christianity was the cause of its 12 SKETCH OF THE RISE early cultivation; and this has made it possible for us to follow back the traces of our language into a far higher relative antiquity than that in which the languages of Greece and Rome first begin to emerge into historic view. This has been very generally the case with the Christian nations of the world. Their literature begins with their conversion; and but for that event it would have been long delayed. Thus the rude tribes of the distant islands have now, by means of the missionaries, the best books of the world translated into their own tongues; and this at a stage of existence in which they could not produce a written record. Thus it was that in the fourth century the Goths on the Danube were converted to Christianity ; and we have much of the New Testament still remaining to us, which was then rendered into the Gothic dialect. This is the oldest book we can go back to, as written in a language like our own. It has therefore a national interest for us; but apart from this, it has a nobility and grandeur all its own, as it is one of the finest specimens of ancient lan- guage. It is by this, and this alone, that we are able to realise to how high a pitch of inflection the speech of our own race was carried. Inflections which in German, or even in Anglo-Saxon, are but fragmentarily preserved, like rehcs of an expiring fashion, are there seen standing forth in all their archaic rigidity and polysyllabicity. Matth. vii. I. Mt) Kpivere IVa jxt) KpiOTJTC. Ni stojith ei ni stojaindau. OF THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE. 1 3 Matth. ix. 31. Ith. eis us-gaggandans us-meridedun ina in allai Bui ihey out-going out-heralded him in all airthai jainai. earth that (yon). Matth. x. 36. Jah fijands mans innaktindai is. -£V inimici hominis domestici ejus. The grammatical system of the Gothic dialect has been compared for its effect to that of the Sanscrit. But while these two languages may be mentioned together as the two signal examples of high inflectional tension, it should not be forgotten that an immense gulf of circumstance divides them. The Sanscrit grammar is the product of a long- sustained and cloistered culture — the Gothic grammar was the property of shepherds, who were little in advance of the life of nomads. Not until the field of language has been much more generally cultivated, will it be known and appreciated how great a light of history is preserved to us in the Gothic remains. For these we have to thank the benign and fertilising effect of Christianity, which sheds hght directly and indirectly, and in whose nature it is to promote all things that enrich the life of man, and to animate with worthy objects every one of his faculties. Professor Max Miiller has declared how greatly philology is indebted to Christianity; and he has testified that, but for its influence, this science could hardly, as yet, have come into existence. In the subjoined Lord's Prayer the EngHsh is a little distorted in order to act as a guide to the Gothic words: — 14 SKETCH OF THE RISE THE LORD'S PRAYER. From the Gothic Version of Ulphilas ; made about a.d. 365. Aivaggeljo tliairh Matthaiu. From Chap. vi. of the Gospel by Matthew. Atta unsar thu in himinam Father our thou in heaven Veilmai namo thein Be-halloived name thine Kvimai tliiudmassus theins Come kingdom thine Vairtliai vilja theins, sve in himina jali ana airthai Be-done will thine as in heaven yea on earth Hlaif unsarana thana sinteinan gif \xns himma daga Loaf our the daily give us this day. lah aflet uns tliatei skxilans sijaima Vea off-let us that-which owing we-be Svasve jah veis afletam thaim skulam unsar aim So-as yea we off-let those debtors of ours lah ni briggais uns in fraistubnjai Vea not bring us in temptation Ak lausei uns af tliamma ubilin But loose us of the evil ITnte theina ist tliiudangardi For thine is kingdom lah mahts lah vulthus Vea might Yea glory In aivins. Am fen. In eternity. Amen. OF THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE. 1 5 The Low Dutch family of languages falls into two natural divisions, the Southern or Teutonic Platt-Deutsch, and the Northern or Scandinavian. It was at the point of junction between these halves — at the neck of the Danish penin- sula, along the banks of the Elbe, and along the south-west coasts of the Baltic — that our continental progenitors lived and spoke. A question has been raised, whether we are to be classed with the northern or the southern division of this great family. An incident that occurred at Clair- sur-Epte in the year A.D. 912, tends to shew that Englisc then was very like Danish. Rolf the Northern chief would not kiss the foot of Charles the Simple, unless he lifted it to his mouth. Accord- ing to one form of the tale, the famous refusal was made in a language which was taken for Englisc. Now the company present spoke Frankish, that is to say, Old High Dutch ; and unless we suppose Rolf to have learnt EngHsc, which seems a romantic hypothesis, we have the interesting testimony that the Franks saw little or no distinction between Englisc and Danish ^. A great deal may be said, and in fact has been said and written, to prove that we are Scandinavians, and to draw us over the middle border. But it generally resolves itself into a number of points of similarity rather than into an essential and ancient similitude. Words and names are compared as if it were forgotten how largely wx have borrowed from the Danes in historic times. It is not to be denied, however, that we have some peculiarities in common with the Norsk dialects, which argue very close relations with those people. A striking illustration of this may be found in the Anglo- Saxon word for the giant of the legends. The giant is eoten, the same word as the Old l^orsk Jo^unn — a word unknown ^ Freeman's Norman Conquest, vol. i. p. 190. 1 6 SKETCH OF THE RISE in the Teutonic branch. Grimm imagined that the word had been derived from the verb to eaf (efan), because the giant is a huge eater. But this can hardly be. Aheady in the Beowulf ^Q have the adjective formed from eoten, eotenisc, of a sword that had belonged to giants. Professor Nilsson, in his Stone Age (p. 228, ed. Lubbock), has, with great appear- ance of probabihty, traced this word to a Lapland origin, so that the word would have flowed out along with the Giant- Sagas, which he makes the Laps the parents of. That a .word of mark like this should have its barrier between us and Germany— should be in Norsk and Saxon, but not in any High or Low Dutch — is an indication that our ancestors can hardly be classed as pure and unaltered Teutons. The Saxons were a border people, and spoke a Low Dutch strongly impregnated with Scandinavian associations. But the more we go back into the elder forms on either side, the more does it seem to come out clear, that our mother tongue is, in fundamentals, to be identified with the Platt- Deuisch, the dialect of the Hanseatic cities, the dialect which has been created into a national language in that which we call the Dutch, as spoken in the kingdom of the Netherlands. The people of Bremen call their dialect Nieder-Sdchisch, i.e. Lowland-Saxon; and the genuine original ' Saxony' of European history was in this part, namely, the middle and lower Met of the Elbe. The name of ' Saxon ' has always adhered to our nation, though we have seemed almost as if we had been willing to divest ourselves of it. We have called our country England, and our language English : yet our neighbours west and north, the Welsh and the Gael, have still called us Saxons, and our language Saxonish. It has become the literary habit of recent times to use the term * Saxon ' as a distinction for the early period of our history and language and hterature, and to reserve the term OF THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE. 1 7 'English' for the later period. There is some degree of literary impropriety in this, because the Saxons called their own language Englisc. On this ground some critics insist that we should let the word English stand for the whole extent of our insular history, which they would divide into Old English, Middle Enghsh, and New English. But on the whole, the terms already in use seem bolder, and more distinct. They enable us to distinguish between Saxon and Anglian; and they also comprise the united nation under the compound term Anglo-Saxon. As expressive of the dominant power, it is not very irregular to call the whole nation briefly Saxon. We have no contemporary account of the Saxon colonisa- tion. The story which Baeda gives us in the eighth century, is, that there were people from three tribes. Angles, Saxons, and Jutes. The latter were said to be still distinguishable in Kent and the Isle of Wight ; but, except in this statement, we have lost all trace of the Jutes. The Angles and Saxons long stood apart and distinct from one another; and they had each a corner of their own. The Anglians occupied the north and east of England, and the Saxons the south and west. The line of Watling Street, running from London to Chester, may be taken as the boundary line between these races, whom we shall sometimes combine, according to prevalent usage, under the joint name of Anglo-Saxons, or under the dominant name of Saxons. When the Anglo-Saxons began to make themselves masters of this island, they found here a population which is known in -history as the British race. This people spoke the language which is now represented by the Welsh. It was an ancient Keltic dialect somewhat tinctured with Latin. The Britons had been in subjection to Roman dominion for a space of between three and four centuries. This would naturally have c 15 SKETCH OF THE RISE left a trace upon their language. And hence we find that of the words which the Saxons learnt from the Britons, some are undoubted Latin, others are doubtful whether they should be called Latin or Keltic. Of the first class are those ele- ments of local nomenclature -chestee, from castrum = a fortified place — Saxon form, c easier : street, from strata, \.q. 'via strata' = a causeway — Saxon form, street : port, a word derived from the Latin porta, a gate, signified in Saxon times just 'a town, a market-town.' And this is the sense of it in such a compound as Newport Pagnell. Wall (Saxon weall) is through the same filtered process a descendant of the Latin Valium = a rampart : mil, from the Latin ?jiilia (pas- suum), a thousand paces, has lived through all the ages to our day, and we are the only people of Western Europe who still make use of this Roman measure of distance. The French keep to their league {lieue), the measure which they had in use before the Romans troubled them, the old Keltic leuga. In Saxon poetry we find the old highways called by the suggestive name of mil-pa^as, the mile-paths. Corvee, a troop, is probably the Latin cohors : carceen, a prison, is the Latin career, with the Saxon word em, a building, mingled into the last syllable : tigol, a tile, is the Roman iegula : meowle, a poetic word for woman, is most likely the Latin mulier ; and f^mne, a prose word for the same, is from the 'L'aXm/cBmina. ' Orchard,' in Saxon ort-geaed, is a tautological compound of the Latin hortus or ortus, a garden, and geard, the Saxon for garden or any yard or enclosure. At this time too, we must have received the names of many plants and fruits, as pyeige, the pear, Latin pyrus. Many of the words which pertain to the personal and social comforts of life, were in this manner learnt at second- hand from Roman culture : as disc, a dish, from his handing J OF THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE. 1 9 of which a royal officer all through the Saxon period bore the title of disc-Jjegn, dish-thane. From those which we class as certainly Brito-Roman, we move on to some other words which hover between the characteristics of British and Roman. Such is that famous verb to ear, in the sense of 'to plough, till, cultivate'; which in the form ekiajn" was the standard word for ploughing all through the Saxon period, a word which occurs in Shak- speare, and which in the opening of the seventeenth century was still in force sufficient to retain five places in our version of the Old Testament, as may be seen by reference to Cruden's Concordance, under the words Ear, Eared, Earing. This word might be derived from the Latin arare, through the British form aru; or the British form may be considered as an independent Keltic word, with as good a claim to originality as the Latin. And to this latter view its wealth of derivatives seems to point. This, however, is a question which belongs rather to a history of the British language, than to English philology. What concerns us here to note, is this : that soon after the Saxon settlement, the verb eeian must have been adopted from the British vernacular. When we consider that there was much originally in com- mon between the Latin and the Keltic, and, even again, between these two and the Gothic languages, it is no matter of surprise that after so long a period we should find it difficult to sift out with absolute distinctness the words which we owe to the British influence. The most certain are those names of rivers and mountains, and some elements in the names of ancient towns, which have been handed on from Keltic times to ours. Thus the river-name Avon is unquestionably British, for it is the common word for river in Wales to this day. So again with regard to that large class of river-names which are merely variations of the one c 2 20 SKETCH OF THE RISE name Isca — Usk, Ux, Wis- in Wisbech, The Wash, Exe, Axe, Ouse, by academic corruption Isis, and by municipal cor- ruption Ox- in Oxford. All these are but many forms of one Keltic word, m'sg = water ; which is found in usquehagh, the Irish for eau-de-vie, and in the word whiskey. There are, however, on our map, a great many names of rivers and cities and mountains, of which, though so precise an account cannot be rendered, it is generally concluded that they are British— because they run back historically into the time when British was prevalent — because they are not Saxon — because, in short, they cannot otherwise be accounted for. Such are, Thames, Tamar, Frome, Derwent, Trent, Tweed, Severn, and the bulk of our great river-names. In like manner of the oldest town-names, and some names of districts. The first syllable in PFz>2chester is known to us, through the Latin form of Venta, to have been the same as the Welsh Gwent, a plain or open country. The first syllable in Manchtster is probably the old Keltic man, place ; just as it probably is in the archaic name for Bath, Nke-man- chester. Fo7'k is so called from the Keltic river-name Eure ; from an elder form of which came the old Latin form of the city-name Ebur-acum. But often where the sense cannot be so plainly traced, we acquiesce in the opinion that names are British, because their place in history seems to require it. Such are, for instance, Keni, London, Gloucester. We will add a few words that have a fair Keltic reputation, basket, bran, breeches, clout, crag, crock, manor, paddock, wicket. It is very probable that a few Keltic words are still living on among us in the popular names of wild plants. The cockle of our corn-fields, which the botanists call Agrostemma Githago, has been with great reason attributed to the Britons. •Dr. Johnston, in The Botany of the Eastern Borders (Van OF THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE. 21 Voorst, 1853), explains this word by reference to the British word cock = red. This etymology is strengthened by the fact that he had heard in the neighbourhood of Gordon the red corn-poppy called cockeno. Not only is this word cockle used in Chaucer, but also in the Saxon Gospels, in Matt. xiii. in those places where our version has tares. The Saxon form is coccel. The word is not found in the kindred dialects. This is the more important to observe, because the bulk of popular tree and plant names are common to us with the German, Dutch, Danish, &c. The words tree, beam, holt, wood, oak, ash, elm, birch, beech, aspen, li??ie, yew, ah^er, thorn, bramble, reed, wheat, rye, bere, bean, weed, flax, wort, grass, root, leek, thistle, clover, radish, wormwood, yarrow, waybread, moss, nightshade, bloom, blossom, corn, apple, — are more or less common to the cognate languages. This is not the case with the coccel. Other plant-names may be added which are probably British, as willow. This may well be traced to the Welsh helig as its nearer relative, without interfering with the more distant claims of saugh, sal- lotv, salix. Whin, also, 2.n^ furze have perhaps a right here. And eglantine, which has become the standard poetic name for the dog-rose, and which has such a French air, due to its having been adopted from the poetry of the Fabliaux, is very probably a British w^ord. With strong probability also may we add to this botanical list the terms husk, haw; and more particularly cod, a word that merits a special remark. What it came to mean in the Elizabethan dramatists must here be kept apart. In Anglo-Saxon times it meant a bag, a purse or wallet. See a spirited passage in the Saxon Chronicle of Peterborough, a. d. 1131, and my note there. Thence it was applied to the seed-bags of plants, as pease-cod. This seems to be the Welsh cwd. The puif-ball is in Welsh cwd-y-mwg, a bag of smoke. Owen 12, SKETCH OF THE RISE Pughe quotes this Welsh adage : — ' Egor dy gwd pan gaech borcheir : i.e. open thy dag when canst get a pig! — an expression which for picturesqueness must be allowed the palm over our English proverb ' Never say no to a good offer.' What establishes the British origin of this word is the large connection it has in Welsh, and its appearance also in Brittany. Thus in Welsh there is the diminutive form cydyn, a little pouch, and the verb cuddw, to hide, with many allied words ; in Breton there is kod, pocket. The compound cock-hoat is probably a tautological com- pound, of which the first part is the Welsh cwch, a boat. The word has several derivatives in Welsh. The word clock, which signifies bell in German (Glocke) and in French {cloche), is undoubtedly British. A bell in Welsh is clock, in Gaelic clag, and in Manx clag. But then this word did not come into our language (probably) till the twelfth century. Yet it may have had an obscure existence among us in Saxon times. Bard is unquestionably British, and so is glen. But then these made their entry later, and we must not dwell on them here, and wander from our subject, which is the immediate influence of the British on the Saxon. The Saxons called a sorcerer dry, and sorcery or magic they called dry-cr^ft. These words are not found in any of the dialects cognate to ours, and therefore they must have learnt the word of the Britons. Here then we seem to have evidence of the influence of the Druids, as still surviving within the Saxon period. Out of this word dry, a verb was made, be-drian, to bewitch or fascinate. Thus we read in the homily on Swi^un : — Sume swefna syndon soHice of Some dreams are verily of God ; Gode. and sume beoS of deofle and some be of the devil for some to sumum swicdome. J?a swefna delusion. Those dreams be cheerful beoS v^ynsume ]?e gewur]?a3 of that are of God ; and those are hor- OF THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE, 23 Gode. anil J^a beo^ egesfulle \>e of rible that come from the devil. And )3am deofle cumaS. and God sylf God himself forbade that we should forbead ])set we swefnum ne folgion. follow dreams, lest the devil should Jjy laes f)e se deofol us be-drian mage. have power to bewitch us. The participle of this verb, be-drida, a disordered man, has, by a false light of cross analogy, generated the modern bed-ridden, a half-sister of hag-j'idden. We can never expect to know with anything like precision what were the relations of the British and Saxon languages to each other and to the Latin language, until each has been studied comparatively to a degree of exactness beyond anything which has yet been attempted. All the Gothic dialects must be taken into comparison on the one hand, and all the Keltic dialects on the other. But the branch from which most light is to be expected is the Breton, as spoken in French Brittany. The great and fundamental question is : — How far the British population at large was Romanised? Some think that habits of speaking Latin were almost universal, and for this they refer to the rude inscribed stones of the early centuries which are found in Wales, and which are in a Latin base enough to be attri- buted to the most illiterate stonemasons. On this view, which receives support also from the number of Latin words in Welsh, the arrival of the Saxons prevented this island from being the home of a Romanesque people like the French or Spanish. The British language as now spoken in Wales, is called, by those who speak it, Cyinraeg. But the Anglo-Saxons called it Wylsc, and the people who spoke it they called Walas : which we have modernised into Wales and Welsh. So the Germans of the continent called the Italians and their language Welsch. The word simply Vi\e2in?> foreign or strange. At various points on the frontiers of our race, we find them affixing this name on the conterminous 24 SKETCH OF THE RISE Romance -Speaking people. This is the most probable account of the names of Wallach'a, the Walloons in Belgium, and the Canton Walk's in Switzerland, though the latter is often explained by the Latin valh's, a valley. The French, who were such unwelcome visitors and settlers in this country in the reign of Edward the Confessor, are called by the contemporary annalist ]>a welisce men, by which was meant ' the foreigners.' And when Edward himself came from the life of an exile in France, he was said by the chronicler to have come 'hider to lande of weallande,' to this country from foreign land. It is the same word which forms the last syllable in Cormvall, for the Kelts who dwelt there were by the Saxons named the Walas of Kerny w. The feminine form of zveal or wealh, a foreigner, was wylen ; and it is an illustration of the servile condition to which the old inhabitants were reduced, that the words wealh and wylen were used to signify male and -female slaves. About the year a.d. 600, Christianity began to be received by the Saxons. The Jutish kingdom of Kent was the first that received the Gospel, but the Anglian kingdom of Northumbria exhibited the first mature example of a Christian nation in Saxondom. Intimately connected with this, if not absolutely rising out of it, is the supremacy of position and influence which the northern kingdom enjoyed in this island for a hundred and thirty years. It is evident that there was great and substantial progress in religion, civilisation, and learning; of which fact the permanent memorial is the name and works of Bseda, who expired not long before the greatness of his people. While Can- terbury was the nominal metropolis of Christianity, the kingdom of Northumbria was its powerful seat. It was the securing of this national Church in the Roman interest OF THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE. 1^ that effectually put a stop to the progress of the Scotian discipline in this island. It was (probably) the power which this nation wielded, and the admiration she excited in her neighbours, that caused them to emulate her example, to read her books, to form their language after hers, and to call it ENGLisc. They first produced a cultivated book- speech, and they had the natural reward of inventors and pioneers, that of setting a name to their product. Of all the losses which are deplored by the investigator of the English language, perhaps there is none - greater than this, that the whole Anglian vernacular literature should have perished in the ravages of the Danes upon the Northumbrian mona- steries. Of the existence of such a native Hterature there is no room for doubt. Baeda tells us of such ; and he himself was occupied on a translation when he died. Thus the obscure name of Angle emerged into celebrity, and being accepted first for the generic name of the Saxon language, passed next to the land, and afterwards to the inhabitants of the land. And now, as in the early time, though it does not designate the British Empire, yet it does designate the lan- guage which is the common vehicle of thought throughout that Empire. The extant works of Baeda are all in Latin, but they afford occasional glimpses of information about the spoken Englisc of his day. As for example, in the Epistola ad Ecgbei-htum, he advises that prelate to make all his flock learn by heart the Creed and the Lord's Prayer. In Latin, if they understand it, by all means, says he, — but in their own tongue if they do not know Latin. Which, he adds, is not only the case with laity, but with clerks likewise and monks. And markedly insisting on his theme, as if even then the battle of the vernacular had to be fought, he goes on to give his reasons why he had often given copies of 26 SKETCH OF THE RISE translations to folk that were no scholars, and many of them priests too. ' Propter quod et ipse multis saepe sacerdotibus idiotis haec utraque, et symbolum videlicet et Dominicam orationem in linguam Anglorum translatam obtuli.' These are the -words of Bseda. One of his most interesting chapters is that in which he gives the traditional story of the vernacular poet Csedmon, who by divine inspiration was gifted with the power of song, for the express purpose of rendering the Scripture narratives into popular verse. The extant poems of the Creation and Fall and Redemption, which are preserved in archaic Saxon verse, are attributed to this Csedmon ; and it is possible that they may be his work, having undergone in the process of copying what may be called a partiaL translation. We gather from the account in Bseda, that the practice of making ballads was in a high state of activity, and also that vernacular poetry was used as a vehicle of popular instruction in the seventh century in Northumbria. And it is interesting to reflect that in all our island there is no district which to this day has an equal reputation for lyric poetry, whether we think of the mediaeval ballads, or of Burns, or of the Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border. It was in the monastery of Whitby, under the famous govern- ment of the abbess Hilda, that the first sacred poet of our race devoted his life to the vocation to which he had been mysteriously called. And if something of the legendary hangs over his personal history, this only shows how strongly his poetry had stirred the imagination of his people. A nation that could believe their poet to be divinely called, was the nation to produce poets, and to elevate the genius of their language. Such was the Anglian kingdom of Northumbria, and here it was that our language first received high cultivation. OF THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE. 2 J It is remarkable that, while the peoples of the southern and western and south-eastern parts of the kingdom con- tinually called themselves Saxons (whence such local names as Wessex, Essex, Sussex, Middlesex), yet they never appear in any of their extant literature to call their language Seaxisc, but always englisc^. The explanation of this must be sought, as I have already indicated, in that early and prolonged leadership which was enjoyed by the kingdom of North- humbria in the seventh and eighth centuries. The office of BKETWALDA, a kind of elective chieftainship of all Britain, was held by several Northumbrian kings in succession. How high this title must have sounded in the ears of cotempo- raries may be imagined from the fact that it is after the same model as their name for the Almighty. The latter was ALWALDA, the All-wielding. So Bretwalda was the wielder of Britain, or the Emperor of all the States in Britain. For two centuries the northern part of the island had a flourishing Church and a growing civilisation. Scripture translations, sacred hymns, and books of devotion were the most active instruments of this development. Alongside of these were retained the old heroic songs and epics of national story ; sometimes in the ancient form, sometimes in revised and modernised versions. We may reasonably suppose that the Beowulf then received those last touches which are still visible to the reader as masking or softening the latent heathendom of that poem. They also had their domestic annals, written in the Anglian dialect of Norihum- bria. All this vernacular Hterature perished under the ravages of the Danes in the ninth century : but not until the torch of learning had been kindled in some of the southern parts, enough to secure its revival at a favourable opportunity. ^ Yet we find the Latin equivalent of Seaxisc, as in Asset's Life of Alfred, where the vernacular is called Saxonica lingua. 28 SKETCH OF THE RISE That opportunity offered itself under the reign of Alfred, who cleared his part of the country of the Danish scourge, and was the first to renew the arts of peace. With the men- tion of Alfred's name, we seem to enter upon a compara- tively modern era, and to quit the obscurity of the pre-Danish period. Wessex, or the country of the West Saxons, be- comes the arena of our narrative henceforth, and we have no occasion to notice Anglian literature again, until the fifteenth century, when that dialect had shaped itself into a new and distinct national language for the kingdom of Scotland. The poet in whose works the Scottish language first displays its definite form, is Dunbar, a younger contem- porary of Chaucer. From the fifteenth to the eighteenth centuries there was a thriving national literature in the Anglian dialect, and the best known specimens of it to us on the south of the Tweed are the works of Robert Burns, and the dialogues in 'brad Scots,' which so charmingly di- versify the novels of Sir Walter Scott. It is odd that this language, which is in fact the genuine Anglian, should have received the Keltic name of ' Scotch ' from the Gaelic dynasty which mounted the Anglian throne, and that in taking its modern name from its northern neighbours it should have furnished a parallel to the adoption of the name ' English ' by the West Saxons. Wessex had not been entirely destitute of men of learning during the period in which the focus of civilisation was in Northumbria. Aldhelm is the first name of eminence in southern literature. He died in a.d. 709. He translated the Psalms of David into his native tongue, and it has been supposed that his work may in some measure be represented by an exuberant Saxon version of the Psalter which is pre- served in the Bibliotheque Nationah at Paris, and which was printed in the year 1835 at the Clarendon Press, under the OF THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE. 29 editorship of Mr. Thorpe. But though we can point to Aldhelm, and one or two other names of cultivated men in Wessex, they are exceptions to the general rudeness and uncultured state of that kingdom before Alfred's time. It was distinguished for its military rather than for its literary successes. Learning resided northward. Alfred is reported to have said that there was not to be found a priest south of the Thames who knew his Ofice in Latin. But with him, that is to say, in the last quarter of the ninth century, Saxon hterature starts up almost full-grown. It seems as if it grew up suddenly, and reached perfection at a bound without preparation or antecedents. It has been too much the habit to suppose that this phenomenon is sufficiently accounted for by the introduction of scholars from other countries who helped to translate the most esteemed books into Saxon. So the reign of Alfred is apt to get paralleled with those rude tribes among whom our missionaries intro- duce a translated literature at the same time with the arts of reading and writing. It has not been sufficiently con- sidered that such translations are dependent on the pre- vious exercise of the native tongue, and that foreign help can only bring up a wild language to eloquence by very slow degrees. There is a vague idea among us that our language was then in its infancy, and that its compass was as narrow as the few necessary ideas of savage life. A modern Italian turning over a Latin book might think it looked very barbarous ; and perhaps even some moderate scholars have never appreciated to how great a power the Latin tongue had attained long before the Augustan era. Great languages are not bulk in a day. The fact is that Wessex inherited a cultivated language from the north, and that when they called their translations Englisc and not Seaxisc, they acknowledged that debt. The cultivated 30 SKETCH OF THE RISE Anglian dialect became the literary medium of hitherto uncultured Wessex ; just as the dialect of the Latian cities set the form of the imperial language of Rome, and was called Latin ; and the dialect of Castile was the foundation of the literary Spanish. Of the Saxon language as it was used in Scripture versions and Church services, the Lord's Prayer forms the readiest illustration. THE LORD'S PRAYER. From Alfred's Version of the Gospels. F-sder ure, ])u Jie eart on heofenum Father our, thou thai art in heaven Si ])in nama gehalgod Be thy name hallowed To becume thin rice Come thy kingdom Geweor}:e ]>'m willa on eorjjan, swa-swa on heofenum Be-done thy will on earth, so-as in heaven Urne dseghwamlican hlaf syle us to daeg Our daily loaf give us to day And forgyf us ure gyltas, swa-swa we forgifap urum gyltendum And forgive tis our debts, so-as we forgive our debtors And ne gelaede ]?u us on costnunge, ac alys us of yfle And not lead thou us into temptation, but loose us of evil SoJ)lice. Soothly (or, Amen). The period of Saxon leadership extends from Alfred to the Conquest, about a.d. 880 to a.d. 1066. These figures represent also the interval at which Saxon Hterature was strongest ; but its duration exceeds these limits at either end. OF THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE, 3 1 We have poetry, laws, and annals before 880, and we have large and important continuations of Saxon Chronicles after 1066. Perhaps the most natural date to adopt as the term of Saxon literature would be a.d. 1154, the year of King Stephen's death, the last year that is chronicled in Saxon. The Saxon differed from modern English most conspicu- ously in being what is called an inflected language. An inflected language is one that joins words together, and makes them into sentences, not by means of a set of small secondary and auxiliary words, but by means of changes made in the main words themselves. If we look at a page of modern English, we see not only nouns, verbs, adjectives, adverbs, conjunctions, these words of primary necessity, but a sprinkling of little interpreters among the greater words, and that the relations of the great words to one another are expressed by the little ones that fill the spaces between them. Such are mainly articles, prepositions, and pronouns. In more general terms it may be said that the essence of an inflected language is, to express by composition of words that which an uninflected language expresses by syntax or arrangement of words. So that in the inflected language more is expressed by single words than in the non- inflected. Take as an example those words of the Preacher, and see how differently they are expressed in English and in Latin : — Eccles. iii. Tempus nascendi, et tempus mo- A time to he born, and a time to riendi ; tempus plantandi, et tempus die ; a time to plant, and a time to evellendi quod plantatum est. pluck up that which is planted. Tempus occidendi, et tempus sa- A time to kill, and a time to heal ; nandi ; tempus destmendi, et tempus a time to break down, and a time to sedificandi. build up. 3^ SKETCH OF THE RISE Tempus flendi, et tempus ridendi ; A time to weep, and a time to tempus plangendi, et tempus saltandi. laugh ; a time to mourn, and a time to dance, Tempus spargendi lapides, et tem- A time to cast away stones, and pus colligendi. a time to gather stones together. There are no words in the Latin answering to these Httle words which are itahcised in the Enghsh version — a, the, to, of, he — yet the very sense of the passage depends upon them in English, often to such a degree that if one of these were to be changed, the sense would be completely overturned. The Latin has no w^ords corresponding to these little words, but it has an equivalent of another kind. The terminations of the Latin words undergo changes which are expressive of all these modifications of sense ; and these changes of the ends of words are called Inflections. Languages which make use of these inflections, instead of using distinct words for this purpose, are called inflec- tional languages. Such were in a high degree the ancient Latin and Greek ; and such, in a less degree, was the Anglo- Saxon before the Conquest. The following piece may serve to illustrate the Saxon inflections : — Upahafenz/m eagwm on })a heah- With uplifted eyes to the height nysse and a])enedz/OT fi.xm.um ongan and with outstretched arms she be- gebidda/z mid jjaera welera styrung- gan to pray with stirrings of the lips um on stilnesse. in stillness. Here we observe in the first place, that terminations in the elder speech are replaced by prepositions in the younger. * Upahafenz//;^ e2igum ' is ' with uplifted eyes,' and ' ajjenedz/w eziraum' is ^with outstretched arms'; and the infinitive termination of the verb ' gobiMan ' is in English represented by the preposition to. But then we observe further in the second place, that there are phrases with prepositions as well as inflections. ii OF THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE. ^^ The phrases ' on J?a heahnysj^/ ' 7?iid . . . styYmgu?n,' ' o?z stil- nesjf/ are of this kind — at once prepositional and inflec- tional. This indicates a transition-state of the language ; a time in which the inflections are no longer what once the}' were, self-sufficient. Prepositions are brought to their aid, and very soon the whole weight of the function falls on the preposition. The inflection then lives on merely as an heir- loom in the language, an ancient fashion, ornamental rather than necessary. At the first great shake which such a language gets, after it is well furnished with prepositions, there will most likely be a great shedding of inflections. And so it happened to our language after the shock of the Conquest, as will be told in its place. This then is the chief gramviatical feature of the Saxon speech, as seen from our present point of view, and as contrasted with the present habits of the English language. But it is not in the scheme of its grammar alone that human speech is subject to change. Each several part of which language is composed has its own liabilities. There is a constant movement in human language, though that move- ment is neither uniform in all languages, nor is it evenly distributed in its action within the limits of any one given language. It might almost be imagined as if there were a pivot somewhere in the motion, and as if the elemental parts were more or less moveable in proportion as they lay farther from, or nearer to that pole or pivot of revolution. Accordingly, we see words like man, word, thing, can, smith, heap, on, an, which seem like permanent fixtures through the ages, and at first sight we might think that they had sufl'ered no change within the horizon of our observation. They are found in our oldest extant writings spelt just as we now spell them. There are others, on the contrary, which have long been D 34 SKETCH OF THE RISE obsolete and forgotten, for which new words have been long ago substituted. Sometimes a whole series of substitutions successively superseding each other have occupied the place of an old Saxon word. The Saxon iviiodlice was in the middle ages represented by verily, and in modern times by certainly. The verb gehyrsuviian passed away, and instead of it we find the expression to he huxom, and this yielded to the modern verb to obey. The Saxon lictun was the mediaeval litten, and the modern churchyard. In this class of instances the change is conspicuous, and requires little comment ; but in the former set it might more easily escape observation. Even there, however, alteration has taken place. Man spells in old Saxon as in modern English, but yet it has altered in grammatical habit, in application, and in con- vertible use. In grammatical habit it has altered; for in Saxon it had a genitive mannes, a dative men, an (archaic) accusative mannan, a plural men, a genitive plural manna, and a dative plural mannum. Of these it has lost the whole, except the formation of the simple plural. In application it has altered ; for in Saxon times man was equally applicable to womankind as to mankind, whereas now it is limited to one sex. In convertible use it has suffered greatly ; for the Saxon speech enjoyed the possession of this word as a pro- noun, just as the Germans do to this day. In German man sagt = man says, which we do not use, and is equivalent to our expression of they say or it is said. In German they distinguish between the substantive and the pronoun by giving the former a double n at the close, in addition to the distinction of the initial capital, which in German belongs to all substantives : thus, substantive Mann, pronoun man. In Saxon (towards the close of the period) the distinction of the n is sometimes seen, with a preference of the vowel OF THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE. 35 a for the substantive, and for the pronoun. The follow- ing is from a brief summary of Christian duties, written probably in the second half of the eleventh century : — iErest mon sceal God lufian . . . First, we must love God ... we Ne sceal mon mann slean . . . ac must not slay man . . . but every aelcne mann mon sceal ^ weor])ian. man we must ever respect : and no and ne sceal nan mann don oSrum man should do to another that he ])aet he nelle J)£et him mon do. would not to himself were done. A few more examples of the use of this pronoun are added from the Gloucester Fragments of Swi^hun: — Hine man bser ])a sona of J)am He was borne then soon from the bedde to cyrcan binnan Wihtlande. bed to church in the Isle of Wight. ' Swa jjset man ea'Se ne mihte Jjset So that one could not easily visit mynster gesecan. the minster. pam adligan Jjuhte swilce man his It seemed to the sick man as if aenne sceo of ])am fet atuge. somebody were tugging one of his shoes off the foot. Man sohte })one sceo. They looked for the shoe. Our language is at present singularly embarrassed for want of this most useful pronoun. At one time we have to put a tve, at another time 2. you, at another time a they, at other times one or somebody ; and it often happens that none of these three will serve, and we must have recourse to the passive verb. There are probably few English speakers or writers who have not felt the awkwardness resulting from our loss of this most regrettable old pronoun. There is not one of the great languages which labours under a like inability. So far about the word man, which is an example of the slowest-moving of words, which has not altered in its spelling, and which is yet seen to have under- gone alterations of another kind. The other instances shall be more lightly touched on. Word, has altered grammatically ; for in Saxon it stood unvaried in the plural (wokd), but it has now been long D 2 ^6 SKETCH OF THE RISE assimilated to other nouns, and forms its plural by the addition of an s (wokds). Thing. This word had much the same vague and ab- stract use in Saxon as it has now. *0n mang ]?isum ]?ingum': among these things. 'Ic seah sellic jjing singan on recede' : I saw a strange thing singing on the hall. But in Saxon it covered a greater variety of ground than it does now. 'Me wear^ Grendles ]?ing undyrne cu^' : the ?na/- Ur of Grendel was made known to me. ' Beadohilde ne waes hyre bro^ra dea^ on sefan swa sar, swa hyre sylfre j^ing:' her brothers' death was not so sore on Beadohild's heart, as were her own concerns. 'For his ])ingum': on his account. Smith. This word is now applied only to handicraftsmen in metals. But in early literature it had its metaphorical applications. Not only do we read of the armourer by the name of wcBpna smi'6, the weapon-smith; but we have the promoter of laughter called ' hleahtor-smi^,' laughter- smith ; we have the teacher called ' lar-smi^,' lore-smith ; we have the warrior called war-smith, ' wig-smi^.' Heap is now only applied to inert matter, but in Saxon to a crowd of men : as, ' ])egna heap,' an assembly of thanes ; ' Hengestes heap,' Hengest's troop. (Beowulf, 1091.) In these words things smith, and heap, it is therefore seen how that words which in their visible form have remained unchanged, may yet have become greatly changed in regard to their place and office in the language. Can. We find this verb used in Saxon in a manner very like its present employment. But when we examine into it, we find the sense attached to it was not as now, that o{ possibility, but oi knowledge and skill. When a boy in his French Exercises comes to the sentence ' Can you swim ? ' he is directed to render it into French by ' Savez vous nager?' that is, 'Know you to swim?' The very same idea OF THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE, '^J is (philologically) at the bottom of ' Can you swim?' for in Saxon cuNNAN is to know : ' Ic can/ I know ; ' J>u canst/ thou knowest, &c., &c. And it had a use in Saxon which it has now lost, but which it has retained in German, where fennen, to know, is the proper word for speaking of acquaintance with persons. So in Saxon : ' Canst ]?u |;one preost ]?e is gehaten Eadsige?' Knowest thou the priest that is called Eadsige? On, the preposition, exists in Saxon, but its area of in- cidence has shifted. We often find that an Anglo-Saxon ON cannot be rendered by the same preposition in modern English, e.g. '' Jjone \e he geseah on ]?3ere cyrcan,' whom he saw in the church ; ' Landfer^ se oferssewisca hit gesette on Leden,' Landferth from over the sea put it into Latin ; ' Swa swa we on bocum reda^,' as we read in books ; ' Sum manu on Winceastre,' a man at Winchester. So strange to our modern notions is the position in which we sometimes find on, that editors have hardly been able to admit its exist- ence, and have wished to read it as ou, that is, ovovof. A strong instance of this occurs in the Proclamation of a.d. 1258, which will be given below. There are, however, in- stances in which this preposition needs not to be otherwise rendered in modern English, e.g. ' Eode him ]>a ham hal on his fotum, se ]?e ser was geboren on bsere to cyrcan :' he went off" then home whole on his feet, he who before was borne on bier to church. One of the least changed is the preposition to. This will mostly stand in an English translation out of Saxon : ' And se halga him cwse]) to, ponne ]?u cymst to Winceastre,' &c., and the saint said to him, when thou comest to Winchester, &c. ; ' Se mann wear^ ]>a gebroht to his bedde,' the man was then brought to his bed. It is on these little oft-recurring words that the frame of 38 SKETCH OF THE RISE the sentence reposes. While they remain the same, many of the larger words may change, and the alteration be only superficial. But when changes take place in them, we feel that the phase of the language is affected. The change which has taken place in the preposition with is more than the going or coming of many long words. With in Saxon meant against, and we have still a relic of that sense in our compound verb withstand, which means to stand against, to oppose. We have all but lost the old preposition which stood where the ordinary with now stands. It was mid, and it still keeps its old place in the German nitt. We have not utterly lost the last vestiges of it, for it does reappear now and then in poetry in a sort of disguise, as if it were not its own old self, but a maimed form of a compound of itself, amid ; and so it gets printed like this — 'mid. An is a word in Saxon and also in modern English, and it is the same identical word in the two languages. But in the former it represents the first numeral which we now call WON and write one; and in the latter it is the indefinite article. It is not easy to throw light on an ancient speech by de- scription, unless the writer is aided by the studies of the reader. It would be vain to assume an English public to be acquainted with the elder form of their mother tongue ; and therefore we are limited to such illustrations as may be understood with only a knowledge of modern English. Under these circumstances we gladly seize upon the pre- positional prefix BE, as it offers an example of much interest, and no obscurity. The preposition be, at the time when we first become acquainted with it, means about, around ; as, ' Forj)am \t he sylf ^viste gewissost be ))am,' forasmuch as himself knew best about that. And when it entered into verbal composition it was with this meaning of about ; as, OF THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE. 39 BECUMAN", to come about, whence our modern sense of become : and it was used with peculiarly telling effect in verbs of privation ; thus niman was to take, but beniman was to take 2N^2q from ; as if to take away round about, with all the expressiveness of the Greek Trepiaipslv. This same sense of BE is in bereave, Saxon bereafian, literally to strip off the clothing {reaf) round about or from about a person. To this class belong the following : beheafdian, to behead ; be- landian or belendan, to deprive of land ; bedician, to surround with a dyke ; begangan, to go around, to surround ; begyrdan, to gird about; behealdan, to hold round about; hehorsian, to deprive of horses ; behreawsian, to rue about ; belisnian, to castrate ; besittan, to sit round about, to besiege ; bescieran, to deprive, lit. shear away from; besyrewian, to surround any one with snares ; betynan, to put a barrier {tun) around a spot. But in the course of time this original sense of be in verbal composition faded from sight, and it made no new compounds for a while. At length however, in the tenth and eleventh centuries, a vast influx of these compounds rushed suddenly into the language. In this second class of be- compounded verbs only a faint sense belongs to the prefix. Examples : — bequeath, bethink, befall, beget, begin, behove, behide, believe, beseech, betell, betrap, bewed, behold, belong, bespeak, bestow. An indefinite number of verbs were afterwards made in the same way, in which be- had no defineable value what- ever, but was just a conventional sign of transitive verbality : as, beguile, betray, bespatter, becalm, behance, bedabble, bedaub, bedeck, bedew, befit, befool, befriend, begrime, begrudge, behave, belabour, belate, belay, beleaguer, belie, belove, bemoan^ beseem, beshrew, besot, bestir, and other such in ever increasing numbers. It was from the earlier, rather than the latter stages, that be took its place in adverbs and prepositions like before, beyond, behind, belike, below, beneath, between, betwixt, 4b SKETCH OF THE RISE and in the nouns hehalf, behest, hehoof, in all which the old sense of about is clearly discernible. The same is the bi in the noun bhvord, a proverb, a good word lost to us, but retained by the Germans, SSeiirort. But we see it figuring as a mere vague prefix in the modern because, besides. The progress of this word from the early time when it had the definite sense of around, down to our own day, when it has become a mere formative without an assignable signification, can thus be traced through its successive stages. But mean- while the preposition itself has assumed the form of by, and has an instrumental sense after the passive verb, which seems entirely foreign to its original use. Such were some of the features of the Saxon speech, as well as we can illustrate them by a reference to modern English. Speaking relatively to the times, it was not a rude language, but probably the most disciplined of all the ver- naculars of western Europe, and certainly the most cultivated of all the dialects of the Gothic barbarians. Its grammar was regulated, its orthography mature and almost fixed. It was capable, not of poetry alone, but of eloquent prose also, and it was equal to the task of translating the Latin authors, which were the literary models of the day. The extant Anglo-Saxon books are but as a few scattered splinters of the old Anglo-Saxon literature. Even if we had no other proof of the fact, the capability to which the language had arrived would alone be sufficient to assure us that it must have been diligently and largely cultivated. To this pitch of development it had reached, first by inheriting the relics of the Romano-British civilisation, and afterwards by four centuries and a half of Christian culture under the presiding influence of Latin as the language of religion and of higher education. Latin happily did not then what it has since done in many Churches ; it did not operate to exclude OF THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE. 4 1 the native tongue and to cast it into the shade, but to the beneficent end of regulating, fostering, and developing it. Such was the state of our language when its insular se- curity was disturbed by the Norman invasion. Great and speedy must have been the effect of the Conquest in ruining the ancient grammar, which rested almost entirely on literary culture. The leading men in the state having no interest in the vernacular, its cultivation fell immediately into neglect. The chief of the Saxon clergy deposed or removed, who should now keep up that supply of religious Saxon literature, of the copiousness of which we may judge even in our day by the considerable remains that have outlived hostility and neglect ? Now that the Saxon landowners were dispossessed, who should patronise the Saxon bard, and welcome the man of song in the halls of mirth } The shock of the Conquest gave a death-blow to Saxon literature. There is but one of the Chroniclers that goes on to any length after the Conquest ; and one of them stops short exactly at a.d. 1066, as if that sad year had bereft his task of all further interest. We have Saxon poetry up to that date or very near to it, but we have none for some generations after it. The Englisc language continued to be spoken by the masses who could speak no other ; and here and there a secluded student continued to write in it. But its honours and emoluments were gone, and a gloomy period of depression lay before the Saxon language as before the Saxon people. It is not too much to say that the Norman Conquest entailed the dissolution of the old cultivated lan- guage of the Saxons, the literary Englisc. The inflection- system could not live through this trying period. Just as we accumulate superfluities about us in prosperity, but in adversity we get rid of them as encumbrances, and we like to travel light when we have only our own legs to carry us— 4% SKETCH OF THE RISE just so it happened to the Englisc language. For now all these sounding terminations that made so handsome a figure in Saxon courts — the -an, the -um, the -eka and the -ANA, the -iGENNE and -igendum, — all these, superfluous as bells on idle horses, were laid aside when the nation had lost its old political life and its pride of nationality, and had received leaders and teachers who spoke a strange tongue. But this was not the only effect of the introduction of a new language into the country. The Normans had learnt by their sojourn in France to speak French, and this foreign language they brought with them to England. Sometimes this language is spoken of as the Norman or Norman-French. In a well-known volume of lectures on the Siudy of Words, published seventeen years ago by the present Archbishop of Dublin, the relations between this intrusive ' Norman ' and the native speech are given with much felicity of illustration. I have the pleasure of inserting the following passage here with the permission of the author : — ' We might almost reconstruct our history, so far as it turns upon the Norman Conquest, by an analysis of our present language, a mustering of its words in groups, and a close observation of the nature and character of those which the two races have severally contributed to it. Thus we should confidently conclude that the Norman was the ruling race, from the noticeable fact that all the words of dignity, state, honour, and pre-eminence, with one remark- able exception (to be adduced presentl}^), descend to us from them — sovereign, sceptre, throne, realm, royalty, homage, prince, duke, coujit, {earl indeed is Scandinavian, though he must borrow his countess from the Norman,) chancellor, treasurer, palace, castle, hall, dome, and a multitude more. At the same time the one remarkable exception of king OF THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE, 43 would make us, even did we know nothing of the actual facts, suspect that the chieftain of this ruling race came in not upon a new title, not as overthrowing a former dynasty, but claiming to be in the rightful line of its succession ; that the true continuity of the nation had not, in fact any more than in word, been entirely broken, but survived, in due time to assert itself anew. ' And yet, while the statelier superstructure of the language, almost all articles of luxury, all having to do with the chase, with chivalry, with personal adornment, is Norman through- out; with the broad basis of the language, and therefore of the life, it is otherwise. The great features of nature, sun, moon, and stars, earth, water, and fire, all the prime social relations, father, mother, husband, wife, son, daughter, — these are Saxon. Palace and castle may have reached us from the Norman, 'but to the Saxon we owe far dearer names, the house, the roof, the home, the hearth. His " board" too, and often probably it was no more, has a more hos- pitable sound than the " table " of his lord. His sturdy arms turn the soil; he is the boor, the hind, the churl ; or if his Norman master has a name for him, it is one which on his lips becomes more and more a title of opprobrium and con- tempt, the "villain." The instruments used in cultivating the earth, the flail, the plough, the sickle, the spade, are ex- pressed in his language; so too the main products of the earth, as wheat, rye, oats, here ; and no less the names of domestic animals. Concerning these last it is curious to observe (and it may be remembered that Wamba, the Saxon jester in Ivanhoe, plays the philologer here^) that the names of almost all animals, so long as they are alive, are thus Saxon, but when dressed and prepared for food become Norman — a fact indeed which we might ^ ' Wallis, in his Grammar, p. 20, had done so before.' 44 SKETCH OF THE RISE have expected beforehand; for the Saxon hind had the charge and labour of tending and feeding them, but only that they might appear on the table of his- Norman lord. Thus ox, steer, cow, are Saxon, but heef Norman ; calf is Saxon, but veal Norman ; sheep is Saxon, but 7nutton Norman ; so it is severally with swine and pork ; deer and venison ; fowl and pullet. Bacon, the only flesh which perhaps ever came within his reach, is the single exception. 'Putting all this together, with much more of the same kind, which has only been indicated here, we should certainly gather, that while there are manifest tokens preserved in our language of the Saxon having been for a season an inferior and even an oppressed race, the stable elements of Anglo- Saxon life, however overlaid for a while, had still made good their claim to be the solid groundwork of the after nation as of the after language ; and to the justice of this conclusion all other historic records, and the present social condition of England, consent in bearing witness.' — Study of Words, 12th edit., 1867, pp. 98-100. This duplicate system of words in English is the result of a long period during which the country was in a bilingual condition. The language of the consumer was one, and that of the producer another. In the very market at length, the seller and the buyer must have spoken diiferent languages. But before it came to this, both languages must have been familiar to either party. Just as on the frontier of the English and Welsh now, there is a large number of people who have a practical acquaintance with both languages, while they can talk in one only. This it is which has brought down upon the Welsh the unjust imputation of saying Dim Saesoneg out of churlishness. They may understand the enquiry, and yet they may not possess English enough to make an answer with. A similar frontier between English OF THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE. 45 and French must have existed in the Norman period in every town and almost in every village of England. This lasted down to the middle of the fourteenth century, when the new mixed language broke forth and took the lead. During three centuries, the native language was cast into the shade by the foreign speech of the conquerors. All that time French was getting more and more widely known and spoken ; and it never covered so wide an area in this island as it did at the moment when the native speech ilpreared her head again to assert a permanent supremacy. As the waters of a river are often shallowest there where they cover the widest area, so the French language had then the feeblest hold in this country, when it was most widely cultivated and most generally affected. The Saxon had never ceased to be the speech of the body of the people. The Conquest could not alter this fact. What the Conquest did was to destroy the cultivated Englisc, which depended for its propagation upon literature and literary men. This once extinct, there was no central or standard language. The French language in some respects supplied the place of a standard language, as the medium of intercourse between persons in the best ranks of society. The native speech, bereft of its central standard, fell abroad again. It fell back into that divided condition, in which each speaker and each writer is guided by the dialect of his own locality, undisciplined by any central standard of propriety. Our language became dialectic. And hence it comes to pass that of the authors whose books are preserved from the year a.d. iioo to 1350, no two of them are uniform in dialect ; each speaks a tongue of its own. It must be understood here, and wherever figures are given to dis- tinguish periods in the history of language, that it is intended for the convenience of writer and reader, for distinctness of 46 SKETCH OF THE RISE arrangement and as an aid to the memory, rather thaii as a rigid Umit. For in such things the two bordering forms so shade off and blend into one another, that they are not to be rigidly outlined any more than the primary colours in the rainbow. For convenience sake, we may divide the 'transition' into two parts, and add a third era for the infancy of the national language : — Teansition. Bra burh J>e he ahte : and sette heo mid cnihten, ])e gode weoren to fehten. and hsehte heo wite wel faste and heoten heo Gloichestre : al for his sune luuen, ])e leof him wes an heorten ; j)e seoSSe bi5set al Walisc lond, to his a3ere hond. and J)erof he was deme ; and due feole 5ere. the borough that he owned, and manned it with knights which good were to fight, [securely And he ordered them to guard it and he called it Gloucester; all for love of his son who was dear to his heart; who afterwards conquered all Welsh- to his own hand. [lafid And thereof he was demster and duke many years. The next specimen is from the younger or northern text :— ORIGIN OF BILLINGSGATE. Line 6046. Nou ich ])e habbe i-sed hou hit his agon, of KairHun in Glommorgan. Go we 5et to Belyn, to ])an blisfolle kyinge. f o he hadde imaked J)es borh, and hit cleopede Kair-Uske : po J)e borh was strong and hende; po gan he Jeanne wende, riht to Londene, jjo borh he swij)e louede. He bi-gan ])er ana tur ; J)e strengeste of alle J)an tune : and mid mochele ginne, a 3et ])ar hunder makede, po me hit cleopede Belynes^at. Nou and euere more, Jje name stondi]) ])are, Leuede Belyn Jje king, in allere blisse : and alle his leode :lofde hine swij^e. In his dajes was so mochel mete, ]jat hit was onimete. Now I have said to thee how it happened, touchifig Caerleon in Glamorgan. Go we back agaifi to Belyn, to that blissful king. When he had made the burgh and called it Caer-Usk : When the burgh was strong and trim, the7t gan he wend thence right to Lo7idon, the burgh he greatly loved. He began there a tower the strongest of all the town; and with much art a gate there-under made. Then men called it ' Billingsgate! Now and ever-more, the name standeth there. Lived Belyn the king in all bliss : and all his people loved him greatly. In his days was there so much meat, that it was without measure. The Ormulum may be proximately dated at a.d. 12 15. A'^ the date cannot be given with precision, the date ql Magna E 50 SKETCH OF THE RISE Carta is here selected, for the sake of its bearing on thei subject, as will be seen presently. The Ormulum is a versified narrative of the Gospels, addressed by Ormin or (curtly) Orm to his brother Walter, and after his own name called by the author 'Ormulum'; by which designation it is commonly known. Ice J)att tiss Eniiglish hafe sett I that this English have set Enngli£she men to lare,' English men to lore. Ice wass ])ser-])aer I cristnedd wass I was there-where I christened was Orrmin bi name nemmedd. Ormin by na7ne na?ned. piss boc iss nemmnedd Orrmulum 7*^/5 book is named Ortmdum Forr|)i J>att Orrm itt wrohhte. For-this that Orm it wrought. This book has been admirably edited, and with the most perfect fidelity to the one extant manuscript, by Dr. White, formerly Professor of Anglo-Saxon. It was printed at the Clarendon Press, 1852. As the -Srw/ represents the western type of Enghsh, so this does the eastern. In this poem we find for the first time the term ' English ' in the mature form. Layamon has the forms ejtglisc, englis, cenglis, anglisce, Sec. ; but Orm has enngliss^ and still more frequently the fully developed form ennglissh. The excess of consonants with which this word is written is a constant feature of the Oj-mulum. The author was one of Nature's philologists, and he displayed his talent by attempting a phonetic system of spelling. Had his ortho- graphy been generally adopted, we should have had in English not only the mm and nn with which German abounds, but many other double consonants which we do not now possess. How great a study Orm had made of this subject, we are not left to gather from observation of his spelling, for he has emphatically pointed out the importance of it in the opening of his work. OF THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE, 5 1 HOW TO SPELL. And whase wilenn shall ])iss boc And whoso shall determine to copy efft operr sijje writenn this hook, I beg him to write it himm bidde ice })att he't write accurately as the book directeth ; and rihht that he write a letter twice wherever swa summ }>iss boc himm taeche];]) in this book it is so written. Let him and tatt he loke wel J)att he look carefully that he write it so, an bocstaff write twiggess for else he cannot write it correctly eggwhser pser itt uppo J)iss boc in English — of that he may be as- iss writen o Jjatt wise suredl loke well ])att he't write swa, forr he ne magg nohht elless on Ennglissh writenn rihht te word, t)att wite he well to so])e. There is another matter of orthography which is a philo- logical peculiarity with this author. When words that begin with ]> follow words ending in d or /, he generally (and with a few definite exceptions) alters the initial J> to /. Where (for example) he has the three words ]>aU and ]>aU and ^e succeeding one another continuously, he writes, not J)<2// ]>a/f \e, but ^att tatt te. One important exception to this rule is where the word ending with the ^ or / is severed from the word beginning with ]? by a metrical pause ; in that case the change does not take place, as — -] agg afFterr ])e Goddspell stannt a7id aye after the Gospel standeth Jjatt tatt te Goddspell mene])]?. that which the Gospel meaneth. Here the sta7t7it does not change the initial of the next word, because of the metrical division that separates them. Other examples of these peculiarities may be seen in the follov/ing extract. CHARACTER OE A GOOD MONK. Forr himm birrj) been full clene mann, and all wi^futenn ahhte, Buttan J)att mann himm findenn shall unnome mete and waede. ^2 SKETCH OF THE RISE And tser iss all ))att eor])lig ])ing ])att minnstremann birr}) aghenn, Wi))J}utenn cnif and shaej)e and camb and nedle, giff he't georne]?]?. And all J^iss shall mann findenn himm and wel himm birrj) itt gemenn ; For birrj) himm noww])err don Jfseroflf, ne gifenn itt ne sellenn. And himm birr]) tefre standenn inn to lofenn Godd and wurrj)ennj And agg himm birr]) beon fressh fasrto bi daggess and bi nihhtess ; And tat iss hand and Strang and tor and hefig lif to ledenn, And for])i birr]? wel clawwstremann onnfangenn mikell mede, Att hiss Drihhtin AUwaeldennd Godd, forr whamm he mikell swinnke])]). And all hiss herrte and all hiss lusst birr]) agg beon towarrd heoffne, And himm birr}> geornenn agg ])att an hiss Drihhtin wel to cwemenn, Wi])]) daggsang and wi])lp uhhtennsang wi]>]> messess and wi])}) beness, &c. Translation. For he ought to he a very pure vtan and altogether without property. Except that he shall be found in simple meat and clothes. And that is all the earthly thing that minster-man shoidd own. Except a knife and sheath and comb and needle, if he want it. And all this shall they find for him and his duty is to take care of it. For he may neither do with it, neither give it nor sell. And he must ever stand in (vigorously) to praise and worship God, And aye must he be fresh thereto by daytime and by nights; And that 's a hard and stiff and rough and heavy life to lead, And therefore well may cloister' d man receive a mickle meed At the hand of his Lord Allivielding God, for zvhom he mickle slaveth. i OF THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE. ^'^ And all his heart and his desire ought aye be toward heaven. And he should yearn for that alone, his Master well to sei've. With daytime-chant and chatit at prime, with masses and with prayers, &c. Ormin has not, like Layamon, told us where he lived. Many opinions have been hazarded on his dialect, but I have found the observations of Dr. Guest (^History of English Rhythtiis, vol. ii. pp. 209, 409) most appropriate. There is this guiding fact, that the initial change of |> to / is found in the last section of the Saxon Chronicle E, which we know was written at Peterborough. On the other hand, we cannot place Ormin in Norfolk or Lincolnshire, as some critics would do, because he has not the Anglian mark of s for sh. He writes shall and not sail or sal. Though near the Anglian border we must class this writer as Saxon and not Anglian. Before we pass on to the next group, to those which are more particularly known as Early English, a remark should be made on the significance of the date 12 15, to which we are now arrived. It is a marked date as being that of Magna Carta; and it is the year in which French first appears in our public instruments. After the Conquest Latin was the documentary language up to this date, when French began and soon became general. It has even been maintained that the original language of Magna Carta was French and not Latin. But though a critical examination may lead to this conclusion, it would be of no value for our present purpose, unless it could be shewn that in this kingdom it was promulgated in French. And this is very doubtful. The first certain example of French in our public muniments is that by Stephen Langton, Archbishop of Canterbury, which had been facsimiled in the National Manuscripts. If we ask 54 SKETCH OF THE RISE what manner of French it was, we must point to that now spoken by the peasants of Normandy, and perhaps still more to the French dialect which has been preserved in the Channel Islands. A strong trace of this use of French as the language of public business in this country still survives in the formula LE ROI LE VEUT or LA REINE LE VEUT, by which the royal assent to bills is announced in Parliament. And in the utterance of this puissant sen- tence it is considered correct to groll the r after the m.anner of the peasants of Normandy. The darkest time of depression for our language has now passed. We approach a kind of dawn. A new literature begins to rise, first in dissonant dialects, and then in a central and standard form. The language had admitted a variety of new material which had distinctly affected its complexion. One particular class of words shall be noticed in this place as the result of the French rule in England. This is a group of words which will serve to depict the times in which they were stamped on our speech. They are the utterance of the violent and selfish passions. Almost all the sinister and ill-favoured words which were in the English language at the time of Shakspeare, owed their origin to this unhappy era. The malignant passions were let loose, as if without control of reason or of religion ; men hotly pursued after the objects of their ambition, covet- ousness, or other passions, till they grew insensible to every feeling of tenderness and humanity; they regarded one another in no other light but as obstructives or auxiliaries in their own path. What wonder that such a state of society furnished little or nothing for expressing the delicate emotions, while it supplied the nascent English with such a mass of opprobious epithets as to have lasted, with few occasional additions, till the present day. Of these words OF THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE. ^^^ a few may be cited by way of example. And first I will instance the \YOTdjuggkr. This word has two senses. It is first a person who makes a Kvelihood by amusing tricks. Secondly, it has the moral sense of an impostor or deceiver. The latter is the prevalent modern use. Both these senses originated in the French period of our history. To Jape is to jest coarsely; 2.Japer is a low buffoon; japery ia buffoonery ; 2,xvd jape-worthy is ignominiously ridiculous. To jangle is to prate or babble; 2ij angler is a man-prater, and 2, j angler ess is a woman-prater. ' Bote lapers and langlers. ludasses children.' Piers Plowman's Vision, 35. Raven is plunder ; raveners are plunderers ; and although this family of words is extinct, with the single exception of ravenous as applied to a beast of prey, yet they are still generally known from the Authorised Version, and they must have been current English in 161 1. Ribald and ribaldry are of the progeny of this prolific period. Ribald was almost a class-name in the feudal system. One of the ways, and almost the only way, in which a man of low birth who had no inclination to the religious life of the monastery could rise into some sort of importance and consideration, was by entering the service of a powerful baron. He lived in coarse abundance at the castle of his patron, and was ready to perform any service of w^hatever nature. He was a rollicking sort of a bravo or swash- buckler. He was his patron's parasite, bull-dog, and tool. Such was the Ribald, and it is not to be wondered at that the word rapidly became a synonym for everything rufidanly and brutal ; and having passed into an epithet, went to swell the already overgrown list of vituperations. Rascal, villain, are of the same temper and the same date. 5^ SKETCH OF THE RISE Such are a few of the words with which our language was endowed, in its first rude contact with the French lan- guage. Though we find nearer our own times, namely^ in the reign of Charles the Second, some accordance of tone with the early feudal period, yet neither in that nor in any other age was there produced such a strain of injurious words, calculated for nothing else but to enable a man to fling indignities at his fellow. The same period is stigmatised by another bad character- istic, and that is, the facility with which it disparaged good and respectable words. Villain, which has been quoted, was simply a class-name, by which a humble order of men was designated ; ceorl was a Saxon name of like import: both of these became dis- paraged at the time we speak of into the injurious sense of villain and churl. The adjective iniaginatif ^?j& then in use, but it had not the worthy sense of imaginative, richly endowed with ideas — but simply suspicious. The furious and violent life of that period had eveiy need of relief and relaxation. This was found in the abandon- ment of revelry and in the counteir-stimulant of the gaming- table. The very word revelry with its cognates, to revel, revelling, revellers, are p^roductions of this period. The rage for gambling which distinguished the habits of our Norman- French rulers, is aptly commemorated in the fact that up to the present day the English terms for games of chance are of French extraction. Dice were seen in every hall, and v/ere then called by nearly the same name as now. Cards, though a later invention, namely, of the thirteenth or begin- ning of the fourteenth century, are still appropriately desig- nated by a French name. The fashion of counting by ace, deuce, trey, quart, cink. OF THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE. 57 siz, &c., is French, not modern French, but of the feudal age. We find it in Chaucer, precisely as at present : — ' Seven is my chance, and thin is cink and treye.' Canterbury Tales, 12,587. Chance itself is one of those gaming terms, and so is hazard, which was the prominent word in the phraseology of gambling, and accordingly very odious to the moralist of that day. In the list of vices hasardery comes in next to gluttony, as being that which beset men next after the temp- tations of the table. ' And now that I have spoken of glotonie, Now wol I you defenden hasardrie. Hasard is veray moder of lesinges, And of deceite, and cursed forsweringes. It is repreve, and contrary of honour For to ben hold a common hasardour.' Canterbury Tales, 12,522. It is a comfort to observe that even a word may .outlive a bad reputation. The word hazard has now little associa- tion with disorderly excitement and the thirst for sudden wealth ; it suggests to our minds some laudable adventure, or elevates the thought to some of those exalted aims for which men have hazarded their lives. Another word may be cited, which belonged originally to the same ill- conditioned strain, but which time has purified and con- verted into a picturesque word, no longer a disgrace but an ornament to the language. This is jeopardy, at first a mere excited and interjectional cry, Jeu perdu ! game lost ! or t\iQ, jeu parti! drawn game! — but now a wholesome rhetorical word. I will close the list of Norman illustrations with one example, by simply observing that this was the age which gave us the word Fitz as a prefix to family names. This 58 SKETCH OF THE RISE word, the most innocent in the world (being merely the Romanesque form of the I^2i\.m films, a son), obtained at this period a well-known heraldic import, which it has ever since retained. The Norman poetic literature of this early period has left few traces on our language. We have an intervening period to survey before we come to any literary blending between the two languages. In this interval, which may be rudely defined by the dates 12 15-1350, we see strong efforts after a native literature. But as yet these have no centre of their own — they hang aloof as it were, and hover provincially around the privileged and authoritative languages of French and Latin. They have not among themselves a common or even a leading form of speech. This is the period that has besn so excellently illustrated by the labours of the Early English Text Society. The first example of the new group is the beautiful poem of Genesis and Exodus. Here the word shall is thus declined: sing, sal, salt ; pi. sulen. Also srud for the Saxon scrud, modern shroud ; and suuen as a par- ticiple of the verb which we now write shove. This speaks for its Anglian character. This poem exhibits also the remarkable feature of he for the Anglo-Saxon hi, equiva- lent to the modern they. The date of it is about a.d. 1250, and Mr. Morris is probably right in assigning Suffolk as its locality. It has that apparent confusion between ^ and d for which the last continuation of the Saxon Chronicle (E) is remarkable. As a specimen of the language, we may quote the butler's narrative of his dream to Joseph in the prison : — Me drempte ic stod at a win-tre, 7 dreamt I stood at a vine-tree Sat adde waxen buges '5re, that bad waxen houghs three. Orest it blomede and siSen bar Erst it bloomed arid then it bare fSe beries ripe, wurS ic war: the berries ripe, as I was ware : OF THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE. 59 ■^e kinges kuppe ic hadde on bond, the king's cup I had in hand, Se beries 5or-inne me Shugte ic the berries therein me-thought I wrong, wrung and bar it drinken to Pharaon, and hare it to drink to Pharoah me drempte, als ic was wune to don. (/ dreamed) as I was wont to do. At the end of his version of Genesis he alludes to himself and his work : God schilde hise sowle fro helle bale God shield his soid from hell-bale Se made it Sus on Engel tale ! that made it thus in English tale ! With the Genesis and Exodus may be roughly classed as to locality Havlok the Dane, though that poem uses the sh. But the most remarkable of all the productions of the transition period is the poem entitled The Owl and the Nightingale. Its locality is established by internal evidence, as having been written at or near Portesham in Dorsetshire. It is a singular combination of archaic English with ripe and mature versification. The forms of words and even the terms of expression frequently recall Mr. Barnes's Poems in the Dorset Dialect. A prominent feature is the frequent use of V where we write /, as vo for foe ; vlize = flies ; vairer = fairer; v ra7n= from ; vor^ for; but so for-vorp for 'so far forth'; ze;^r^-z'6>r^ = wherefore ; &c. In connection with which it ought to be remembered that we in modern English use the V in many places where the Saxon orthography had f. Instances : — heaven, Saxon heofon ; love, Saxon lufu ; but this alteration avoids initial _/"'s which remain with us as in Saxon times. The change may be well illustrated by the numeral five, Saxon fi/e ; where the first / stands unaltered, but the second has been transformed to v. The fact is that the break in the continuity of our literary language opened the way for much of west-country style that never could have been admitted unless such an interruption had taken place* 6o SKETCH OF THE RISE It has already been shewn above that the Saxon literary lan- guage was not really native to Wessex, that it was not originally Saxon at all, but Anglian. This poem may safely be pronounced the oldest extant specimen of the pure Wessex dialect. And when we add that it is one of the most lovely idylls of any age or of any language, we hope that some Englishmen will be induced to master the dialects of the thirteenth century, in order to be able to appreciate this exquisite pastoral. Its date may be somewhere about A.D. 1 280. So far from substituting j for sc { = sh) this poem spells schaliu, schule, sckolde, schonde, schame, schake^, schende, schuniet, scharp, Sec. On the other hand it tends to soften the ch guttural. In the Romance 0/ King Alexander we first begin to hear a sound as of the coming English language. Most of the transition pieces are widely distinct from the diction of Gower and Chaucer, but this has the air of a preparation for those writers. This romance sometimes resembles not distantly the Romaunt of the Rose. The feature which most claims attention is the working in of French words with the English. This is a translation of the poem which was the grand and general favorite before the Romance of the Rose superseded it. It was a French work of the year a.d. 1200, consisting of 20,000 long twelve-syllable lines, a measure which thenceforward became famous in literature, and took the name of ' Alexandrine,' after this romance. The EngHsh version was made some time in the thirteenth century, in a lax tetrameter. It was not till Spenser that the Alexandrine metre was systematically employed in our national poetry. As the poem was originally French, this may partly ac- count for the number of French words and phrases in the translation. Partly, but not altogether: Havelok is from a French original, but it is very free from French words. OF THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE, 6 1 The fact seems to be that this translation carries us into the atmosphere of the court ; not only by the variety and pure- ness of the French words in it, but also by its metrical resem- blance to that eminently courtly work, Chaucer's Romaunt of the Rose. Moreover, the language is in other respects so like the court-English of the fourteenth century, that we cannot but regard it as in a special manner one of the dawning lights of the standard language. In Chaucer and Gower the French words are often so Anglicised, that a reader might pass them for pure Saxon. Not so in the Romance of King Alexander. The two languages do not yet appear blended together, but only mixed biUngually. The following lines will illustrate this crude mixture of French with English : 1. That us telleth the maistres saunz faile. 2. Hy ne ben no more verreyvient. 3. And to have horses auenaunt, To hem stalworth and asperaunt. 4. Of alle men hy ben queintest. 5. Toppe and rugge, and croupe and cors Is semblabel to an hors. In the rhyming Chronicle of Robert of Gloucester we have a fine specimen of west-country English, which touches the dialect of The Owl and Nightingale at many points; the infinitives ending in -i or -y, or -ie, as to conseili = to counsel ; he wolde sustemi = he would sustain ; ' he ne let no5t clupie al is folc' = he let not call all his folk ; ' due William uorbed alle his to rohhy' = duke William forbad all his men to rob ; hoseli = to housel .; ' ])is noble due Willam him let crouny king' = this noble duke William made them croivn him king. But near relationship is not more indicated by similarity of grammatical forms than by peculiar applications of pre- positions and cunjunctions. The Owl and Nightingale has the adverb fort (which is in fact our modern forth) in the 6% SKETCH OF THE RISE prepositional sense of unh'I : as, ' J)U singest from eve /brf amor5e' = thou singest from evening un/i'l morning. And also conjunctionally, as, ' jjos hule abod /or/ hit was eve' ^ this owl abode un/i'l it was evening. In Robert of Gloucester we find the same word in the conjunctional sense of unWl, as in the address of William to his soldiers after their landing : ' UnderstondaJ) hou ^oure eldeme ])e king nome also, And helde him vorie he adde amended ])at he adde misdo.* Ye understand how your elders seized the king also, And held him until he had amended that he liad ill done. But in many cases this dialect differs strongly from the Dorset, as exhibited in the Owl and Nightingale. The latter has the initial h very constant in such words as Ich habhe = I have ; J>u havest = thou hast ; ho hadde = she had, &c. ; whereas in Robert of Gloucester it is adde, as may be seen in the last quotation. Also he writes is for his very frequently, though not constantly. It seems as if he put the h to this word when it was emphatic. The Dorset, on the other hand, retains the h in hit for it ; writes the owl down as a ' hule,' and a ' houle' ; never fails in sh, but rather strengthens it by the spelling sch, as scharpe, schild, schal, schaj?ie, Sec. ; whereas the Gloucester dialect eludes the h in such instances, and writes ss, as ssolde = should ; ssipes = ships ; ssriue = shrive ; ssire = shire ; bissopes = bishops ; and even Engliss for English, Frenss for French. The following line offers a good illustration both of this feature, and also of the metre of this Chronicle, which is not very equable or regular, but of which the ideal seems to be the fourteen-syllable ballad-metre : ' Hou longe ssoUe hor luj^er heued above hor ssoldren be ? ' Morris, Specimens, p. 66. How long-a shall their hated heads Above their shoulders be ? OF THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE, 6^ Perhaps this may have been a difference in the ortho- graphy rather than in the pronunciation. Which is made probable by the substitution of the ss for ck where we must suppose a French pronunciation of the c/i, which is about the same as our s/i sound. Thus, in the long piece presently to be quoted, we have Michaelmas written Missehnassc. The Commencement of Robert of Gloucester's Chronicle, as printed by Hearne. Date about 1300. Engelond ys a wel god lond, ich wene of eche lond best, Yset in the ende of the world, as al in the West. The see goth hym al a boute, he stont as an yle. tiere fon heo durre the lasse doute, but hit be ihorw gyle Of folc of the selue lond, as me hath yseye wyle. From South to North he is long eighte hondred myle ; And foure hondred myle brod from Est to West to wende, _ Amydde tho lond as yt be, and noght as by the on ende. Plente me may in Engelond of all gods yse, Bute folc yt forgulte other yeres the worse be. For Engelond ys ful ynow of fruyt and of tren, Of wodes and of parkes, thar joye yt ys to sen ; Of foules and of bestes, of wylde and tame al so ; Of salt fysch and eche fresch, and fayre ryueres ther to; Of welles swete and colde ynow, of lesen and of mede ; Of seluer or and of gold, of tyn and of lede ; Of stel, of yrn, and of bras ; of god com gret won ; Of whyte and of woUe god, betere ne may be non. England is a very good land, I ween of every land {the) best ; iet in the end of the world, as in the utter west. The sea goeth it all about ; it sta?ideth as an isle. Their foes they need the less fear, except it be through guile of folk of the same land, as men have seen sometimes. From south to north it is eight hundred mile long; and four hundred mile broad to wend from east to west, that is, amid the land, and not as by the one end. Plenty of all goods men may in England see, unless the people are in faidt or the years are bad. For England is full enough of fruit and of trees : of woods and of parks, that joy it is to see ; of fowls and of beasts, of wild and tame also; of salt fiih a?id eke fre^h, and fair rivers thereto; of wells sweet and cold enow, of pastures and of meads ; of silver ore and of gold, of tin and of lead ; of steel, of iron, and of brass ; of good corn great store ; of wheat and of good wool, better may be none. But the most famous and oftest quoted piece of Robert of Gloucester is that wherein he sums up the consequences 64 SKETCH OF THE RISE of the Battle of Hastings. It contains the clearest and best statement of the bilingual state of the population in his own time, that is, about a.d. 1300. pus lo ! Jie Englisse folc vor no3t to grounde com Vor a fals king, J>at nadde no ri3t to ]>e kinedom, ') come to a nywe louerd, ])at more in riste was. Ac hor noJ)er, as me may ise, in pur ri3te nas. T J)us was in Normannes hond J^at lond ibro3t iwis, pat an-aunter 3if euermo keueringe J)er-of is. Of 'pe Normans bej) heye men, ])at bej) of Engelonde •3 Jie lowe men of Saxons, as ich understonde, So J)at 56 se]) in eij)er side wat ri3te 3e abbe]) Jjerto ; Ac ich understonde, ])at it was ])oru Godes wille ydo. Vor J>e wule ])e men of ]jis lond pur hejiene were, No lond, ne no folc a3en hom in armes nere ; Ac nou su]?])e ])at ];et folc auenge cristendom, ■;] wel lute wule hulde J)e biheste Jjat he nom, T turnde to sleupe, "3 to prute, ^ to lecherie, To glotonie, ~) heye men muche to robberie, As ])e gostes in a uision to Seint Edward sede, , Wu ]/er ssolde in Engelond come such wrecchede ; Vor robberie of heie men, vor clerken hordom, Hou God wolde sorwe sende in |)is kinedom. Bituene Misselmasse and Sein Luc, a Sein Calixtes day, As vel in Jjulke 3ere in a Saterday. In ])e 5er of grace, as it vel also, A jjousend and sixe '] sixti, J)is bataile was ido. Due Willam was })o old nyne "j J)ritti 3er, •] on T ])ritti 5er he was of Normandie due er. po J)is bataile was ydo, due Willam let bringe Vaire is folc, |)at was aslawe, an er];e J)oru alle ])inge. Alle ])at wolde leue he 3ef, J^at is fon anerjie bro3te. Haraides moder uor hire sone wel 3erne him biso3te Bi messagers, ^ largeliche him bed of ire J»inge, To granti hire hire sones bodi aner]>e vor to bringe. Willam hit sende hire vaire inou, wif/oute eny J)ing ware uore : So ]3at it was J)oru hire wij) gret honour ybore To ])& hous of Waltham, ~] ibro3t aner])e Jiere, In ])& holi rode chirche, ])at he let him-sulf rere. An hous of religion, of canons ywis. Hit was ])er vaire an erjie ibro3t, as it 5ut is. Willam ])\s noble due, })o he adde ido al ])is. pen wey he nom to Londone he T alle his. As king and prince of londe, wij:) nobleye ynou. A5en him wi]) uair procession ];at folc of toune drou, -] vnderueng him vaire inou, as king of ])is lond. pus com lo Engelond, in. to Normandies hond. OF THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE. 6^ T ])e Normans ne cou])e speke ])o, bote hor owe speche. •;j speke French as hii dude at om 'J hor children dude also teche. So ])at heiemen of pis lond, ])at of hor blod come, Holde]) alle ])ulke speche Jiat hii of horn nome, Vor bote a man conne Frenss, me telj> of him lute. Ac lowe men holde]) to Engliss "] to hor owe speche jute. Ich wene Ipev ne hep in al Jie world contreyes none, J^at ne holdej; to hor owe speche bote Engelond one. Ac wel me wot uor to conne bojje wel it is, Vor J)e more J)at a mon can, the more wurjje he is. It will hardly be necessary to translate the whole of this passage for the reader. We will modernise a specimen to serve as a guide to the rest. The last ten lines shall be selected as recording the linguistic condition of the country. And the Normans could not then speak any speech hut their own. And they spoke French as they did at home, and had their children taught the same. So that the high men of this land, that came of their blood, all retain the same speech which they brought from their home. For unless a man know French, people regard him little. But the low men hold to English, and to their own speech notwithstanding. I ween there be no countries in all the world that do not hold to their own speech, except England only. But undoubtedly it is well to know both ; for the more a man hiows, the more worth he is. These examples will perhaps suffice to give an idea of the dissevered and dialectic condition of the native language from the twelfth to the fourteenth century. During this long interval the reigning language was French, and this fashion, like all fashions, went on spreading and embracing a wider area, and ever growing thinner as it spread, till in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries it was become an acknowledged subject of derision. Already, before 1200, the famous Abbot Sampson, of Bury St. Edmunds, was thought to have said a good and memorable thing when he gave as his reason for preferring one man to a farm rather than another, that his man could not speak ^French. The French which was spoken in this country had acquired an insular character; it was full of Anglicisms and English words, and in fact must often have been little more than F 66 SKETCH OF THE RISE deformed English. Even well-educated persons, such as Chaucer's gende and lady-like Prioress, spoke a French which, as the poet informs us, was utterly unlike 'French of Paris/ What then must have been the French of the homely upland fellows Trevisa tells of: 'Jack wold be a gentleman yf he coude speke Frensche/ In Piers Plowman we have the dykers and delvers with their bits of French, doing a very bad day's work, but eminently polite to the ladies of the family : — ' Dykers and Delvers that don here werk ille, And driveth forth the longe day, with " Deu vous saue, dam Emme."' Piers Plowman's Prologue, 103. Perhaps it is a song they sing, as the latest editor, Mr. Skeat, takes it. This will serve equally well or even better to illustrate the complete diffusion of the French language among all ranks; and we might imagine, that now foe the second time in history it was on a turn of the balance whether Britain should produce nationality of the Roman- esque or of the Gothic type. But in the meantime the native tongue was growing more and more in use and respect, and at length, in the middle of the fourteenth century, we reach the end of its suppression and obscurity. Trevisa fixes on the great plague of 1349 as an epoch after which a change was observable in regard to the popular rage for speaking French. He says : 'This was moche used tofore the grete deth, but sith it is somdele chaunged.' But the most important date is 1362, when the English language was re-installed in its natural rights, and was established as the language of the Courts of Law. In the review of specimens of English which have passed before us, we are struck with their diversity and the absence of any signs of convergency to a common type. The only feature which they agree in with a sort of growing consent, OF THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE. 6"] is in the dropping of the old inflections and the severance of connection with the old Anglo-Saxon accidence. Among the most tenacious of these inflections was the genitive plural of substantives in -ena (Anglo-Saxon), and of adjectives in -ra. This -eria drooped into the more languid -ene; and the -ra appeared as -er or -r. Of the latter we shall have occasion to speak when we come to Chaucer. Mr. Morris has produced from this period the plural genitives apostlene veet^^eet of the apostles; deovlene fere = companion of devils ; englene songs = songs of angels ; e'^ene ivepynge = weeping of the eyes ; Jewene lawe = law of the Jews ; prophetene gestes = records of the prophets ; and many others. According to him it lived on in the south till near the close of the fourteenth century, after it had long been discontinued in the north. But whatever traces may be found of local tenacity, the general movement was one and identical, namely, to divest the language of the old inflections. Any other tangible evidence Of drawing towards a standard conformity it is difficult to find. If inter-communication at certain points tended towards the smoothing out and gene- ralising of local peculiarities, this was more than com- pensated for by isolation at other parts, and the continued production of new idioms. , -:In fact we have a phenomenon to account for. In > the.: fourteenth century there suddenly appeared a standard •English language. It appeared at once in full vigour, and was acknowledged on all hands without dispute. The study of the previous age does not make us acquainted with a general process of convergency towards this result, but rather in- dicates that each locality was getting confirmed in its own peculiar habits of speech, and that the divergence was growing wider. Now there appeared a mature form of English which was generally received. F 2 68 SKETCH OF THE RISE The two writers of the fourteenth century who most powerfully display this language are Chaucer and Gower. Piers Plowman is in a dialect; Wiclif's Bible Version is in a dialect : but Chaucer and Gower write in a speech which is thenceforward recognised as The English Language, and which before their time is hardly found. This seems to admit of but one explanation. It must have been simply the language that had formed itself in the court about the per- son of the monarch. Chaucer and Gower differ from the other chief writers of their time in this particular, which they have in common between themselves, that they were both conversant with court Hfe, and moved in the highest regions of English society. They wrote in fact King's English. This advantage, joined to the excellence of the works them- selves, procured for these two writers, but more especially for Chaucer, the preference over all that had written in English. We have not yet done indeed with provincial specimens, even among our most important examples of English ; but we are from this date in possession of a standard, relatively to which all diverging forms of English are local and secondary. Having a standard, we are now in a position for the first time to designate all other Enghsh as 'pro- vincial.' An admiring foreigner (I think it was M. Montalembert), among other compliments to the virtues of this nation, observed, as a proof of our loyalty and our attachment to the monarchy, that we even call our roads * the Queen's Highways,' and our language ' the Queen's English' ! No Englishman would wish to dim the beauty of the sentiment here attributed to us, nor need we think it is disparaged though a matter-of-fact origin can be assigned to each of these expressions. Of the term 'King's Highway' the origin is historically known. When there were many juris- OF THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE. 6g dictions in this country, which were practically independent of the crown, the border-lands of the shires where jurisdic- tion might be uncertain, and likewise the highways, ap- pertained to the royal jurisdiction. That is to say, a crime committed on the highway was as if committed in the King's own personal domain, and fell to his courts to judge. The highways were emphatically under the King's Peace, and hence they came to be (for a very solid and substantial reason, at a time when travellers sorely needed to have their security guaranteed) spoken of as the 'King's Highways.' This is known from the best of records; namely, the old laws concerning jurisdictions. Of the origin of the term ' King's English ' we have not any direct testimony of this kind ; but it seems that it may be constructively shewn, at least as a probability, that it was originally the term to designate the style of the royal proclamations, charters, and other legal writings, by contrast with the various dialects of the provinces. As a little collateral illustration and confirmation of this view, it may be not amiss to observe that the style of penmanship in^ which such documents were then written has always been known as ' Court Hand.' Ever since the time of the Archbishop Stephen Langton, in the reign of King John, it had been usual to employ French in the most select documents, instead of Latin, which had been in general use from the time of the Conquest. Hallam tells us, on the authority of Mr. Stevenson, that ' all letters, even of a private nature, were written in Latin till the beginning of the reign of Edward I (soon after 1270), when a sudden change brought in the use of French.' But neither of these strange languages were suitable for edicts and proclamations addressed to the body of the people, and we may suppose that the vernacular was generally employed for 70 SKETCH OF THE RISE this purpose, although few examples have survived. The earliest extant piece of this class is in the reign of Henry III, in the year 1258, and it is one of those which have been photozincographed by Colonel Sir Henry James in the Facsimiles of National Manuscripts. Proclamation of Henry III, sent to the several Counties of England, a.d. 1258. [This copy is addressed to the inhabitants of Huntingdonshire.] ^ Henr', ])ur3 Godes fultume, King on Engleneloande, Lhoauerd on Yrloand, Duk on Norm' on Aquitain' and eorl on Aniow, send igretinge to alle hise holde, ilaerde and ilaewede on Huntendon' schir'. pset witen je wel alle \>xX we willea and unnen jjaet. Jiset vre rsedesmen alle o];er })e moare d^l of heom, ]jaet beo]) ichosen ]>ur3 us and )>ur3 Jjset loandes folk on vre kuneriche, habbej) idon and schuUe don. in J)e worj^nesse of Gode and on vre treowj^e, for ];e freme of ])e loande. ];ur3 ]je besi^te of ]>an toforen iseide redesmen. beo stedefiESt and ilestinde in alle finge abuten aende. And we hoaten alle vre treowe, in ])e treowjje jjset heo vs 03en. ))aet heo stedefaestliche healden and swerien to healden and to werien J)e isetnesses ])aet beon imakede and beon to makien, })iir3 J)an to foren iseide raedesmen ojjcr ])ur3 J)e moare dsel of heom, alswo alse hit is biforen iseid. And Jjaet sehc o|ier helpe jjset for to done, bi J)an ilche o|)e a3enes alle men. Ri3t for to done and to foangen. And noan ne nime of loande ne of e3te. wherj)ur3 J)is besigte mu3e beon ilet o])er iwersed on onie wise. And 3if oni o])er onie cumen her on3enes, we willen and hoaten jjaet alle vre treowe heom healden deadliche ifoan. And for \xX we willen Jjsset J»is beo stedefaest and lestinde. we senden 3ew J)is writ open, iseined wij) vre seel, to halden a manges 3ew ine hord. Wit- nesse vs seluen set Lunden', ])ane e3tetenj)e day. on ])e monjje of Octobr' in \t two and fowerti3])e 3eare of vre cruninge. And ]?is wes idon tetforen vre isworene redesmen. Bonefac' Archebischop on Kant'bur'. Walt' of Cantelow. Bischop on Wirechestr'. Sim' of Miintfort. Eorl on Leirchestr'. Ric' of Clar' eorl on Glowchestr' and on Hurtford. Rog' Bigod. eorl on Northfolk and marescal on Engleneloand'. Perres of Sauveye, Will' of fFort, eorl on Aubem', Joh' of Plesseiz eorl on Ware- wik. Joh' Geffrees sune. Perres of Muntefort. Ric' of Grey. Rog' of Mortemer. James of Aldithel and aetforen oJ;re mo5e, ^ And al on \o ilche worden is isend in to seurihce o|)re shcire ouer al ])aere kuneriche on Engleneloande. And ek in tel Irelonde. OF THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE. 7 1 Here we remark that in 1258 the letter ]? (called 'Thorn') was still in common use. There is one solitary instance of the Roman th in the above document, and that is in a family name ; by which we may suppose that the th was already recognised as more fashionable. The following is the modern English of this unique proclamation. H Henry, through Gods help, King in England, Lord in Ireland, Duke in Normandy, in Aquitain, and Ear'l in Anjou, sends greeting to all his subjects, learned and lay, in Huntingdonshire. This know ye ivell all that we will and grant that that which our counsel- lors all or the more part of them, that be cho^ren through us and throtigh the land's folk f;z our kingdom, have done and shall do, in the reverence of God and in loyalty to us, for the good of the land, through the care of these aforesaid counsellors, be stedfast and lasting in all things without end. A nd we enjoin all our lieges, in the allegiance that they us owe, that they stedfastly hold, and swear to hold and to maintai7i the ordinances that be made and shall be made through the aforesaid counsellors, or through the more part of them, in manner as it is before said. And that each help the other so to do, by the same oath, against all men : Right for to do and to accept. And none is to take land or money, where- through this provisioji may be let or damaged in any wise. And if any person or persons come tbere-against, we will and enjoin that all our lieges them hold deadly foes. And, for that lue will that this be stedfa'it and lasting, we send you this writ open, signed wi'h our seal, to hold amongst you in hoard (store). Wit- ness ourselves at London, the eighteenth day in the mo7ith of October, in the two and fortieth year of our crowning. And this was do?ie in the presettce of our sworn coumeUors, Boniface, Arch- bishop of Canterbury ; Walter of Cantelow, Bishop of Worcester ; Simofi of Monifort, earl of Leices'er ; Richard of Clare, earl of Gloiicester and Hert- ford; Roger Bigod, earl of Norfolk and Marshal of England ; Piers of Savoy; Williani of Fort, earl of Albernarle ; John of Plesseiz, earl of Warwick; John Gefferson ; Piers of Montfort ; Richard of Grey; Roger of Mortimer ; James of Aldithel, — and in the presence of many others. ^ And all in the like words is sent in to every other shire over all the king- dom of England : and also i?i to Ireland. This is not a specimen of ' King's English/ nor of any type of English that ever had a living existence. It is to English something Hke what the Hindustani of one of our Indian interpreters might be to the spoken language of the 72 SKETCH OF THE RISE natives — good enough to be understood of the people, and clumsy enough to betray the hand of the stranger. It is a piece of official English of the day, composed by the clerk to whom it appertained, off notes or an original draft, which (in either case) were couched in French. The strength of the composition consists in set and estabhshed phrases, which had long been in use for like purposes, and which betray themselves by their flavour of anachronism here. Such 2iTe, /uUiime, willen and unnen, isetnesses, on in places where it was no longer usual, and other less palpable anachronisms, among which we should probably reckon the use of the word hord. That this proceeds from the pen of one whose sphere was more or less outside the people, appears from the over- charged rudeness and broadness of many of the forms, running on the verge of caricature. Such are, loande, Lhoa- uerd, moare, hoaten,/oangen, CBurihce, shcire, tel. The proportion of French words is so small, compared to the literary habits of the date, that it is plain they have been studiously excluded, and that with a needless excess of scruple; for a vast number of French words must before now have become quite popular. Besides iseined and crujimge the translator might perhaps have safely ventured on the word purveance ( = providence, provision, care), which is what he had under his eye or in his mind when he in two places employed the uncouth native word hesigie — a word which probably is nowhere else found. This specimen has been brought forward here in order by this example to make it plain what ' King's English ' was not. To exhibit, on the other hand, what it was, I am obliged to step forward over a century, and take a piece of royal correspondence, in order that we may make sure what manner of English was in use in the royal family at that OF THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE. J-^ time. The following letter from Henry Prince of Wales (afterwards Henry V) to his father, is one of those pieces which enable us to trace the progress of the English lan- guage at its centre, and the exactness of the copy may be relied on as it is one of the pieces given in the photozinco- graphed National Manuscripts of the Ordnance Survey. Henry Prince of Wales to his father Henry IV, A.D. 1402. My soverain lord and fader, I Recomande me to yowr good and gracieux lordship, as humbly as I can, desiring to heere as good tydingges of yow and yowr hye estat, as ever did liege man of his soverain lord. And, Sir, I trust to God that ye shal have now a companie comyng with my brother of Bedford that ye shal like wel, in good feith, as hit is do me wite, Never- thelatter my brothers mainy [companyl have I seyn, which is right a tal meyny. And so schal ye se of thaym that be of yowr other Captaines leding, of which I sende yow al the names in a rolle, be \by] the berer of this. Also so. Sir, blessid be God of the good and gracieux tydingges that ye have liked to send me word of be [by] Herford your messager, which were the gladdist that ever I my3t here, next yowr wel fare, be my trouth : and Sir with Goddes grace I shal sende al thise ladies as ye have comandid me, in al hast beseching yow of yowr lordship that I myjt wite how that ye wolde that my cosine of York shuld reule her, whether she shuld be barbid or not, as I have wreten to yow my soverain lord afore this tyme. And, Sir, as touching Tiptot, he shal be delivered in al hast, for ther lakkith no thing but shipping which with Goddes grace shal be so ordeined for that he shal not tary. Also Sir, blessid be God, yowr gret ship the Grace Dieu is even as redy, and is the fairest that ever man saugh, I trowe in good feith ; and this same day th' Erie of Devenshir my cosin maad his moustre [muster] in her, and al others have her [their] moustre the same tyme that shal go to ]pe see. And Sir I trowe ye have on [one] comyng toward yow as glad as any man can be, as far as he shewith, that is the King of Scotts : for he thanketh God that he shal mowe shewe be experience th' entente of his goodwill be the suffrance of your good lordship. My soverain lord more can I not write to yowr hynesse at this time ; but y ever I beseche yow of your good and gracieux lordship as, be my trouth, my witting willingly I shal never deserve the contrary, that woot God, to whom I pray to send yow al J)' yowr hert desireth to his plaisance. Writen in yowr tovn of Hampton, the xiiij*'' day of May. — ^Yowr trewe and humble liege man and sone, H. G. Between these two pieces, namely, that of a.d. 1258 and that of A.D. 1402, a period of 140 years had elapsed; but even this period, which represents four generations of men, 74 SKETCH OF THE RISE would not suffice to allow for the transition of the one into the other in the way of lineal descent. In fact they are not on the same track. The one is a fossihsed sample of con- fused provincialisms, the other a living and breathing utter- ance of ' King's English/ And this King's English must have been long in preparation before it made its public appearance, and still longer before the date of any extant record of such appearance. The Romance of King Alex- ander, which appeared in the latter part of the thirteenth century, has already been noticed as perhaps the earliest literary indication. The following piece has something of the Court English about it, but perhaps it is not in a very good state of preservation. It is taken from Warton's History of English Poetry (ed. Price). Selections from an Elegy on the Death of King Edward /, who died A.J). 1307. A lie that beo]) of huerte trewe A stounde herkne]) to my song, Of Duel that De]; ha]> diht vs newe, That make]) me S3'ke ant sorewe among: Of a knyht that wes so strong Of wham God haj) done ys wlUe; Me ])uncke]) that De)i haJ) don vs wrong, That he so sone shal ligge stille. Al Englond ahte forte knowe Of wham that song is that y synge, Of Edward kyng that lij) so lowe, Yent al this world is nome con springe : Trewest mon of alle J'inge, Ant in wcrre war ant wys ; For him we ahte oure honden wrynge, Of Christendome he ber the pris. OF THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE. "] ^ Nou is Edward of Carnaruan King of Eiiglelond al aplyht ; God Itte him ner be worse man Then is fader, ne lasse of myht, To holdcn is pore men to ryht, Ant vndtrsLOude good consail ; Al Engel ind forte wisse ant diht ; Of gode knyhtes darh him nout fail. XI. Thah mi tonge were mad of stel Ant min herte ygote of bras The godnesse myht y neuer telle That with kyng Edward was. Teanslation. All ye that be true of heart, hearken ye a while to my song, of grief that death hath la'ely done us, which maketh me sigh and sorrow as I sing: of a hiight who was so strofig, that God hath accomplished His ptirpose by his hands ; methinhs that Death has done us wrong, that he so soon must lie still. All England ought for to knew of whom the song is that I sing — of Edward the king that lieth so low, over all this world his name did spring : truest mail ifi all hisiness, and in war cautious and wise ; for him we ought to vjring our hands ; he boi'e the palm of Christendom. Now is Edward of Caernarvon king of Englofid assi-iredly. God grant he be never a worse man than his father, nor less in might, to support his poor men to (obtain their) rights, and to understand good counsel ; for to gtdde and direct all England — of good knights shall not him fail. Though my tongue were made of steel, and my heart cast in brass, I should never be able to tell the goodness that was about king Edward. But it is in the writings of Chaucer and Gower that we have for the first time the full display of King's EngHsh, These two names have been coupled together all through the whole course of English literature. Skelton, the poet laureate of Henry VII, joins the. two names together. So does our literary king, James I. So have all writers who have had occasion to speak of the fourteenth century, down to the present day. Indeed, Chaucer himself may be almost said to have associated Gower's name permanently with his 76 SKETCH OF THE RISE own literary and poetical fame, in the terms with which he addressed his Troylus and Creseide to Gower and Strode, and asked their revision of his book : ' O moral Gower, this boke I directe To the, and to the philosophical Strode, To vouchen sauf, ther nede is, to correcte, Of youre benignites and zeles good.' Thus these two names have grown together, and their con- nection is soldered by habit and tradition. One is apt to imagine, previous to a study of their works, that they were a par nohile fratrum, brothers and equals in poetry and genius, and that they had contributed equally, or nearly so, towards the making of English literature. But this is very far from being the case. That which united them at first, and which continues to be the sole ground of coupling their names together, is just this, — that they wrote in the same general strain and in the same language. By this is meant, first, that they were both versed in the learning then most prized, and both delivered what they had to say in the terms then most admired ; and secondly, that both wrote the English of the court. If affinity of genius had been the basis of classification, the author of Piers Plowman had more right to rank with Chaucer than the prosaic Gower. But in this Chaucer and Gower are united in that they both wrote the particular form of English which was henceforward to be estabHshed as the standard form of the national language, and their books were the leading EngUsh classics of the best society down to the opening of a new era under Elizabeth. And now the question naturally rises. What was this new language % what was it that distinguished the King's English from the various forms of provincial English of which examples have been given in the group of writers noticed OF THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE. ' 77 above, or from Piers Plowman and other provincial con- temporaries of Chaucer ? In answer to this it may be said, that it is no more possible to convey the idea of a language by description than of a piece of music. The writings must be looked into by all who desire to realise the distinctions here to be pointed out. A moderate course of reading, such as that laid out in Mr. Morris's Specimens of Eai'ly English would enable a student to follow our description. The leading characteristics of the King's English — the characteristics by which it is distinguished from the pro- vincial dialects — are only to be understood by a considera- tion of the vast amount of French which it had absorbed. It is a familiar sound to hear Chaucer called the ivell of English undefiled. But this expression never had any other meaning than that Chaucer's language was free from those foreign materials which got into the English of some cen- turies later. Compare Chaucer with the provincial English writers of his own day, and he will be found highly Frenchified in comparison with them. Words which are so thoroughly naturalised that they now pass muster as ' English undefiled/ will often turn out to be French of the twelfth and thirteenth centuries. Who would suspect such a word as blemish of being French ? and yet it is so. It is from the old French adjective blesme, which meant sallow, wan, discoloured ; and its old verb blesmir, which meant as much as the modern French verbs tacher and salir, to spot and to soil. Then there is the very Saxon-looking word with its w initial, to warish, meaning to recover from sickness. Richardson, in his Dic- tionary, has provided this word with a Saxon derivation, by connecting it with being ware or wary, and so taking care of oneself. But it is simply the French verb guesir. These are only two of a whole class of French verbs which have put on the English termination -ish ; such as to banish, 78 SKETCH OF THE RISE emhellish, flourish, nourish, punish, burnish, furnish, perish, finish, from the French verbs nourrir, fleurir, emhellir, bannir, punir , finir , perir , fournir , burnir (now brunir). They were made subject to the usages of English grammar, as if they had been true natives. Thus we find in Chaucer's Legende of Goode Women, the verb banish with the Saxon verbal prefix y-, as — ' And Brutus hath by hire chaste bloode yswore, That Tarquyn shuld ybanysshed be therfore.' French words in Chaucer and Gower will sometimes assume a form which is literatim identical with some common English word. For instance, the French verb burnir just cited appears in both these poets in the strangely English and absolutely misleading form oi burned: — ' . . . wrought al of bt/rned Steele.' Knight's Tale, 2185; ed. Tyrw. ' An harnois as for a lustie knight Which burned was as silver bright.' Gower, Confessio Atnantts. And the French poulet, which then meant a young child, is Anglicised into something which looks like the participle of the verb to pull, in the Prologue 177: — ' He yaf not of the text a pulled hen, Which saith that hunters ben not holy men.' The difference of look between the French initial gu and the English initial w often masks a French word. Thus, ward and warden are from the French verb guarder and the French noun guardien. In Chaucer the French word gateau (a cake), anciently ^(2j/ ^ R < F U TH O R K H 1^ I ^ H H N I korM S T B L M Y Others were perhaps added later, as — h M ?< r( + i> Y C E G P Q W A Yet this distinction of the Runes into elder and younger has been called into question. Professor Stephens with ^ In the history of the Runic alphabet I have chiefly followed Wilhelm Grimm's Ueber Deutsche Riinen, 182 1. Since the text was in the printer's hands 1 have learnt from the second volume of Professor Stephens's Rufiic Monuments, 1 868, that these views are open to question in many respects. In deference to the latter authority I have altered the value of |^ and of ^. I04 THE ENGLISH ALPHABET. great force maintains that the oldest Runic alphabet was the most various and multiplex. When our Saxon ancestors adopted the use of the Latin alphabet, they still retained even in book literature two of the Runes, because there were no Roman characters corres- ponding to them. One was the old Thorn, p, for which the Latin mode of expression was by the use of two letters TH, and the other was the more local p which was after the conquest superseded by a double U or double V. The p (TH) had a more prolonged career. A modified Roman letter was put forward as a substitute for it, namely a crossed D, but the character thus excogitated (D ^) did not supersede the Rune p, which continued to be used along with it in a confused and arbitrary manner, until they were both ultimately banished by the general adoption of the TH. This change was not completely established until the very close of the fifteenth century. And even then there was one case of the use of the Rune p which was not abolished. The words the and that continued to be written J>e and J?at or J?\ This habit lasted on long after its original meaning was forgotten. The p got confused with the character y at a time when the y was closed a-top, and then people wrote ' ye ' for the and ' y* ' for that. This has lasted down close to our own times : and it may be doubted whether the practice has entirely ceased even now. Ben Jonson, in The English Gramjnar, considered that by the loss of the Saxon letters ]? and ^ we had fallen into what he called 'the greatest difficulty of our alphabet and true writing,' inasmuch as we had lost the means of distin- guishing the two sounds of th, as in this, that, them, thine, from the sound of the same character in thi7ig, thick, thread, thrive. As a means of distinguishing these two sounds the letters THE ENGLISH ALPHABET. I05 \ and ^ might have been highly serviceable. But there is no evidence that they were ever used with this discrimination in Saxon literature, or at any later period. When, in the sixth century, the Latin alphabet began to obtain the ascendancy over the native Runes, the Runes did not at once fall into disuse. Runes are found on grave- stones, church crosses, fibulae, &c, down at least to the eleventh century. The Isle of Man is famous for its Runic stones, especially the church of Kirk Braddan. These are Scandinavian, and are due to the Norwegian settlements of the tenth century. For lapidary inscriptions, clog almanacs^ and other familiar uses, it is difficult to say how long they may have lingered in remote localities. In such lurking- places a new kind of importance and of mystery came to be attached to them. They were held in a sort of traditional respect which at length grew into a superstition. They were the heathen way of writing, while the Latin alphabet was a symbol of Christianity. The Danish pirates used Runes at the time when they harried the Christian nations. There is a marble lion in Venice, on which is a Runic inscription, which commemorates a visit of one of the northern sea- rovers at Athens (where the lion then was) in the tenth century. After a time, they came to be regarded as positive tokens of heathendom, and to belong only to sorcery and magic. We now pass to consider the Roman alphabet, and to note some of the peculiarities of its use among ourselves. And first, of our vowels, and the remarkable names by which we are wont to designate them. Our names of the vowels are singularly at variance with the continental names for the same characters. Of the five vowels a e i u, there is but one, viz. 0, of which the name is at all like that given it in France or Germany. But it is in the names of I05 THE ENGLISH ALPHABET. A and / and U that our insular tendencies have wrought their most pronounced effects. The first we call by an unwriteable name, and which we cannot more nearly describe than by saying, that it is the sound which drops out of the half-open mouth, with the lowest degree of effort at utter- ance. It is a diphthongal sound, and if we must spell it, it is this : Ae. This ^ is a curiosity of the English language, and will call for further notice by-and-bye. The character /we C2\\ eye or igh ; the ^we calljyezv. That / was called eye in Shakspeare's time, seems indicated by that line in Midsummer Nighfs Dream, iii. 2. 188:— * Fair Helena ; who more engilds the night. Then all yon fierie oes and eies of light.' Where it seems plain that the stars are called O's and I's. If this passage left it doubtful whether the letter / were sounded in Shakspeare's time as it is now, there is a passage in Romeo and Juliet, iii. 2 which removes the doubt : — 'Hath Romeo slaine himselfe? say thou but I, And that bare vowele I shall poyson more Than the death-darting eye of Cockatrice : I am not I, if there be such an I ; Or those eyes shot, that makes thee answere 7. If he be slaine say I; or if not, no: Briefe sounds determine of my weale or wo.' Here it is plain that the affirmative which we now write ay, and the noun eye, and the vowel /, are regarded as having the selfsame sound. The extreme oddity of our sound of U comes out under a used-up or languid utterance, as when a dilettante is heard to excuse himself from purchasing pictures which are offered to him at a great bargain, on the plea that ' they do ac-cyew-myew-layte [accumulate] so ! ' In France this letter has the narrow sound which is unknown in English, but I THE ENGLISH ALPHABET. lOj which it has in Welsh, and which seems ever ready to degenerate into Y: in Germany it has the broad sound oi 00. As the sound of u has developed into the 'yew' sound, so it is quite as much in the nature of i to grow into a kind of ' yigh ' sound, as may sometimes be heard in affected or exaggerated pronunciation. The following extract from a ' Prologue ' by the American humourist Oliver Wendell Holmes will shew what is meant : — ' " The world 's a stage," — as Shakspeare said, one day ; The stage a world — was what he meant to say. The outside world 's a blunder, that is clear ; The real world that Nature meant is here. Here every foundling finds its lost mamma ; Each rogue, repentant, melts his stern papa ; Misers relent, the spendthrift's debts are paid. The cheats are taken in the traps they laid ; One after one the troubles all are past Till the fifth act comes right side up at last. When the young couple, old folks, rogues and all. Join hands, so happy at the curtain's fall. — Here suffering virtue ever finds relief, And black-brow'd ruffians always come to grief. ■ — When the lorn damsel, with a frantic screech, And cheeks as hueless as a brandy-peach, Cries, " Help, hyind Heaven ! " and drops upon her knees On the green — baize, — beneath the (canvas) trees, — See to her side avenging Valour fly : — " Ha ! Villain ! Draw ! Now, Terraitorr, yield or die ! " ' But with reference to these strange insular names of our vowels, there is an observation to be made, which has, I think, been overlooked. The names of the five vowels are, Ae, Ee, Igh, Oe, Yeiv ; but these names, which are distinctly our own, and among the peculiarities of our language, do not in the case of any single vowel express the prevalent sound of that vowel in practical use. The chief sound of our A is that which it has in at, bat, cat, dagger, fat, gander, hat, land, man, nap, pan, rat, sat, vat, want. It has another very distinct sound, especially before I08 THE ENGLISH ALPHABET. the letter L, namely the sound of aw : as, all, ball, call, fall, gall, hall, malt, pall, tall, talk, wall, walk, water. But the sound which is expressed in the name Ae is a diphthongal sound, which A never bears in any word except when to the « an ^ is appended, not immediately indeed, but after an intervening consonant: as, ate, bate, cate, date, fate, gape, hate, jape, late, make, nape, pane, rate, state, tale, vale, wane. This final e must be considered as much embodied with its a, as in the corresponding German sound d which is in fact only a brief way of writing ae. It is difficult to suppose that the name of our first vowel has been dictated by the sound which it bears in the last-mentioned list of instances. There is no apparent reason why that class of instances should have drawn to itself any such special attention, to the neglect of the instances which more truly exemplify the power of the vowel. But there is one par- ticular instance of the use of A which is sufficiently frequent and conspicuous to have determined the naming of the letter. I can only suppose that the name which the letter bears has been adopted from the ordinary way in which the indefinite article A is pronounced. The vowel E in like manner does not generally represent the sound Ee which its name indicates. It only does so, as a rule, when supported by another e after an intervening consonant. Examples : bere, cere, intercede, intervene. We are therefore driven to look for some familiar and oft-recurring words, which have the e exceptionally pro- nounced as Ee. And such we find in the personal pro- nouns. The words he, she, me, we, have all the e long, and if they were spelt according to their sound, they would appear as hee, shee, mee, wee. In proof of this may be cited the case of the pronoun thee, which is written with its vowel double, though it has no innate right in this respect over the THE ENGLISH ALPHABET. IC9 pronoun me. The double vowel is expressed in the solitary instance of thee, as a matter of convenience, and to dis- tinguish it readily from the definite article the. It is by reference then to the function of the letter e in the personal pronouns, that we explain the name of Ee by which that vowel is incorrectly designated. It may be left to the reader to observe by a collection of instances, like hit, bit, nip, wit, dip, fit, sit, &c., &c., that the name which we have given to the vowel / does by no means give a just report of the general sound of that letter in our orthography. In what syllables is that eye sound represented by i1 Only in two kinds. The first is where it is supported by an e subscript : as, mi7te, wine, pipe, bite, kite, &c. The other case is where it has an old guttural after it; as, high, night, might, light. Sec. In short, the name of Igh does not represent truly the general use of this vowel. To account for its having acquired so inappropriate a name, we must again seek for a familiar and frequent word in which the vowel does bear this sound. And we find it in the personal pronoun /, which we might have written as Igh with equal propriety, and on the same principles as have determined the orthography of right, might, &c. The Saxon form was Ic / the German form is 3c^, the Dutch Ik, the Danish y^^, and the Swedish yia;^. So that in fact the name we have bestowed on / is not the due of that vowel in its simplicity, but only of that vowel after it has absorbed and assimilated an ancient guttural. The offers less to remark on than the other vowels. Yet even here the name Oe does not represent the sound it bears in the simplest instances of its use. It is quite dif- ferent from the sound of in do, go, to, dot, top, mop, dog, hop, lop, bog, tor. no THE ENGLISH ALPHABET. But it is the sound which it has when written diph- thongally with e, or with e subscript, as toe, foe, roe, hoe, sloe (except shoe) ; or, tone, doge, fore, rope, hope, slope. Of the U, it is very obscure what has led to its name. The instances where it represents that sound by which we have chosen to call it, are comparatively few. The pro- nunciation of the u as yew is probably East- Anglian in its origin. Natives of that province sometimes bring in that sound unexpectedly. When they utter the words rule, truth, ferusalem, with energy, they have been observed to convert them into ryule, tr-yewih, feryewsalem. This ten- dency, whereby the straining of a u generates a y, may be compared to the instance at p. 107, where i becomes _>^z*, kyind. Not Avithout an apparent parallelism is our pronunciation of the noun ewe, to which in sound we prefix ajF. Account for it how we may, the fact is plain (and this is what we are now upon) that the vowel has caught its nam- ing from certain strained and exceptional uses of it. To so great a length have I pursued this subject of the naming of our vowels, because it is in fact a most exceptional and insular phenomenon. As a criterion of the whole case we might refer to the designations of the five vowels in French or German, and the reasonableness of those designations. If this were done, the result would be something as follows. The French and Germans have named the vowels, but the English have nick-named them. When a man is called a king or a servant, he is character- ised by what may properly be called a name. But if we call him Longshanks or Peach-hlossom, we nick-name him. And this is analogous to what we have done with the vowels. We have given them names which are expressive, not of their general functions, but of the impression made by THE ENGLISH ALPHABET. I] I some prominent anomaly or adventitious oddity in their appearance. One or two of the consonants require some special remarks. C was invested with its present s-like sound by the French influence which accompanied the Norman Con- quest. Before that time it was never used but with the K-sound, which it still has before a, o, and u, as in call, cod, cut. G in Anglo-Saxon very generally became y in English ; daeg, day : ge2ir, year : ge,ye: gityjyel: gv2eg,gray: gQ2io,yare. In some cases a reaction ensued. The Anglo-Saxon gi/an is in Chaucer toyeve ; but it has had the g restored long ago, and we say give. Such changes were a source of copiousness to the lan- guage, which often retained the old form in some special use while adopting the new as a general rule. Thus grcBg became gray for general purposes, but as designating a grasshopper it became grig. D has a great affinity for n, and often is brought into a word by the n as a sort of shadow. In the words im- pound, expound, from the Latin impono and expono, the D is a pure English addition: so likewise in sound from French son, Latin sonus. Provincial phonetics go still further, and call a gown gownd. See above, p. 102. T in like manner is sometimes drawn in by s. In Acts xxvii. 40, we read ' hoised up the main-sail,' where we should now say and write ' hoisted,' not for any etymological reason, but from a purely phonetic cause. D has also a disposition to slip in between L and R. Thus the Saxon ealra, gen. pi. of eal = all, became first aller and then alder, as in ' Mine alder liefest Sovereign/ 2 King Henry VI, i. i. 112 THE ENGLISH ALPHABET. H in the ancient language was a guttural This letter has undergone more change of value since its introduction into our language, than any other letter. It is now a mere dumb historical object in many cases, and where it has any sound it is merely the sign of aspiration. It is almost classed with the vowels, as in the familiar rule which tells us to say an before a word beginning with a vowel or a silent h. It seems almost incredible that it ever had in English the force of the German ch, or rather of the Welsh ch. Yet such was the case. This ancient guttural is heard now only in those portions of the Anglian provinces which are in the southern counties of Scotland, and the northern counties of England. There you may still hear licht and necht { = light and night) pro- nounced in- audible gutturals. In the old English (or Anglo-Saxon) these were written with the simple h thus, liht and niht, but pronounced gutturally. As we now regard c and K as interchangeable in certain cases, e. g. Calendar or Kalendar, so in the early time stood c and h to each other. There were a certain number of words in which the Anglian c (of the time of Baeda) was represented by a Saxon h. The word beret, bright, is of frequent occurrence in the Eccle- siastical History of the Angles, It occurs in proper names, as Bercta, Berctfrid, Berctgils, Bercthun, Berctred, Berctuald, Cudberct, Hereberct, Huaetberct. This word was also freely used in Saxon names, but in them the Anglian c became h, beorhtoY briht: Brihtheim, Brihtno]?, Brihtric, Brihtwold, Briht- wulf, Ecgbriht, Cu^briht. This h retained its guttural force down to the middle of the fourteenth century, as may be shewn from the orthography of that period. For example, sixt thou for seest thou, or rather sehest thou, in Piers Plow- man i. 5, is evidence that his siht = sight, was gutturally pronounced. THE ENGLISH ALPHABET. II3 As the H began to be more feebly uttered, and it was no longer regarded as a sure guttural sign, it had to be rein- forced by putting a c before it, as in the above licht and necht ; or by a g, as in though (Saxon \eah), daughter (Saxon dohter), &c. But the gh had little power to arrest the tendency of the language to divest itself of its gut- turals, and GH in its turn has grown to be a dumb monu- ment of bygone pronunciation. J is a character which entered our alphabet in the seven- teenth century. The sound of it came into English far earlier, by our adoption of French words that had it. Such were, j angler, jealous, jest, jewel, join, jolly, journey, joust, joy, judge, July, justice. A reflex effect of this our consonantal J has been that we have lent it to the Latin language in our printed books, and in our pronunciation. Such words as maior, peior, iuvare, iam, iuncus, huius, eius. Sec, we have printed and pronounced major, pejor, juvare, jam, juncus, hujus, ejus, &c. It appears that the Latin never had the J- sound ; for how could Italian have escaped without it ? The Latin Ego makes in Italian lo, but in French Je, with a con- sonantal initial. And this is as much a pure French out- growth, as certain cases of initial w and y in English are original products of our own. On these grounds it seems that we have been wrong in attributing a consonant J to the Latin language. The best Latin scholars are now correcting this. In Professor Conington's Vergil I do not see a J. As a sample of his text I quote the two opening lines of the most famous of Eclogues : — ' Sicelides Musae, paulo maiora canamus ! Non omnes arbusta iuvant, humilesque myricae.' K is not properly a Latin, but a Greek letter. In Roman writing it had a very undefined position as a superfluous character, a mere duplicate-variety of c. This was also its I 114 ^-^-^ ENGLISH ALPHABET. position through the whole period of Anglo-Saxon literature; it was a mere fancy to write k, and it meant nothing dif- ferent from the thin c. But very soon after the Conquest, the greater frequency of k is observable; and it went on increasing just in proportion as the value of c became equivocal through its Frenchified employment with the sound of s. Already in the twelfth century, k is found to have a place and function of its own to the entire exclusion of c, namely, before the vowels e and i, the cases in which c had gone off into the s-sound. Thus the old words cene, cempa ( = warrior), Cent, cepan, cyn, cyng, &c., were in the twelfth century written constantly as kene ( = keen), kempa ( = cham- pion), Kent, keep, kin, king, &c. But when it had to be doubled, it was by prefixing c, and not by a repetition of K, that the doubhng was effected. Thus, a<:/^nowledge, which is only a compound of the particle a with knowledge, the c expressing the reverberation of the K-sound. So also in lack, crack, Jack, &c., and the old-fashioned spellings of politick, cBsthetick, &c., ck may be taken as equivalent to kk. P is a letter that was not so much used in Old English as in some kindred dialects. Our Saxon ancestors seem to have had a repugnance to it as an initial letter of words. In Kemble's Glossary to the Saxon epic poem called Beowulf, he has given only three words under the letter p ; and in Bouterwek's Glossary to Ccsdmon there are only two, both of which are comprised in the former three. Thus, two Glossaries of our two oldest national poems exhibit only three words beginning with p. One of the three is now extinct : but the other two are quite familiar to us ; they are J)ath and play. These were, in the eighth century, ex- ceptional words in English, from the fact that they began with p. And to this day it may still be asserted that almost all the English words beginning with p are of foreign extraction. THE ENGLISH ALPHABET. 1]5 Q is a Latin letter, which was not recognised in English till the close of the twelfth or the beginning of the thirteenth century. Previous to this the Anglo-Saxon writers had done very well without it ; having expressed the sound of qu by the letters cw : examples — cwahn (qualm, pestilence, death), cwce^ (quoth), cwen (queen), cwic (quick), &c. At first the qu was only admitted in writing Latin or French words, while cw kept its place in native words. Among the earliest Latin or French words beginning with qu which were adopted in English are quart, quarter, quarterne ( = a prison), quarrel, quarry, quire, quit (from quietus, quiet). This is the position which Q holds at this day in the Dutch language ; it is used for spelling certain Latin words, while kw is used for the same sound in the words of native origin. In English, on the contrary, the qu very soon prevailed even in the home-born words ; and before the close of the thir- teenth century we find quake, qualm, quash, queen, quell, quick, besides some other less common words. The name which we give the letter is said to be the French queue, a tail (Q). V. A Latin letter that came in soon after the Conquest, with the French words virtue, visage, vaine, veray, venerie. W. It has already been said that before the Conquest the character w was little used. Where the Anglo-Saxon printed books have it, the manuscripts have the old Rune p. But after the Conquest, when a great many Romance words beginning with V were coming into the English, and a distinction had to be made between this sound and that of the old p, it was effected by a double v. But it must carefully be observed that the novelty as regards the w was only in the character and not in the sound. The sound of w has long been in the language, having been embodied with it when the Wessex speech first assumed shape as a distinct Saxon dialect. It is now one of the chief characteristics of our language I 2 Ij6 the ENGLISH ALPHABET, among the other members of its family; and it must be attributed to that intimate mingling with the British Kelts in the fifth and sixth centuries of which history has left us such unmistakeable traces. As an initial, it is emphatically a pro- duct of the West, and would hardly have existed, had our language been educated in the Eastern Counties. The sound of the w may be described as a consonantism resulting from the collision of two vocalic sounds, viz. oo and ee. Say oo first, and then say ee : if you keep an interval between, the vocalic nature of each is preserved, but if you pass quickly from the utterance of oo to that of ee, you engender the con- sonantal sound w, and produce the word we. And in fact, almost any two vowels coming into such collision will en- gender the w. This seems to be the cause of the w in oferscBWisca, the Saxon translation oi transmarinus, = one from beyond sea. The parts are ofer (beyond), scb (sea), and the adjectival termination -isc, from which our modern -ish. The w is the consonantal partition between scb and isc, and it seems to spring out of the vocalic collision itself It is said in Grammars that w (like v) is a consonant when it is initial, either of a v/ord or syllable ; and a vowel elsewhere. According to this rule (which fairly states the case) we find that w is a vowel now, where once it was a consonant. Take the wordy^w, in which w has now only a vocalic sound ; this word was once a disyllabic y^(22x;^, and then the second syllable wa gave the w a consonantal value. X has two powers, one its original value, ks ; and the other gs, a development common to English and French. It sounds as gs when the syllable following the x is accented, as ex- haust, exalt, exotic^ extend ; but in other cases with its simple and original value of ks. A crucial example is the word export, which has the accent on the first as a noun, and on the last as a verb. We say ' to expdrt ' with the pronunciation egsport : THE ENGLISH ALPHABET. II7 but we speak of ' exports ' or ' export-duties ' with the pro- nunciation ^ksport. This distinction is, however, open to question ; and the decision of it is all the more difficult, as we may not trust the report of our own organs in delicate points of pronunciation. Our utterance is warped the mo- ment we set ourselves to observe and examine it. It is sufficient for this place to have indicated the existence of two sounds of the X. Y is an ancient Greek letter adopted by the Romans, and used in Saxon writing as a fine thin vowel (like French u or German it) apt to be confused with i. The French call it the Greek I, ' I grec' After the Conquest it strangely got a consonantal function added to the former. It succeeded to the place of an ancient G-initial, which was in a state of decay. This is the history of y in such wcwds z.s ye, yes, yet, year, yard, yare, yearn, yelp, yield, Sec, from the older forms ge, gese, git, gear, geard, gearo, georn, gilpan, gield. In the intervening period, while this transition was adoing, there appeared for two centuries or more (the twelfth to the fourteenth) a separate form of letter, neither g nor_y, which was written thus 5, and was ultimately dropped. It was a pity we lost this letter, as the result has been a heterogeneous combination of func- tions under the letter Y which it is difficult for a learner to disentangle. It is true as Lindley Murray said, that y is a consonant when it begins a syllable, and in every other situation it is a vowel. Had we retained the consonant 5 we might have avoided this unnatural combination of vowel and consonant functions in a single letter. In old Scots it was retained in the form of z, as in the following, where year is written zeir : — ' In witness quhairof we half subscrivit thise presents with our hands at Westminster the loth day of December, the zeir of God 1568 Zeirs. James, Regent, &c., &c.' Il8 THE ENGLISH ALPHABET. S)Oyet was written zi't, as in Buchanan's Detection : — ' Quhilk wryting being without dait, and thocht sum wordis thairin seme to the contrarie, zii is upon credibill ground! s supposit to have bene maid and written be hir befoir the deith of hir husband.' But SO uncertain is the fortune of language, that one mis- chance is avoided only to fall into another. This Scotch z, which had a justification in the cases quoted, was extended to supplant the English consonant y in other cases, as in york, which was written Zork. (Queen Mary's Letters, January, 1568.) In the word Vork the V had no consonantal antecedent : the old form was Eoforwic. The consonantal sound has grown out of vocalic crowding, just as the Saxon iw has produced the English j^fw. This y represents the German, Danish, and Swedish j, both in sound and in historical extraction. The Saxon iimg is in modern English young, and the y here sounds exactly as J sounds in the German jung, or in the Danish Jeg, or the Swedish Jag. The bringing out of this consonantal y is a feature of the modern lan- guage. It probably existed in Saxon times, but it was not expressed in writing. It is in the West that this y displays itself most conspicuously. In Barnes's poems we meet with yable, able ; yachen, aching ; yacre, acre ; yakker, acorn ; yale, ale ; yarbs, herbs ; yarm, arm ; yarn, earn ; yarnesi, earnest ; yean (Saxon eacnian) ; yeaze, ease. On Sunday evenings, arm in arm; — ' O' Zunday evemens, yarm in yarm : — ' and first they'd go to see their lots of pot-herbs in the garden plots ; ' An' vust tha'd goo to zee ther lots O' pot-yarbs in the ghiarden plots.' Traces of the same thing, but more slight, are noted in the opposite quarter, as in Miss Baker's Northants Glossary. I I \ THE ENGLISH ALPHABET. II9 Our national proclivities in utterance are best discerned by the examination of instances where the pronunciation is least under observation, least exposed to modifying influ- ences, least self-conscious. This makes the evidence from the dialects so valuable. Next to this we may class those sounds which we utter but do not write, as the Y-sound at the beginning of the word ewe. It is unthought of because it never meets the eye. To the same category belongs the initial y in the unwritten name of the vowel u. Add to this the case above at p. 107, where kind is pronounced as kyi'nd, and we see how decided a proneness there is in us towards this consonant. Indeed, we must consider this y consonant as being in some special sense the property of the English language, in the same way as we consider our consonant J to be peculiarly a French product. The value of y has been further complicated by means of the fashion which prevailed in the fifteenth century of substituting it often for /. Already in the fourteenth cen- tury, in an ABC Poem, we find the letter y thus introduced : ' Y for I in wryt is set.' A reaction followed and corrected this in some measure ; but still too many cases remained in which the y had got fixed in places where an i should have been. A conspicuous example is the word rhyme, which is from the Saxon rim = number, and which Dr. Guest always spells r/ii'me in his History of English Rhythms. Possibly the J/ was put for i in rhyme from confusion with the Greek pvdixos : at any rate we do owe many of our jf's to the Greek v, such as tyrant, zephyr, hydraulic, hyssop, hypocrisy, hypothesis. In fact, so commonly does the English Y represent the Greek v, that Dr. Latham would '■ limit the use of the letter y, when not final, as much as possible to 1 2,0 THE ENGLISH ALPHABET. words of Greek origin/ Hyson and Hythe are the only two words in his Dictionary that begin with hy-, and are not Greek. Even the Saxon Hythe he would like to write Hithe,- and for Hyrst he prefers the form Hurst. Z is a letter of late introduction. During the Saxon time it appears in Bible translations in names like Zacheus, Zacharias; and otherwise only in one or two stray instances, e. g. Caziei, the Saxon form of the French town-name Chezy, as in the following description of the path of the Northmen in France : — ' 887. Her for se here up ])urh ?5a brycge set Paris, and })a up andlang Sigene oS Maeterne. and ])a up on Mseterne oS Caziei.' 887. This year went the foe up through the bridge at Paris, and then up along the Seine to the Marne, and then up the Marne to Chezy. We find s put for z as late as the fifteenth century: e. g. Sepherus for Zephyrus. Nor is this letter anything more than a foreigner among us now. There will be found very few genuine English words with a z in them. The only one I observe in the Dictionary under Z is zinc, which most likely represents the Saxon si72c = treasure. C CHAPTER II. SPELLING AND PRONUNCIATION. The spelling of our language has admitted a succession of changes from the earliest times to the present day. We now call our orthography fixed : but perhaps the next gene- ration will detect some changes that have taken place in our time. Orthography is in fact always in the rear of pro- nunciation, and therefore there is always room for improve- ment. But as a language grows old, it naturally tends towards being governed by precedent. We spell words as we have been taught to spell them. The more literature is addressed to the eye, the more that organ is humoured, and the ear is less and less considered. That which we call a settled orthography is a habit of spelling which admits only of rare modification, and tends towards a state of absolute immutability. When a language has become literary, its orthography has already begun to be fixed. The varieties of spelling which have taken place from the fourteenth century until now, may appear considerable to those who have only glanced at old books; but in reality they are very limited. 122 SPELLING AND PRONUNCIATION. A small variation will make a great difference in the legi- bility of a page, to the eye that is unaccustomed to such variation. It might be thought that the idea of orthography was a modern affair, and that the spelling of our early writers was chaotic and unstudied. But this would be a great mistake. The poet of the Ormulum (12 15) earnestly begs that in future copies of his work, respect may be had to his ortho- graphy. The passage has been quoted and translated above, on p. 51. Chaucer also, in the closing stanzas of his Troilus and Creseide, begs that no one will ' miswrite ' his little book, by which he means that no one should deviate from his ortho- graphy. ' Go, little booke, go my little tragedie And kisse the steps whereas thou seest pace Of Vergil, Ovid, Homer, Lucan, Stace. And for there is so great diversite In English, and in writing of our tong, So pray I to God, that none miswrite thee, Ne the mis-metre, for defaut of tong: And redd wherso thou be or eles song, That thou be understond,' &c. It was not for want of interest in orthography that so great diversity continued to exist, but it was from the obstacles which naturally delayed a common understanding on such a point. A standard was, however, set up in the fifteenth century, or at furthest in the sixteenth, by the masters of the Printing-press. It was the Press that de- termined our orthography. This may easily be discerned by the fact that whereas private letters continue for a long time to exhibit all the old diversity of spelling, the Bible of i6ii, and the First Folio of Shakspeare (1623) are sub- stantially in the orthography which is now prevalent and established. SPELLING AND PRONUNCIATION. 1 23 If any one will be at the trouble to compare the follow- ing verses from the Bible of 161 1 with our present Bible, he will see that the variation is not so great as at first sight appears. Diuers opinions of him among the people. The Pharisees are angry that their officers tooke him not, tf chide with Nicodemus for taking his part. 37 In the last day, that great day of the feast, lesus stood, and cried, say- ing, If any man thirst, let him come vnto me, and drinke, 38 He that beleeueth on me, as the Scripture hath saide, out of his belly shall flow riuers of liuing water. 39 (But this spake he of the Spirit, which they that beleeue on him should receiue. For the holy Ghost was not yet giuen, because that lesus was not yet glorified.) 40 H Many of the people therefore, when they heard this saying, saide, Of a trueth this is the Prophet. 41 Others said, This is the Christ. But some said. Shall Christ come out of Galilee ? 42 Hath not the Scripture saide, that Christ commeth of the seede of Dauid, and out of the towne of Bethlehem, where Dauid was ? 43 So there was a diuision among the people because of him. 44 And some of them would haue taken him, but no man layed hands on him, 45 H Then came the officers to the chiefe Priests and Pharises, and they said vnto them. Why haue ye not brought him ? 46 The officers answered, Neuer man spake like this man. 47 Then answered them the Pharisees, Are ye also deceiued ? 48 Haue any of the rulers, or of the Pharises beleeued on him ? 49 But this people who knoweth not the Law, are cursed. 50 Nicodemus saith vnto them, (He that came to lesus by night, being one of them,) 51 Doth our Law iudge any man before it heare him, & know what he doth? 52 They answered, and said vnto him. Art thou also of Galilee ? Search, and looke : for out of Galilee ariseth no Prophet. 53 And euery man went vnto his owne house. A large part of the strange eflfect which this specimen has to the modern eye is due to something which is distinct from spelling — namely, to a change in the use of certain characters. The modern distinction of J the consonant from i the vowel was not yet known. The v was not practically distinguished from the u. Instead o^ judge we see iudge : and instead of 124 SPELLING AND PRONUNCIATION. deceived it is decerned. These may come under the notion of orthography, but they cannot be called diversities of speUing. To these have to be added a few instances of e final, which have since been disused. Also a few more capital letters. Such are the chief elements to which the strange aspect is due. The only real differences in this piece from our pre- sent use, are beleeue, layed (for laid), commeth, trueth. Let us glance at a few of the changes which have pro- duced the present settlement. For this purpose we must look back to the last great disturbance, that is to say, to the Conquest and its sequel. At that time there had been a fixed orthography for a hundred years ; hardly less fixed than ours now is, after four centuries of printing. We must remember that the Press is a sort of dictator in ortho- graphy. If we were to judge of present English orthography by a collection of manuscripts of the day, it would be a different thing from judging of it by printed books. For a manuscript literature, that of the last hundred years of the Saxon period is singularly orthographical. The clashing of dialects in the transition period, and the French influence, combined to raise up a new sort of spelling in the place of the old. The tributary effects of the dialects are mostly obscure and hard to disentangle. The French influence being a strange element is much easier to follow. One of its earliest and most conspicuous results was the quiescence of the old guttural-aspirate h. This pro- duced more than one set of modifications in spelling. The habit of writing wh instead of the old hw was one of these. It seems that the decaying sound of the guttural gave the w-sound more prominence to the ear, and that accordingly the w was put before the h in writing. This alteration had the more effect on the appearance of the language, because many of the words so spelt are among SPELLING AND PRONUNCIATION. 125 the commonest and most frequently recurring. The follow- ing are some of the more conspicuous examples : — Hwa, who Hwylc, which Hwses, whose Hweol, wheel HwEel, whale Hwi, why Hwaer, where Hwil, while Hwset, what Hwisperung, whispering Hwaet-stan, whetstone Hwistlere, whistler Hwsete, wheat Hwit, white. The modern result is this, that the syllable which was pronounced from the throat (guttural), is now pronounced mainly on the lips (aspirate-labial). The Scotch retained the guttural much longer ; and the traces of it are still audible in Scotland. And they wrote as well as pronounced gutturally : thus, quha, quhilk, quhat, &c. Alexander Hume, a learned Scotchman, who was ' Scholemaester of Bath' in 1592, thus recounts a dispute he had with some Southrons on the point: ' To clere this point, and alsoe to reform an errour bred in the south, and now usurped be our ignorant printeres, I wil tel quhat befel my self quhen I was in the south with a special gud frende of myne. Ther rease, upon sum accident, quhither quho, qvhen, quhat, etc., sould be symboHsed with q or w, a boat disputation betuene him and me. After manie conflictes (for we ofte encountered), we met be chance, in the citie of Baeth, with a Doctour of divinitie of both our acquentance. He invited us to denner. At table my antagonist, to bring the question on foot am.angs his awn condisciples, began that I was becum an heretik, and the doctour spering how, ansuered that I denyed quho to be spelled with a lu, but with qu. Be quhat reason? quod the doctour. Here, I beginning to lay my grundes of labial, dental, and guttural soundes and symboles, he snapped me on this hand and he on that, that the doctour had mikle a doe to win me roome for a syllogisme. Then (said I) a labial letter can not symboliz a guttural syllab. But w is a labial letter, quho a guttural sound. And therfoer w can not symboliz quho, nor noe syllab of that nature. Here the doctour 'staying them again (for al barked at ones), the proposition, said he, I understand ; the assumption is Scottish, and the conclusion false. Quherat al laughed, as if I had bene dryven from al replye, and I fretted to see a frivolouse jest goe for a solid ansuer.' Of the Orthographie of the Britan Tongue, by Alexander Hume (Early English Text Society, 1865), p. 18. To the same cause must be attributed the motive for changing the spelling of liht, niht, mihf, &c., to light, night, 7night. 125 SPELLING AND PRONUNCIATION. Probably the g was prefixed to the h in order to insist on the h being uttered as a guttural. If so, it has failed. The guttural writing remains as a historical monument, but the sound is no longer heard except in Scotland and the conter- minous parts of England. After it became quiescent, it was apt to be employed care- lessly or arbitrarily. For example, Spenser wrote the adjec- tive white in the following unrecognisable manner, whight. ' His Belphoebe was clad All in a silken camus lilly whight.' Faery Queene, ii. 3, 26. So also spright was written instead of sprite ; and although it is now obsolete, yet its derivative sprightly is still retained in use. This gh has now two treatments. In the one case it is quiescent; as in plough, though, through, daughter, slaughter. In the other it sounds likely as, enough, rough, laughter, &c. Probably this arose from the confluence of northern and southern pronunciations. On such a point as this some light might be gained by observations upon local and family names. In some parts of England the name "Waugh is pronounced as Waw, and in others as Waff. Can it be shewn that the latter is Anglian and the former Saxon ? It would appear that gh has been formerly sounded like f in words wherein it is nov\^ quiescent. The following quotation from Surrey seems to indicate that taught in his time might be pronounced as toft\ — ♦Farewell! thou hast me taught. To think me not the first That love hath set aloft, And casten in the dust.' And Bunyan, who as a Bedfordshire man would belong to 1 SPELLING AND PRONUNCIATION. 1 27 the northern or Anghan dialect, pronounced daughter as dafter : — ' Despondency, good man, is coming after. An so is also Much-afraid, his daughter.' There is one word of this orthography whose pronunci- ation is not yet uniformly established (in the public reading of Scripture), and that is the word draught. The colloquial pronunciation is now draf/, but in Dryden we find the other sound : — ' Better to hunt the fields for health unbought, Than fee the doctor for a nauseous draught.' A very large proportion of the words beginning with c were now (i.e. after the transition period) spelt either with K or with CH. Examples of a Saxon c turned into k : — Cseg, key Cnawan, know Cene, keen Cnedan, knead Ceol, keel Cneow, knee Cent, Keni Cniht, knight Cepan, keep Cy^, kyth Cnapa, knave Cyn, kin. Examples of Saxon words beginning with c, which in modern English have taken ch instead of c : — Ceafu, chaff Cidan, chide Ceaster, Chester Cinne, chin Ceorl, churl Circe, church Ceosan, choose Cyle, chill Cild, child Cypman, chapman. It is a point of much interest and of some uncertainty, how the ck is to be accounted for in this class of examples. Was the change only in the spelhng, and had these words been pronounced with the ch sound even while they were written with the c ? That this was not the case universally the Scotch form J^i'rk is a sufficient evidence. But may it have been so partially — may the chi'r/ have been in the 128 SPELLING AND PRONUNCIATION. southern and western pronunciation ? Something of this sort may be seen at present in Scandinavia. The Swedish and Danish languages have initial k in common in a large number of words. The Danish k has no chirt any- where ; but the Swedish k is pronounced as ch when it is followed by certain vowels. The Danish word for church is kirke ; the Swedish word is kyrka. In the former case the K is pronounced as in Scotland ; in the latter it sounds like the first consonant in the English church. A like divi- sion of pronunciation may possibly have existed in this island before the Conquest. Or the chirt may have been still more partial than this ; it may have had but an obscure and disowned existence (like the sh sound as a substitute for the ch in Germany) ; and the French influence may have fostered it by a natural affinity, and given it a permanent place in the English language. Those words which in Saxon began with cw adopted the Latin q initial, as described in the last chapter. In the close of words also ch has taken the place of the Saxon c (or sometimes cc) as in church (cyrice), speech (spaec), reach (raecan), teach (t^can), and sometimes it has taken the form tch as in latch (Iseccan), thatch (]j3ec), match (^^maecca), wretch (wreccea). This -tch extended at one time to words in which we are not familiar with it;- thus in Spenser's Faery Queene, i. 2. 21, we read ritch for * rich.' The quaint old Scottish grammarian before quoted, speaks con- temptuously of this tch development of our pronunciation, calling it ' an Italian chtrt.^ ' With c we spil the aspiration, turning it into an Italian chirt ; as, char;te, cherrie, of quhilk hereafter This consonant, evin quher in the original it hes the awne sound, we turn it into the chirt we spak of, quhilk indeed can be symbolized with none, neither greek nor latin letteres ; as, from cano, chant ; from canon, chanon : from castus, chast ; &c.' Of the Orthographie, &c,, pp. 13, 14. SPELLING AND PRONUNCIATION. 1 29 Analogous to the use of / before the ch (anciently c) is the putting a d before an ancient g. Thus we have the form hedge (A. S. hege), wedge (A. S. wecg), ridge (A.S. rig), &c. The more classical Anglo-Saxon form is hrycg, but this is not the form which would tend to produce ridge. On the contrary, it has produced the modern form rick, a synonym for a stack of corn or hay. In the word knowledge the same mode of orthography is apphed by a false analogy ; and ohlidge has been recalled to simplicity by reference to its original, the French obliger. The c before the g has just the contrary effect to that of the d. While dg indicates the soft dental or palatal sound of g, eg indicates the dry and guttural sound, either like our modern gg or Hke ck. Saxon words beginning in sc- are in modern English spelt sh- : e. g. — Sceaf, sheaf Sceap, sheep Sceaft, shaft Scearp, sharp Sceal, shall Sceort, short Sceamu, shame Sceo, shoe Sceanca, shank Scild, shield. The vowels will afford further examples of the great revolution in orthography which has taken place since Saxon times. The most constant of the vowels has been the first, A. Many words can be quoted in which it has remained un- altered from Saxon times: e.g. and, hake, can, fare, hare, hale, hawk, lade, lake, land, make, man, name, sake, shake, sallow, stand, staple, saddle, stare, tame, wan, wake. When changed, it has oftenest become o, as bone (ban), hoth (batwa), hot (hat), mon (Scottish for man). Sometimes we see a compromise, the old a being retained by the side of the new o, as road (A.S. rad), load (A.S. lad). 130 SPELLING AND PRONUNCIATION. Sometimes e has taken the place of a, as s/ep (stapan). Where the Saxon a final has become 0, as it generally has, the addition of the e final of the fifteenth century has come in to produce an effect which is never seen on a Saxon page. The combination oe is absolutely unknown in Saxon orthography, but is quite familiar to our eyes in such words Sis/be, hoe, roe, woe, toe, from the Saxon forms_/^, rd, wd, td. In many words we have disused this ending where it was in vogue, as agoe, alsoe, &c. In all of these cases, however, e has no sound, nor ever had. It is, in fact, the ^-subscript, of which hereafter. On the other hand, the vowel-combination eo was very common in Saxon, but in English it has been always very rare. Ben Jonson said ' it is found but in three words in our tongue, yeoman, people, jeopardy. Which were truer written ye'man, pe'ple, jepardy! To these of Ben Jonson's may now fairly be added the word leopard : for though the . eo in this word has a Latin origin, yet its acquired pronun- ciation stamps it with an English character. The diphthongs 01, as in /oil, soil, and ou, as m young, about, are now common in 'Saxon' words, but there were no such in Saxon. They are among the French transformations. Some of them we have already dropped ; thus we no longer use horrour, terrour. There is a disposition in some quarters to do the same with honour, and also to vindicate the pure Saxon word so unjustly Frenchified into neighbour. This ou is sometimes present in sound when absent from the spelling. If we compare the words move, prove, with such words as love, dove, shove, &c., we become aware that the former, though they have laid aside their French spelling from mouvoir, prouver, yet have retained their French sound notwith- standing. I SPELLING AND PRONUNCIATION. 131 But the vowel which makes the greatest figure on the Saxon page is m ; and this is altogether absent in English. These are some of the more conspicuous instances of that revolution in orthography which has caused Saxon literature to look so uncouth and strange in its own native country. English spelling has been produced by such a variety of heterogeneous causes, that its inconsistencies are not to be wondered at. Grimm has remarked on the want of regu- larity in our vowel usage : for we use a double e in //lee, and a single one in ??te, whereas the vowel-sound is alike in the pronunciation. The probable cause was the aim at dis- tinction between the pronoun f/iee and the definite article f/ie ; words which down to the end of the fifteenth century were written alike, and often check the reader. The eye has its claims as well as the ear, when so much is written and read; and this accounts for many cases of dissimilar spelling of similar sounds, as 5e the verb and dee the insect. If we now leave the Saxon and notice the French words that entered largely into our language in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, there is this general observation to be made concerning them : — They were at first pronounced as French words ; and although the original pronunciation was soon impaired, yet a trace of their native sound followed them for a long time, just as happens in like cases in our own day. The French accentuation would remain after every other tinge of their origin had faded out. But in course of time they were so completely familiarised that their origin was lost sight of, and then they insensibly slid into our English pronunciation. The spelling would sometimes follow all these changes, but in other cases the habit of writing was too strongly fixed. 132 SPELLING AND PRONUNCIATION: Of this we have not merely the argument from general analogy, which tells us that in like cases it is always so, but we have also two kinds of direct proof. One is from the spelling. The word honour is spelt in a manner for which its present pronunciation does not account. In pronun- ciation the weighty syllable is the first, yet in the spelling we throw the preponderance into the last syllable. Our spelling is traditional, and represents, not a present, but a past pro- nunciation. When this word honour was first introduced into English, it was actually pronounced, for a long time, with the accent and vocalic fullness on the last syllable, just as the French honneur h to this day. Our orthography of honour, so contradictory to our pronunciation, would be sufr ficient, with the example of honneur before us, to satisfy us that this word must have retained its French pronunciation for a long time after its use was estabhshed among us. But the fact may also be established by direct proof. The use of this and analogous words in poetry enables us by the rhythm to decide absolutely on so much of their pronun- ciation as is involved in their accentuation, and that, in the case before us, is the chief thing. We find the word as early as the second text of Layamon, which we may fix at soon after a.d. 1200. Thus we read in vol. i. p. 259 (ed. Madden) :— and leide hine mid honure and laid him with honour heje in )5an toure high in *the tower. Here it is plain to the experienced reader, notwithstanding the inexactness of the metre, that the word honure is ac- cented on the second syllable. But to the general reader this quotation would not be convincing. If, therefore, we pass from the opening of the thirteenth to the close of the SPELLING AND PRONUNCIATION. 133 fourteenth century, and after a lapse of almost two hundred years observe the placing of the word in the rhythm of Chaucer, every one who has an ear will be satisfied. In the line (Prologue to Canterbury Tales, 1. 46) — ' Trouthe and [ honour, | fredom | and cur | tesie,' the second syllable of honour is in the stroke or stress of the iambus. Although honour is quite emancipa'ted from its hereditary traces of foreign origin, as far as pronunciation goes, it is still written with a half-French spelling. The adjective honourable is anglicised in the titular use of the word, when it is written Honorable : and there are some authors who now omit the u in the substantive and adjective alike, and upon all occasions. The American writers are conspicuous for their disposition to reject these traces of early French influence. Thus much has been said about this one word, because it is the type of a large class to which the same remarks apply. And in reading early English poets, if we care to catch the music as well as the sense, we must bear in mind the differ- ence of pronunciation. That difference is not in all cases easy to seize and define, but the case of words from the French is exceedingly clear. The tendency of that nation is the reverse of ours in the matter of accentuation. They throw the accent often on the close of a word, we always try to get it as near the be- ginning as possible. There is a large body of French words in our language which have at length yielded to the influences by which they are surrounded, and have come to be pronounced as English-born words. The same words were for centuries accented in the French manner, and these are especially the ones we ought to be familiar with, if we would wish not to stumble at the rhythm of our early poets. 734 SPELLING AND PRONUNCIATION. Chaucer has aventure for our adventure contree , „ country corage fortune „ courage fortune laboiire , , labour langage language mariage , „ marriage nature , , nature reson , reason vertiie , , virtue viage , voyage visage , visage Long after Chaucer did this French influence continue to be felt in our language. Even so late as Milton consider- able traces of it are found in his rhythms. For example, he accents asped on the last syllable, as in Paradise Los/, yi. 450: — ' His words here ended, but his meek aspect Silent yet spake, and breath'd immortal love.' And in vi. 81 : — ' In battailous aspect, and nearer view.' The word contest is accentuated by Milton as cotttest. Paradise Lost, iv. 872 : — ' Not likely to part hence without contest.' Again, in the last line of the Ninth Book : — ' And of their vain contest appeared no end.* This subject is ably treated by Mr. Hiram Corson, an American scholar, in his Introduction to a Student's Edition of Chaucer's Legende of Goode Women. The case of the word contrary (cited by that writer) is interesting, especially as we are told in Walker's Pronouncing Dictionary, that * the accent of this word is invariably placed on the first syllable by all correct speakers, and as con- stantly removed to the second by the illiterate and vulgar/ These seem rather hard terms to apply to the really time-honoured and classical pronunciation of contrary. I SPELLING AND PRONUNCIATION, 135 but yet Walker doubtless expressed the current judgment of the polite society of his and of our day. We find it in Shakspeare, Romeo and Juliet, i. 5 : — ' You must contrary me, marry 'tis time.' And Spenser, Faery Queene, ii. 2. 24, where I will quote the whole stave for the sake of its beauty : — ' As a tall ship tossed in troublous seas (Whom raging windes, threatning to make the pray Of the rough rockes, doe diversly di^ase) Meetes two contrarie billowes by the way, That her on either side doe sore assay, And boast to swallow her in greedy grave ; Shee, scorning both their spights, does make wide way, And, with her brest breaking the fomy wave. Does ride on both their backs, and faire herself doth save.* And Milton in Samson Agonistes, 972 : — ' Fame, if not double-fac'd, is double-mouth'd, And with contrary blast proclaims most deeds.' It was not only in our French borrowings that the accent had a place which now appears strange. There are words of home growth which are found accented on the last, where we now accent them on the first. Example : alsoe, in the Faery Queene, ii. 5. 15: — ' Losse is no shame, nor to bee less then foe ; But to be lesser then himselfe doth marre Both loosers lott and victours prayse alsoe ; Vaine others overthrowes who selfe doth overthrow.' We now say also and not also : and the principle of the transfer is here exactly the same as in the French instances above ; viz. the prevailing tendency to throw the accent back on the beginning of words. That which originally gave also the disposition to be ac- cented on the last, was this : It consisted of two words eal (all) and swa (so), of which swa was the leading word, and eal was a subordinate and modifying prefix ; and so long as 136 SPELLING AND PRONUNCIATION. this continued to be remembered, the stress was naturally on swa or so, even after they ceased to be separate words, and had passed into the compound state. It is the same principle that causes us, when we say, very much or quite well to lay the stress on much and well, because these are the leading words, to which very and quite are subordinate as qualifying adverbs. The same reasoning applies to other home-bred com- pounds, which were once accented on their last syllable, but are now altered. It will be found that when they existed as separate words and were in grammatical relations to each other, the latter word was the more substantial, and the prior word was the satellite, whether as adverb or adjective. Such is the case of the word cilway or dhvays, which figures as alwdy in the close of the following beautiful stave from the Faery Queene, i. i. 34 : — ' A litle lowly hermitage it was, Downe in a dale, hard by a forest side. Far from resort of people that did pas In traveill to and froe : a litle wyde There was an holy chappell edifyde, Wherein the Hermite dewly wont to say His holy things each morne and eventyde : Thereby a cristall streanie did gently play, Which from a sacred fountain welled forth alwiiy.' In like manner Spenser has the accentuations black- smith, Faery Queene, iv. 5. 33; bloods he'd, ii. 6. 34; brimstone, ii. 10. 26; earthquake, iii. 12. 2; offspring, iii. 9. 44 (also Milton in Paradise Lost, ii. 310; iii. i); upright, in Mother Hubberd 728; all which cases might be grammatically justified. But the grammatical relations are only part cause ; to them has to be added the consideration that final accents were then more familiar than now, and moreover, that the language was in that fluid transitional state in which the poet has a much larger field of discretion than in later times. SPELLING AND PRONUNCIATION. 1 ^'J Accordingly we find many words diversely accented by the same poet. Hence there is need of caution in using a poetical accentuation as an absolute criterion of the old pronunciation. Some examples are purely arbitrary for the immediate needs of the rhythm. Such are endless^ Faery Queene, iii. 5. 42 ; further, vi. 10. 37 ; but many might appear arbitrary which can be accounted for on in- dependent grounds: as lightning, Faery Queene, iii. 12. 2; nightly, vi. 12. 14 ; therefore, iii. 5. 46. We must not proceed further with the poetical illustrations in this place, lest we should seem to trend on the subject of accent in its modulatory relations, which will have to be treated separately. Although the disposition of our language is to throw the accent back, yet we are far from having divested ourselves of words accented on the last syllable. There are a certain num- ber of cases in which this constitutes a useful distinction, when the same word acts two parts. Such is the case of humane and human ; of august and the month of August, which is in fact the selfsame word. Sometimes the accent marks the distinction between the verb and the noun : thus we say to rehe'l, to record ; but a re'bel, a record. When the lawyers speak of a record (substantively), they merely preserve the original French pronunciation, and thereby remind us that the distincdon last indicated is a pure English invention. We have many borrowed words to which we have given a domestic character by setting them to our own music. But independently of this set of words in which the accent on the last syllable is of manifest utility, there are others naturally accented in the same manner in which there seems to be no disposition to introduce a change. Examples : polite, urbane, jocose, divine, complete. To these Romance examples may be added some of pure 1 38 SPELLING AND PJRONUNCIATION. Saxon, e.g. all the disyllabic compounds beginning with 5e- : become, he/ore, beware, beyond, behead, bethink, beget, be- queathe, bequest, below — the emphasis, which naturally rests on the last, has never been transferred by fashion to the first. And that is because the subsidiariness of the be- has never been lost sight of. The English disyllables which are now accented on the last syllable amount to the number of 1635, as I know from a manuscript Hst of them which I have, in the handwriting of a friend. In the fourteenth, fifteenth, and sixteenth centuries, it was a trick and fashion of the times to lengthen words by the addition of an e, and also to double the consonants. These are the characteristic features of the spelling with which we are familiar in Spenser, who is edited in the ortho- graphy of his time. In the following passage ^the word wones ( = dwells) is written wonnes : — ' For now the best and noblest Knight aUve Prince Arthur is, that wonnes in Faerie lond.' Faery Queene, ii. 3. 18. In the same way he writes bespi'inckled, himselfe, thanklesse, blincked, dogge, lincked, home, cleare, ecchoed, agame : — ' At last they heard a home that shrilled cleare Throughout the wood that ecchoed againe.' lb. 20. A great number of these final ^'s have been abolished, others have been utilised, as observed on p. 140; but these fashions mostly leave their traces in hereditary relics. Such is the e at the end of therefore, which has no use as expressive of sound, and which exerts a delusive effect on the sense, making the word look as if it were a compound oifore like before, instead of withy^r, which is the fact ; and for this reason some American books now print therefor. So with reference to the doubling of the k by ck. Many of these remained to a late date : and there are some few SRELLING AND PRONUNCIATION. 1 39 archaisms of this sort which have only just been disused. Such are poetick, ascetick, politick, catholick, instead of poetic, ascetic, politic, catholic. This was the constant orthography of Dr. Johnson. 'The next year (17 13), in which Cato came upon the stage, was the grand climacterick of Addison's reputation.' Johnson's Lives of the English Poets. When such excrescences are dismissed, it is quite usual to make an exception in favour of proper names. There are very good and practical reasons why these should affect a spell- ing somewhat removed from the common habits of the lan- guage, and accordingly we find that almost every discarded fashion of spelling lives on somewhere in proper names. The orthography of Frederick has not been reformed, and the ck holds its ground advantageously against the timidly advancing fashion of writing Frederic. To the same period belongs the practice of writing double / at the end of such words as celestiall, mortall, faithfull, eternall, counsell, naturall, unequall, wakefull, cruell : also in such words as lilly {Faery Queene, ii. 3. 26). It is a relic of this fashion that we still continue to write till, all, full, instead of til, al,ful. If we add a still lingering inclination to c for s, and_y for i, we have the main features of that orthography, which may roughly be dated as lying between the reigns of Henry VI and George III. Spenser has bace desyre, Faery Queene, ii. 3. 23, for base desire. The vacillation between c and s terminated discriminatively in a few instances. Thus we have prophesy the verb, and prophecy the noun : to practise and a practice : license and licefice; the former for a legal permission or, as the French say, ' concession'; the latter for an abuse of liberty. ' Licence they mean when they cry liberty.' Mihon. 140 SPELLING AND PRONUNCIATION. In the case of the e-suhscripi, that which had originally been nothing more than a trick or fashion of the times, came to have a definite signification assigned to it. In the fifteenth century it was a mere Frenchism, a fashion and nothing more. But in the sixteenth century it came to be regarded as a grammatical sign that the proper vowel of the syllable was long^. Against this orthographical idiom the Scotch grammarian, Alexander Hume, who dedicated his book to King James I, stoutly protested : — ' We use alsoe, almost at the end of everie word, to wn'te an idle e. This sum defend not to be idle, because it aifectes the voual before the consonant, the sound quherof many tymes alteres the signification ; as, hop is altera taiitum pede saltare; hope is sperare: fir, abies; fyre, ignis: ?ifin, pinna; fine, probatus : bid, jubere ; bide, manere : with many moe. It is true that the sound of the voual befoer the consonant many tymes doth change the sig- nification ; but it is as untrue that the voual e behind the consonant doth change the sound of the voual before it. A voual devyded from a voual be a consonant can be noe possible means return thorough the consonant into the former voual. Consonanles betuene vouales are lyke partition walles betuen roomes. Nothing can change the sound of a voual but an other voual coalescing with it into one sound, of quhilk' we have spoaken suf- ficientlie, cap. 3. To illustrat this be the same exemples, saltare is to hop; sperare is to hoep : ahies is fir; ignis _;3'^." or, if you wil,^er ; jubere is 6iof; manere byd or hied. Yet in sum case we are forced to tolerat this idle e ; i . in wordes ending in c, to break the sound of it ; as peace, face, lace, justice, etc. : 2. behind s, in wordes wryten with this s; as, false, ise, case, muse, use, etc.: 3, behind a broaken g ; as, hiawlege, savage, suage, aid age. Ther may be moe, and these I yeld because I ken noe other waye to help this necessitie, rather then that I can think anye idle symbol tolerable in just orthographic.' Of the Or- thographie, &c., p. 21. The fifteenth century is the earliest period to which we can refer the French fashion of combining gu in the be- ginning of a word to express nothing more than the G-sound. Chaucer has guerdon, which is a French word ; but he did not apply this spelling to words of English origin, such ^ To indicate the subservient use of this letter, I have (for want of a better expression) borrowed from a somewhat analogous thing in Greek grammar the term e-sxibscript. SPELLING AND PRONUNCIATION. 141 as, guess, guest, guild, guile, guilt. These in Chaucer are written without the u. In the sixteenth century there appeared a fashion of writing certain words with initial sc- which before had simple S-. It was merely a way of writing the words, and was without any significance as to the sound. Hence the forms scion, scent, scite, scituation, and scymitar. It probably sprung from the analogy of such Latin forms as scene, science, sceptre, &c. The case of scymitar may be justified by reference to the Italian form scimitarra, though the First Folio of Shakspeare had semitar and symitare, as — ' By this Symitare That slew the Sophy and a Persian Prince.' Mercbatit of Venice, ii. I. But scion, scent, and scite have nothing for them but fancy. Scion is an obscure word, probably an old gardening term, as that passage of Othello i. 3 seems to indicate : ' whereof I take this that you call Loue, to be a Sect, or Seyen.' (First Folio) As ' sect ' means a cutting, so ' seyen ' or scion, seems to be a slip or sucker. Or rather perhaps a graft, as it clearly is in Henry V, iii. 5 : — ' Our Syons, put in wilde and sauage Stock, Spirt up so suddenly into the Clouds, And ouer-looke their grafters?' First Folio. 1 623. Scent is from the Latin seniire, French sentir, and is written sent in Spenser, Faery Queene, i. i. 53. Scite seems to be returning to its natural orthography of site, as being derived from the Latin situs: and we once more write it as did Spenser and Ben Jonson. But there are still persons of authority who adhere to the seventeenth- century practice — the practice of Fuller, Burnet, and Drayton. In the sixteenth century there was a great disposition to prefix a w before certain words beginning with an h or with 142 SPELLING AND PRONUNCIATION. an B. This seems to have been due to assimilation. There existed of old in the language a group of words beginning with wh and wr ; such as, whale, wharf, what, which, who, wheat, wheel, when, where, whither, &c.y wreak, wreath, wrestle, wrath, wrist, write, wright, &c. — all familiar words, and some of them words of the first necessity. The con- tagion of these examples spread to words beginning with H or R simple, and the movement was perhaps aided in some measure by the desire to reassert the languishing gutturalism of h and (we may add) of e. This was the means of engendering some strange forms of orthography, which either became speedily extinct or maintained an obscure existence. For example; whote is found instead of i^^/y whome instead oi home ; wrote instead of root. But besides these obscure forms, others sprang up under the same influence, which have retained a place in standard English. Among such may be quoted whole instead of hole or hale, which sense it bears in the English New Testament, though it has since run off from the sense of hale, sound (integer), into that of complete (totus). But, famous as this word has become from its frequent presence in our New Testament — ' And he was made whole from that very hour' — yet there is another word of this class which has a still greater celebrity. It is that ill-appreciated word wretchlessness, in our XVIIth Article. To understand this word, we have only to look at it when divested of its initial w, as retchlessness ; and then, according to principles already defined, to remember that an ancient Saxon c at the end of a syllable commonly developed into tch; and in this way we get back to the verb to reck, Anglo-Saxon recan, to care for. So that retch-less-7iess is equivalent to care-nought-state of mind, that is to say, it is much the same thing as ' despera- tion.' The prefixed iv has in this instance proved fatal to SPELLING AND PRONUNCIATION. J 43 the word. The /ck form^ of this root has fallen out of use. Most probably the prefixing of this w has extinguished it. For it had the eifect of creating a confusion between this word and wretch, a word totally distinct, and this is one of the greatest causes of words dying out, when they clash with others and promote confusion. We still retain, how- ever, the verb to 7'eck, and also reckless and recklessness, which means the same as wretchlessness. Examples of whole for hot are found in the writings of the Reformers. An instance may be readily quoted from one of the Martyrs of the Reformation : — ' Them which went about to make whole and to furnish their cold and empty kitchens.' (John Philpot, in Parker Society, p. 414). The Bible-translator, Myles Coverdale [Parker Society, i. 17), spelt r aught (the preterite of reach, and equivalent of our reached) with a w. Speaking of Adam stretching forth his hand to pick the forbidden fruit, he says, ' he wrought life and died the death.' That is to say, he (raught) snatched at life, and, &c. In the case of zvhole for hole, the language has been accidentally enriched. A new word has been introduced, and one which has made for itself a place of the first importance in the language. For the expression the whole has obtained pronominal value in English. This prevalence of the initial w is perhaps in some measure to be traced to an influence from the western counties. At any rate, it is there that we still observe an excess of the same tendency. One of the most remarkable instances of this change (remarkable because it was made in the pronun- ciation only and not in the writing of the word) is that of the numeral one. It used to be pronounced as written, very like the preposition oft, a sound naturally derived from its original form in the Saxon numeral an. But it has now long 144 SPELLING AND PRONUNCIATION. been pronounced as wujsr or won (in Devonshire wonn), and this change may with probability be placed at the close of the sixteenth century. It was apparently a western habit which got into standard English. In the eastern parts of. England, and especially in London, it is well-known ver- nacular to say UN, commonly written 'un, as if a Z£^ had been elided : e.g. 'a good 'un.' In the West may be heard ' the wonn en the wother ' for ' the one and the other.' One of the features of the Dorset dialect, as exhibited in the poems of the Rev. William Barnes, is the broad use of this initial w, both in the first numeral and in other words such as woak for oak, woM for old, zvoa^s for oats, in which the practice has not been generally adopted. ' John Bloom he wer a jolly soul, A grinder o' the best o' meal, Bezide a river that did roll, Vrom week to week, to push his wheel. His flour were all a-meade o' wheat ; An' fit vor bread that vo'k mid eat ; , Vor he would starve avore he'd cheat. " Tis pure," woone woman cried ; " Ay, sure," woone mwore replied ; "You'll vind it nice. Buy ivoonce, buy twice," Cried worthy Bloom the miller,' The same worthy miller sitting in his oaken chair is described as ' A-zitten in his cheair o' woak.' To the same tendency belongs such spellings as Iwoad, mwore, for ' load,' ' more,' &c., which occur in the same author. But while we point to the western counties as the pos- sible source of this feature, we must not overlook the fact that in Yorkshire, and generally throughout the North, one is pro- nounced wonn, and oats are called wufs, as distinctly as in Gloucestershire and the West of England. Whatever regions we may trace it to, we must regard this w with particular SPELLING AND PRONUNCIATION. [45 interest as being a creation of the English speech-genius. To the Danish it is ungenial ; they have dropped it in words where it is of ancient standing, and where we have it in common with the Germans, as in week, wool, wolf, &c., which the Danes call uge, uld, ulf, &c. The Germans do in fact write the w in these words, SBoc^e, $5oUe, 3Sulf. But they do not properly share with us our w ; for they pronounce it ■ as our v, and in this respect they leave us in the sole possession of our w, which is accordingly a distinct feature and special birthright of English, as much so as the G-like J is of the French lan- guage. It is plain that in some words this consonant w has grown up out of nothing ; in many more (as we began by saying) it has been prefixed assimilatively. This principle of assimilation displays itself in many little peculiarities of our spelling. It was on this principle that the word kiln came to be spelt after miln. This antique form of 7nill has left its trace in the family name of Milner. This word had inherited the n, — Latin molendinum, Saxon myln. But the other is a native word cyL Of the three times that it occurs in the Authorised Version of 161 1, it is once written kilne, 2 Sam. xii. 31, and twice it is kill^ Jer. xliii. 9, Neh. iii. 14. It was on the same principle that the word could acquired its L. This word has no natural right to the l at all, being of the same root as can, and the second syllable in uncouth, viz. from the verb which in Saxon was written cunnan. In would and should the l is hereditary; but could acquired the L by mere force of association with them. And it seems probable that the silence of the l in all three of these words may be due to the example of could. The coud sound kept its place alongside of the written could^ and at length drew would and should over to the like pronunciation. In L 146 SPELLING AND PRONUNCIATION. the poet Surrey and his contemporaries we find would and even could rhymed to mould ; and it is quite likely that pedantry forced could for a time into a pronunciation an- swering to its new spelling. It seems that l drops its sound easily before the dentals ; for though we now pronounce all the letters in the word fault, yet our fathers ignored the L in this word also. In the Deserted Village it rhymes to aught : — ' Yet he was kind, or if severe in aught, The love he bore to learning was in fault.' But this is, in fact, only one of the many instances in which we have dropped a French pronunciation for one of our own making, and in the making of which we have been led by the spelling. Between spelling and pronunciation there is a mutual attraction, insomuch that when spelling no longer follows the pronunciation, but is hardened into orthography, the pro- nunciation begins to move towards the spelling. A familiar illustration of this may be found in the words Derby, clerk, in which the er sounds as ar, but which many persons, especially of that class which is beginning to claim educated rank, now pronounce literally. The pronunciation itself was a good Parisian fashion in the fifteenth century. Villon, the French poet of that period, aff"ords in his rhymes some good illustrations of this. He rhymes Robert, haubert, with pluspart, poupart ; barre with terre ; appert with part, despart, &c ^. But it must have been much older than the time of Villon. In Chaucer, Prologue 391, we are not to suppose that Dertemouthe is to be pronounced as it was by the boy who in one of our great schools was the cause of hilarity to his •* CEuvrei. Completes de Francois Villon, ed. Jannet, p. xxiii. SPELLING AND PRONUNCIATION, I47 class-fellows by calling that seaport Dirty-mouth. The whole word is a trisyllable in Chaucer ; but the first syllable repre- sents the same sound as Dart now does. Another illustra- tion of er representing the sound of ar is in our word merchant, which at first would have been a mere variety of spelling for marchant, as it is spelt in Chaucer, according to its French extraction. Both forms are preserved in the case o^ person 2,n^ parson. There are other familiar instances in which we may trace the influence of orthography upon pronunciation. The generation which is now in the stage beyond middle life, are some of them able to remember when it was the correct thing to say Lunnon. At that time young people practised to say it, and studied to fortify themselves against the vul- garism of saying London, according to the literal pronun- ciation. At the same time ' Sir John ' was pronounced with the accent on Sir, in such a manner that it was liable to be mistaken for surgeon. This accentuation of * Sir John ' may be traced further back, however, even to Shakspeare, unless our ears deceive us. 2 Henry VI, ii. 3. 13 : ' Live in your country here in banishment, With Sir John Stanley in the Isle of Man.' Also, 4. 77, ' And Sir John Stanley is appointed now To take her with him to the Isle of Man.' Compare Milton, Sonnet xi. : ' Thy age, like ours, O soul of Sir John Cheek, Hated not learning worse than toad or asp, . ■ When thou taught'st Cambridge and King Edward Greek.' The same generation said poo-nish for punish (a relic of the French u in punir) ; and when they spoke of 2^ joint of mutton they called it jinte ox jeynt. In some cases it approximated to the 'aOMTid.jiveynte, and this was heard in the more retired; L 2 148 SPELLING AND PRONUNCIATION. parts among country gentlemen. This is in fact the missing link between the ez or eye sound and the French diphthong oz or oi'e — in imitation of which the peculiarity originated. The French words /oz 2ind Joz'e are sounded as I'wa and J'wa, When the French pronunciation had degenerated so far in such words 2js> join, joint, that the was taken no account of, and they were uttered as jine, jink, a reaction set in, and recourse was had to the native English fashion of pro- nouncing the diphthong oi. Hence our present join, joint, &c., do not always rhyme where they ought to rhyme, and once did rhyme. That beautiful verse in the ic6th Psalm (New Version) is hardly producible in refined congregations, by reason of this change in its closing rhyme : — ' O may I worthy prove to see Thy saints in full prosperity ! That I the joyful choir may join, And count thy people's triumph mine ! ' The fashion has not yet quite passed away of pronouncing Rome as the word 7'oo?n is pronounced. This is an ancient pronunciation, as is well known from puns in Shakspeare. No doubt it is the phantom of an old French pronunciation of the name, bearing the same relation to the French Rome (pron. JRom) that boon does to the French bon. But what is odd about it, is, that in Shakspeare's day the modern pro- nunciation (like roam) was already heard and recognised, and that the double pronunciation should have gone on till now, and it should have taken such a time to establish the mastery of the latter. The fact probably is, that the room pronunciation has been kept alive in the aristocratic region, while the rest of the world has been saying the name as it is generally said now. Room is said to have been the habitual pronunciation of the late Lord Lansdowne; not SPELLING AND PRONUNCIATION. 1 49 to instance living persons. The Shakspearean evidence is from the following passages. King John, iii. i : ' Con. O lawfull let it be That I have roome with Rome to curse a while,' So also m Julius CcBsar, i. 2. But in i Henry VI, iii. i : ' Winch. Rome shall remedie this. Warw. Roame thither then.' There still exist among us a few personages who cul- minated under George IV, and who adhere to the now anti- quated fashion of their palmy days. With them it used to be, and indeed still is, a point of distinction to pronounce gold as g07dd or gu-uld ; yellow as y allow ; lilac as leyloc ; china as cheyney ; oblige as ohleege, after the Frehch obliger. To this group of waning and venerable sounds, which were talismans of good breeding in their day, may be added the pronunciation of the plural verb are like the word air. The following quotation from Wordsworth, Thoughts near the Residence of Burns, exhibits it in rhyme with prayer — hear — share : — ' But why to him confine the prayer, When kindred thoughts and j^earnings bear On the frail heart the purest share With all that live? The best of what we do and are. Just God, forgive ! ' Rarer are the instances in which the number of syllables has been affected by change of pronunciation. A celebrated example is the plural 'aches/ which is thus commented upon in Curiosities of Literature, by Isaac Disraeli : — ' Aches. — Swift's own edition of " The City Shower " has " old a-ches throb." Aches is two syllables, but modern printers, who had lost the right pronunciation, have aches as one syllable, and then, to complete the metre, have foisted in " aches will throb." Thus what the poet and the linguist wish to preserve is altered, and finally lost. 150 SPELLING AND PRONUNCIATION. A good example occurs in Hiidihras, iii. 1, 407, where persons are mentioned who " Can by their pangs and aches find All turns and changes of the wind." The rhythm here demands the dissyllable a-ches. as used by the older writers, Shakespeare particularly, who, in his Tempest, makes Prospero threaten Caliban " If thou neglect'st, or dost unwillingly What I command, I'll rack thee with old cramps ; Fill all thy bones with aches ; make thee roar That beasts shall tremble at the din." John Kemble was aware of the necessity of using this word in this instance as a dissyllable, but it Was so unusual to his audiences that it excited ridicule; and during the O.P. row, a medal was struck, representing him as manager, enduring the din of cat-calls, trumpets, and rattles, and exclaiming " Oh ! my head aitches ! " ' But for such examples we might be apt to imagine that our pronunciation was as fixed as our orthography. These and a few more may lead us to observe that when spelling ceases to wait on pronunciation it begins to take a sort of lead and to draw pronunciation after it. An interesting illustration of this may be gathered from the history of the word tea. We have all heard some village dame talk of her 'dish o' tay' ; but the men of our generation are surprised when they first learn that this pronunciation of lea is classical English, and is enshrined in the verses of Alexander Pope. The following rhymes are from the Rape 0/ the Lock. ' Soft yielding minds to Water gHde away, And sip, with Nymphs, their elemental Tea.' (Canto i.) * Here thou, great Anna ! whom three realms obey. Dost sometimes counsel take — and sometimes Tea.' (Canto iii.) That this was the general pronunciation of good com- pany down to the close of the last century there is no doubt. The following quotation will carry us to 1775, the SPELLING AND PRONUNCIATION. 151 date of a poem entitled Bath and Ifs Environs, in three cantos, p. 25. ' Muse o'er some book, or trifle o'er the tea, Or with soft musick charm dull care away.' This old pronunciation was borrowed with the word from the French, who still call the Chinese beverage tay, and write it the. Our present pronunciation has resulted from an important movement in the phonetic signification of EA. There is now only one acknowledged value of ea; but formerly there were two. A change has gradually crept over certain words that had ea, sounding like ay. These have mostly (but not entirely) been assimilated to the more numerous instances in which ea sounds like ee or e. It is certain that when tea was introduced into England by the name of tay, it seemed natural to represent that sound by the letters t, e, a. Although there are a great many words in English which hold the diphthong ea, as beat, dear, death, eat, fear, gear, head, learn, mean, neat, pear, read, seat, teat, wean, — yet the cases of ea ending an English word are very few. Ben Jonson, in his day, having produced four of them, viz. flea, plea, sea, yea, added, ' and you have at one view all our words of this termination.' He forgot the word lea, or perhaps regarded it as a bad spelling for ley or lay. This makes five. A sixth, pea, has come into existence since. It is a mere creature of grammar, a singular begotten of the young plural pease. In the sixteenth century pease was singular, and peason or peasen was plural, as we see in the following passages from Surrey : — • ' All men might well dispraise My wit and enterprise. If I esteemed a pease Above a pearl in price.' I 152 SPELLING AND PRONUNCIATION, ' Tickle treasure, abhorred of reason, Dangerous to deal with, vain, of none avail ; Costly in keeping, past not worth two peason ; Slipper in sliding, as is an eeles tail.' To these there has been added a sixth, viz. Tea. At the time when this orthography of tea was determined, it is certain that most instances of ea final sounded as ay, and probable that all did. In a large number of words with EA internal, the pronunciation had long been different. But even in these cases there is room to suspect that the ay sound was once general, if not universal. We still give it the AY sound in measure, pleasure^ treasure : where ea, though in the midst of a word, is at the close of a syllable. But there are cases in which it is still so sounded in the middle of a syllable, as it is in great and break. In Surrey we find heat rhyme to great, and no doubt it was a true rhyme. Surrey pronounced heat as the majority of our countrymen, at least in the west country, still do, viz. as hayt. The same poet rhymes ease to assays : — ' The peasant, and the post, that serves at all assays ; The ship-boy, and the galley-slave, have time to take their ease ; ' — where it is plain that ease still kept to the French sound of aise. Then, further, the same poet has in a sonnet, the following run of rhyming words : — ease'j misease ( please ( days J which renders it tolerably plain, that please was pronounced as the French plaise, as it still is pronounced by the majority of EngUsh people. These investigations suggest many questions as to the alterations that our pronunciation may have undergone. For instance, did Abraham Cowley pronounce cheat as we SPELLING AND PRONUNCIATION. 153 often hear it in our own day, viz. as chayt ? He has the following rhyme : — ' If e'er ambition did my fancy cheat With any wish so mean as to be great.' And how did Milton sound the rhymes of this couplet in the L' Allegro ? — ' With stories told of many a feat, How fairy Mab the junkets eat.' Must we not suppose that eat being in the preterite, and equivalent to ate, had a sound unlike our present pronuncia- tion oi/eat. And if so, the derivation of the word from the French/"^//, suggests the soundsy^v'/ and ayt. Dr. Watts (1709) rhymes sea to away. Sir Roundell Palmer's Book 0/ Praise, clxi: — ' But timorous mortals start and shrink To cross this narrow sea. And linger shivering on the brink, And fear to launch away.' Goldsmith, in The Haunch of Venison, puts this pronuncia- tion into the mouth of an under-bred fine-spoken fellow : — ' An under- bred fine-spoken fellow was he, And he smil'd as he look'd on the venison and me. "What have we got here? — Why this is good eating I Your own, I suppose — or is it in wailing ? " ' However we may be puzzled to account for the letters ea being used to represent the sound of ay, there can be no dispute about the fact; and it removes the wonder of the orthography of the word tea pronounced lay. It also throws light upon a passage in Shakspeare, i Henry IV, ii. 3, where Falstaif says ' if Reasons were as plentie as Black-berries, I would giue no man a Reason vpon compulsion, I.' It seems that half a pun underlies this; the association of reasons with blackberries springing out of the fact that 154 SPELLING AND PRONUNCIATION. reasojts sounded like raisi7ts. In the analogous word season, we have ea substituted for the older ay ; for, in the fifteenth century, Lydgate wrote this word saysoun and saysonne. When we look at the word treason, and consider its relation to the French trahison, who can suppose that the pronun- ciation treeson is anything but a modernism ? In The Stage-Players Complaint (1641), we find nay spelt nea : ' Nea you know this well enough, but onely you love to be inquisitive.' When, in 1765, Josiah Wedgwood, having received his first order from Queen Charlotte, wrote to get some help from a relative in London, he described the Hst of tea things which were ordered, and he spelt the word tray thus, ' trea ' — for so only can we understand it — ' Teapot & stand, spoon-trea.' The orthography may be either his own or that of Miss Chetwynd, from whom the instructions came \ It is not unlikely that this use of ea runs back into Saxon times. It was one of the most frequent and characteristic of Saxon diphthongs. But when we come to Chaucer we hardly find it at all. There may be a doubtful reading of death for deth in the Knight's Tale ; and there are the cases in which the e and a stand contiguous, but in different syl- lables, as in creature, piirveaunce, Scythea. But speaking broadly, ea has disappeared in Chaucer's English. This is more forcible than fists of words to indicate the deep effect which the French language had taken on ours. The Saxon tear is in Chaucer ' teer ' or ' tere ' ; yar is ' yeer ' or ' yere,' and so on. It matters not that later there was a return to the spelling tear 2ind year, when we had for ever lost what that spelling represented ; for though we now write tear, year, we sa}' teer, yeer. Life of Josiah Wedgwood by E',i/.a Meteyard (1865"), vol. i. p. 371. SPELLING AND PRONUNCIATION. J 55 But while commixture with French had aboHshed this old diphthongal sound in the centre of English society, we may be sure it lived on provincially. And a few traces may be collected which seem to indicate that it grew towards the sound Ai or ay. Thus the Saxon ceaster has produced Caistor and Caystor, The Saxon word ea = water, has pro- duced Eaton, it must be admitted, and Eton in the more central neighbourhoods, but in remoter regions also Aytoun ; and the Saxon numeral eahta is pronounced ayt and written eight. From Elizabeth's time onward there was a gradual re- admission of this diphthong in a few words with the sound of AY, as the above examples shew. In further illustration we may quote from Michael Dray- ton's Polyolbion, xixth song (1662) : — ' Foure such Immeasur'd Pooles, Phylosophers agree, Ith foure parts of the world undoubtedly to bee ; From which they haue supposd, Nature the winds doth raise. And from them to proceed the flowing of the Seas.' Family names offer some examples to the same effect. A friend informs me that he had once a relative, who in writing was Mr. Lea, but he pronounced his name ' Lay ' : and I am courteously permitted to use for illustration the name of Mr. Rea, of Newcastle, the well-known organist, whose family tradition renders the name as ' Ray/ If it has been made plain that ea sounded ay in many cases, it will be a step to the clearing of another anomaly. It has been asked why we spell conceive with ei, and yet spell believe, reprieve., &c., v/ith ie ? The difficulty lies in this fact — that the pronunciation of these dissimilar diphthongs is the same. And the answer lies in this — that the pronunciation was different. Those words which we now write with ei, to wit, deceive., perceiv^e, co?iceive, receive ^ were all pronounced 156 SPELLING AND PRONUNCIATION. with a -caj've sound, as they still are in many localities. The readiest proof of this is in the facts, (i) that you will not find them rhymed with words of the z'e type, and (2) that you will continually find them spelt with ea, as deceave, per- ceave, conceave, receave. In a fac-simile letter of Edward Hyde, the first Earl of Clarendon (b. 16 18, d. 1674), he writes receaued and per- ceaue, where we should spell received and perceive. Fac- similes of private letters are of excellent use ki these investigations, because they supply us with the evidence of independent ears. At an early date, certainly as. early as 161 1, the printers had taken spelling into their hands, and a professional orthography was forming. This weakens the evidence of printed books and enhances the value of private letters. In the Bible of 1611 these verbs are all spelt -ceive. So in the First Folio of Shakspeare, 1623. But we find abundant proof, both before and after these dates, that -ceave seemed the most natural way to represent the sound. But in fact the two spellings confirm each other as evidence to this, that the sound was -cayve. For what the printers meant by their ei was doubtless the sound ay. On the other hand when ie was introduced, as in the spelling of believe, it meant the sound now understood. This may be gathered from the quotation of the Bible of 1 6 1 1 in the early part of this chapt'er. There is at least one word which still vacillates between the two sounds of ea, and that is the word break : ' Still feel the breeze down Ettrick break Although it chill my withered cheek ' Scott. ' Ah, his eyelids slowly break Their hot seals, and let him wake ! ' Matthew Arnold. That the latter is /he pronunciation at the present time, I there can be no doubt : and yet the former is heard from j SPELLING AND PRONUNCIATION. 1 57 SO many persons who are able to read and write, that it may perhaps establish itself in the end. In summing up the case of Spelling and Pronunciation, we may again make use of the famous example of tea. When this word was first spelt, the letters came at the call of the sound : the spelling followed the pronunciation. But since that time, the letters having changed their value, the sound of the word has shared the vicissitude of its letters : the pronunciation has followed the spelling. It is manifest that these movements have one and the same aim, namely, to make the spelling phonetically symbolise the pronunciation. But there are two great obstacles to such a consummation: (i) The letters of the alphabet are too few to represent all the variety of simple sounds in the English language ; (2) But even what they might do is not done, because of the restraining hand of traditional asso- ciation. The consequence is, that when we use the word ' orthography,' we do not mean a mode of spelling which is true to the pronunciation, but one which is conventionally correct. CHAPTER III. OF INTERJECTIONS. The term interjection signifies something that is pitched in among things of which it does not naturally form a con- stituent part. The name has been given it by grammarians, in order to express its relation to grammatical structures. It is found in them, but it forms no part of them. The interjection may be defined as a form of speech which is articulate but not grammatical. An interjection implies a meaning which it would require a whole grammatical sentence to expound, and it may be regarded as the rudiment of such a sentence. But it is a confusion of thought to rank it among the parts of speech. It is not in any sense a part; it is a whole (though an indistinct) expression of feeling or of thought. An inter- jection bears to its context the same sort of relation as a pictorial illustration does. It may stand either insulated in the sentence, or con- nected with it by a preposition, as — ' Oh for a humbler heart and prouder song !' We rightly call an adjective or an adverb a part of speech, because these have no meaning by themselves without the aid of nouns and verbs, and because their very designation 1 CF INTERJECTIONS. I59 implies the existence of nouns and verbs. But an interjec- tion is intelligible without any grarnmatical adjunct; and such completeness as it is capable of is obtained without any external assistance. Ancient grammarians ranked the interjections as adverbs, but the moderns have made them a separate class. If it were a question to which of the parts of speech the interjection is most cognate, it must be answered to the verb. For if we take any simple interjection, such as, for example, the cry ' Oh, Oh ! ' in the House of Commons, and translate it into plain English, it can only be done by a verb, either in the imperative or in the indicative first per- son. Either you must say it is equivalent to ' Don't say such things,' or else to ' I doubt,' ' I wonder,' ' I demur,' ' I dispute,' ' I deny,' ' I protest,' &c. ; by one or more of these or such verbs must ' Oh, Oh ! ' be explained ; and if it must be classed among parts of speech at all, it should count as a rudimentary verb. It is from that germ of verbal activity which is innate in the interjection, that it adapts itself readily to perform the office of a conjunction. It has this peculiar faculty as a conjunction, that it rounds off and renders natural an abrupt beginning, and forms as it were the bridge between the spoken and the unspoken : ' Oh if in aft^ life we could but gather The very refuse of our youthful hours ! ' Charles Lloyd. It is because of this variety of possible meanings in the interjection that writing is less able to represent interjections than to express grammatical language. Even in the latter, writing is but an imperfect medium, because it fails to con- vey the accompaniments, such as the look, the tone, the emphasis, the gesture. This defect is more evident in the case of interjections, where the written word is but a very l6o . OF INTERJECTIONS. small part of the expression ; and the manner, tone, gesture, &c., is nearly everything. Hence also it comes to pass that the interjection is of all that is printed the most difficult thing to read well aloud. For not only does it require a rare command of modulation ; but the reader has moreover to be perfectly acquainted with the situation and temperament of the person using the interjection. Shakspeare's interjections cannot be ren- dered with any truth, except by one who has mastered the whole play. In the accompaniments lies the rhetoric of the interjec- tion, which is used with astonishing effect by children and savages. For it is to these that the interjection more es- pecially belongs, and in proportion to the march of culture is the decline of interjectional speech. But though the use of interjections is very much reduced by civilisation, and though there are whole fields of litera- ture from which they are utterly banished, as History, Mathematics, Physical Science, — yet they have a sphere in which they are retained, and in this, the literature of the emotions, their importance will always be considerable. It should moreover be added, that while most of the natural accompaniments of interjectional speech, such as gestures, grimaces, and gesticulations, are restrained by civilisation, there yet remains one, which alone is. able to render justice to the interjection, and which culture tends to improve and develope, and that is, modulation. It is this which makes it well worth a poet's while to throw meaning into his interjections. Moreover, though it is true on the whole that interjectional communications are restrained by civilisation ; yet it is also to be noted on the other hand, that there are certain inter- jections which are the fruits of, and only fit to find a place OF INTERJECTIONS. l6l in, the highest and most mature forms of human culture. And this chapter will naturally follow this important division, and fall into the two heads, of (i) interjections of nature, or primitive interjections ; and (2) artificial or historical interjec- tions. The distinction between these sorts will be generally this, — that the latter have a philological derivation^ and the former have not. Of the natural interjections, that which challenges the first mention is — O ; oh ! This is well known as one of the earliest articu- lations of infants, to express surprise or delight. Later in life it comes to indicate also fear, aspiration, appeal, and an indefinite variety of emotions. It would almost seem that in proportion as the spontaneous modulation of the voice comes to perfection, in the same degree the range of this most generic of all interjections becomes enlarged, and that according to the tone in which oh is uttered, it may be understood to mean almost any one of the emotions of which humanity is capable. This interjection owes its great predominance to the influence of the Latin language, in which it was very fre- quently used. And there is one particular use of it, which more especially bears a Latin stamp. That is the of the vocative case, as when in prayers, for instance, we say Loi'd, &c. ; O Thou to whom all creatures bow, &c. A distinction should be made in orthography between the sign of the vocative, and the emotional interjection, writing for the former, and oh for the latter, as — ' O Nature, how in every charm supreme !' Beattie, Minstrel, Bk. i. ' But she is in her grave, — and ob The difference to me!' Wordsworth. ' Like — but oh, how different ! ' Id, M l62 OF INTERJECTIONS, This distinction of spelling should by all means be kept up, as it is based upon good ground. There is a difference between 'O sir!' 'O king!' and *0h! sir/ 'Oh! Lord/ both in sense and pronunciation. As to the sense : the prefixed merely imparts to the title a vocative effect; while the Ok conveys some parti- cular sentiment, as of appeal, entreaty, expostulation, or some other. And as to sound: the is an enclitic; that is to say, it has no accent of its own, but is pronounced with the word to which it is attached, as if it were its unaccented first syllable. The term 'enclitic' signifies reclining on, and so the interjection in ' O Lord ' reclines on the support afforded to it by the accentual elevation of the word ' Lord.' So that ' O Lord ' is pronounced like such a disyllable a& alight, alike, away, &c., in which words the metrical stress could never be borne by the first syllable. Oh ! on the con- trary, is one of the fullest of monosyllables, and it would be hard to place it in a verse except with the stress upon it. The above examples from Beattie and Wordsworth illustrate this. Precedence has been given to the interjection oh, because it is the commonest of the simple or natural interjections,— not that it is one of the longest standing in the language. The oldest interjections in our language are la and wa, and each of these merits a separate notice. La is that interjection which in modern English is spelt lo. It was used in Saxon times, both as an emotional cry, and also as a sign of the respectful vocative. The most reverential style in addressing a superior was La leof, an expression not easy to render in modern English, but which is something like my liege, or my lord, or sir. In modern times it has taken the form of lo in literature, OF INTERSECTIONS, 1 63 and it has been supposed to have something to do with the verb fo look. In this sense it has been used in the New Testament to render the Greek l8ov that is, hehold ! But the interjection la was quite independent of another Saxon exclamation, viz. loc, which may with more probability be associated with locian = to look. The fact seems to be that the modern lo represents both the Saxon interjections la and /oc, and that this is one among many instances where two Saxon words have been merged into a single English one. ' Lo, how they feignen chalk for chese.' Gower, Confessio Amantis, vol. i. p. 17, ed. Pauli. The la of Saxon times has none of the indicatory or pointing force which lo now has, and which fits it to go so naturally with an adverb of locality, as ' Lo here,' or ' Lo there ' ; or ' Lo ! where the stripling, wrapt in wonder, roves.' Beattie, Minstrel, Bk. i. But while lo became the literary form of the word, la has still continued to exist more obscurely, at least down to a recent date, even if it be not still in use. La may be called the feminine form of lo. In novels of the close of last century and the beginning of this, we see la occurring for the most part as a trivial exclamation by the female characters. In Miss Edgeworth's tale of The Good French Governess, a silly affected boarding-school miss says la repeatedly : — ' '• La ! " said Miss Fanshaw, " we had no such book as this at Suxberry House." Miss Fanshaw, to shew how well she could walk, crossed the room, and took up one of the books. "Alison upon Taste — that's a pretty book, I daresay — hut la I what's this. Miss Isabella ? A Smith's Theory of Moral Sentiments — dear me ! that must be a curious performance — by a smith ! a common smith ! " ' 164 OF INTERJECTIONS. And in The Election : a Comedy, by Joanna Baillie (1798), Act ii. Sc. I, Charlotte thus soliloquises : — ' Charlotte. La, how I should like to be a queen, and stand in my robes, and have all the people introduced to me ! ' And when Charles compares her cheeks to the 'pretty- delicate damask rose/ she exclaims : ' La, now you are flattering me.' And to shew that this trivial little interjection is traceable back to early times, and that it is one with the old Saxon la, we may cite the authority of Shakspeare in the mid interval, who, in The Merry Wives of Windsor, puts this exclamation into the mouths of Master Slender first, and of Mistress Quickly afterwards. ' Slen. Mistris Anne : your selfe shall goe first. Atine. Not I sir, pray you keepe on. Slen. Truely, I will not goe first : truely la ; I will not doe you that wrong. Anne. I pray you Sir, Sleit. He rather be vnmannerly, then troublesome : you doe your selfe wrong indeede-la.' (Act i. Sc. i.) Here the interjection seems to retain somewhat of its old ceremonial significance : but when, in the ensuing scene, Mistress Quickly says, 'This is all indeede— la : but ile nere put my finger in the fire, and neede not,' there is nothing in it but the merest expletive. Wa has a history much like that of la. It has changed its form in modern Enghsh to wo. ' Wo,' in the New Tes- tament, as Rev. viii. 13, stands for the Greek interjection oval and the Latin vce. In the same way it is used in many passages in which the interjectional character is distinct. This word must be distinguished from woe, which is a sub- stantive. For instance, in the phrase ' weal and woe.' And in such scriptures as Prov. xxiii. 29 : ' Who hath woe ? who hath sorrow .? ' OF INTERJECTIONS. 1 65 The fact is, that there were here absorbed two distinct old words, namely, the interjection wa and the substantive wok (genitive wages), which means depravity, wickedness, misery. And it would be convenient to observe the dis- tinction, which still is practically valid, by a distinct ortho- graphy, writing the interjection wo, and the substantive woe. This interjection was compounded with the previous one into the form wala or walawa — an exclamation which is several times found in Chaucer, and which, before it dis- appeared, was modified into the feebler form of wellaway. A degenerate variety of this form was well~a-day. Woeful cries have a certain disposition to implicate the present time, as in woe worth the day ! There was yet another compound interjection made with la by prefixing the interjection ea. Hence the Saxon com- pound eala. This occurs often in the Saxon Gospels as a mere sign of the vocative ; for example, ' Eala ]?u wif, mycel ys ])in geleafa' (O woman, great is thy faith). Matt. XV. 28. 'Eala faeder Abraham, gemiltsa me' (Father Abraham, pity me), Luke xvi. 24. This eala may be regarded as the stock on which the French he'las was grafted, and from the conjunction with which sprung the modern alas, which appears in English of the thirteenth century, as in Robert of Gloucester, 4198 : ' Alas ! alas ! ]jou wrecche mon, wuch mysaventure ha]> J>e ybrogt in to ]?ys stede.' (Alas ! alas ! thou wretched man, what misadventure hath brought thee into this place ?) And in Chaucer it is a frequent interjection. In a pathetic passage of the Knighfs Tale it is used repeatedly. 'Alias the wo, alias the peynes stronge, That I for yow haue sufFred, and so longe ; Alias the deeth, alias myn Emelye, Alias departynge of our compaignye. Alias myn hertes queene, alias ray wyf, Myn hertes lady, endere of my lyf.' 1 66 OF INTERJECTIONS. Alack seems to be the more genuine representation of eala, which, escaping the influence of /lehs, drew after it (or preserved rather ?) the final guttural so congenial to the interjection. Thus the modern alack suggests a Saxon or Anglian form eahh. This interjection has rather a trivial use in the south of England, and we do not find it used with a dignity equal to that of alas, until by Sir Walter Scott the language of Scotland was brought into one literature with our own. Jeanie Deans cries out before the tribunal at the most painful crisis of the trial : ' Alack a-day ! she never told me.' Still, the word is on the whole associated mainly with trivial occasions, and in this connection of ideas it has engendered the adjective lackadaysical, to characterise a person who flies into ecstasies too readily. Pooh seems connected with the French exclamation of physical disgust : Pouah, quelle infection I But our pooh expresses an analogous moral sentiment : * Pooh ! pooh ! it 's all stuff" and nonsense.' Psha expresses contempt. ' Doubt is always crying psha and sneering.' — Thackeray, Humourists, p. 69. Heigh ho. Some interjections have so vague, so filmy a meaning, that it would take a great many words to inter- pret what their meaning is. They seem as fitted to be the echo of one thought or feeling as another ; or even to be no more than a mere melodious continuation of the rhythm : — ' How pleasant it is to have money, heigh ho ! How pleasant it is to have money.' Arthur H. Clough. This will suffice to exhibit the nature of the first class of interjections; — those which stand nearest to nature and farthest from art ; those which owe least to conventionality and most to genuine emotion ; those which are least capable of orthographic expression and most dependent upon oral OF INTERJECTIONS. l6j modulation. It is to this class of interjections especially that the following quotation is applicable. ' The dominion of speech is erected upon the downfall of interjections : without the artful contrivances of language, mankind would have had nothing but interjections with which to communicate orally any of their feelings. The neighing of a horse, the lowing of a cow, the barking of a dog, the purring of a cat, sneezing, coughing, groaning, shrieking, and every other involuntary convulsion with oral sound, have almost as good a title to be called parts of speech, as interjections have. Voluntary inter- jections are only employed when the suddenness and vehemence of some affection or passion returns men to their natural state, and makes them for a moment forget the use of speech ; or when from some circumstance the shortness of time will not permit them to exercise it.' — Home Tooke, Diversions of Parley, p. 32. The interjections which we have been considering so far, may be called the spontaneous or primitive interjections, and they are such as have no basis in grammatical forms. But we now pass on to the other group, which may be called the artificial or secondary interjections; a group which, though extra-grammatical no less than the former, in the sense that they do not enter into any grammatical construction, are yet founded upon grammatical words. Verbs, nouns, participles, adjectives, have by use lost their grammatical character, and have lapsed into the state of interjections. In the nascency of geological ideas, a controversy flourished upon this question: — Whether fossils in the semblance of animal organisms were things that once had lived, or whether they were only lapides sui generis, a strange sort of stones? Not very unlike is the question that might be raised concerning the interjections we are now to consider. Are they parts of organised speech, or are they interjections that form a class by themselves .? They bear internal marks of organism, but their organs have ceased to be functional. We must be content to play the part of those wise men who pronounced the fossils to be but stones, and we must treat these words as mere interjectional missiles. 1 68 OF INTERJECTIONS, Our first example shall be borrowed from the manners and customs of the British parliament. That scene may fairly be regarded as the most mature and full-grown exhibition of the powers of human speech, and yet it is there also that one of the most famous of interjections first originated, and is in constant employment. The cry of ' Hear, hear,' originally an imperative verb, is now nothing more nor less than a great historical interjection. The following is the history of the exclamation, as described by Lord Macaulay, History of England, ch. xi. (1689). ' The King therefore, on the fifth day after he had been proclaimed, went with royal state to the House of Lords, and took his seat on the throne. The Commons were called in ; and he, with many gracious expressions, reminded his hearers of the perilous situation of the country, and exhorted them to take such steps as might prevent unnecessary delay in the trans- action of public business. His speech was received by the gentlemen who crowded the bar with the deep hum by which our ancestors were wont to indicate approbation, and which was often heard in places more sacred than the Chamber of the Peers. As soon as he had retired, a Bill, declaring the Convention a Parliament, was laid on the table of the Lords, and rapidly passed by them. In the Commons the debates were warm. The House resolved itself into a Committee; and so great was the excitement, that, when the authority of the Speaker was withdrawn, it was hardly possible to pre- serve order. Sharp personalities were exchanged. The phrase " hear him," a phrase which had originally been used only to silence irregular noises, and to remind members of the duty of attending to the discussion, had, during some years, been gradually becoming what it now is ; that is to say, a cry indicative, according to the tone, of admiration, acquiescence, indignation, or derision.' The historian could not have chosen more suitable words had it been his intention to describe the transition of a grammatical part of speech into the condition of an inter- jectional symbol, whose signification depends on the tone in which it is uttered. The fact is, that when a large assembly is animated with a common sentiment which demands in- stantaneous utterance, it can find that utterance only through interjections. A crowd of grown men is here in the same condition as the infant, and must speak in those forms to which expression is imparted only by variety of tone. OF INTERJECTIONS. 1 69 The Liturgy, when it was in Latin, was a prolific source for the minting of popular interjections. Where vernacular words are changed into interjections, some plain reason for their selection may generally be found in the gram- matical sense of such words. But where a Latin word of religion came to be popular as an exclamation, it was as likely to be the sound as the sense that gave it currency. In the fourteenth century, BEisrEDiciTE had this sort of career; and it does not appear how it could have been other than a senseless exclamation from the first. It often occurs in Chaucer, as in the following from the Knighfs Tale, 2 no: ' For if ther fille tomorwe swich a caas ; Ye knowen wel J)at euery lusty knyght, That loueth paramours and hath his myght ; Were it in Engelond or elles where, They wolde hir thankes wilnen to be there — To fighte for a lady, benedicitee 1 It were a lusty sighte for to see.' And not only is it true that interjections are formed out of grammatical words, but also it is further true, that certain grammatical words may stand as interjections in an occasional way, without permanently changing their nature. This chiefly appHes to some of the more conventional col- loquialisms. Perhaps there is not a purer or a more con- densed interjection in English literature, than that indeed in Othello, Act iii. Sc. 3. It contains in it the gist of the chief action of the play, and it implies all that the plot developes. It ought to be spoken with such an intonation as to suggest the diabolic scheme of lago's conduct. There is no thought of the grammatical structure of the compound, consisting of the preposition in and the substantive deed, which is equivalent to act, fact, or reality. All this vanishes and is lost in the mere iambic dissyllable which is employed as a vehicle for the feigned tones of surprise. 170 OF INTERJECTIONS. 'lago. I did not thinke he had bin acquainted with hir. 0th. O yes, and went betweene vs very oft. lago. Indeed ! 0th. Indeed? I indeed. Discern'st thou ought in that? Is he not honest ? lago. Honest, my lord? 0th. Honest? I, honest!' Thus Strong passion may so scorch up, as it were, the organism of a word, that it ceases to have any of that grammatical quality which the calm light of the mind ap- preciates ; and it becomes, for the nonce, an interjection. And not only passion, but ignorance may do the like. With uneducated persons, their customary words and phrases grow to be very like interjections, especially those phrases which are peculiar to and traditional in the vocation they follow. When a porter at a railway-station cries by'b leave, he may understand the analysis of the words he uses; and then he is speaking logically and grammatically, though elliptically. If he does not under- stand the construction of the phrase he uses, and if he is quite ignorant how much is implied and left un- said, he merely uses a conventional cry as an interjec- tion. And we need not doubt that this is the case in those instances where we hear it uttered as follows: 'By'r leave, if you please ! ' It is plain in this instance that the speaker understands the latter clause, but does not under- stand the former — for, if he did, he would feel the latter to be superfluous. A cry of this sort, uttered as a conglomerate whole, where the mind makes no analysis, is, as far as the speaker is concerned, an interjection. But when we speak of ignorance, we use, of course, a relative term. Some few know a little more than the average ; but even with the best informed the limit of knowledge is never far distant. A gentleman who has enjoyed the benefits of a grammatical education, may OF INTERJECTIONS. 171 possibly find himself in a like case with the railway porter. For, as soon as a man travels beyond the limits of his own linguistic acquirements, he will find himself driven to use the strange words of the strange tongue in an interjectional manner. In the following quotation we have an instance of a gentleman using two well-known French words in an interjectional manner, because he had not the learning which would have enabled him to use them more intelligently. ' " Do you speak the language ? " said one of the young listeners, with a smile which was very awkwardly repressed. " Oh, no ! " replied the well- fed gentleman, laughing good naturedly ; " I know nothing of their lan- guage. I pay for all I eat, and I find, by paying, I can get anything I want. Mangez ! CHANGEZ ! is quite foreign language enough, sir, for me;" and having to the first word suited his action, by pointing with his forefinger to his mouth ; and to explain the second, having rubbed his thumb against the selfsame finger, as if it were counting out money, he joined the roar of laughter which his two French words had caused, and then very good- naturedly paced the deck by himself.' — Bubbles from the Brunnens of Nassau, by An Old Man, 2nd edit., Murray, 1 834, p. 17. In this instance, mangez and changez are essentially inter- jections. Fudge. Isaac Disraeli, in his Curiosities of Literature^ vol. iii., quotes a pamphlet entitled Remarks upon the Navy, of the date 1700, to shew that this interjection has sprung from a man's name. ' There was, sir, in our time, one Captain Fudge, commander of a mer- chantman, who, upon his return from a voyage, how ill-fraught soever his ship was, always brought home his owners a good cargo of lies ; so much that now aboard ship, the sailors, when they hear a great lie told, cry out, " You fudge it." ' Mr. DisraeH adds, but without references, what is of great use for the illustration of this section. He says ' that recently at the bar, in a court of law, its precise meaning perplexed plaintiff and defendant, and their counsel.' It is of the very nature of an interjection, that it eludes the meshes of a definition. It was Goldsmith who first gave this interjection a literary 172 OF INTERJECTIONS. currency. Mr. Forster, in Oliver Goldsmith's Life and Times, speaking of The Vicar of Wakefield, has the following : — ' There never was a book in which indulgence and charity made virtue look so lustrous. Nobody is strait-laced ; if we except Miss Carolina Wil- helmina Amelia Skeggs, whose pretensions are summed up in Burchell's noble monosyllable. " Virtue, my dear Lady Blarney, virtue is worth any price ; but where is that to be found ? " *' Fudge." ' Hail. Here we have the case of an adjective which has become an interjection. It is a very old salutation, being found not only in Anglo-Saxon, but also in Old High Dutch. In the early examples it always appears gram- matically as an adjective of health joined with the verb to he in the imperative. In the Saxon Version of the Gospels, Luke i. 28, 'Hal W3es ^u' = 'Hale be thou!* and in the plural, Matt, xxviii. 9, ' Hale wese ge ' = ' Hale be ye ! And so still in Layamon's Brut (vol. iii. p. 162) where the variety of spelling is observable : ' Hail seo J)u Gurgmund ; hal seo ]yu haSene king, heil seo J)in du3e'5e ; hail ];ine drihtliche men.' Which Sir Frederic Madden thus renders : — • Hail be thou, Gurmund ; hail be thou, heathen king. Hail be thy folk, hail thy noble men ! ' In the same poem (vol. iii. p. 144) we meet all hail in a purely adjectival signification : ' & hev seal mine wunden makien alle isunde ; al hal me makien mid halewei5e drenchen.' * And she shall make my wounds all sound ; make me all whole with healing draughts.' By the sixteenth century this ' all hail ! ' had become a I OF INTERJECTIONS. 1 73 worshipful salutation, and having lost all construction, was completely interjectionalised. ' Did they not sometime cry All hayle to me ? ' Shakspeare, Richard II. iv. I . The pronunciation is iambic; the All being enclitic, and the stress on hayle^ as if the whole were a disyllabic. We sometimes hear it otherwise rendered in Matthew xxviii. 9, as if All meant omnes, Travres ; instead of being merely ad- verbial, omm'no, irdpTios. It does not indeed represent any separate word at all, the original being simply Xaipere. In the Vulgate it is Avele ; and this is rendered by WicM Hez'l y. Tyndal was the first who introduced this All hayle into the English version. The Geneva translators substituted for it God saue you. Other instances of the use of this form of greeting in our New Testament are too well known to need quotation. This section shall close with the following example from a dialogue poem of Cowper, good also for its illustration of another interjection : — ' Distorted from its use and just design, To make the pitiful possessor shine, To purchase, at the fool-frequented fair Of vanity, a wreath for self to wear, ' Is profanation of the basest kind — Proof of a trifling and a worthless mind. A. Hail Sternhold, then; and Hopkins, hail. B. Amen. If flattery, folly, lust, employ the pen; If acrimony, slander, and abuse, Give it a charge to blacken and traduce : Though Butler's wit, Pope's numbers, Prior's ease, With all that fancy can invent to please, Adorn the polish'd periods as they fall — One madrigal of theirs is worth them all ! ' Table Talk. This brings us to the example which holds the most con- spicuous historical position, the great congregational inter- jection of faith, the universal response of the Christian 174 0^ INTERJECTIONS. Church as well as of the Hebrew Synagogue, AMEN. This word, at first in Hebrew a verbal adjective, and thence an affirmative adverb, signifying verily, truly, yea, was used in the earfiest times of the Jewish Church (Deut. xxvii. 15; Ps. xH. 14, Ixxii. 19, Ixxxix: 53) for the people's response: * and let all the people say Amen/ It was continued from the first in the Christian community, as we know from I Cor. xiv. 16, and is still in use in every body of Christians. For the most part it has been preserved in its original Hebrew form of Amen; but the French Protestants have substituted for it a translation in the vulgar tongue, and they do not respond with Amen but with Ainsi-soif-il = So be it^. They have by this change limited this ancient interjection to one of its several functions. For in this modern form it is only adapted to be a response to prayer, or the expression of some desire. There are other sorts of assent and affirmation for which Amen is serviceable, besides that single one of desire or as- piration. In mediaeval wills it was put at the head of the document In the name of God AMEN. This was a pro- testation of earnestness on the part of the testator, and a claim on all whom it might concern to respect his dis- positions. In Jeremiah xxviii. 6 we find one AMEN delivered by the prophet with the wishful meaning only, while there is an ominous reserve of assent. In the Commination Service, the Amiens to the denuncia- tions are not expressions of desire that evil may overtake the wicked, but the solemn acknowledgment of a liability to which they are subject. As the preliminary instruction sets "^ 1 am informed that the Freemasons have a time-honoured rendering of their own : So mote it he I OF INTERJECTIONS. 1 75 forth the intent wherefore ' ye should answer to every sen- tence, Amen! In this place Amen cannot be rendered by So be it; and the attempt to substitute any grammatical phrase in place of it must rob it of some of its symbolic power. This is the case with all interjections, and it is of the essence of an interjection that it should be so. CHAPTER IV. OF THE PARTS OF SPEECH. Philology seeks to penetrate into the Nature of language : Grammar is concerned only with its literary- Habits. Grammatical analysis is the dissection of speech as the instruvient of literature. The student may help himself to remember this by observing that grammatice (ypafxixaTKrj) is derived from the Greek word for literature, ypafifiara. The chief result of grammar, the exponent of grammatical analysis, is the doctrine of the Parts of Speech. All the words which combine to make up structural language are classified in this systematic division. But it is important for the philologer to understand that the quality of words, whereby they are so distinguished and divided, is a habit, and not anything innate or grounded in the nature of the words. We shall endeavour to make this plain. Grammar analyses language in order to ascertain the conditions on which the faculty of expression is dependent, and also to gain more control over that faculty. This object limits the range of grammatical enquiry. The OF THE PARTS OF SPEECH. IJJ grammarian makes a certain number of groups to which he can refer any word, and then he forms rules in which he legislates class-wise for the words so grouped. We must here assume that the ordinary grammatical knowledge is already in the possession of the reader. To be able to designate each word as such or such a part of speech, and to practise the rules for combining parts of speech together, is the ordinary task of grammar. The determination of the part of speech is therefore the barrier beyond which grammar does not (generally speaking) pur- sue the analysis. And although what is called parsing, or assigning words to their parts, is a juvenile exercise, yet it is nevertheless the surest test of a person's having learnt that which grammar has to teach; especially if he can do it in the English sentence. For it is easier to do in Latin. A boy may be quite ignorant of the meaning of a Latin sentence, and of each word in ^it ; and yet he may be able to answer that navahat, for example, is a verb in the active voice, imperfect tense, indicative mood. He knows this from having learnt the forms of the Latin verb, and he knows the ending -ahat for the verbal form of that voice, tense, and mood. Such knowledge is but formal and me- chanical. If however, in parsing English, he meets the verb loved, he cannot venture to pronounce what part of the verb it is by a mere look at the form. It may be the indicative, or the subjunctive, or it may be the participle. Which it is he can only tell by understanding the phrase in which it stands. Throughout the Latin language the words are to a very great extent grammatically ticketed. In the English lan- guage the same thing exists, but in a very slight degree. In Latin, the part of speech is most readily determined by regard to the form, and it is only occasionally that attention N 1 78 OF THE PARTS OF SPEECH, to the Structure becomes necessary. Parsing in Latin is therefore mainly an exercise in what is called the Acci- dence, that is the grammatical inflections of words. In English, on the contrary, there is so Httle to be gathered by looking at the mere form, that the exercise of parsing trains the mind to a habit of judging each word's value by reference to its yoke-fellows in the sentence. A single example will make this plain. It would be a foolish question to ask, without reference to a context. What part of speech is /ove ? because it may stand either for a verb or for a noun. But if you ask in Latin, What part of speech is amare or caritas ? the question can be answered as well without a context as with. Each word has in fact a bit of context attached to it, for an inflection \ verily. ii. 3- 63. hand. Richard II. ii. 3- 86, uncle me no tincle. V. 3- 139' dogge. I Henry IV. i. 3- 76, so. iii. 3- 41. good cheap. 2 Henry IV. i. 3- 37. indeed (verb). iv. 1. 71, there (nounized). Henry V. iv. 3- 63, gentle. 5- 17, friend (verb). V. 2. 51. teems (transitive). These examples all point to the one conclusion that the quaHty of speech-part-ship (if the expression may be for once admitted), is not a fixed and absolute one, but subject to and dependent upon the relations of each word to the other words with which it is forming a sentence. If we have recourse, for example's sake, to those languages which have preserved their grammar in the most primitive and rudi- OF THE PARTS OF SPEECH. 1 91 mentary 'condition, we find that each word has retained its natural faculty for discharging all the functions of the parts of speech. In Chinese there is ' no formal distinction between a noun, a verb, an adjective, an adverb, a preposition. The same root, according to its position in a sentence, may be employed to convey the meaning of great, greatness, greatly, and to be great Everything in fact depends in Chinese on the proper collocation of words in a sentence ^.' Between this state of things and the development of the modern languages, there has intervened the inflectional state of speech, of which the grammatical character is as nearly as possible the direct opposite to that which has been stated concerning the Chinese. In the inflectional state of language, each word carries about with it a formal mark of distinction, by which it is known what the habitual vocation of that w^ord is. Thus in Greek the word novos, even standing alone, bears the aspect of being a noun in the nominative case. But the English word labour, standing alone, is no more a noun than it is a verb, and no more a verb than it is a noun. The inflectional languages are not all equally inflectional; this character has its degrees. The Greek is not so rigidly inflectional as the Latin. But both of them are far more so than any of the languages of modern Europe. Of afl the modern languages, that which has most shaken off in- flections is the English, and next to the English, the French. We have but a very few inflections remaining in our lan- guage. And this increases the freedom with which our language may be handled. We are recovering some of that long-lost and infantine elasticity which was the property of primitive speech. ^ Lectures on the Science of Language, by Max Miiller, 1 861, p. 275. 192 OF THE PARTS OF SPEECH. But while the modern languages, and English especially, are casting off that cocoon of inflections which the habits of thousands of years had gradually swathed about them, there is no possibility of their getting back to a Chinese state of verbal homogeneousness. Such a state is incom- patible with a high condition of development. A language of which no part has any fixed character must rank low among languages, just as among animals those which have no distinction of flesh, bone, sinew, or hair. Or, as in com- munities of men, division of labour, distinct vocations, and all the concomitant rigidity of individual habit, is necessary to advanced civilization. There is no appearance of a tendency to fall back into a primitive state of language. The freedom which modern languages are asserting for themselves as against the re- straints of flexion, may be carried out to its extremest issues, and no appearance would ever arise of a tendency back- wards to a state of pulpy homogeneousness. For there is a movement from which there is no going back, a slow but incessant movement, which gradually creates a distinction among words greater and more deeply seated than that of the parts of speech. This is a movement in which all lan- guages partake more or less, according to the vigour of intel- lectual life with which they are animated. This is a move- ment which rears barriers of distinction between one and another class of words as immoveable as the sea-wall which the sea itself has sometimes built to sever the pasture from the bed of the ocean. The explanation of this movement must occupy another chapter. CHAPTER V. OF PRESENTIVE AND SYMBOLIC WORDS, AND OF INFLECTIONS. Philology makes more use of the signification of words than grammar does. For grammar deals only with the literary forms, functions, and habits of words ; philology deals with the very words themselves. Grammar regards words as the instruments of literature; philology regards them as the exponents of mind. Philology has to do with language in its fullest sense, as being that whole com- pound thing which is made up of voice and meaning, sound and signification, written form and associated idea. It appertains to philology to omit none of the phenomena of language, but to give them all their due consideration. Hence it comes to pass that the outward and the inward, the form and the signification, will come by turns under review. And though the inward or mental side of language will occupy less of our space than its correlative, yet each reference to it will be more in the nature of a reference to principle, and will score its results deeper on our whole method of proceeding. As we proceed, the subject grows upon our hands. We cannot treat of our native language in a philological manner o 194 OF PRESENTIVE AND SYMBOLIC WORDS, without getting down to some fundamental principles. In the present work we began like a botanist with the flower ; but the progress of the enquiry leads in due time through the whole economy of the plant, and will at length bring us to its root. While we dwelt over the historical circumstances in the midst of which our language first expanded to the light, while we noted the source from which it was supplied with alphabetic characters, while we surveyed its spelling and pronunciation, and its homely interjections, we were acting like a botanist examining a particular floret of the multi- tudinous head of some grassy inflorescence. But now we move down the stalk which bears many such florets, and we have to admit principles which embrace the systems of many languages. At this point we enter upon the very heart of the subject; and the growing importance of the matter makes me fear lest I should fail in the exposition of it. All things cannot be rendered equally easy for the student, and I must here ask him to lend me the vigour of his attention while I try to expound that upon which will hinge much of the meaning of chapters to come. There is a distinction in the signification of words which calls for primary attention in philology. I would ask the reader to contemplate such words as spade, heron, hand- saiv, pike-staff, barn-door ; and then to turn his mind to such as the following, I, you, they, of, in, over, hut, where, never ^ how, therefore. It will be at once felt that there is a gulf between these two sorts of words, and that there must be a natural distinction between them. The one set presents objects to the mind, the other does not. Some of them, such as the pronouns, continue to reflect an object once presented, 2J& John he. But there is a diff'erence in nature between the \NordiJohn and the word he. If I say at Jerusalem .... there, the word Jerusalem AND OF INFLECTIONS. 1 95 belongs to the one class, and the words <2/, /kere, belong to the other class. We will call these two classes of words by the names of Presentivb and Symbolic. The Presentive are those which present an object to the memory or to the imagination; or, in brief, which present any conception to the mind. For the things presented need not be objects of sense, as in the first list of ex- amples. The words Jus /ice, patience, clemency, fairy, elf, spirit, abstraction, generalization, classification, are as pre- sentive as any words can be. The only point of difference between these and those is one that does not belong to philology. It is the difference of minds. There are people to whom some of the latter words would have no meaning, and therefore would not be presentive. But every word is supposed by the philologer to carry its requisite condition of mind with it. The Symbolic words are those which by themselves pre- sent no meaning to the mind, and which depend for their intelligibility on a relation to some presentive word or words. We enter not at present into the question how they became so limited ; we simply take our stand on the fact. Whether they can be shown to be mere altered specimens of the presentive class, or whether there is room to imagine in any case that they have had a source of their own, independent of the presentives, the difference exists, and is most pal- pable. And the more we attend to it, the more shall we find that broad results are attainable from the study of this great distinction. What, for example, is the joke in such a question as that which has afforded a moment's amusement to many gene- rations of youth. Who dragged ivhom round what and where ? except this, that symbols which stand equally for any ig6 OF PRESENTIVE AND SYMBOLIC WORDS^ person, any thing, or any place, are rendered ludicrous by being employed as if they presented to the mind some par- ticular person, some particular thing, or some particular place ? The question is rather unsubstantial, simply because the words are symbolic where they should be presentive. It is not utterly unsubstantial, because the verb dragged round is presentive. Put a more symbolic verb in its stead and you have a perfectly unsubstantial question : Who did what, and where did he do it? Who's who? To this class of words ignorance and vacancy of mind necessarily resort, as the Israelites, when they saw manna, said Man hu, What is it ? And here it will be very desirable to establish a clear understanding of the general difference between presentive- ness and symbolism. For this purpose it may be useful to notice a few cases which are more or less analogous. When barbers' poles were first erected, they were presentive, for they indicated by white bands of paint the linen bandages which were used in blood-letting, an operation practised by the old surgeon-barbers. In our tim.e we only know (speaking of the popular mind) that the pole indicates a barber's shop, but why or how is unknown. And this is symbolism. The twelve signs of the zodiac are expressed by two sets of figures, the one presentive of a ram, a bull, a crab, &c., the other set only symbolical of the same, with a trace- able relationship between the symbols and the pictures. But the most appropriate illustration may be gathered from the letters of the Alphabet. The letter a once was a picture, and it represented a bull's head, as may more easily be believed by the youthful reader if the letter is put before him in the form of 7^, with its two horns. And the ancient name of the letter, Aleph, in Hebrew (whence Alpha in Greek) signifies a bull. Now it has long ago AND OF INFLECTIONS. 1 97 ceased to picture the animal, and we are in the habit of calling it a symbol of the vowel-sound with which the name of the animal began. The consonant b was once a picture of a house, and that is the meaning of its Hebrew name Beth, whence the Greek name Beta. And in like manner d is an old picture of a door, which is the sense of its name Daleth in Hebrew, whence the Greek name Delta. But these two letters (like the vowel above) have long ago lost all but an archaeolo- gical connection with the objects they once pictured, and they are now the mere symhols of the consonantal sounds which were initial to the names of the represented objects. And so through the whole Alphabet. It began in presentation and has reached a state of symbolism. Here we perceive that there has been a complete change of nature. The pictorial character with which the intention of the first artist invested the figure has gradually and un- designedly evaporated from that figure, and has left a mere vague phantom of a character in its place, a thing which is the representative of nothing. And if we set the gain against the loss of such a transition, we find that the symbol has gained enormously in range, to make up for what it has lost in pictorial force. While it was presentive, it was tied to a single object : since it became a symbol, it is ubiquitous in its function. These observations will apply also in some degree to our two systems of numeration, the Roman and the Arabic. The numerals I and II and III and IIII are presentive of the ideas of one and two and three and four, as truly as the holding up of so many fingers would be presentive of those ideas. The numeral V is practically a mere symbol, though it began in presentation, if it be true that it is derived from the hand, the thumb forming the one side, and the four 198 OF PRESENTIVE AND SYMBOLIC WORDS, fingers the other. The figures i and 2 and 3 and 4, &c., are and always were pure symbols. And it is worthy of observation, that the whole system of Decimal Arithmetic hinges upon these symbolic figures, or has acquired im- mense addition to its range "of capabilities by the use of these figures. So in like manner will it be found by and bye, that the modern development of languages has hinged mainly upon symbolic words, and that their instrumentality has been the chief means of what progress has been made in the capabilities of expression. The same general tendency which makes symbols take the place of pictures, makes or has made symbolic words take the place of presentives in a great number of instances. This tendency has led to the formation out of the large mass of presentive verbs of a select number of symbolic verbs, which are the light and active intermediaries, and the general servants of the presentive verbs. Thus the verbs partake of both characters, the presentive and the symbolic. But as regards the rest of the parts of speech, they fall into two natural halves under the influence of this distinction. The nouns, adjectives, and adverbs are presentive words; the pronouns, prepositions, and conjunctions are symbolic words. But if the reader should find himself unable to establish so simple an adjustment between the two systems, I would observe that nothing depends on it. The attempt ' to effect a harmony between an artificial and a natural classification, is always liable to fail at certain points. Nature is not such a rigid classifier as man. Moreover there is much of what is arbitrary in the deno- mination assigned by grammarians to many a word. Dic- tionaries and grammars are not quite at one on this head. Some will think perhaps that my symbolic words are found to invade the domain of noun, adjective, and adverb; while AND OF INFLECTIONS. 199 they fail to cover and fully occupy what I have assigned to them, namely, the pronoun, conjunction, and preposition. Therefore the grammatical scheme should not be trusted to as a frame for the new division. The student must seize the distinction itself; and the illustration of it by reference to the grammatical scale is only offered as a temporary as- sistance. The best illustration of it will be found in its application when we come to the syntax. For the present we can only give a few examples of the transition of a word from a pre- sentive to a symbolic use. Thing. This is a very good example, on account of its unmixed simpleness. For it is almost purely symbohc, and devoid of presentive power. It is still more. It is of universal application in its symbolic power. There is not a subject of speech which may not be indicated by the word thi7tg. This will at once be acknowledged upon considera- tion of such passages as the following : — ' All things serve Thee.' ' By these ways, as by the testimony of the creature, we come ^ to find an eternal and independent Being, upon which all things else depend, and by which all things else are governed,' — John Pearson, An Exposition of the Creed, Art. I. By these quotations it is apparent that we cannot name a creature, whether visible or invisible, whether an object of sense or of thought, which may not be indicated by the word ihmg. It is therefore of universal application in its sym- bolical power \ But if we ask, on the other hand, what idea does this word present ? we answer, none ! There is no creature. ^ The few instances in which thing (with a faint rhetorical emphasis) is opposed to person, are to be regarded as stranded relics on the path of the transition which the bulk of the word has passed through. 200 OF PRESENTIVE AND SYMBOLIC WORDS, no subject of speech or of thought, which can claim the word thmg as its presenter. There was a time when the word was presentive like any ordinary noun, but that time is now far behind us. The most recent example I am able to quote is of the fourteenth century. In Chaucer' Prologue it occurs twice presentively : — ' He wolde the see were kept for any thyng Bitwixen Myddelburgh and Orewelle,' (1. 278.) ' Thar to he koude endite and make a thyng.' (1. 327.) The fullness of tone which the rhythm requires for the word ihy7tg in both these places, is by itself almost enough to indicate that they are not to be taken as when we say '■ I would not do it for anything,' or ' Here 's a thing will do.' In these trivial instances the word is vague and symboHcal, but it would hardly have beseemed such a poet as Chaucer to bring the stroke of his measure down upon such gos- samer. The Merchant desired that the sea should be pro- tected for the sake of commerce at any p7'tce, conditmi, or cost, on any terms. For such is the old sense of the word thing. The old verb to thing, in Saxon \ingian, meant to make terms, to compromise, pacisci. So also in German the word 5)ing had a like use, as may be seen through its com- pounds. The verb 6ebingcn is to stipulate, bargain; and -^ebingimg is condition, terms of agreement, contract. In Denmark and Norway the word still retains its pre- sentiveness, and signifies a judicial or deliberative assembly. In Denmark the places where the judges hold session are called Ting. In Norway the Parliament is called Stor Ting, that is. Great Thing. In Molbech's Danish Dictioiiary there is a list of compounds with Ting, in its presentive power of adjudicating or adjusting conflicting interests. In such a sense it is said by Chaucer that his Sergeaunt of AND OF INFLECTIONS. 201 Lawe could endite and make a thyng, meaning, he could make a good contract, was a good conveyancer. And when Burns wrote — ' Facts are chiels that winna ding,' I understand ' Facts are obstinate things/ or, to preserve his figure of speech, ' Facts are lads that will not be talked over,' will not make terms, will not accommodate matters by a compromise : ' Facts are stubborn,' It may be objected to the above treatment of the word thi7tg, that it still presents a definite idea, only at a high stage of generalisation. And this is not to be denied. The idea presented by thing is what the mediaeval logicians would have called entity or quiddity or some such queer name. By the same rule nothing also presents an idea of its own, to wit, 7ionentity. But to enter into such matters in a work of this kind, would be to mistake the plane of metaphysics for that of philology. We take as the standard of philological reasoning the attitude and the glance of the mind as engaged in the direct use of language, and not as engaged in the reflective examination of it. A question may be raised here : What part of speech is this symboKc thing? Grammar, which looks only to its literary action, will say it is a noun, and that however much it may have changed in sense, it cannot cease to be a noun. Yet it will often be found to act the part and fill the place of pronouns in the classic tongues. The Latin neuter pro- nouns h(2c, ea, ista, their Greek analogues TavTa, eKelva, roiavra, roaavra, can hardly be rendered in English in any other way than by the expressions these things, those things, such things, so great things. If in all cases we must gram- matically insist that thing is a noun, then what part of speech are something, nothing, anything, everything .^ It may %0^ OF PRESENTIVE AND SYMBOLIC WORDS, be a question at what stage of symbolism a noun passes over to the ranks of the pronoun, but it appears plain that there is a point at which this transition must be admitted, and that the whole question turns upon the degree of sym- bolism that is requisite. If the word thifig has not quite attained that degree, it must be allowed that it approaches very near to it. Grammar is apt to get bound by its own rules, and to become the slave of its own traditions. Now the word much (on which I promised some further remarks above, p. i88) has been traditionally called a noun in certain positions which have been specified in the place referred to. This is merely a consequence of the Latin Grammars and Dic- tionaries of an unphilological age having called niultum a noun. English grammarians, taking their cue from Latin studies, have made much a noun accordingly. If we are to seek a principle in such matters, and not be guided entirely by chance accidents, we must call much, by reason of its purely symbolic nature, a pronoun, in such a phrase as ' Where much is given.' Will, would; shall, should. The word shall offers a good example of the movement from presentiveness to symbolism. When it flourished as a presentive word, it signified to owe. Of this ancient state of the word a me- morial exists in the German adjective fc^ulbig, indebted. From this state it passed by slow and unperceived move- ments to that sense which is now most familiar to us, in which it is a verbal auxiliary, charging the verb with a sense fluctuating between the future tense and the imperative mood. This is that gossamer use of the word in which the well-known uncertainty arises, whether shall or will is the proper thing to say in particular situations. Into this much- worn theme we will not enter: it has been recently ex- AND 6f inflections. 203 pounded by Dean Alford in Queen's English, § 208 and following. We are now concerned only to illustrate the movement from presentiveness to symbolism. ' How greatly the word will is felt to have changed its power in the last three centuries may be judged from the following. In Matthew xv. 32, where our Bible has 'I will not send them away fasting/ it is proposed by Dean Alford as a correction to render, ' I am not willing to, &c.' Again, in Matthew xx. 14, 'I will give unto this last even as unto thee,' the same critic finds it desirable to substitute ' It is my will to give, &c.' It should be noticed that in neither of these criticisms is there any question of Greek involved. It is simply an act of fetching up the expression of our Bible to the level of modern English. Whether such alterations would or would not be really improvements of our version, is a question which does not come under our consideration. As evidence that a change is come over the word will, it is all the more valuable as being undesignedly supplied. Both ivill and shall are seen in their presentive power in the familiar proposal to carry a basket, or to do any other little handy service, / will if I shall, that is, I am willing if you will command me ; I will if so required. There are still intermediate uses of the word shall which belong neither to the presentive state when it signified owe nor to the symbolic state in which it is a mere imponderable auxiliary. In the following quotation it has a sense which lies between these two extremes. ' If the Reformers saw not how or where to draw the fine and floating and long-obscured line between religion and superstition, who shall dare to arraign them?' — Henry Hart Milnian, The Annals of St. Paul's, p. 231. What has been said about shall applies equally to its preterite should. Its common symbolic use is illustrated in the following quotation, — 204 OF PRESENTIVE AND SYMBOLIC WORDS ^ ' Labourers indeed were still striving with employers about the rate of wages — as they have striven to this very day, and will continue to strive to the world's end, unless some master mind should discover the true principle for its settlement.' — William Longman, Edward III, vol. ii. ch. iii. Let the reader fully comprehend the nature of this should, that he may be prepared to appreciate the contrast of the examples which follow. I found the first near my own home. I was ' borneing ' out some allotment ground, and Farmer Webb having driven a corner ' borne ' into the ground very effectively, exclaimed, ' There, that one '11 stand for twenty years, if he should/' To a person who knows only the English of literature, the condition would seem futile — if he should! It would seem to mean that the ' borne ' would stand if it happened to stand. But this was not our neighbour's meaning. The person who should so misunderstand him, would do so for want of knowing that the word should has still something extant of its old pre- sentive power. In this instance it would have to be trans- lated into Latin, not thus — si fork iia evenerit ; but thus — si debueril, sifuerit opus : if it ought; if it be required to stand so long; or, in the brief colloquial, if required. Connected with this thread of usage, and equally derived from the radical sense of owe, is another power of shall and should, which is of a very subtle nature. It is one of the native traits of our mother tongue of which we have been deprived by the French influence. German scholars well know that Soil has a peculiar use to express something which the speaker does not assert but only reports. (Sr goU e8 get^an I)aBen, literally, 'he shall have done it,' signifies, 'he is said to have done it.' In Saxon this use was well known. Thus in the Peterborough Chronicle, a.d. 1048 (p. 178), we read: ' for ]?an Eustatius hsefde gecydd Jjam cynge ]?et hit sceolde beon mare gylt ]>3ere burhwara ])onne his ' — ' forasmuch as Eustace had AND OF INFLECTIONS. 205 told the king that it was [forsooth I) more the towns- men's fault than his.' Twice in the same Chronicle it is recorded that a spring of blood had issued from the earth in Berkshire, namely, under the years 1098 and 1200. In both places it is added, ' swa swa manige ssedan ]?e hit geseon SCEOLDAN ' — ' as many said who professed to have seen it, or were believed to have seen it.' But now this usage is only provincial. It is very common in Devonshire. 'I'm told such a one should say.' How ancient it is, we may form an estimate by observing that it exists not only in German but in Danish also. Some specimens of Holberg are given in the North British Review (July, 1869, p. 426), from one of his dramas, entitled Erasmus Montanus. The pedantic student is at home for vacation, and complaining that there is no one in the town who has learning enough to be a fit associate for himself. At this point he says, according to the trans- lator, who is substantially correct : ' The clerk and the schoolmaster, it is reported, have studied ; but I know not to what extent.' The original Danish is, ' Degnen og Skole- mesteren skal have studeret, men jeg reed ikke hvorvidt det strsekker sig ' — Hterally, ' the clerk and the schoolmaster shall have studied.' These illustrations are so many traces of the course which this ancient verb has described in its passage from the presentive to the symbolic state. And, taken as a whole, they form so beautifully varied a series of phases, that had they been found in a classical language they would have been much admired. The different powers of would are illustrated in the following quotation, where the first would has absolutely nothing re- maining of that original idea of the action of Will, which is still present though unobtruded in the second would. ' It would be a charity if people would sometimes in their Litanies pray for the very heahhy, very prosperous, very light-hearted, very much be- praised.' — John Keble, Life, p. 459, 206 OF PRESENTIVE AND SYMBOLIC WORDSj ' May, Might. Like wi7l, would, shall, should, this word in its auxiliary character is not presentive but symbolic. But we get it in its presentive function in our early poetry, as in the following from Chevelere Assigne, 1. 134, — ' I my3te not drowne hem for dole,' the meaning of which is, I was not able to drown them for compassion. Here myii^te, which is the same as might, is presentive and means ' potui/ ' I was able.' This word originally meant, not ability by admission or permission (as now), but by power and right, as in the noun might and the adjective mighty. We no longer use the verb so. But ti makes a characteristic feature of the fourteenth- century poetry : — ' There was a king that mochel might Which Nabugodonosor hight.' Confessio Amantis, Bk. i. vol. i. p. 1316, ed. Pauli. This would be in Latin, ' Rex quidam erat qui multum valebat, cui nomen Nabugodonosoro.' Some traces of its presentive use linger about 7?iay. We use it in its old sense of to be able in certain positions as, ' It may be avoided.' But, curious to note, we change the verb for the negation of this proposition, and say ' No, it cannot* None but the book-learned would understand 'No, it may not.' Some. As in Mrs. Barbauld's apostrophe to Life : — ' Say not good night, but in some brighter clime, Bid me good morning.' Or as the following : — ' So valuable a means of research has this new process of analysis proved itself to be, that since its first establishment, some seven short years ago, no less than four new chemical elements have by its help been discovered,' — Henry E, Roscoe, Spectrum Analysis, 186S, init. AND OF INFLECTIONS. 207 stm. ' The Old Testament will still be a New Testament to him who comes with a fresh desire of information.' — Fuller. More. This is now generally known to us as a symbolic word, a mere sign of the comparative degree. But it is pre- sentive in Acts xix. 32, 'the 7nore part knew not where- fore they were come together;' and in that sentence of Bacon's — ' discretion in speech is more than eloquence.' Now. In this word we may illustrate the aerial perspec- tive which exists in symbolism. At first it appeared as an adverb of time, signifying ' at the present time.' Even in this character it is a symbolic word, but it is one that lies very near the presentive frontier. It is capable of light emphasis, as in Now is the accepted time I But then it moves off another stage, as, Now faith is the confidence of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen. Here the 7iow is incapable of accent; one hardly imagines the rhetorical emergency which would impose an emphasis on this now. Thus we see there is in symbolism a near and a far distance. And this second now, the more rarefied and symbolic of the two, is gradually undermining the position of the other. The careful writer will often have found it necessary to strike out a now which he had with the weightier meaning set at the head of a sentence, because of its liability to be accepted by the reader for the toneless now. Many years of my life was I puzzled to know what the now meant in i Corinthians xiii. 13, 'And now abideth faith, hope, charity,' &c. Why now .^ I supposed, or had been taught (I cannot say which), that some special adaptation or appropriation was intended of these virtues to the present dispensation. At length, by maturer familiarity with Greek, it became clear that the now is not one of time at all, but the merest symbolic, and that it ought not to have that 2o8 OF PRESENTIVE AND SYMBOLIC WORDS^ emphasis which its English position gives it almost in spite of the most intelligent reader. The emphasis is on the' word abideth, and if this verb were put where it should be in the place of emphasis, it would then be practicable for a reader to render the ?iow as nd ' No' faith, hope, and charity are permanent.' Illustrations drawn from private experience have this natural weakness about them, that when a writer speaks of himself he is in danger of turning a personal idiosyncrasy into a fact of general interest. I will therefore mention that I had actually excluded this illustration for the reason now assigned, when a spon- taneous communication from a learned friend informed me of the fact that his experience about this passage had been in every particular the very same as my own. Do. This word is presentive in such a sentence as the following : — ' My object is to do what I can to undo this great wrong.' — Edward A. Freeman, History of the Norman Conquest, vol. iii. init. It is however in full activity, both as a near and also as a far-off symbolic word. I have often heard an old friend quote the following, which he witnessed at an agricultural entertainment. The speaker had to propose the chairman's health, and after much eulogy, he apos- trophized the gentleman thus : — ' What I mean to say, Sir, is this : that if more people was to do as you do, there wouldn't be so many do as they do do ! ' In the final 'do do ' it is clear we have the verb in two different powers, the first being highly symbolic, and the second almost presentive. Again, in the familiar salutation, 'How d'ye do.?' we have the same verb in two powers. Here moreover the usual mode of writing it conveys the important lesson, that the more symbolic a word is, the more it loses tone and becomes subject to AND OF INFLECTIONS. 209 elision. It might seem as if this observation were con- tradicted by the previous example, in which it is plain to the ear of every reader that of the two words in ' do do/ the former, that is to say, the more symbolic, is the more emphatic. But this is caused by the antithesis between that word and the ' was to do,' preceding. In short, it is a dis- turbance of the intrinsic relative weight by rhetorical influence. In this gradation of symbolism we see what provision is made for the lighter touches of expression, the vague tints, the vanishing points. Towards a deep and distant back- ground the full-fraught picture of copious language carries our eye, while the foreground is almost palpable in its reality. We must not regard either of the two main divisions of words as having the uniformity of a physical class. Even the presentive are more or less presentive ; while the sym- bohc have an infinitely graduated scale of variation. And yet there is no uncertainty resting over the basis of the dis- tinction here pointed out between presentive and symbolic. As a further illustration of this distinction it may be observed that a little more or less of the symbolic element has a great effect in stamping the character of diction. By a Httle excess of it we get the sententious or ' would-be wise ' mannerism. By a diminution of it we get an air of prompt- ness and decision, which may produce (according to circum- stances) an appearance of the business-like, or the military, or the off-hand. This is one of those observations which may best be justified by an appeal to caricatures of acknow- ledged merit. In the Pickwick Papers, the conversation of Mr. Samuel Weller the elder, a man of maxims and proverbs and store of experience, is marked by an occasional excess of the symbolic element. While ' you're a considering p 210 OF PRESENTIVE AND SYMBOLIC WORDS, of it ' he will proceed to suggest ' as how/ &c. On the other hand, the off-hand impudence of the adventurer Mr. Jingle, is represented by the artist mainly through this par- ticular feature, which characterizes his conversation through- out, namely, that it has the smallest possible quantity of symbolic words. To make it still more distinct what the symbolic character is, I add a paragraph in which the symbolic element is distinguished by italics. ' There is a popular saying, in the Brandenburg district where Bismarck's family has been so many centuries at home, which attributes to the Bismarck s, as the characteristic saying of the house, the phrase, "Noch lange nicht genug'*' — " Not near enough yet" and which expresses, we suppose, the popular conception of their tenacity of purpose,-T-.'&a^ they were not tired out of any plan they had formed by a reiterated failure or a pertinacious opposi- tion which wotdd have disheartened most of their compeers. There is a some- what extravagant illustration of this characteristic m Bismarck's wild, youth- ful days, if his biographer may be trusted. When studying law at Berlin he had been more than once disappointed by a bootmaker who did not send home his boots when they luere promised. Accordingly whe?i this next happened, a servant of the young jurist appeared at the bootmaker's at six in the morning tuith the simple question, "Are Herr Bismarck's boots ready?" When he was told they were not, he departed, but at ten minutes past six another ser- vant appeared with the same inquiry, and so at precise intervals of ten minutes it went 071 all day, till by the evening the boots were finished and sent home* Doubt may sometimes arise concerning a particular word, when its signification lies on the confines of presentation and symbolism. In the above passage, I have let the word home stand once presentively, and twice I have marked it as symbolic. In English prose the number of symbolic words is gene- rally about sixty per cent, of the whole number employed, leaving forty per cent, for the presentives. A passage with many proper names and titles in it may, however, bring the presentives up to, or even cause them to surpass, the number of the symbolics. But the average in ordinary prose is what we have stated. AND OF INFLECTIONS. 311 ' Mr. Ward sa3'-s very truly thai " the men and women of Pope's satires and epistles, his Atticus and Atossa, and Sappho and Sporus, are real types, whether thsy be more or less faithful portraits 0/ Addison arid the old Duchess, of Lady Mary and Lord Hervey. His Dunces are the Dunces of all times ; his orator Henley the mob orator, and his awful Aristarch the don, of all epochs ; though there may have been sotfie merit in Theobald, soine use even in Henley, a?id though ift Bentley there was undoubted greatness. Bjit in Pope's hands individuals become types, a7id his creative power i?i this respect surpasses that of the Roman satirists, and leaves Dryden hi7nself hehlnd." ' Out of J 15 words, we here find the unusually large number of fifty-four presentives, and the small proportion of sixty-one symbolics. But if we compare this with the previous para- graph, we observe that whereas the presentives are a new set of words, the symbolics are to a large extent identical in the two pieces. The symbolic words, though they hold so large a space in context, yet are but few in the whole vocabulary of the language. It would be a very interesting investigation, to examine whether the chief modern languages have any considerable diversity as to the bulk and composition of their symbolic element. For here it is that we must look for the matured results of aggregate national thought, in the case of the modern languages. The symbolic is the modern element — is, we might go so far as to say, the element which alone will give a basis for a philological distinction between ancient and modern languages. Not that any ancient languages are known which are absolutely destitute of this element. There is but one that I know, and that for the most part a very unwritten language, in which the symbolic has not yet been started. That is the language of infancy. Whoever has observed the shifts made by prattling children to express their meaning without the help of pronouns, will need no further explanation of the statement that infantine speech is unsymbolic. But I can- not refrain from establishing this important position by the p. 2 212 OF PRESENTIVE AND SYMBOLIC WORDS, widely independent testimony of such a philosopher as the late Professor Ferrier^ ' In discussing the question, When does consciousness come into manifesta- tion ? we found that man is not born conscious ; and that therefore con- sciousness is not a given or ready-made fact of humanity. In looking for some sign of its manifestation, we found that it has come into operation whenever the human being has pronounced the word " I," knowing what this expression means. This word is a highly curious one, and quite an anomaly, inasmuch as its true meaning is utterly incommunicable by one being to another, endow the latter with as high a degree of intelligence as you please. Its origin cannot be explained by imitation or association. Its meaning cannot be taught by any conceivable process ; but must be origi- nated absolutely by the being using it. This is not the case with any other form of speech. For instance, if it be asked What is a table ? a person may point to one and say, " that is a table." But if it be asked, What does " I " mean? and if the same person were to point to himself and say "this is /," this would convey quite a wrong meaning, unless the inquirer, before putting the question, had originated within himself the notion " I," for it would lead him to call that other person " I.'" It is quite certain that ' I ' has its own special peculiarity, which may be said to distinguish it from every other form of speech. As a token of the dawn of consciousness in a child, the use of this word may claim some special attention. But in the main it is to be observed that the quality in this wo-rd which excited the professor's admiration, is a quality not peculiar to the pronoun ' I,' but of many other pronouns, if not of all pronouns as such. As a general rule, it is pro- bably with the pronoun ' I ' that the child first seizes the use of the symbolic element in speech. But it is not always so. In an instance which has been lately before me, a well- observed instance, supported moreover by conclusions from other less accurately noted cases, the pronoun ' I ' has been maturely acquired and in full use while the pronoun ' you ' was yet in the tentative stage. The difference so well demonstrated by Professor Ferrier, as separating the nature of the word ' I ' from that of the ^ Lectures on Greek Philosophy and other Philosophical Remains of James Frederick Ferrier. Edited by Sir Alexander Grant, p. 252. AND OF INFLECTIONS. 21^ word ' table/ is the difference which splits the whole voca- bulary into the two divisions of the presentive and the sym- bolic. A child does not understand any of the symbolic words at all. Where it uses them, it is by unconscious imitation. This happens particularly in the case of the prepositions, which are to the opening intelHgence not separate words at all, but mere appendages to the pre- sentives which they understand. We sometimes talk of the speech of animals. It is hardly possible to deny them all share in this faculty. They cer- tainly communicate their emotions by the voice. And this voice is not without discrimination. It is not to be sup- posed, for example, that they have merely a spontaneous and uniform utterance for each condition of feeling. The cry of the barn-door fowl at the sight of a fox or of a hawk is such as would tell an experienced person what was going on. The various accents of the Newfoundland dog, where he has a real understanding with his master, or of the collie among the sheep on the northern fells, are manifesta- tions wonderfully like inceptive speech ; and that everybody feels this to be so, is evidenced from the common meed of praise bestowed on a sagacious dog, that he all but talks. Whether the cries of animals are humble specimens of speech, or whether they are altogether different in kind, is hovvTver a question which we have not to solve. The sub- ject has only been introduced in order that it might afford us another point of view from which to contemplate the im- portant distinction between presentive and symbohc speech. If we estimate at its very highest the claims that can be made for the language of the beasts, it v/ill always be limited by the line which severs these two kinds of expression. We can imagine an orator on behalf of the animals maintaining that their cries might represent to other animals not only 214 OF PRESENTIVE AND SYMBOLIC WORDS, emotions but also objects of the outer sense or even objects reflected in the memory. We should not think a man quite unreasonable if he imagined that a certain whinny of a horse indicated to another horse as much as the word stable. But we should think him talking at random, if he pretended to be able to imagine that a horse's language possessed either a pronoun or a preposition. Here then we consider ourselves to touch upon that in human speech which bears the highest and most distinctive impress of the action of the human mind. Here we find the beauty, the blossom, the glory, the aureole of language. Here we seem to have found a means of measuring the relative progress manifested in different philological eras. Among ancient languages, that one is most richly furnished Vv'ith this element which in every other respect also bears off the palm of excellence. Dr. Arnold was not likely to have "written the following passage unless he had been sensible of a very high intellectual delight. ' There is an actual pleasure in contemplating so perfect a management of so perfect an instrument as is exhibited in Plato's language, even if the matter were as worthless as the words of Italian music ; whereas the sense is only less admirable in many places than the language.' Life, i. 387. The admiration which is accorded on all hands to the Greek language is due to the exquisite perfection of its symbolic element. It is not that Ao'yo? or pj;,Ma or <^aivr] have any intrinsic superiority over ratio or verhwn or vox, that avr\p or avdpcoTTos is preferable to vi'r or /lomo ; nor is it even that the music, sweet as it may have been, reaches so effec- tually to the ear of the modern scholar as to carry him captive and cause him to forget the more audible march of Ausonian rhythms. No ; it all lies in the coyness of those little words whose meaning is as strikingly telling as it is impalpably subtle. It is those airy nothings which scholars AND OF INFLECTIONS. 215 have been chasing all these centuries ever since the revival of letters, every now and then, fancying they had seized them, till they were roused from their sweet delusion by the laughter of their fellow-idlers. The exact distinction between ixrj and ov, the precise meaning of av and cipa and S^ must forsooth be defined and settled ; and it is very possible that we have not yet seen the last of these futile lucubrations. These things will be settled when the truant schoolboy has bound the rainbow to a tree. As far back as 1829 Dr. Arnold wrote to a learned friend : — ' And can you tell me where is to be found a summary of the opinions of English scholars about ojtojs and ottcus ^77, and the moods which they require: and further, do you or he hold their doctrine good for anything? Dawes, and all men who endeavour to establish general rules, are of great use in directing one's attention to points which one might otherwise have neglected ; and labour and acuteness often discover a rule, where indolence and carelessness fancied it was all hap-hazard. But larger induction and sounder judgment teach us to distinguish again between a principle and an usage : the latter may be general ; but if it be merely usage, grounded on no intelligible principle, it seems to me foolish to insist on its being universal, and to alter texts right and left, to make them all conformable to the canon.' Life, i. 241. There are still scholars who seek to render a firm reason for the Greek article in every place in which it occurs. But can they do so for their own language ? Can they say, for example, what is the value of the definite article which occurs three times in the following couplet ? 'And to watch as the little bird watches When the falcon is in the air.' Where is the man who can handle language so skilfully as to describe and define the value of these articles .? He may say they are equivalent to such a word in Greek or to such a word in French, but he cannot render an account of what that value is. And yet this word was once a demon- strative pronoun, and it is time and use that has filed it 2l6 OF PRESENTIVE AND SYMBOLIC WORDS, down to this airy tenuity and delicate fineness. The sense would be affected by the absence of these little words, and yet it cannot be said that they are necessary to the sense. They seem to be at once nothing and something. The gold is beaten out to an infinitesimal thinness. Indeed, it is with language as with glory in Shakspeare's description : ' Glory is like a circle in the water, Which never ceaseth to enlarge it selfe, Till by broad spreading it disperse to naught.' I Henry VI. i. 2, 133. It is painful to think how much good enthusiasm has been Avasted upon learning definitions which were not only unreal, but absolutely misleading as to the nature of the thing studied. So far from its being possible to define by rule the value of the Greek particles, it is' barely possible to cha- racterize them by a vague general principle. They vv^ere the product of usage, and usage is a compound made up of many converging tendencies, and that which was multitu- dinous in its sources continues to be heterogeneous in its composition. As usage produced it, so use alone can teach it. And this is why the skilled examiner will proceed to test a knowledge of Greek by selecting a passage not with many hard words in it, but with this symbolic element delicately exhibited. Hard and rare words are useful as a test whether the books have been got up, but even then the examination is no check on cramming. Whereas, it is a part of the dis- tinct character and peculiar iridescent beauty of the symbolic element that it cannot be acquired by sudden methods ; it can only be learnt by a process of gradual habituation, which is study in the true sense of the word, and which cannot fail to open the mind. You cannot tack on me- chanically a given English word to a given Greek word in the symbolic element, as you do in the presentive. AND OF INFLECTIONS. %\'] Symbolic words require different terms of rendering in dif- ferent connections. They have a diversity of states and powers and functions like living things. This is in each language the pith, the marrow, the true mother tongue. This is the element which is nearest of kin to thought, so that the efficiency of a writer or speaker depends largely on his power over it. In the following quotation from a review, see how the symbolics too much enable the writer just to hit off the vague idea in his mind. ' Coleridge, though he was as much at home as any man could be in regions of mj'^stery, found " Christabel " too much for him, for that we sup- pose to be the natural explanation of its unfinished condition.' The following passage shews it well in Greek, and it is a passage borrowed from an Examination Paper. The symbolics are printed in thick type. 'Eyw jxev oSv to-TC |X€v al airovlax T]o-av ov-TOxe l7rav6[xrjv fij-ias |A6»' oiKTiipojv, ^aaiXia St kaI totjs ijvv auroj fxaKapi^cov, diaOecuixevos o.vtS)V oortjv fjLtv x'^paj' Kal otav exot€v, ks Se dcpdova to, kiriTTfdeLa, occus 84 OepdnovTas, ocraSc KT-qv-rj, -xpvadv Se, ecQTJTa Bs. To, S'avTwv arpaTLcaTWV OTTOTe ev6vixoifA.r]v otl t£»i' jJiev dyaOojv -irdvTcoi' gvB^vos tj[xiv [izTzir^, el fzi] TTpiaifxsOa, crov 5' dii'Tjaofi^Oa f/deiv oti okiyovq exovras, aXXnz Be -r-ws TTopi^eaOai to. kvir-qbeia r\ divov/xevovs opKovs 4]8ifj Karexovras -fjlJias' ravr' ovv Xoyi^ofxevos Iviore to,? airopSas [xaWov l(po^ov[xr]v fjvOv tcv nvX(- fiov. 'E:Tfl jJLevToi IksIvoi eXvaav rds atrovTsas kekvcOai \xc.i dofcei Kal Y) liceivcuv vfipLS Kal fj TjjA€T€pa vjToipia. — Xenophon, Anabasis, in. The symbolics in Latin are strikingly different from those in Greek. They differ as the flowers of the florist differ from those of nature. It is manifest to the eye that the symbolics in Greek have grown spontaneously, while their Latin analogues have a got-up and cultivated look. The modifying words especially, those which are sometimes roughly comprised under the term particles, look very much like scholastic products. A long period of Greek education preceded the Augustan age of the Latin language, and the symbolic part could not help getting an educated develop- 2l8 OF PRESENTIVE AND SYMBOLIC WORDS, ment, when the youth of successive generations had been daily translating their bits of Greek into the vernacular Latin. And although the symbolics in Latin are very effective when understood, yet it must be allowed that they are very hard to understand. This is the reason why a real Latin scholar, one who can command this title among scholars, is such a very rare personage. The symbolical element, which is to the mode of thought the essential element in every phrase in which it is present, did not grow of itself un- consciously and in the open air as in Greece, but it was the product of artificial elaboration and studied adaptation. And it still sits on the Latin Hke a ceremonious garment. The old native Latin, whose vitality and functionality was all but purely inflectional, springs out of its Greek disguise every now and then, and shows what it can do by its own natural armour. Look at the muscular collectedness of such sentence as beati mundo corde, and compare it in respect of the total absence of symbolics, either with the Greek MaKapiot ol KaBapol rfj Kapbia, or with the English Blessed are the pU7'e in heart. There spoke out the native and pre-classic Latin, a truly ancient language^ and one in comparison with which we must call the Greek truly modern. For that rich and free outflow of the symbolic which marks the Greek, is the badge and characteristic of modernism in language. On the i other hand, that independence of symbolics, and that power of action by complete inflectional machinery, which marks j the Latin, is the true characteristic and best perfection of | the ancient or pre-symbolic era. Not that our monuments [ reach back absolutely to a period when the symbolic ele- ment had yet to begin. Already in the Sanskrit, the symbolic verb is, than which nothing can be more purely AND OF INFLECTIONS. > 21 g symbolic, is in as full maturity as it is in our modern lan- guages. The latter have made more use of it, but the oldest languages of the Aryan race were already in possession of it. We learn from Professor Miiller, Lectures, ii. p. 349, that the Sanskrit root is as, 'which, in all the Aryan languages, has supplied the material for the auxiliary verb. Now, even in Sanskrit, it is true, this root as is completely divested of its material character ; it means io be, and nothing else. But there is in Sanskrit a derivative of the root as, namely dsu, and in this asu, which means the vital breath, the original meaning of the root as has been preserved, as, in order to give rise to such a noun as asu, must have meant to breathe, then to live, then to exist, and it must have passed through all these stages before it could have been used as the ab- stract auxiliary verb which we find not only in Sanskrit but in all Aryan languages.' But although we cannot pursue our research so far up into antiquity as to arrive 2X a station where inflections exist without symbolic words, yet we have sufficient ground for treating flexion as an ancient and symbolism as a modern phenomenon. One reason is, that in the foremost languages of the world, flexion is waning while symbolism is waxing. Another consideration is this, that after the growth of the symbolic element, the motive for flexion would no longer exist. We have every reason to anticipate in the future of the world's history, that symbolic will continue to develope, and that flexion will cease to grow. A widening divergence separates them at their hither end. But if we could take a look into that far distant antiquity in which they had their rise, we might perhaps find their fountains near each other if not absolutely identified in one well-head. I imagine that inflections are simply words which, having made some 220 OF PRESENTIVE AND SYMBOLIC WORDS, progress towards symbolism, and having lost accordingly in specific gravity, have been attracted by, and at length absorbed into, the denser substance of presentive words. This would account for the great start which flexion had over symbolic ; and yet we should understand how a marked and prominent symbolic word like is, charged with a sin- gular amount of vitality, should have found the opportunity to make a place for itself even as early as our highest attainable antiquity. Be this as it may, there are traces of a something which has the air of a family likeness between inflections and sym- bolic words. With a hint on this feature, we will close the chaptQi.-. The distinction between presentive and symbolic words is, I hope, tolerably clear to the reader. And also this — that presentive words have a tendency to become symbolic. And also this— that the process which changes them from pre- sentive to symbolic" is accompanied (unless other forces interfere) by a relative Hghtening of the vocal stress laid on them in a properly modulated discourse. To these observations we must add that the symboHc words are marked by a clinging adherent tendency to attach them- selves to other words ; and as this tendency will often force itself on our attention, we will, for brevity's sake, simply call it symphytism In the early period of our literature we see the symbolics growing on to their presentives and forming one word with them. In the case of the pronouns with the verbs this was very conspicuous in early English, as it was also in early German. The first personal pronoun /, which was anciently Ic, is found coalescing both before and after its verb. In the latter case the c is generally developed into ch. In the Canterbury Tales, 14362 ,^ AND OF INFLECTIONS. 221 ' Let be, quod he ; it schal not be, so theech I ' Here theech is the coalition of thee ic, equivalent to the more frequent phrase, so mote I thee ; that is to say, ' So may I prosper ' (A.S. jjeon, to flourish, prosper). In the Owl and Nightingale (a.d. 1250) we find wenestu for wenest pu, weenest thou ; wultii, wilt thou ; shaltu, shalt thou; etestu, eatest thou. In Bamford's Dialect of South Lancashire, there is cudto, couldst thou.? cudtono, couldst thou not .? And not only does the pronoun adhere to its verb when it stands as subject to the verb. In the following west- country sentence the object-pronoun adheres : ' Telln, what a payth out, I'll payn agan ' — ' Tell him, what he pays out, I will pay him again.' Here the n represents the old accu- sative pronoun hine, which has been absorbed into the verb. The old negative ne coalesces with its verb ; thus — nelt for ne wilt ; navestu for ne havest pu, thou hast not ; nam for ne a7Ji = am not ; Ich 71am of-drad, I am not alarmed. The particle a coalesces very often ; as — ' Awinter warm, asumere cold.' Owl and Nightingale. Two symbolics would run together like two drops of water on a pane of glass. The verb shall is often found making one word with be down as late as the seventeenth century. Thus, Isaiah xl. 4 : ' Euery valley shalhe exalted, and euery niountaine and hill shalbe made low.' In King Lear, iv. 6, where Edgar assumes the character of a rustic, he says chill for / will, and chud for / wotdd or should, it may be doubted which. Here we have to under- stand that the first pronoun was pronounced as Ich, so that chill is just as natural a coalition of ich will as nill is of ne will. For this reference I am indebted to my friend the ,222 OF PRESENTIVE AND SYMBOLIC WORDS, Rev. W. Williamson, of Fairstowe, who has also furnished me with the following : ' Chill tell thee what, good veil owe, Before the vriers went hence, A bushell of the best wheate Was zold vor vourteen pence. Cham zure they were not voolishe That made the masse, che trowe : Why, man, 'tis all in Latine And vools no Latine knowe.' FtTcy's Reliques, ii. pp. 324, 325. CAam is for zcA am, I am. The same friend, having under- taken to look out for examples of this kind for me, writes to say that he has met with more than two hundred of these agglutinate forms, including such as ichave, hastow, imliu, dosiu, slepesiow, sechestu, wenestu, Szc. These examples are enough to prove that there is a dis- position in the symbolics to be drawn on to and to coalesce with their presentives, or with one another. The tendency is so decided in that direction that had there not been some great counteracting force it must have gone on happening on so large a scale as to have completely altered the appear- ance and character of the language. And this counteracting force is nothing more than the natural consequence of literary habits when they are widely diffused. From this cause has arisen a modern reaction in favour of the preser- vation of all words that are known to have had a separate individuality. This reaction has put a stop to these coalitions, and in some cases dissolved them where they had seemed . to be established. In the early prints of Shakspeare the con- versational abbreviation for / zai'Il is written Ik, but modern ' usage requires that the separate existence of each word should be kept up, and accordingly we write it /'//. The same movement, overshooting its aim, has, at least in one AND OF INFLECTIONS. 22^ instance, 'restored' a word to a present position which it never held in the past. The substitution of his for the pos- sessive 's, as in 'John his book/ and other well-known instances, was done by way of restoring the original ex- pHcitness of the language. It furnishes us with a strong illustration of the existence of that counter-force which restrains the tendency to a symphytic coalition. In fact the growth of symbolic words and the growth of inflections are naturally antagonistic to, and almost mutually exclusive of, each other. They are both made of the same material. They are the results of opposite states of the ag- gregate mind. If the attention of the community is fully awake to its language and takes an interest in it, no word can lose its independence. If language is used unreflectingly, the lighter words will get absorbed by those of greater weight, and then they pass into the dependent condition of inflections attached to the main words. Thus even Greek, our brightest ancient example of symbolism, produced con- glomerations in its obscure and neglected period, as Stamhoul (the modern name of Constantinople), which is a conglo- merate of Is Ty]v TTokiv. So also Stanchio or Stanko, a con- glomerate of es- r^v Kco, is the modern name for the island anciently known as Cos or Coos. For the passage of a word into the condition of an inflection, a certain neglect and obscurity is necessary ; while the requisite condition for the formation of a rich assortment of symbolics is a general and sustained habit of attention to the national Ian2:ua2;e. CHAPTER VI. THE VERBAL GROUP. The verb is distinguished from all other forms of speech by very marked characteristics and a very peculiar organiza- tion. It has surrounded itself with an assortment of sub- ordinate means of expression, such as are found in attend- ance on no other part of speech. The power of combining with itself the ideas of person, time, and all the various contingencies which we comprise under the term ' mood,' is a power possessed by the verb alone. It makes no dif- ference whether these accessory ideas are added to the verb by means of inflections or of symbolic words. The im- portant fact is this, — that under the one form or the other, the verb has such means of expression at its service in every highly organized language. The cause wherefore the verb is thus richly attended with its satellites becomes very plain when we consider what a verb is. A verb is a word whereby the chief action of the mind finds expression. The chief action of the mind is judgment; that is to say, the assertion or the denial of a proposition. This is explicitly done by means of the verb. Out of this function of the verb, and the exigencies THE VERBAL GROUP, 225 of that function, have arisen the peculiar features and pre- rogatives of the verb. This part of speech has, by a natural operation, drawn around it those aids which were necessary to it for the discharge of its function as the exponent of the mental act of judgment. It will be useful to distinguish that which is essential to the verb, from that which is a result of its essential character. The power of expressing time by those variations which we call tense (after an old form of the French word for 'time'), has attracted notice as the most salient feature about the verb. Aristotle defined a verb as a word that includes in itself the expression of time. The established German word for a verb ^ is ^i\Uvoi)Xt, that is to say, * time-word.' Others have thought that the power of expressing action is the real and true cha- racteristic of the verb. Ewald, in his Hebrew Grammar, calls the verb accordingly 3^!^at=ti:ort, that is to say, ' deed-word.' But in these expressions the essential is obscured by that which is more conspicuous. Madvig, in his Latin Grammar, seems to me to put it in the right light. He designates the verb as Udsagnsord, that is, 'Outsayings-word' ; because it ' udsiger om en Person eller Ting en Tilstand eller en Virksomhed,' outsays (= pronounces, asserts, delivers) about a person or thing a condition or an action. — It is th§ instrument by which the mind expresses its judgments, or (in modern parlance) makes its deliverances. By reason of its central position, and by its constant and unsuspended action, the verb has a greater tenacity of form than any other part of speech. Hence it is that the most remarkable antiquities of the English language are to be found in the verb. It is in the verb that we find the Saxon forms best preserved, and that we find the most conspicuous proofs of the relationship of our language to the German and Dutch and Danish and Icelandic. In fact, it would be Q 226 THE VERBAL GROUP. hardly too much to say, that a description of the elder verbs of any of these languages would with very slight alterations, pass for a description of the elder verbs of any one of the others. We must indeed admit one considerable exception to this statement. The feature which distinguishes the English verbs from those of the cognate languages is this, — that we have gone further than any of them in dropping the personal inflections. The German says Ich glaube, du glaubest, er glaubtj wir glauben, ihr glaubet, sie glauben. The English- man says, / believe, thou believest, he believes ; we believe, you believe, they believe. And as thou believest is but rarely used, much more rarely than du glaubest, and perhaps more rarely even than ihr glaubet, we have only the -s of the third singular he believes as the one personal inflection left in ordinary use among us. Particularly is it to be observed that we have lost the n of the plural present, which is preserved in the German form glaubcN. We know from the Latin sunt, amant, monent, regunt, audiunt, and from other sources, that nt was anciently a very wide-spread termination for the plural verb. This we see well preserved in the Moeso-Gothic verb, as may be seen in the following example of the present indicative of the verb for ' to believe,' galaubjan : — TSt. 2nd. 3rd. ingular galaubja lural galaubjam galaubeis galaubeith galaubaith galaubjand Here we have nd in the third person plural. In the Old High German it was as in Latin nt. The Germans have dropped the dental t and have kept the liquid n". We dropped the isr, or rather we merged it in a thicker vowel before, and a thicker consonant after. The plural termination -a^ of the ' THE VERBAL GROUP. 227 Saxon present indicative is the analogue of the Gothic termi- nation -and. In the same manner an n has been absorbed in the English words tooth, goose, mouth, five, soft, which are in German ^2S THE VERBAL GROUP, and it long continued in the heroic or mock-heroic style, as we see in the following, from the eighteenth century. ' In every village mark'd with little spire, Embower'd in trees and hardly known to fame, There dwells, in lowly shed and mean attire, A matron old, whom we Schoolmistress name. Who boasts unruly brats with birch to tame ; They grieven sore, in piteous durance pent, Aw'd by the power of this relentless dame, And oft times, on vagaries idly bent, For unkempt hair, or task unconn'd, are sorely shent.' William Shenstone (1714-1763), The Schoolmistress. In the ordinary paths of the language, however, the personal inflections were reduced nearly to their present simplicity before the Elizabethan epoch. The tenacity of which we spoke displays itself most con- spicuously in the tense-forms; that is to say, the forms used for expressing varieties of time. The boldest feature which is found among the verbs of our family, is the formation of the preterite by an internal : vowel-change, without any external addition. This character supplies a basis for the division of the verbs into three classes, — the Strong, the Mixed, and the Weak. I. Steong Veebs. The strong are of the highest antiquity, are limited in number, are gradually but very slowly passing away, as one by one at long intervals they drop out of use and are not recruited by fresh members. They are characterised by the internal formation of the preterite, and by the formation of the par- ticiple in N. This latter feature has however been less con- stant than the preterite. The following list comprises most THE VERBAL GROUP. IK) of them. Only those forms which are given in the ordinary type are in full use. Those in i&lacfe \tiitx flourished in me- diaeval times ; those in thick type are chiefly of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries ; ,and those in italics are negligent forms which were mostly current in the eighteenth century. The few which are in small capitals are Saxon forms. Those in spaced type are from a collateral language or dialect. Only the simple verbs are given, and not their compounds. The Hst contains come, hold, get; but not become, behold, beget; bid but not forbid; give but not forgive, &c. On the other hand, those compounds whose simples no longer exist in the language, are here given, as abide, begin, forsake. 'RESENT. PRETERITE, PARTICIPLE. abide abode [a]bidden* bake beuk* baken bear bore, bare borne and born beat beat beaten, beat begin began begun BELGAN BEAIH BOLGEN, bOWln * BEON been bid bade, bid bidden, bid bind bound bounden, bound bite bote *, bit bitten, bit blow blew blown bow BEAH bowne* break broke, brake broken burst burst bursten, burst carve mrf* CORFEN cast coost * casten * chide chid, chode * chidden, chid choose chose chosen cleave clove, clave cloven climb clomb cling clung clung come came comen*, come 230 THE VERBAL GROUP, PRESENT. PRETERITE. PARTICIPLE. creep crope*, crap* croptn*, cruppen crow crew delve tfalf c * dolven dig dug dug draw drew drawn drink drank, drunk drunken*, drunk drive drove driven eat ate eaten fall fell fallen, fell* fight fought fought, fougMen* find found found fling flung flung fly flew flown forsake forsook forsaken freeze froze frozen get got, gat gotten, got give gave given glide gloti* gnaw gnew* gnawn* go gone GRAFE GROF graven * grind ground ground grow grew grown heave hove help holp holpen, holp * hing* hung hold held holden * lade laden, loden * lorn lie lay lain, lien * melt molten plat plet* ride rode, rid * ridden, rid ring rang, rung rung rise rose risen, rose * run ran run seethe sod* sodden shake shook shaken, shooh * shape shope shapen THE VERBAL GROUP. 23 E PRESENT. PRETERITE. PARTICIPLE. shave . • • shaven shear shore shorn shew shewn shine shone shone shoot shot shotten * shrink shrank, shrunk shrunken, shrunk sing sang, sung sung singe sung* sink sank sunken, sunk sit sau, sat sttten slay- slew slain slide Slotl *, slid slidden, slid sling slang *, slung slung slink slunk \ slunk slit slat, slit slit smite smote smitten speak spoke, spake spoken, spoke * spin span spun spring sprang sprung steal stole stolen stick stuck stuck sting stung stung stink stank and stunk stunk STRICAN STRAC stricken or striken stride strode stridden strike struck stricken string strung strung strive strove striven swear swore, sware sworn swell stwal swollen swim swam swum swing swung swung take took taken, took * tear tore, tare torn thrive throve thriven throw threw thrown tread trod trodden, trod wake woke wash wush (Scots) washen 232 THE VERBAL GROUP. PRESENT, PRETERITE. PARTICIPLE, wax iD£I waxen * wear wore worn weave wove woven WESAN was [Germ, gewesen] win won won wind wound wound wreak ywroken * wring wrung wrung write wrote, wrat*, writ written, writ, wrote Remarks on the Forms signed with an Asterisk. [ajbidden. We find the simple form in Eger and Grine, line 555 :— ' He might full well haue bidden att home.' beuk. Gentle Shepherd, act ii. sc. i. bowln. A relic of a forcible word in Saxon poetry, gebol- GEN = ' swollen,' generally with anger, It is found in Surrey's Translation of the Second Book of the Aeneid, and there it simply means physically swollen : — ' Distained with bloody dust, whose feet were howln With the strait cords wherewith they haled him.' bote. Eger and Grine, 992. bowne. ' And now he is bowne to turne home againe.' Eger and Grine, 948. Here also must be put the expression ' Homeward bound ' — though there is a great claim for the Icelandic buinn. t&xi. ' And carf biforn his fader at the table.' Chaucer, Prologue, loO. chode. Genesis xxxi. 36; Numbers xx. 3. COOSt. 'Maggie coost her head fu' high. Looked asklent and unco skeigh, Gart poor Duncan stand abeigh.' Robert Burns, Duncan Gray^ THE VERBA L GROUP. ^?>?> casten. As in the quotation from Surrey, above, p. 126. comen. Spenser, Faerie Queene, iv. i. 15, overcommen. 'And if thou be comen to fight with that knight,' Eger atid Grine, 887. crop?, fropcn. Chaucer, Canterbury Tales, 4257, 11918. crap. Gentle Shepherd, act v. sc. i. cruppen. The Antiquary. tialfc. Quoted by Richardson from Chaucer, Boecius, Bk. IL drunken. Luke xvii. 8. fell, participle. ' Which thou hast perpendicularly fell.' King Lear, iv. 6. 54. fougMen. ' On the foughten field Michael and his Angels prevalent Encamping.' Paradise Lost, vi. 410. gloti, for glided. Poem 0/ Genesis and Exodus., 76. gnew. In Tyndale, Prologue to the Prophet Jonas (Parker Society, p. 456), we ^Yid^ gnew as the preterite oi gnaw. ' Whereupon for very pain and tediousness he lay down to sleep, for to put the commandment, which so gnew and fretted his conscience, out of mind ; as the nature of all wicked is, when they have sinned a good, to seek all means with riot, revel, and pastime, to drive the remembrance of sin out of their thoughts ; or, as Adam did, to cover their nakedness with aprons of pope-holy works.' gnawn. Shakspeare : ' hegnawn with the bots,' Taming of the Shrew, iii. 2. . The Saxon form was gnagen. graven. Psalm vii. 16, elder version, 'He \i2.\h. graven and digged up a pit.' And often ' graven image ' in the Bible of 161 1. holp, participle. Shakspeare, Richard II, v. 5. 62. hing. This form lingers still in Scotland, if we may so con- clude from a story in Dean Ramsay, who puts it into the 334 THE VERBAL GROUP. mouth of a Scotch judge of the last generation. [I am assured, on good authority, that it is quite common to this day.] This verb made an early transit to the weak form, and was conjugated thus : hang, hanged, hanged. Properly speaking, this was a new and quite different verb, and should have had the transitival use, while the strong hing, hang, hung, kept the neuter function. There are extant traces of the observance of this principle. Thus, nobody says that his hat hanged on a peg. But as nothing can restrain the caprice of speech, this early broke rule, and the young weak form hanged, stood for the neuter • sense. Example : — ' But could not finde what they might do to him : for all the people hanged vpon him when they heard him,' — Luke xix. 48. Geneva, 1557' holden. Psalm Ixiii. 9, elder version : and eleven times in the authorized version of the Bible. loden. Sir Philip Sidney, An Apologie for Poetrie, 1581 ; ed. Edward Arber, p. 19. lien. ' Though ye have lien among the pots, &c.,' Ps. Ixviii. 13, elder version. Shakspeare, King John, iv. i. 50, where the first three folios spell it lyen. plet. * I took delyte To pou the rashes green, wi' roots sae white; O' which, as weel as my young fancy cou'd, For thee I plet the flow'ry belt and snood.' Allan Ramsay, Gentle Shepherd, act ii. sc. 4. rid. ' I remember two young fellows who rid in the same squadron of a troop of horse.' Spectator, Aug. 24, 1711. This form is in present use in Somersetshire and Glouces- tershire : ' He walked all the way there, Sir : but he rid home again.' (Swanswick.) THE VERBAL GROUP. 235 I find this preterite also in a quotation by Mr. Fur- nivall ^ from Journey of Irish Gentlemen through England in 1752: 'We set out in our' post-chaise ; Valerius and I rid as before.' rose. ' And I was ta'en for him, and he for me ; And thereupon these errors are arose.' Comedy of Errors, v. I. 386. sod. Genesis xxv. 29. shook. The preterite form was much adopted for the par- ticiple from the seventeenth to the early part of the present century. Thus Milton, Paradise Lost, vi. 219: — ' All Heaven Resounded, and had Earth been then, all Earth Had to her Center shook.' And Edmund Burke, while at Dublin College, writing to an old schoolfellow, says, — ' You ask me if I read ? I deferred answering ,this question, till I could say I did ; which I can almost do, for this day I have shook off idleness and begun to buckle to.' (March, 1746-7.) And Samuel Taylor Coleridge : — ' For oh ! big gall-drops shook from Folly's wing Have blackened the fair promise of my spring.' shotten. ' In that nooke-shotten He of Albion.' Shakspeare, Henry V, iii. 5. 14. Compare cup-shotten, Cotgrave, s. v. Vvre. Probably also FalstaiFs ' shotten herring ' belongs here, sung, participle oi singe, Gentle Shepherd, act ii. sc. i. •Sloti. Trevisa. slang. I Samuel xvii. 49. ^ A Temporary Preface to the Six-Text Edition of Chancers Canterbury Tales, p. 16. 236^ THE VERBAL GROUP. spoke^ participle. In Shakspeare, King John, iv. i . 51; King Richard II /\. 1. 77. stricken. This old participle, meaning gone, advanced, is now quite extinct. We read it in Luke i. 7, 'well stricken in years;' and we retain it in the compound poverty- stricken, which TCiQ2iW?, far gone in poverty^ extremely poor. In Sidney's Arcadia (ed. 1599), p. 5, we read, 'He being already well striken in years.' took. See what has been said under shook. ' Too divine to be xaistooh.' Milton, Arcades. waxen. Jeremiah v. 27, 28: 'They are become great and waxen rich. They are waxen fat, they shine.' ywroken, Spenser, Colijt Clouts come home againe, 921 : — ' Through judgement of the gods to been ywroken.^ wrat. This preterite form occurs in Raleigh's (Edwards, Letter xv.) correspondence under date May 29, 1586: ' And the sider which I wrat to you for.' wrote. ' I have wrote to you three or four times.' Spectator, No. 344. (1712) Notwithstanding the tenacity of which we have spoken there is a manifest tendency in these strong verbs to merge themselves gradually into the more numerous class of the weak verbs. Many have dropped their strong form since Saxon times, and adopted the weak. Thus the verb to wreak was anciently conjugated, — but it has long ago adopted the more prevalent form in -ed. Thus Smollett (quoted by Richardson) : ' I wreaked my resentment upon the innocent cause of my disgraces.' THE VERBAL GROUP, 237 Other examples of Saxon strong verbs which have been altered: acwele bace beorge brede bruce buge byrne ceowe climbe crawe creope delfe dufe fealde fleote frete geote glide grafe hele hieape hreowe leoge luce mete murne reoce rowe scufe scyppe slape smeoce spume steorfe swelge teoge persce |)ringe wade wealde PRETERITE. acwsel boc bearh braed breac beah barn ceaw clomm creow creap dealf deaf feold fleat frset geat glad grof hsl hleop hreaw leah leac mset mearn reac reow sceaf scop slep smeac spearn stserf swealh teah }>ssrsc >rang wod weold PARTICIPLE. acwolen bacen quell bake borgen broden borrow braid brocen brook bogen burnen bow burn gecowen dumb en chew climb crawen crow cropen dolfen creep delve dofen dive fealden floten freten goten gliden grafen holen fold float fret yote ( = pour) glide grave heal hleapen hrowen leap rue logen locen lie (mentiri) lock meten mete or measure mornen mourn rocen reek rowen row scofen shove sceapen slapen smocen shape sleep smoke sponien storfen spurn starve swolgen swallow togen |5orscen tow thresh gej^rungen waeden throng wade gewealden wield This list does not include the strong verbs that have alto- gether died out since Saxon times. It only contains those 238 THE VERBAL GROUP. ancient strong verbs which still exist in the language under weak forms. The list is of practical utility for reference in reading Chaucer or the Elizabethan writers. Many a strong form, now unfamiliar to us, lingers in their pages. The verb mete, to measure, is one that we do not often use at all, for the whole root is, as Webster says, obsolescent. In our Bible it has the weak conjugation, as — ' A nation meted out and troden downe.' Isaiah xviii. 2. ' Who hath measured the waters in the hollow of his hand ? and meted out heauen with the spanne, and comprehended the dust of the earth in a measure, and weighed the mountaines in scales, and the hilles in a balance ? ' Isaiah xl. 12. But in Chapman's Iliad, iii. 327, we find the strong preterite of this verb : ' Then Hector, Priam's martial son, stepp'd forth, and met the ground.' In some cases slight relics of the old strong conjugation are still preserved, though the verb itself has gone off into the weak or mixed form. Thus the verb to lose is now declined, lose, lost, lost. But in Saxon it was leose leas loren and from this ancient conjugation we have retained the participle as an adjective, lorn, forlorn. Its participial use may be seen as late as Milton, Paradise Lost, x. 921, — ' My only strength and stay : forlorn of thee, Whither shall I betake me, where subsist ? ' Some of these strong forms, which are now quite strange to us, existed down to a comparatively late date. In a Romance of the date 1450 or later, we have shof as a pre- terite, where we now use shoved : ' And he shof ther-on so sore that he bar hym from his horse to the grounde.' Merlyn (Early English Text Society), p. 265. To set against this gradual defection of strong verbs THE VERBAL GROUP. 239 towards the prevalent form, we rarely find even a slight example of movement in the opposite direction. New verbs are hardly ever added to the ranks of the strong ; whatever verb is invented or borrowed is naturally conjugated after the prevalent pattern. A marked exception to this rule, all the more conspicuous on account of its rarity, is the Scottish formula of verdict, Not proven. Here we have a French verb which has taken the form of a strong Gothic participle. Sometimes a weak verb is treated as a strong, half play- fully. But expressions which have had their rise in froHc, are sometimes repeated so often that they become esta- blished, at least so far as to get into print. Thus we find pled as the preterite of the verb to plead, in the Contemporary Review, April, 1869, p. 602 : — ' The well-known story of the presbyter deposed from his office for forging the Acts of Paul and Thecla, although he pled that he had done so from the love of Paul.' I do not know whether dive dove is recognised on the yonder side of the Atlantic, but I rather suppose the following is merely a passing fancy of the author. I know not why, but the whole herd [of walruses] seemed suddenly to take alarm, and all dove down with a tremendous splash almost at the same instant.' Dr. Hayes, Open Polar Sea, ch. xxxvi. But the member of this class which above all others de- mands our attention is the substantive verb to be : or rather, the fragments of two or three ancient verbs which join to fill the place of the substantive verb. The ' substantive verb ' is so called, not from any association with or derival from the part of speech called a substantive ; but for a distinct reason. It is the verb which expresses least of all verbs ; for it ex- presses nothing but to have existence. Every other verb implies existence besides that particular thing which it asserts : as, ri40 THE VERBAL GROUP. if I say / think, I imply that I am in existence, or else I could neither think nor do anything else. The verb sub- stantive, then, is the verb which, unlike all other verbs, con- fines itself to the assertion of existence, which in all other verbs is contained by implication. The Greek word for existence or being was ova-ia, and this was done into Latin by the word substantia, and by this avenue did the verb which predicates nothing but existence come to be named the substantive verb. It seems so natural and easy to say that a thing is or was or has been, that we might almost incline to fancy the sub- stantive verb to be the oldest and most primitive of verbs. But there is more reason for thinking contrariwise, that it was a mature and comparatively late product of the human mind. The French word /// for been, is not an old word : we know its history. It is derived from stare, the Latin word for standing, as is witnessed by stato, the Italian par- ticiple of the substantive verb. And in many other cases the substantive verb is of no very obscure origin. We seem to be able to trace our word be, for example, by the help of the Latin fui and the Greek <^va>, to the concrete sense of growing. It has even been thought, and not at all unreasonably, that the stock of our be may be no other than that familiar verb for building and dwelling which in Scotland is to big, in Icelandic is bua, and which appears in the second member of so many of our Danish town-names in the form of by, as Whitby, Rugby. In Icelandic 'bua bui sinu,' is to 'big ane's ain bigging,' i.e. to have one's own homestead \ In these cases, the concrete sense of growing or standing, or building or dwell- ing, has been as it were washed or worn out of the verb, and nothing left but the pale underlying texture of being. * Icelandic-English Dictionary, Cleasby and Vigfusson, v. Biia. THE VERBAL GROUP. 24I The great master of Oriental philology, Ewald, seems to think that the Hebrew substantive verb HM was developed from an ancient root meaning ' to make, prepare.' In Sanskrit, as the substantive verb, has been developed from a root signifying fo breathe, and it seems probable that this was the original sense of the Greek eVrt, the Latin est, the German ift, and our is. This has been explicitly stated in a previous chapter, p. 219. Here we catch a glimpse of the antiquity of our modern languages,, and also of the pro- cess by which the most familiar instruments of speech have been prepared for their present use. As the presentive noun fades or ripens into the symbol pronoun ; as the pronoun passes into the still more subtle conjunction, — so also do verbs graduate from particular to general use, from such a particular sense as stand ox grow or breathe, to the large and general sense of being. Nor does the trans-animation stop here. It is not when this verb expresses absolute existence that it has reached its highest state of refinement. When Cole- ridge said ' God has all the power that is/ he made this verb a predicate of existence. In this case the verb to be has still a concrete function, and is a presentive word : but in its state of highest abstraction it is equally in place in every proposition whatever, and is the purest of symbols. We can express ' John runs ' by ' John is running ; ' and every proposition is capable of being rendered into this form. The verb substantive here exhibits the highest pos- sible form of verbal abstraction. It is the mere instrument of predication, and conveys by itself no idea whatever. It is the most symbolic of all the symbolic verbs, and it is symbolised to the utmost that is possible. For it expresses only that which every verb must express in order to be a verb, viz. the mental act of judgment. ^4^ THE VERBAL GROUP. The Substantive- and Symbol-Veeb. Indicative present am, art, is : are. „ past was, wast, was : were. Infinitive, imperative, and 1 subjunctive present : j ' Subjunctive past were, wert, were : were. Participle present being. „ past been. It should be observed that the substantive verb has been more tenacious of the personal forms than verbs in general, and that the remarks in the beginning of this chapter about the disuse of the personal forms are much less applicable here. Until the fifteenth or sixteenth centuries there was a larger variety of these forms, among which may be spe- cified the N-forms of the third person plural, am and weren. The following is from one of the versified precepts of good manners which are so frequent in the literature of the fifteenth century. ' Thus God ])at is begynnere & former of alle thyng. In nombei', weygllt, & mesure alle J)is world wrought he ; And mesure he taugllte us in alle his wise werkis, Ensample by the extremitees ])at vicious am euer.' That is to say : Extremes are always wrong. This is, however, a matter of small importance in com- parison with another remark which must here be made. The symbol-verb is not all of one root, it is a verbal con- jugation made up of several roots. For, not to determine anything about the origin of am, art, and are, it is plain that besides these we have here the fragments of two verbs, i whose infinitives in Saxon were beon and wesan. Our i THE VERBAL GROUP. 24$ present infinitive to de is from the former. In German the latter is retained as a neuter noun ba§ 2Befen, a word much used for being, existence, substance, essence. It is for the German language, not indeed a substantive-verb, but a ' sub- stantive-noun.' Also they have from the same source geiiDefett, the participle of their symbol-verb. But these are not the only roots which in our language have exercised this symbolic power. There is another substantive-verb in English, which is now rarely used, and only in poetry. It is the verb wor/k =be. It belongs to the older form of our language, rather than to modern English. In Saxon it was thus conjugated : WEOB^AN, WEAR^, GEWOEDEN". The wholc vcrb is still in full force in German : tt^erben, n?arb, getx)orben. But with us it was already archaic in Chaucer's time. It is but rarely found in his writings. The participial form occurs in his Troilus and Cresside, where he is saying of love between the sexes, that without it 'No lifes wiht is worth or may endure,' i.e. No living thing has come into being (ift gettjorben) or can escape extermination. In this place it is the participle. But the form in which it is most generally known is the imperative or subjunctive- imperative : as. Wo worth this day ; that is, ' Woe be to this day ; ' as Ezekiel xxx. 2, and in The Lady of the Lake, — ' Woe worth the chase, woe worth the day ; That cost thy Ufe, my gallant grey.' We find the infinitive in the Coke's Tale of Gamelyn : ' Cursed mot he worthe bothe fleisch and blood, That ever do priour or abbot ony good ! ' In the following quotation from the Creed of Piers Plough- 244 I' HE VERBAL GROUP. man, 744, we have the infinitive twice, and once with the ancient termination : — * Now mot ich soutere his sone • setten to schole And ich a beggers brol • on J^e booke lerne, And tvor\> to a writere • & wi\> a lorde dwell, OJ?er falsly to a frere • \)e fend for to seruen ! So of ])at beggers brol • a bychop schal wor]>en.' Translation. — Now each cobbler may set his son to school, and every beggar's brat may learn on the book and become a writer and dwell with a lord ; or iniquitously become a friar, the fiend to serve ! So of that beggar's brat, a bishop shall be made, &c. In Shakspeare we find this verb played off against the substantive wor/A : ' Her worth worth yours ; ' that is, in Latin, ' Ejus meritum fiat vestrum/ — The edition of Messrs. Clark and Wright, vol. i. p. 387, where may be seen the conjectures which this passage has provoked. In this place we consider the symbol-verb only as a phe- nomenon and 2, product of speech. The production of this particular word is to the verb-system what the leader is to a tree. Cut it off, and the tree will try to produce another leader. If we could imagine the whole elaborate system of verbs to be utterly abolished from memory and consigned to blank oblivion, insomuch that there remained no materials for speech but nouns, pronouns, and the rest, the verb would yet grow again, as surely as a tree when it is cut down (unless it die) will sprout again. The verb would form itself again, and it would repeat its ancient career, and the topmost product of that career would be as before, the symbol-verb to he. Proof enough of this will be seen in the fact that many roots have in our stock of lan- guages made a run for this position ; and in the further fact that languages whose development has been wide of ours, as the Hebrew, have culminated in the selfsame result — the substantive-verb and out of it the symbol-verb. In the third THE VERBAL GROUP, 24S section of the Syntax we shall have to consider this symbol- verb in some of the effects which it has caused. Such are the strong verbs and the symbol-verbs which they have produced. We cannot close this section without a few words of comment. The venerable sire of Gothic philology, Jacob Grimm, has said of the strong preterites that they constitute one of the chief beauties of our family of languages (' eine haupt-schonheit unsrer sprachen'). In this sentiment all philologers seem agreed. The prefaces and other critical apparatus of the volumes of the Early English Text Society afford abundant testimony to the fact that this feature has a peculiar attraction for those who are seeking to penetrate the mysteries of language. To those volumes we refer our readers for a rich collection of details for which the present manual has not sufficient space. The question naturally rises, How did so very singular a contrivance come into existence ? The question is put here, not so much for the sake of the answer that can now be given, as for the purpose of directing the student to those enquiries which will supply a definite and practical aim to his more extended investigations. It has been surmised by Grimm that the origin of this internal and vocalic change is to be sought in reduplication. He particularly instances the preterite hzgh/, which in the Saxon form was kef, with an older form occasionally used kekf, and which in Gothic was hdihdit. Gothic Gospels, Luke xiv. 10, 16. This from the root hat (infinitive haian) looks exceedingly like as if a reduplication of the root had by some sort of compensation got simplified at length into the form het. The German ging, preterite of the verb go, has again a form which (though there is another way of explaining it) might easily have been produced by a reduplication of the root. But 2,46 THE VERBAL GROUP. next to hehf, there is no example so striking as that of the^ verb to do, which is strong by its participle done, and yet in its preterite has the appearance of a weak form. It is re- deemed from this anomalous inconsistency by supposing dyde, the Saxon form of did, to be a reduplication of the root do, and so of a piece with the strong preterites, only less altered. The probability of this explanation is height- ened by a comparison of the very similar phenomenon among nouns. A few nouns, and those concerning some of the most familiar objects, form their plurals much as the strong verbs form their preterites. Examples : — man, men ; foot, feet ; mouse, mice. In the case of the nouns it is very- easy to imagine that in the primitive poverty of flexion, plurality might have been expressed (it may also be said that in certain instances at least plurality was expressed) by mere repetition of the noun, which is the parent of redu- plication. It is not quite so plain a thing to see that any analogy exists between plural number and past time. There may not be any outward logical analogy, and yet there may be an inward mental affinity. But if we leave plurality, and come back to our preterites, we see as a matter of fact that reduplication has been resorted to as a means of expressing past time, in the development both Of the Latin and of the Greek verb. Latin instances are didici, poposci, ietigi, pepuli. But in Greek the most conspicuous instrument for the expression of past time is reduplication : rervcfja, rervfiixaL ; neTTOLT]Ka, TrenoiTjfiai ; nerrpaxa, Tvirrpayfxai ', TereXeKa, reTeXeaiiai. II. Mixed Veebs. The second class of verbs are those which may con- veniently be called Mixed, because they unite in themselves something of the features of the first and third classes. THE VERBAL GROUP. ^47 Some philologers would deny them the distinction of being a class at all. They would insist that there are but two principles at work in the verb-flexions ; namely, internal change and external addition. And this is the fact. But then, the variety of relations in which two systems are ranged may easily give rise to a third series of conditions. When the sun peers through the foliage of an aged oak, it pro- duces on the ground those oval spots of dubious Hght which the poet has called a mottled shade. Each oval has its own outline and its own particular degree of luminous- ness ; but where two of them overlap each other a third condition of light is induced. Such an overlapping is this sample of mixed verbs, a compromise between the strong and the weak. In the formation of the preterite, they suffer both internal vowel-change, and also external addition. They form the participle in t or d. Such are the following : — PRESENT, PRETERITE. PARTICIPLE. bring brought brought buy bought bought catch caught caught creep crept crept deal delt delt feel felt felt fetch fot •flee fled fled hear herd herd keep kept kept kneel knelt knelt lean lent lent leap lept lept leave left left lose lost lost mean ment ment meet met met pitch pight reach raught raught [reave] reft reft seek sought sought 1248 THE VERBAL GROUP. RESENT. PRETERITE. PARTICIPLE. «ell sold sold shoe shod shod shriek st)rig]^t sife sigbte ( = sighed) skep slept slept sp£t, spit spet, spate spott stand ^stood stood sweep swept swept teach taught taught tell told told think thought thought weep wept wept wot ■wist work wrought wrought The preterite wist is sometimes referred to a present / wis. But I should like to hear it ably discussed whether there is or ever was such a verb as I wis. It is in fact almost a metaphysical problem. It is something like the question whether pas and point in French are negative particles or only adverbs. Whether there ever was such a verb as ' I wis ' is one of the problems of English philology. Cer- tainly Spenser believed there was, and in the century before him it was believed. The verb is really a myth. It grew out of a change in the conception of an old adverb gewis (German getuigg to this day) which became a stock word for the close of lines in the form iwis,ywis, I wis^ I wiss, &c., and then the old preterite wiste helped out the grammatical conception. In a few instances, such as 'mean, meant, meant,' the ordinary spelling has been departed from in order to exhibit to the eye as well as to the ear that there is a change in the internal vowel. These verbs are a still less numerous class than the former ; and they do not admit of addition to their numbers any more than the strong verbs. They would seem to have been mostly the growth of a limited period ; that, namely, wherein THE VERBAL GROUP. 249 the transition of habit was taking place from the strong to the weak methods of conjugation. But, insignificant as this class is in point of numbers, it contains within it a small batch of verbs of very high im- portance. These are the symbolics of the class. They are the verbs commonly called ' auxiliaries,' and they hold (for the most part) the same place in the German and other branches of our family, as they do in our own English language. shall can will should could would may- dare mote might durst moste, must Ought is a preterite which has no present. Indeed, it is a preterite only in form and historical development, for it is a present in its usage as an auxiliary. ' I ought to do so ' signifies that I am in duty bound to do so. The present owe has not accompanied the preterite in its transition to this moral and semi-symbolic use. When the old preterite had deserted the service of the verb owe in its original sense, that verb supplied itself with a new preterite of the modern type, owed. The distinction between ougk/, the old preterite, and owed, the new preterite, is now quite established, and no con- fusion happens. But the reader of our old poets should observe that ougkf does duty for both these senses. Here we have it in Spenser, in a place where the modern usage would require owed: — 'Now were they liegmen to this Ladie free, And her knights service ought, to hold of her in fee.' The Faerie Queene, iii. i. 44. These verbs, it will be seen, are destitute of partici- ples, and this is merely because they have dropped off through disuse. In like manner, and from the same cause, 2^0 THE VERBAL GROUP, few of them have infinitives. Indeed, none of them have infinitives of symboHc use. As symbolics, it has been their function to serve the participles and infinitives of other verbs, and to have none of their own. We can indeed say ' to will ' and ' to dare '; but in neither instance would the sense or the tone of the word be the same as when we say, ' it will rain,' or ' I dare say.' So completely has the sense of ' dare-ing ' evaporated from this latter auxiliary, that ' I dare say ' is a different thing from 'I dare to say.' The latter might be negatived by ' I dare not to say ' ; but ' I dare not say ' would not be the just negative of ' I dare say.' In that expression, the verb ' dare ' has lost its own colour, and it is infused into ' say.' And therefore they often merge by symphytism into one word, as in the following, from a newspaper report of a pubHc speech : — ' I daresay you have heard of the sportsman who taught himself to shoot steadily by loading for a whole season with blank cartridge only.' These verbs are all called by the common title of aux- iliaries ; yet there is a gradation of quality in them, which is to be measured by their relative retention of presentive power. Will has still a good deal. Wilt thou have &c. ? / will ! This word is therefore far less purely a symbol than shall, of which the infinitive to shall was never heard in our language. In the transition period, we find the verb shall serving as an auxiliary to the infinitive verb will. In Roberd of Brunne's Handlyng Synne (written a.d. 1303)5 we have — ' Y beleue hyt nou3t, ne never shall weyl.* 7 believe it nought, nor never shall will. Ed. Furnivall, for Roxburghe Club, 1. 372. This verb in its presentive sense retains, or did retain for a long time, one old flexional form, which is never found in THE VERBAL GROUP. 2^ the symbolic sense. This is willeth. ' God willeth Samuel to yield unto the importunity of the people/ — i Samuel viii, Contents. ' It is not of him that willeth/ — Rom. ix. i6. May has long been without an infinitive, but there was one as late as the sixteenth century in the form mowe. Thus in the Secret Instructions from Henry VII respecting the young Queen of Naples, we read, — ' And to knowe the specialties of the title and value therof in every behalf as nere as they shall mowe.' — National Manuscripts, Part I. 20 Hen. VII. Can originally meant to know, and in this presentive sense of it, we meet with an infinitive to co7t as late as the fifteenth century. ' To mine well-beloved son, I greet you well, and advise you to think once of the day of your father's counsel to learn the law, for he said many times that whosoever should dwell at Paston, should have need to con \i.e. know how to'\ defend himself.' — Paston Letters, Letter x. a.d. 1444-5. The French equivalent for this con would be savoir, and in fact the English auxiliary can, could, is largely an imitation of that French verb. Some auxiliaries have become obsolete. Such is mote the present, of which must is the preterite. It lingered till recent times as a formula of wishing well or ill, and indeed an example of present use has been given above, at p. 174, note. Its place has now been taken by 7?iay. In a ballad on the Battle of Flodden Field, a.d. 15 13 {Gentlematis Magazine, August, 1866), this benison is be- stowed on the Earl of Surrey : — ' In the myddyll warde was the Erie of Surrey, Ever more blessyd mote thowe be ; The ffadyr of witte, well call him we may; The debite [deputy] most trusty of Englond was he.' A still older auxiliary which is quite extinct is gan, which was used as now we use did, and was probably extinguished 2^2 THE VERBAL GROUP. by the preference for the latter. This auxiliary must not be too closely associated with the more famiHar word 5egan. This latter is a compound of the word, but the sense of commencing is the property not of the root so much as of the compound. ' Of a wryght I wylle you telle That some tyme in thys land gan dwelle.' The Wryght' s Chaste Wife (a.d. 1460). Let in early times signified the causation of some action. Thus it is said of William the Conqueror by the vernacular historian that he ' let speer out ' all the property of the country so narrowly that there was never a rood of land or a cow or a pig that was not entered in his book — ' swa swy^e nearwelice he hit lett ut aspyrian/ &c. {Two Saxon Chronicles Parallel, p. 2 1 8.) This ' let ' is a very different thing from the light symbol now in use, as when one says to a friend, ' Will you let your servant bring my horse ? ' To this levity of symbolism it had already arrived in the Elizabethan era. 'Let Gryll be Gryll, and have his hoggish minde ; But let us hence depart whilest wether serves and winde/ The Faerie Queene, Bk. ii., end. There is one verb of a character so mixed, that it is for distinction sake reserved to a place at the end of this section of mixed verbs. It is the verb which, though common to German and the other dialects, is yet in one sense peculiar to English, namely as an auxiliary. Speaking generally, we share our auxiliaries with the rest of the Gothic family, but there is one all our own. It is — do did done The anomaly of its form has been touched on at the close of the former section. The preterite possesses the double character of a presentive THE VERBAL GROUP. iJ53 and a symbolic word : whereas the participle is never used but presentively. So that, although it possesses a participle, it differs not from the habit of the other auxiliaries, which (as auxiUaries) are destitute of the participle. This auxiliary has acquired its peculiar place in our lan- guage through our imitation of the French auxihary/^zr^. The power of expression which our language possesses by means of the auxiliaries has sometimes been under- valued. The great proportion of attention which men of learning have devoted to the inflected languages, has pre- vented our own verbal system from receiving the appre- ciation which is due to it. The following quotation from Southey may not unfitly close this section. ' I had spoken as it were abstractedly, and the look which accompanied the words was rather cogitative than regardant. The Bhow Begum laid down her snufF-box and replied, entering into the feeling, as well as echoing the words, " It ought to be written in a book, — certainly it ought," ' They may talk as they will of the dead languages. Our auxiliary verbs give us a power which the ancients, with all their varieties of mood, and inflections of tense, never could attain. " It must be written in a book," said I, encouraged by her manner. The mood was the same, the tense was the same; but the gradation of meaning was marked in a way which a Greek or Latin grammarian might have envied as well as admired.' — The Doctor, c. vii. A. i. III. Weak Verbs. The third class of verbs are those which form both their preterite and their participle by the addition of -ed as, / kope^ I hoped, I have hoped. In some verbs it takes the form of changing d into T, as send, sent ; wend, went ; bend, bent. But here we must consider the nt as a commutation for NDED, or, as it was written in early times, nde. The preterite of the Saxon sendan was (not sendade but) sende. This con- densed formation takes place not only with verbs in -nd but also with those in -ld and -rd. a54 THE VERBAL GROUP. Other modes of condensation are used, as made, short for maked, Saxon macode. These succinct forms of the weak verb must not lead to a confusion with either of the foregoing classes. Most of them are contained in the following list : — PRESENT. PRETERITE. PARTICIPL bend bent* bent bleed bled bled breed bred bred build built * built clothe clad* clad feed fed fed gild gilt* gilt gird girt* girt have had had lay laid laid lead led led learn learnt* learnt lend lent lent light lit lit make made made pen pent pent rend rent rent send sent sent speed sped sped spend spent spent spill spilt spilt wend went* went Those which are marked with an asterisk have also the form in -ed. Of the usual form of the weak verb it will not be neces- sary to give many examples. They are of the following pattern : — PRESENT. allow believe change defend educate figure germinate happen PRETERITE and PARTICIPLE. allowed believed changed defended educated figured germinated happened THE VERBAL GROUP. 2^^ PRESENT. PRETERITE and PARTICIPLE, . injure injured joke joked kindle kindled laugh laughed mention mentioned oil oiled present presented question questioned revere revered succeed succeeded tarnish tarnished utter uttered vacillate vacillated wonder wondered yield yielded To this third class belongs the bulk of English verbs. It is regarded as the youngest form of verbal inflection, from the relation in which we find it standing towards the two classes previously described. It is the only verbal inflection which can be properly said to be in a living and active state, because it applies to new words, whereas the others cannot make new verbs after their own pattern. There is a constant tendency of the strong and mixed verbs to fall into the forms of the weak. Steele, in the Spec/a for, March 5, 17 11, wrote, 'the very point I shaked my head at.' Allan Ramsay, who in his Gentle Shepherd has preserved some rare strong forms, yet gives us also on the other side such forms as choosed and putted. In Horace Walpole's Royal and Nolle Authors, we find, 'The sovereign meaned Charles, Duke of Somerset.' ' The patriots meaned to make the king odious.' In Hume, History of England'. — ' Perhaps some secret animosities, naturally to be expected in that situa- tion, had creeped in among the great men, and had enabled the king to recover his authority.' — ch. xvii. But while we consider this to be the most recent of the verbal inflections in our language, it is of a very high 0,^6 THE VERBAL GROUP. antiquity nevertheless. It is common to all the dialects of our family, and in the oldest records it is already established. The I) of the weak conjugation has been traced to the verb do, did ; as \i hoped were a condensation of hope-did^. After what has been said at the close of each of the previous sections, it would seem as if this verb do, did, were about to claim a great place as the bridge which unites the three sorts of conjugation. Should this theory be confirmed, the thread of continuity which unites our verbal system, is dis- covered. And if it should after all prove untenable, it will not have been (probably) without its use, as temporarily representing the kind of link which philology teaches us to look for between the various formations of which language is composed, IV. Verb-making. It has been shewn at p. i8i, that the English language can turn a noun or other suitable word into a verb, and use it as a verb, without any alteration to the form of the word, such as would be caused by the addition of a verbal forma- tive. This does not hinder, however, but that there always have been verbal formatives in the language, and that the number and variety of these is from time to time increased. By verbal formative is meant any addition to a word, whether prefix or suffix, which stamps that word as a verb independ- ently of a context. Such is the suffix -en, by means of which, from the sub- stantives height, haste, length, strength, are formed the verbs heighten, hasten, leng theft, strengthen. From the adjectives deep, fast, short, wide, are formed the verbs deepen, fasten, ^ Science of Language, by Max Miiller, M.A., 1861, p. 219. THE VERBAL GROUP. 257 shorten, widen. Other examples of this formative, are : slacken, lighten, frighten., ?nadden, broaden (Tennyson), harden, christen, glisten. This verbal formative n is of Saxon antiquity; but it is quite separate and distinct from the Saxon infinitive form -an. Such again is the prefix be-, by means of which, from the substantives head, friend, tide, are formed the verbs behead, befriend, betide. This formative is still in operation, but is less active than it formerly was. It enters into sixty-seven diff"erent verbs in Shakspeare, as appears in Mrs. Cowden Clarke's Complete Concorda?ice. They are the following : — bechance, become, befal, befit, befriend, beget, begin, begnaw, begrime, beguile, behave, behead, behold, behove, behowl, belie, believe, belong, be- love ('more beloving than beloved,' A7it. and Cleop. i. 2), bemad, beviete, bemoan, bemock, bemoil, bepaint, bequeath, berattle, bereave, berhyme, be- seech, beseek, beseem, beset, beshrew, besiege, beslubber, besmear, besmirch, besort, besot, bespeak, bespice, bestain, bested, bestill, bestir, bestow, be- straught, bestrew, bestride, betake, beteem, bethink, bethump, betide, betokeji, hetoss, betray, betrim, betroth, bewail, beware, beweep, bewet, bewitch, bewray. Such again is the prefix un-, by means of which other words are made besides verbs, as the substantives and ad- jectives unbeliever, unjust, unmeet, &c. ; yet it is also a verbal formative because it forms verbs which even without a con- text cannot be regarded as being anything else than verbs. Examples : — unfrock, untie, unlink, unlock. The above examples of verbal formatives are all genuine natives : the next is after a French model. The suffix fy is taken from those French verbs which end in -fier, after Latin verbs ending in facere. Examples : — beatify, beautify, codify, deify, dignify, dulcify, edify, electrify, horrify, modify, mollify, mortify, nullify, qualify, ratify, satisfy, scarify, stultify, unify. ' He never condescended to anything like direct flattery; but he felicitously hit upon the topic which he knew would tickle the amour propre of those wfiom he wished to dulcify.' — Lord Campbell, Life of Lord Lyndhur&t, 1869. 258 THE VERBAL GROUP. The news from Spain in the middle of April, 1869, is rendered as follows in the English papers : — ' It is said that Senor Figuerola, the Minister of Finance, proposes to unify the public debt by allowing the next half-yearly interest, due in June, to accumulate and be added to the capital.' The verbal formative -ate is from the Latin participle pas- sive of the first conjugation : as amatus, loved ; aesiimatusj valued. Examples : — calculate, captivate, decimate, eradicate, estimate, exculpate, expostulate, indicate, invalidate, liquidate, mitigate, nominate, ope7' ate, postulate, venerate. The, above formatives are of great standing in the lan- guage ; but that which we have now to mention, the formative -ize, is comparatively modern. It occurs in Shakspeare, as tyrannize in King John, v. 7 . 47; partialize in King Rich- ard II, i. I. 120; 77ionarchize, Id, iii. 2. 165, but was not in general use until the time of the living generation. This is a formative which we have copied from the Greek verbs ending in -l^^iv. Examples : — advertize, anathematize, ana- tomize, cauterize, christianize, deodorize, evangelize, frater7iize, generalize, mesmerize, mo7topolize, patronize, philosophize, solilo- quize, subsidize, symiholize , sy77ipathize , systematize, utilize. These verbs have been multiplied indefinitely in our day, partly in consequence of their utility for scientific expression, and partly from the fact that about twenty years ago it became a toy of University-men to make verbs in -ize about all manner of things. A walk for the sake of bodily exercise having been called ' a constitutional,' the verb co7istitutio7i- alize was soon formed thereupon. It was then caught up in country homes, and young ladies who helped the parson in any way were said to parochialize. A. H. Clough, when engaged on his edition of Plutarch's Lives in English, used to report progress to his correspondents by saying that he devoted so much of his time to Plutarchizing. % THE VERBAL GROUP. 2^g Mr. Liddon has adopted transcendentalize : — ' It has been suggested that the Apostles confused the spiritual Resurrection of an idea with the bodily Resurrection of its Author. But a confusion of thought which may seem natural to the transcendentalized brain of a modern, would never have occurred in that of a Jew nineteen centuries ago, for the simple reason that its very materials did not exist.' — The Power of Christ's Restirrection, St. Paul's, Easter Day, 1869. Mr. Matthew Arnold, in a recent paper, endeavouring to distinguish the local elements in the writings of St. Paul from that which is essential and permanent, has found it expedient to fashion or adapt to his purpose three verbs, and they are all of this type, — Hebraize, Orientalize, Judaize. A large number of these verbs are more commonly writ- ten with -ise than with -ize. That is to say, we are met here, as in so many other passages of our language, with that quiet unnoticed French influence. Here it will probably prove stronger than Greek, as in numerous cases it has modified the Latin forms. This form is here regarded as Greek, in compliance with the view that has been established and consciously acted upon for a long time past. But though it has now acquired a right to be called a Greek form, it does not follow that the first suggestion of it was due to the Greek language. On the contrary, reason will be given in the next chapter for supposing that it had its beginning in the verbification of a French substantive. The English verbs present so great a variety of age and featuring, that they may as a whole be compared to a vene- rable pile of buildings, which have grown by successive additions through a series of centuries. One spirit and pur- pose threads the whole, and gives a sort of unity in the midst of the more striking diversity. The later additions are crude and harsh as compared with the more ancient — a fact which is partly due to the mellowing effect of age, and partly also s 2 26o THE VERBAL GROUP. to the admission of strange models. In our speech, as well as in our architecture, we are now sated with the classic element, and we are turning our eyes back with curiosity and interest to what was in use before the revival of letters, and before the renaissance of classic art. Except that the verbs require not their hundreds, but their thousands of years, to be told off when we take count of their development, we might offer this as a fitting similitude. They are indeed variously featured, and bearing the cha- racters of widely differing ages, and they are united only in a oneness of purpose ; and by reason of these characters I have used the collective expression which is at the head of this chapter, and designated them as The Verbal Group. CHAPTER VIL THE NOUN-GROUP. We are now come to the backbone of our subject. The relation of the verb to the noun may be figured not unaptly by calling the verb the head-piece, and the noun the back- bone. When we say the noun, we mean a group of words which comprise no less than the whole essential presentives of the language. In grammars these are ordinarily divided into three groups, the substantive, the adjective, and the adverb. We call these the presentives, and they will be found pre- cisely co-extensive with that term. It is true that many verbs are presentive, and this may seem a difficulty. More verbs are presentive than are not. But it is no part of the quality of a verb to be presentive ; if it is presentive, that circumstance is a mere accident of its condition. But all which we shall include in the noun-group are essentially presentive, and they constitute the store of presentive words of the language. When verbs are presentive, they are so precisely in proportion to the amount of nounal stuff that is mixed up in their constitution. To know a verb from a noun is perhaps the most ele- mentary step in the elements of grammar. We assume that 262 THE NOUN-GROVP, the reader has not only mastered this distinction, but that he has so thoroughly accreted it and assimilated it to his habits of mind, that it will not be liable to dislodgement under the rude shock which philology must inflict upon partial con- ceptions. Not that there is anything wrong in this gram- matical distinction, or anything that has to be unlearnt. The distinction itself is good as a practical statement. But in philology we seek an explanation of these relations in their nature and origin. And, philologically speaking, the presentive verb is only a noun raised to a verbal power. As a ready illustration of this, we may easily form an alphabetical list of words which are nouns if they have a or an, and verbs if they have fo prefixed : ape, bat, cap, dart, eye, fight, garden, house, ink, knight, land, mark, number, order, pair, question, range, sail, time, usher, vaunt, wing, yell. As soon indeed as you put to any one of these the sign of a noun or of a verb, a great difference ensues — a dif- ference hardly less than that between the gunpowder to which you have put the match and that over which you have snapped the pouch's mouth. Little by little, external marks of distinction gather around that word which the mind has promoted to the highest order. Pronunciation first, and orthography at a slower distance, seek gradually to give a form to that which a flash of thought has instantaneously created. Pronunciation takes advantage of its few op- portunities, while orthography contends with its many obstacles. We make a distinction in pronunciation between a house and to house, between a use and to use between a record and to record. But these distinctions of sound are as yet unwritten. In other cases orthography has added its mark of distinction also. We distinguish both by sound and writing a gap from to gape, an advice from to advise, and a prophecy from to prophesy. THE NOUN-GROUP. 263 This is perhaps as much as need here be said to account for the wide separation now existing between nouns and verbs, though they are one at the root. The difference of condition that now severs them as by a gulf is the accumu- lated result of the age-long continuation of that process whose beginnings are here indicated. So much is here said of the relation of the verb to the noun, merely in order to justify the statement that the pre- sent chapter is devoted to the presentive words. For we must regard the verbs — always excepting the symboHc verbs ; that is, verbs which in whole or in part have shed their old nounal coat — simply as nouns raised to an official position in the mechanism of the sentence, and qualified for their office by receiving a predicative power. As the verb is most retentive of antiquity, and as it there- fore offers the best point of comparison with other languages of the same Gothic stock, so, on the side of the noun we may say that it exhibits best the stratification of the language. By which is meant, that the traces of the suc- cessive influences which have passed over the national mind have left on the noun a continuous series of deposits, and that it is here we can most plainly read off the history and experiences of the individual language. The verb will tell us more of comparative philology; but the noun will tell more of the particular philology of the English language. And here we enter on a chapter which will peculiarly need the relief afforded by illustrative quotations. It may therefore be expedient to come to an understanding upon the object and aim of our quotations. Our present pursuit is not Grammar, nor Rhetoric, nor Belles Lettres. We are not concerned with taste, correct- ness, or conventional propriety. We neither commend any expression nor dissuade from the use of it. Our examples and 364 THE NOUN-GROUP. illustrations are not presented to the reader to stimulate him to imitation ; but merely in attestation of the hold which the form under consideration has upon the writers of the lan- guage. We simply endeavour to arrange in a consecutive and proportionate order the phenomena of the language. All that belongs to the domain of taste, or fancy, or fashion, we leave to be dealt with by the proper authorities in those departments. Our first object in quotation is to illustrate th.eyor?n. And the/orm can often be exhibited to advantage in words of a strange and novel character, rather than in those well- established words which are so familiar to the eye, that they waken no feeling of analytical enquiry. Something may indeed here be learnt of the commendable use of the word. But this is a secondary and incidental advantage, and one which is available for that reader only who can judge for himself how far each expression is worthy of imitation. The second and more general object in quotation is to show the word in context. And for this reason : — Words out of context are not seen in their true light, because they are not seen in their natural element. The context is to a word what water is to a fish. It is only in its native element that it exhibits its native character. It should be remembered that words have not been invented and moulded by themselves, and then afterwards put to- gether into sentences. The ordinary course of grammar is perhaps a litde apt to betray the mind into an unconscious habit of thinking somewhat as if this were the case. But the forms which are the terminations of most substantives have that sort of natural relation to a context which the delicate spongioles at the tips of root-fibres have to the ingredients of the soil in which they have been generated, and on which they are still dependent for their life and usefulness. SUBSTANTIVES. 26^ The words inwardness and everlasHngness would excite little admiration standing by themselves ; perhaps they might hardly be credited with a right to be entitled words at all. But look at the quotations in which these words occur below among the substantives in -ness, and you will accord to them at least credit, if not admiration. Under the title then of the Noun-Group three parts of speech are included — the Substantive, the Adjective, and the Adverb. For all these are in fact nouns under different aspects. This chapter will consist of three sections corresponding to these three parts of speech. I. Of the Substantive. The chief forms are the Saxon, the French, the Latin, and the Greek forms. The Saxon are generally to be found extant in one or more of the cognate dialects, such as the Icelandic, the Dutch, the German, the Danish, the Swedish. But substantives will not be found to unite all the languages in one consent so often as the strong verbs. The oldest group consists of those short words which have no distinguishable suffix or formative attached to them, or whose formative is now obscured by deformation. The bulk of this class is monosyllabic, not always by origin, but often by condensation. Thus, for example, the words hrain, brawn, king, sail, tile, stairs, snail, are disyllabic in Saxon, viz. brcegen, cyning, segel, tigel, stcsger, snegel. So of many others which are now monosyllables. The following w^ords are mostly found in the cognate dialects. 0^66 THE NOUN-GROUP. Examples : — arm, ash, awe, awl, badge, beam, bear, bed, bee, bier, bliss, boat, borough, bread, breast, bride, buck, calf, chin, cloth, corn, cow, craft, day, deal, deed, deer, doom, door, down (on a peach), drink, drone, ear, earth, east, edge, elm, eye, fat ( = vessel), field, fish, flesh, flood, fly, fold, foot, frog, frost, furze, ghost, goat, goose, glass, gnat, ground, guest, handt., head, ' heap, heart, hill, hood, hoof, horse, hound, house, ice, ivy, keel, king, knave, knee, knight, knot, lamb, land, laugh, leaf Lent, lore, louse, lust, 7nan, mark, meed, mist, moon, mouse, mouth, nest, 7iet, north, nose, oak, oath, ox, path, pith, rake, ram, rest, rick, ri7id, ring, roof, rope, salve, sap, sea, seal (phoca), seed, share, sheaf, sheep, shield, ship, shoe, sin, smith, son, song, sough, south, speed, stafl^, stall, star, steer, stone, stow, stream, sun, swine, tear, thief tide, tongue, tooth, tree, wain, way, west, wether, whale, wheel, whelp, wife, wind, wold, wolf, womb, wood, world, worm, yard, year , yoke. These we may regard as simple words, that is to say, words in which we cannot see more than one element unless we mount higher than the biet of the present treatise. From these we pass on to others in which we begin to recognise the traces of nounal formatives, that is, of termina- tions as distinct from the body of the words. Forms in -l : — churl, earl, evil, fowl, nail, settle (a bench), sail, snail, soul, shovel, spittle, tile. Bubble is an instance in which this formative seems to have a diminutive sense. See Richardson, v. Bub. Car- penters in Somersetshire call their plummet a plumb-bob. Halliwell, v. Bob, quotes the following from manuscript, where bobs are bunches : — ' They saw also thare vynes growe with wondere grete bobbis of grapes, for a mane my3te unnethez here ane of thame.' Thimble is from thumb with a thinning of the internal vowel. I SUBSTANTIVES — SAXON. 26 "J Forms in -m: — hosovi, fathom, helm, seam. Forms in -n : — beacon, burden, chicken, heaven, maiden, main (A. S. maegen = strength), rain, raven, steven (Chaucer), thane (A.S. ]7egen), token, weapon, welkin. Forms in r : — acre (A. S. secer), brother, cock-chafer, daugh- ter, father, feather, finger, leather, liver, mother, sister, stair ^ summer, thunder, timber, water, winter, wonder. Forms inT: — bight, blight, fight, height, might, sight. ' Cross-examination resumed. — " I got the bight of the handkerchief behind the boy's head, and laid hold of the two corners of it. All this time prisoner was trying, as well as I, to get the boy in. I was lying down^ and so was prisoner, reaching across the water."' The above are from well-known roots ; but there are others of more obscure origin which bear a resemblance to the above, as light, right, wight. Forms in th : — as breadth, length, strength, width. Here also belongs math in Tennyson's ' after-math,' from the verb to 7now. Faith is one of these, which was formed upon the French foi, anglicised/^. These two words went on for a long time together, with a tolerably clear distinction of sense. Fey meant religious belief, creed, as in the exclamation By my fey ! while/azV/^ signified the moral virtue of loyalty or fidelity. In -ing : as king (A. S. cyning), and those which in Saxon end in -ung, as blessing. In this form the noun comes into its closest contact with the verb. Into this group merged the old Saxon infinitive in -an, as we shall show in the Syn- tax. In the old language the noun and the substantive were well distinguished by the diff"erence of form, but in modern English it is often so hard to say whether a word in -ing is a noun or a verb, that the decision must be merely arbitrary. Here it will be enough just to give a quotation to illustrate 2,6S THE NOUN-GROUP. this peculiar substantival usage of the verb, and verbal use of the substantive. In the ' Glosse ' to the Shepheards Calender for the month of April, the word making offers an example in which this noun-form is identified with the infinitive verb. ' To make, to rime and versifye. For in this word, making, our olde Englishe Poetes were wont to comprehend all the skil of Poetrye, according to the Greeke woorde iroieTv to make, whence commeth the name of Poetes.' •In a moment, in the twykelynge of an yje.' — Wiclif, i Cor. xv. 52. The old Saxon title yE^eh'ng for the Crown Prince, must find its place here. About the year 1 300, Robert of Glou- cester considered this word as needing an explanation : — ' Ac Jie gode tryw men of J>e lond wolde abbe ymade kyng pe kunde eyr, ])e 3onge chyld, Edgar A]?elyng. Wo so were next kyng by kunde, me clupe)) hym AJ^elyng. pervor me clupede hym so, vor by kunde he was next kyng.' Ed. Hearne, i. 354. Translation. — Btit the good true men of the land wotdd have made ling the natural heir, the yotmg Chyld, Edgar Atheling. PT-^oso were next kifig by birthright, men call him Atheling : therefore men called him so, for by birth he was next Mng. In -ere, as bcecere, baker ; and boceras, for the ' scribes ' in the Gospels, literally bookers. From this source we have also Conner (as in ' ale-conner '), dealer, ditcher, fiddler, fisher, fowler, grinder, harper, listener, -monger, skipper, Webber. Thus in Matthew xiii. 45, 'Eft ys heofena rice gelic ))am mangere,' &c., which WicHf rendered by a man marchaunt, and the Bible of 1 6 1 1 by « mar chant man. These terminations are of very high antiquity, and we can give no account of them as separate and independent words. It is otherwise with those other old formatives, -ness, -dom, -hood, -lock, -rick, -red, -ship. We know the SUBSTANTIVES — SAXON. 26g meaning which each of them had in its separate state, prior to its becoming a formative. -ness meant a projection, promontory, point of termina- tion, headland. Thus in Beowtd/ 444, the forelands at sea are called s(X-ncBssas, or sea-nesses ; and many a headland on our coast has still Ness attached to it, or some variety of that word: e.g. Denge Ness (Kent), Caithness (Scotland), Foulness (Essex); Furness (Lancashire); The Naze (Essex); Nash Point (Glamorganshire). It is hardly possible to imagine a bolder figure, or one more apt to convey the idea of abstraction, than that which presents the concrete as elongated to a tapering point. Examples: — composedness, goodness, heaviness, indebtedness, meanness, readiness, suppleness, usefulness, weariness, wilder- ness, &c. Illustrations : — new-fangleness. ' Innovations and new-fangleness.' — Preface to Book of Common Prayer. charitableness, contentedness, peaceableness. ' Charitableness, peaceableness, and contentedness.' — Proverbs iii, Contents. highmindedness, dejectedness. ' He that cannot abound without pride and highmindedness, will not want without too much dejectedness Frame a sufficiency out of con- tentedness.' — Richard Sibbes, Soul's Conflict, ch. x. composedness. 'Spiritual composedness and sabbath of spirit.' — Id." everlastingness. ' But felt through all this fleshly dress. Bright shoots of everlastingness.' Henry Vaughan (1621-1695), The Retreat. darknesses. ' Glorious in His darknesses.' — Jeremy Taylor, Life of Christ, vol. ii. p. 59. Heber's ed. 2/0 THE NOUN-GROUP. There has been a period since the seventeenth century. in which this formative has been less in vogue, whilst the Latin -ah'on has prevailed ; but of late years it has been much revived, and has supplied some new words, as indebtedness. Indeed, the form has become a marked favourite, and new turns of speech are readily formed by help of it. In the bold novelty of some of them we may almost trace a spirit of rebellion against conventionality. northness. ' Long lines of cackling geese were sailing far overhead, winging their way to some more remote point of northness.' — Dr. Hayes, Open Polar Sea, ch. XXXV. ??iisswnariness. ' It is, I think, alarming — peculiarly at this time, when the female ink- bottles are perpetually impressing upon us woman's particular worth and general missionariness — to see that the dress of women is daily more and more unfitting them for any mission or usefulness at all.' — Florence Night- ingale, Notes on Niirsing. naturalness. ' The unaffected country naturalness of the lad,' — Doctor Johns, by I. K. Marvel, 1866. hopefulness, helieffulness, ' And there is a hopefulness and a beliefFulness, so to say, on your side, which is a great compensation,' — A. H. Clough to R. W. Emerson, 1853. sure-footedness. ' And if the Testament of Love is not in at least some parts a translation or paraphrase, Chaucer was not only a poet but a metaphysician. Otherwise no acquaintance with the philosophy of his time would have carried him safely over the sensitive ground which he sometimes touches with logical sure-footedness in that remarkable book.' — Chaucer's Etiglatid, by Matthew Browne, vol. i. p. 7. inwardness. 'Nor Nature fails my walks to bless With all her golden inwardness.' James Russell Lowell. 5* UBSTANTIVES — SAXON. ^7 1 non-namekssness. ' We may in this respect afBrm that the non-namelessness of the historian is the beginning of historical science.' — History of Israel, by Heinrich Ewald, ed. Martineau, vol. i, p. 57. The philological value of such examples must not be measured by our admiration of them. We may safely assume that these words were viewed with complacency by their authors. And they therefore aiford an indirect testi- mony to the prominence which is now given to the formative -ness as a binding and consoHdating agent. If the evidence is exaggerated, it is not on that account to be rejected as worthless. Attempts of this magnitude are not made in the strength of -red, -lock, nor even of -hood or -ship. This termination is now frequently substituted for French or Latin terminations of like significance, and this even in words of Romanesque material. A lady asked me why the author wrote effeminaieness and not effeminacy in the following passage. ' 1812, June 17th. At four o'clock dined in the Hall with De Quincey, who was very civil to me, and cordially invited me to visit his cottage in Cumberland. Like myself, he is an enthusiast for Wordsworth. His person is small, his complexion fair, and his air and manner are those of a sickly and enfeebled man. From this circumstance his sensibility, which I have no doubt is genuine, is in danger of being mistaken for efFeminateness.' — Diary, &c., 0/ Henry Crabb Robinson, vol. i. p. 391. Indeed, -cy and -ness are good equivalents, and hence they are often seen coupled or opposed, as decency and cleanliness. ' Decency must have been difficult in such a place, and cleanliness im- possible.' — James Anthony Froude, History of England, August, 1 567. The collective or abstract -dom is a form of high an- tiquity, being found in all the dialects except the Moeso- Gothic. It seems to have originally meant distinction, dignity, grandeur, and so to have been chosen to express 272 THE NOUN-GROUP. the great whole of anything. As a separate word it became doom, meaning authority and judgment. Examples : — Christendom, heathendovi, kingdom, martyrdom, serfdom, Shirifdome (Camden's Britannia, ed. 1607, p. 698), thraldom, wisdom. Altered form : — halidam. The Germans make a variety of nouns with this formative, as 93ift§um = bishopdom, Oteic^t^um = richdom. This form has recovered a new activity of late years, and it is now highly prolific. Thus we read of scoundreldom and rascaldom. ' High-born scoundreldom.' — J. A. Froude, at St. Andrew's, March, 1869. ' I doubt very much indeed whether the honesty of the country has been improved by the substitution so generally of mental education for industrial ; and the " three R's," if no industrial training has gone along with them, are apt, as Miss Nightingale observes, to produce a fourth ' R ' — of rascaldom.' —Id. ibid. The value of the formative has much altered in the case of Christendom. This word is now used to signify the geographical area which is peopled by Christians ; but in the early use it meant just what we now mean by Chris- tianity, the profession and condition of Christianity. William de Shoreham's poem De Baptismo opens thus : ' Cristendom his that sacrement That men her ferst fongeth.' Morris, Specimens, p. 121. Nouns in -red are, and always w^re, but few^ The forma- tive answers to the German rati) in ^eirat^, marriage, originally meaning design, but in the formative having only the sense of condition. It seems to be the same as the final syllable in the proper names jEl/red, Eadred, J^pelred. Of this formation I can only produce two words that are still in current use. Examples : — kindred, hatred. SUBSTANTIVES — SAXON. ^^73 In Longman's Edward the Third, vol. ii. p. 15, we have mention of a fourteenth-century form — gossip-red. ' But the enmity between the " English by blood " and " English by birth " still went on, and the former married with the Irish, adopted their language, laws, and dress, and became bound to them also by " gossipred " and " fosterage." ' The words of this formation seem to be specially adapted for the expression of human relationships, whether natural, moral, or social. This is the case with the three already instanced, as well as with others belonging to the Saxon stage of the language. We must not omit the word neigh- bourhood, which is one of these terms of social relation- ship, and which was originally ' neighbourr^^,' as we find it far into the transition period. Thus in the Old English Homilies, ed. Morris (Early English Text Society), p. 137. ' Mon sul'Se his elmesse ])enne he heo gefe^ swulche monne 'Se he for scome wernen ne mei for ne^eburreddej ' Man sells his alms when he giveth it to such a man as he for very shame cannot warn off [ = decline giving to] by reason of the ties of neighbour- hood.' -lock, -ledge. These are very few now, and were not numerous in Saxon, where the termination was in the form -lac : as, brydlac, marriage ; gu^lac, battle ; reaflac, spoil ; scinlac, sorcery, &c. The word lac here is an old word for play, and still exists locally in the term lake-fellow for playfellow. To lake is common in Cumberland and West- moreland in the sense of ' to play.' It is not generally known, I believe, — it certainly was not known to me until I learnt it by a friendly annotation on this sheet, — that when tourists to the Lakes are called lakers, the natives imply the double meaning of Lake-admirers and idlers. Examples: — charlock, wedlock; and in an altered form, k7iowledge. 274 THE NOUN-GROUP. Guthlac was not only a word for battle, but was also a man's name, to wit, of the Hermit of Croyland. So that the personal signification of z£^izr/(?<:/^ does not prevent us from regarding it also as one of this class, at least by assimilation. It is probably a modification of the Saxon wcer-loga, which Grein .eloquently translates veritatis infitiator, and which was applicable to almost any sort of intelligent being that was per- fidious, and under a ban, and beyond the pale of humanity. -hood was an independent substantive in Saxon literature, in the form of had. This word signified office, degree, faculty, quality. Thus, while the power and jurisdiction of a bishop was called ' biscopdom ' and ' biscopric,' the sacred function which is bestowed in consecration was called hiscophdd. Sax. Chron. (E) 1048. And the verb for or- daining or consecrating was one which signified the bestowal of had, viz. 'hadian.' Examples : — boyhood, brotherhood, childhood, hardihood, like- lihood, maidenhood, manhood, sisterhood, zvidowhood. An altered form is -head, as in Godhead, an alteration which makes it difficult for many to see that it is the ana- logue of manhood, and as if God-hood. It is sometimes written -hed, as lustihed, maidenhed (virginitas), sainthed. This is Spenser's form, with the single or double d, -hed or -hedd, as in his description of a comet : dreryhedd. ' All as a blazing starre doth farre outcast His hearie beames, and flaming lockes dispredd, At sight whereof the people stand aghast ; But the sage wisard telles, as he has redd, That it importunes death and dolefull dreryhedd.' The Faerie Qiieene, iii. i. 16. bountihed. ' She seemed a woman of great bountihed.' Id. iii. I, 41. SUBSTANTIVES — SAXON. 275 The word livelihood merits notice by itself. It has been assimilated to this class by the influence of such forms as likelihood. The original Saxon word was lif-ladu (vitae cursus), the course or leading of Hfe. In the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries it was written liflode, and was the commonest word for ' living ' in the sense of means of life, where we now have the (unhistorical) form livelihood. This formative is represented in German by -^i\.i, as ect)t, genuine; @c^tl)eit, genuineness. -ship is from the old verb scapan to shape ; and indeed it is the mere addition of the general idea of shape on to the noun of which it becomes the formative abstract. It corresponds to the German -fc^aft, as ©efell, companion ; ©efellfcf^aft, society. Examples : — dodorship^ fellowship, friendship, lordship, ladyship, ownerships proctorship, trusteeships workmanship, worship ( = worth- ship). Illustrations : — ' The proctorship and the doctorship,' — Clarendon, History, i. § 189. ' Trusteeship has been converted into ownership,' — Edward Hawkins, D.D., Our Debts to CcBsar and to God, 1868. In the translation of Bunsen's Gott in der Geschichte, by S. Winkworth, vol. i. p. 292, there is the form acquaint- anceship. The Dutch form is -schap, as in Landschap, German ^ant- fc^aft — a word which we have borrowed from the Dutch artists, and which we retain in the form of landscape. The form -ric is an old word for rule, sway, dominion, jurisdiction. We have but one word left with this formative, viz. bishopric. There used to be others, as cyneric, which we now call kingdom, but which the Germans call ^dntgitic^. They would not regard the last syllable in this word as a T 2 276 THE NOUN-GROUP. formative, but as an independent substantive Qfteid), and they would regard .fonigreic^ as a compound. We cannot so regard bishopric, simply because we have lost ric as a dis- tinct substantive. But when the word bishopric was first made, it was made as a compound. The same is true of all this group of nouns in -dojji, -ness, -had, -red, -ship, that they were originally started as com- pounds, but the latter syllable having lost its independent hold on the speech, it has come to be regarded as a mere formative attached to the body of the word by flexional symphytism. At the end of the Saxon list it seems most natural to mention a few words which make their appearance for the first time with the modern English language, and of which the origin is obscure. Such are boy, girl, pig, dog. The next forms of nouns were those which we obtained from the French in the period when our language was still in a nascent state. Some of our French nouns are not easy to classify. As examples we may name madam, beldame (Spenser often), and the word garden (Yrench. jardin) which the people all over the country have such an inclination to terminate with -ing. In this there may possibly be some reminiscence of a French pronunciation. At any rate in America (where the rapid disappearance of the uncultivated forms of speech is teaching writers to prize them) we have good authority for its recognition. The second series of Mr. Lowell's Biglow Papers was inscribed to Judge Hoar, who is the judge celebrated in the following lines : * An' I've ben sence a-visitin' the Jedge, Whose garding whispers with the river's edge. Where I've sat mornin's lazy as the bream Whose on'y business is to head-up the stream SUBSTANTIVES— FRENCH. 277 (We call 'em punkin-seed), or else to chat Along 'ith the Jedge, who covers with his hat More wit, an' gunnption, an' shrewd Yankee sense Than is mosses on an ole stone fence.' To the above may be added hargctm, truant^ minion^ range, issue, and the word aunt, old French aiite (Latin amita),^ which they have since altered to tante by prefixing a merely euphonic /. Not unfrequently the French nouns which came into English had been previously borrowed from the Franks, or some race of Gothic stock. Thus guardian, which occurs in every chief language of Europe, is from an Old High Dutch word, which corresponds to the last syllable in the Saxon name Edward. In our form warden, we cast off the French guise of the first syllable, but retained the Roman- esque termination, Latin -ianus, French -ien. Among the most thoroughly domesticated of the French forms is -ry or -ery (French -erii) e.g. cavalry, chapelry, deanery, fishery, iinagery, Jewry, mockery, poetry, pottery, poultry, rookery, sorcery, spicery, swannery, trumpery (French trom- perie), ivitchery. Illustrations : — shrubbery is from the old homely word scrub in the sense which it bears in ' Wormwood Scrubs,' and in the following quotation : ' It [the barony of Farney] was then a wild and almost unenclosed alder plain, and consisted chiefly of coarse pasturage interspersed with low alder scrub.' — W. Steuart Trench, Realities of Irish Life, p. 66. fopperies, trumperies. ' What a world of fopperies there are — of crosses, of candles, of holy water, and salt, and censings ! Away with these trumperies.' — Bishop Hall. mockeries. ' I think we are not wholly brain, Magnetic mockeries.' — In Memoriam, cxix. 278 THE NOVN'GROUP. This -erie seems to have sprung from a combination of the old Latin termination -za with the r or -er of the Latin, or rather Roman, infinitive verb. Thus tromperie, from tromper, to deceive. The termination -ia being toneless in Latin, disappeared in the elder French words, those which were in the truest sense of the word Romanesque. Thus, as M. Brachet has shewn, the Latin angustia became in French angoisse (anguish) ; the Latin invidia became in French envie (envy) ; the Latin gratia became in French and English, grace. In these, which are the earliest progeny of the Latin nouns in -ia, that termination is absorbed into the body of the word, and has not retained a separate ex- istence. But there were words of later growth — words made of barbarian material, but fashioned after the classic pattern — in which this -ia was still propagated. Such were many mediaeval nouns, as the IjdXinfelonia, French /elonie, English felony. This -ia is not unfrequently represented in our English terminations in -y. Thus in Burgundia, Burgundy, we retain the Latin termination; but in the French form Bourgogne it is absorbed. In the case of Britannia we have two English forms, the one Britanny, in which the -ia is represented, and the other Britain, after the French Bretagne, in which it is absorbed. This -ia compounded with -er became European in the middle ages. To it we may ascribe the geographical terms Neustria and Austria. From it the Germans have borrowed their =eret, as SutiStcret, jurisprudence. Poetria was a mediaeval Latin word which we imitated the French in adopting. It has long ago disappeared from French, so that poetry is now distinctively an English word. As early as 161 1, Poeterie is given in Cotgrave as ' an old word.' Another distinctive word, but of our own stamping, \^ fairy. This was originally the collective noun from the French _/^'^, SUBSTANTIVES — FRENCH. 279 as those little folk are still called across the Channel, but we gradually passed from such expressions as land of faerie and queene of faerie, to make fairies the modern substitute for the native title of elves. Into the groove thus prepared by the French -erie, we have received the word psaltery from the Greek -rjpiov. (Whether these two are of one source originally it belongs not to this place to enquire.) ' For the elements were changed in themselues by a kind of harmonie , like as in a Psaltery notes change the name of the tune, and yet are alwayes sounds.' — Wisedom of Solomon, xix. 18. Next we will mention the form -son (also -shion and -som), which is after the French from the Latin nouns in •^Ho, -tionis. The termination -son represents the Latin accusative case. Thus the French raison answers to the Latin rationem. Examples : — advowson (advocationem), arson, henison (be- nedictionem), comparison (comparationem), fashion (fac- tionem), garrison (Fr. garnison), lesson (lectionem), malison (maledictionem), orison {px2X\0Ti^m), poison (potionem), ransom (renditionem), reason, season (sationem), treason (traditionem), venison (venationem). Foison is an interesting word of this class. It is now out of use, but it occurs in Chaucer, Spenser, and Shakspeare. It signified ' abundance,' ' copiousness,' and represented fusionem the accusative oi fusio, which was used in a sense something like our modern Latin word ' profusion.' The modern Italian has the substantive fusione. It is a very frequent word in Froissart, as grand' foison de gent, a great multitude of people. The following passage, from a fif- teenth-century description of the hospitahty of a Vavasour, exemplifies the use of this word. 38o THE NOUN- GROUP. ' " Sirs," seide the yonge man, "ye be welcome, and ledde hem in to the middill of the Court, and thei a-light of theire horse, and ther were I-nowe ' that ledde hem to stable, and yaf hem hey and otes, fFor the place was well stuffed ; and a squyer hem ledde in to a feire halle be the grounde hem for to vn-arme, and the Vavasour and his wif, and his foure sones that he hadde, and his tweyne doughtres dide a-rise, and light vp torches and other lightes ther-ynne, and sette water to the fier, and waisshed theire visages and theire handes, and after hem dried on feire toweiles and white, and than brought eche of hem a mantell, and the Vauasour made cover the tables, and sette on brede and wyne grete foyson, and venyson and salt flessh grete plente ; and the knyghtes sat down and ete and dranke as thei that ther-to haue great nede,' &c. — Merlin, Early EngHsh Text Society, p. 517. -ment. From the Latin men/um, 2u's, frumentum, jumentum. This form has figured much more largely in French than it ever has in English. For example, we have not and never had in English the two Latin words now quoted. But the French have both frovient and jument. They were most numerous with us during the period when the French in- fluence was most dominant. The following are older than Chaucer : — acupement, adubbement, advancement, af ailment, amendement, apparaylment, amonestement, arnement, asseyment, batelment, cement, chastisement, comandement, compacement, con- jurement, coronement, cumberment, deuysement, ditement, element, emparement, enchauntement, enprysonmenl, eysement, feffement, firmament, foundement, garnement, instrument, juggement, mar- tirement, moment, ornemenl, oynement, parlement, pavement, payment, pimenl, prechement, sacrament, savement, sentement, tabelment, tenement, testament, torment, tornement, vesselment, vestement, warentment. An explanation of the more obscure of these words may generally be found in the Glossarial 1 I-nowe = enough. The word is just so pronounced to this day in Devon- shire; not however with the eye-sound of I. This prefix represents the Saxon ge in gerioh. The odd tendency to make the ge into a capital I is not without its importance. By the fidelity of the Early English Text Society to these little matters, their publications have a greater philological value. For the kind of importance that may attach to this capital I, see the case of ' I wis * above, at p. 248. SUBSTANTIVES — FRENCH. 281 Index to the Printed English Literature of the Thirteenth Century, by Herbert Coleridge. Examples from Chaucer and later authors : — commaunde- ment [Faerie Queene, iii. 4. 33), condiment, detriment, enchant- ment (Chaucer), firmament (Spenser), habiliment, instrument (Chaucer), judgment, parliament {par lenient in Chaucer), regiment. Illustrations : — hardiment. ' With stedfast corage and stout hardiment.' Faerie Queene, iii. I. 19. dreriment. ' To sorrow huge she turned her former play, And gamesome mirth to grievous dreriment.' Faerie Queene, iii. 4. 30. In the following quotation, intendiment means ' knowledge,' from the French entendre, to understand. ' Into the woods thenceforth in haste shee went, To seeke for herbes that mote him remedy ; For she^e of herbes had great intendiment.' Faerie Queene, iii. 5. 32. A great and prominent word of the present day is improvement. ' It is true that much was don# for the place from outside. Much of what is called sanitary improvement was accomplished and is still effective. But sanitary improvements do not save souls.' — Harry Jones, Life in the World, 1865. A word which is still more prominent in our times, and which may be called one of the words of the period, is development. This is a modernism with us, and its use cannot be traced back much more than a century, while its celebrity is still more recent. It is a French word, and is of con- siderable antiquity in that language. The following from Randle Cotgrave (161 1) is interesting: — 283 THE NOUN-GROUP. ' Desvelope : m. ee : f. Vnwrapped, vnfoulden ; opened, vndone ; displaied, spread abroad ; also, cleered. Desvelopement : m. An vnwrapping, vn/oulding ; vndoing, opening; manifesting, displaying, spreading open. Desveloper. To vnwrap, vtifould ; vndoe, open, shew forth, display, spread abroad ; rid, vnpester, cleere." An apparent but not real member of this group is parch- ment, which is from the Latin pergamejia (charta), through the French iorm. parche?7iin. sentement ( = taste, flavour). 'And other Trees there ben also, that beren Wyn of noble sentement.'- - Maundevile, p. 189. firmament^ compassemeni. ' For the partie of the Firmament schewethe in o contree, that schewethe not in another contree. And men may well preven by experience and sotyle compassement of Wytt that .... men myghte go be schippe alle aboute the world.' — Maundevile, p. 180. savement ( = salvation). ' For Seint James, in hys boke Wysseth wyd gode mende That 3yf any by-falthe ry3t syke The prest he scholde of-sende, To hys ende : And he schel elye hym wyth ele, Hys savement to wynne.' William de Shoreham, p. 4I. These forms come down very close to Chaucer's day, and by their extremely foreign aspect, shew us how great a change took place in the fourteenth century. The words in -vieni sometimes made their plural just as they still do in French, namely in -mens. maundemens. ' To hem that kepen his testament. And myndeful thai ben of his maundemens, to do hem.' — Psalm cii. 18; Hereford's version iti the Wyclif Bible. These words' had in many cases superseded a native SUBSTANTIVES — FRENCH. 283 word. In the Metrical Psalter, before a.d. 1300, we find in the corresponding verse wite-word for testament, and bodes for maundemens. -et. A French diminutive form. Examples '.—facet, floweret (Milton), hatchet, junket. An instance of its union with a Saxon word is latchet. Lynchet is a local word of Saxon origin which has taken this French facing. In the neighbourhood of Winchester and elsewhere along the chalk hills, it signifies 'bank/ 'terrace,' and it has been applied to those ledges which have the appearance of raised beaches. It is the old Saxon word Mine, frequently used in Saxon charters for a boundary embankment, artificial or natural. So it gets attached to frontier wastes, as in the case of the Links of St. Andrews, Malvern Link, &c. In Cooper's Provincialisms of Sussex, a Link is defined to be ' A green or wooded bank always on the side of a hill between two pieces of cultivated land." In Jenning's Glossary of the West of England, Linch is de- fined as ' A ledge ; a rectangular projection,' and here we have the form which was frenchified into lynchet. -ette. Examples : — marionette, mignonette, palette, rosette. -let. Examples : — armlet, bracelet, branchlet, kinglet, ringlet. • I have found it necessary to make a distinction between branches and hranchlets, understanding by the latter term the lateral shoots which are produced in the same season as those from which they spring.' — John Lindley, A Monograph of Roses (1820), p. xxi. In ^age ; as baggage, burgage, carriage, cottage, lan- guage, lineage, message, passage, poundage, tonnage, vicarage, voyage. These words had for the most part an abstract meaning in their origin, and they have often grown more concrete by use. The word cottage, as commonly understood, is con- 284 THE NOUN-GROUP. Crete, but there was an older and more abstract use, accord- ing to which it signified an inferior kind of tenure, a use in which it may be classed with such words as burgage, soccage. The following is from a manuscript of the seven- teenth century, one of the many things to which I have access by the kindness of Mr. Furnivall in sending me proofs of his Early EngUsh Text materials. ' The definition of an Esquire and the severall sortes of them according to the Custome and Vsage of England. 'An Esquire called in latine Armiger, Scutifer, et homo ad arraa is he that in times past was Costrell to a Knight, the bearer of his sheild and heime, a faithfull companion and associate to him in the Warrs, serving on horsebacke, whereof euery knight had twoe at the least attendance upon him, in respect of the fee, For they held their land of the Knight by Cottage as the Knight held his of the King by Knight service.' — Ashmole MS. 837, art. viii. fol. 162. A beautiful use of the word personage, in the sense of personal appearance, occurs in the Faerie Queene, iii. 2. 26: — ' The Damzell well did vew his Personage.' Carriage now signifies a vehicle for carrying; but in the Bible of 161 1 it occurs eight times as the collective for things carried, impedimenta. In Numbers iv. 24 it is a mar- ginal reading for ' burdens,' which is in the text. In Acts xxi. 15, 'We tooke vp our cariages,' is rendered by Cranmer (1539) 'we toke vp oure burthenes,' and in the Geneva version (1557) ' we trussed vp our fardeles.' It appears to be traceable to Italian influence, as is indi- cated in the Bible Word-Book of Eastwood and Wright. But chiefly it is remarkable as one of the very few instances in which an ephemeral expression got into the revision of 16 11, displacing more solid and permanent words. Verbiage signifies a superfluity of words, or the excess of words over meaning in a discourse, or more generally, words without point. I asked a friend whether his speech SUBSTANTIVES — FRENCH. 285 had been fairly reported : ' Well/ said he, ' they have' given the verbiage of what I said pretty faithfully/ Next to -age we naturally come to the form -ager, as in the French passager, messager, which has been altered in English to the form -enger, as passenger ^ messenger. With these must be classed the words in -inger, as harbinger, porringer, pottinger, wharfinger. Also wallinger, a term that is, or was, to be seen on the walls of Chester, in a tablet commemorative of repairs done to the city wall. The ' wallingers ' were annual officers charged with the care of the wall. In the fourteenth century there was a public officer known as the King's auhieger, who was a sort of inspector of the measuring of all cloths offered for sale, and his title was derived from the French aulne, an ell; aulnage, measuring with the ell-measure ^ This seems to be the best place for a word whose origin has been variously explained. A very great mediaeval word was danger, both in French and English. The reader of our early literature should not too readily assume that he has understood any passage in which this word occurs. At present the word is hardly to be distinguished from hazard, peril, risk, liability, exposure. A modern reader would not pause to doubt whether ' Les dangers des bois ' could mean anything else than ' The perils of the woods.' But it is thus defined by Cotgrave (161 1): — ^The amerciaments, and con- fiscations adiudged vnto the King by the officers of woods, and forrests! In the early poems of gallantry, which were the staple of Belles Lettres in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, and ^ Life and Times of Edward III, by William Longman, vol. i. p. 340 ; from 25 Edw. Ill, Stat. 3. 286 THE NOUN-GROUP, of which the ripest example is the Roniaunt of the Rose, the term Danger is used constantly for the name of one of the allegorical personages. This name represents that person who, whether as father or husband or lover, has some superior right or title in the heroine of the moment. It resulted from the fundamental idea of these pieces, that such a person must be made odious, and accordingly he appears as a churl, a skulk, a spy, &c. Thus, in the Romaunt of the Rose, when the prospects of the rose-hunter are most flattering, we read, line 3015: — 'But than a chorle, foul him betide, Beside the roses gan him hide. To keepe the roses of that rosere, Of whom the name was daungere : This chorle was hid there in the greves Covered with grasse and with leves. To spie and take whom that he fond Unto that roser put an hond.' It seems that the word must be derived from Domtnus, which is represented by Dan-, as in ' Dan Chaucer,' &c. Thus Daunger or Danger would be equivalent to Dominicarius (Du Cange) ; and the Domigerium of Bracton must be taken as a mere latinized form of the word itself. Thus the word is apt to occur in the phraseology of escheats and forfeitures, as where Mr. Froude quotes an entry in the Records, — • That on the 12th of July, 1568, the Earl of Desmond — acknowledging his offences, his life being in peril, his goods liable to forfeiture, and himself in danger to her Highness for the forfeiture of £20,000 by his securities — relinquished into her Majesty's hands all his lands, tenements, houses, castles, signeries, all he stood possessed of to receive back what her Majesty would please to allow him,' &c. — History of England, vol. x. p. 487. In The Merchant of Venice, iv. i, 'You stand within his danger, do you not.?' is equivalent to 'You are in his power, are you not?' And it is by the introduction of this word danger that the key-note is struck of that piece which is to SUBSTANTIVES — FRENCH. 287 follow, on the quality of mercy. For Power and Mercy are natural correlatives. And this moral truth is worked into the habits of our phraseology ; for it is much the same thing with us now to say that one is in another's power, or to say that he is at his mercy. The latter way of speaking was indeed first invented as a euphemism upon the former, but it has become equally harsh, perhaps rather the harsher of the two. One example this among thousands, that what- ever may be the temporary complicity of language in dis- simulation, no trick of words will ever compel it permanently to act as a cloak of hypocrisy. It has a way of recovering its honesty by the process of an open confession. We may indeed regret the degradation of noble expressions, but this eifect, which is at first sight so disagreeable, is found to be the condition of preserving language from moral corruption. This group has so marked a character that it seemed to deserve a place by itself, although it belongs in strictness to the next class in virtue of its final termination. In -er, from the French -er and -ier. Of this suffix -ier, it is said by M. Auguste Brachet, in his Grammaire His- torique^ p. 276^ that it is 'perhaps the most productive ' of all the French nounal forms. For in the first place, it is the con- stant form for expressing a man's trade. The Saxon form -ere had the same value, but it was swallowed up in the greater volume of this French form. Examples : — baker, bookbinder, butcher, Fletcher, gardener, grocer, miller, Tucker, vintner. Already in Chaucer we have four of them in two fines : — ' An Haberdasshere and a Carpenter, A Webbe, a Dyere, and a Tapycer.' 1 At p. 184 of Mr. Kitchin's Translation, in the Clarendon Press Series, 1869. 288 THE NOUN-GROUP. Here the only term which is not in -er, is, oddly enough, a curt form of the old Saxon wehhere, weaver. In Bristol there is (or was) a street called Tucker Street, in which stood the Hall of the Weaver's Guild, till it was destroyed in making a new road to the railway station. This street is called in mediaeval deeds Vicus Fullonum, and the present name is to the same effect. For the word Tucker (anciently Toukere) is equivalent to clothier. In German the common word for cloth is ^u(^. This form is highly verbal in its constitution. It springs up out of almost any verb as naturally as a participle. Thus we .make hater, hoper, hopper, runner, talker, thinker, walker, &c. This spontaneity has rather suffered from neglect of its use. The word slanders in Troilus and Cres- sida, iii. 3. 84, is less to be regarded as a noun than as a verbal inflection : — ' 'T is certaine, greatnesse, once falne out with fortune. Must fall out with men too : What the declin'd is, He shall as soone reade in the eyes of others, As feele in his owne fall : for men, like butter-flies. Show not their mealie wings but to the Summer : And not a man for being simply man, Hath any honour ; but honour'd for those honours That are without him; as place, riches, and fauour, Prizes of accident as oft as merit : Which when they fall, as being slippery standers. The loue that leand on them as slippery too, Doth one plucke downe another, and together Dye in the fall.' escaper. ' And lehu said, If it be your minds, then let no escaper goe.' — 2 Kings ix. 15, margin. Among the signs of reviving interest in early English is to be noted an occasional straggler of this class welcomed back again. The word co??ier took the place of a Saxon cuma, and though its range was much narrowed by our SUBSTANTIVES — FRENCH. 289 adoption of the French stranger, yet it never quite died out. It occurs once in the Bible of 1 6 1 1 , twice in the plays of Shakespeare, and once in the poetical works of Milton. Of late it has been getting more common. ' Christians in general, therefore, would oppose to such a creed as that of the Pall Mall Gazette, not the pretence of conclusions which they can demonstrate against all comers, but strong and deep convictions continually assailed and sometimes agitated by insoluble difficulties.' — J. Llewelyn Davies, The Gospel and Modern Life, p. xiii. In some instances our nouns in -er, ler, represent the French -lere, as river (riviere), barrier (barriere). There is another form, -eer, of more limited use, as mule- teer, charioteer, pamphleteer, privateer. This form is sometimes used half-playfully : fellow-circuiteer. ' The enormous gains of my old fellow-circuiteer, Charles Austin, who is said to have made 40,000 guineas by pleading before Parliament in one session.' — Henry Crabb Robinson, Diary, &c., 18 18. -ee. This termination is from the French passive par- ticiple. Examples : — devotee {Spectator, No. 354), guarantee, mort- gagee, trustee. Illustration : — referee. ' In this clamour of antagonistic opinions, history is obviously the sole upright impartial referee.' — J. B. Lightfoot, Philippians, 1868. The original passive character of the form still shines out in most of the examples ; and often there is an active sub- stantive as a counterpart. Thus lessor, lessee; mortgagor, mortgagee. In -ard. Examples : — bastard, buzzard, coivard, dastard, u 290 THE NOUN-GROUP. dotard (Spenser, Faerie Queene, iii. 9. 8), drunkard, dullard, haggard (a sort of hawk), laggard, mallard, niggard, pollard, sluggard, standard, tankard ( = a little tank, French ^tang, Latin stagnum), wizard. Here should be mentioned also two national designations, Spaniard, Savoyard. Among these must not be included mustard, of the origin of which word the following story has been told :— It is said that the first depot in Europe for the sale of sinapis was at Dijon, and that the jars were marked with the local motto Moult me tarde, which in French of the fifteenth century meant / am very impatient. And that to the condensation of this motto we owe the nouii mustard, which is an anglicism of the French moutarde. placard. ' Good Lord, how cross and opposite is man's conceit to God's, and how contrary our thoughts unto His ! For even ad oppositum to this position of His, we see for the most part that even they that are the goers forth seem to persuade themselves that then they may do what they list ; that at that time any sin is lawful, that war is rather a placard than an inhibition to sin.' — Lancelot Andrewes, Sermon on Deut. xxiii. 9. wizard. ' And down the wave and in the flame was borne A naked babe, and rode to Merlin's feet, Who stoopt and caught the babe, and cried " The King ! Here is an heir for Uther ! " And the fringe Of that great breaker, sweeping up the strand, Lash'd at the wizard as he spake the word, And all at once all round him rose in fire. So that the child and he were clothed in fire : And presently thereafter followed calm, Free sky and stars.' — Alfred Tennyson, The Coming of Arthur. In -Tire (Latin -ura, as mensura). Examples : — meastire, seizure, suture, treasure (assimilated), verdure. SUBSTANTIVES — FRENCH. 29 1 Illustration : — closure. ' And for his warlike feates renowmed is, From where the day out of the sea doth spring, Untill the closure of the Evening.' Faerie Queene, iii. 3. 27. In -ise or -ice : after two or three various Latin termina- tions, but typically from -z/m. Examples : — covetise (Spenser), cowardice, fool-hardise (Spenser), justice, malice, merchandise, nigardise (Spenser), notice, queintise (Chaucer), riotise (Spenser). gentrise, covetise. ' Wonder it ys sire emperour that noble gentrise That is so noble and eke y fuld with so fyl couetyse.' Robert of Gloucester, p, 46. feyntyse, koyntise ( = quaintise). ' So that atte laste Gurguont was kyng Stalworthe man and hardy and wys thou3 alle thyng, Muche thing that ys eldore loren thorw feyntyse, Thoru strengthe he waun seththe a3ein and thoru ys koyntise.' Robert of Gloucester, 39. averice, coveytise. ' This myraclis pleyinge is verre witnesse of mennus averice and coveytise byfore, that is maumetrie, as seith the apostele, for that that thei shulden spendyn upon the nedis of ther ne3eboris thei spenden upon the pleyis.' — A Sermon against Miracle-plays, in Matzner's Altenglische Sprachproben, Pt. II. p. 233. Franchise was a great word in the French period, and it had a wide range of significations. Among other things it meant privilege, exemption, and also good manners, good breeding, which latter occurs among the numerous render- ings of this word in Randle Cotgrave's Dictionarie of the French and English Tongves, 1 6 1 1 . 29 3 THE NOUN-GROUP, franchise. ' We mote, he sayde, be hardy and stalworthe and wyse^ 3ef we wole habbe oure lyf, and hold our franchise.' Robert of Brunne, p. 155. ' Consideryng the best on every syde, That fro his lust yet were him lever abyde, Than doon so high a cheerlinch wrecchednesse Agayns fraunchis of alle gentilesce.' Chaucer, The Franheleyjies Tale, 1. 11828, ed. Tyrwhitt. malice. ' And it is a great subtilty of the devil, so to temper truth and falsehood in the same person, that truth may lose much of its reputation by its mixture with error, and the error may become more plausible by reason of its con- junction with truth. And this we see by too much experience ; for we see many truths are blasted in their reputation, because persons whom we think we hate upon just grounds of religion have taught them. And it was plain enough in the case of Maldonat, that said of an explication of a place of Scripture that it was most agreeable to antiquity ; bat because Calvin had so expounded it, he therefore chose a new one. This was malice.' — Jeremy Taylor, Liberty of Prophesying, xi. 2. To this class belonged the French ^noxA pentice or j of which the last syllable had been already before Shak- speare's time anglicised into 'house/ making a sort of a compound, pent-house. We must admit into this set such words as prejudice, service, and we cannot make the Latin termination -itium a ground of distinction in English philology, where words are assimilated in form. In the sixteenth century these words were often written with a z. No variety of sense or even of sound appears to have been connected with this orthography. It was mere fashion. As y was a fashionable substitute for z*, and as it was modish to elongate words by a final e, so also with the 2 as a substitute for s. Queen Elizabeth wrote her name with a z, and that alone was an influential example. In some cases the fashion disappeared and left no traces SUBSTANTIVES — FRENCH. 2g^ behind it, in other cases it was the origin of the received orthography. Thus wizard became the recognized form instead of wisard, which was the spelling of Spenser, as may be seen above, p. 274. In the Faerie Queene we see this fashion well displayed. There are such forms as hruze, uze (iii. 5. 33), wize, disguize, exercize, guize (iii. 6. 23), Paradize (iii. 6. 29), enter prize, emprize, arize, devize (vi. i. 5). So that there is nothing to marvel at if we find covetise ( = covetousness) spelt covetize (iii. 4. 7), and the substantive which we now write practice written practize : — 'Ne ought ye want but skil, which practize small Wil bring, and shortly make you a mayd Martiall,' (iii. 3.53) But there is a much more important observation to be made concerning this French substantive form. It seems that we must acknowledge it to have acted as the usher to one of the most extensive innovations ever inade in the English language. It was apparently the employment of this substantive as a verb that gave us our first verbs in -ize, and so ushered the Greek -l^eiv. An example of one of these substantives verbally employed may be quoted from the correspondence of Throgmorton and Cecil in 1567 : — ' They would not merchandise for the bear's skin before they had caught the bear.' — Quoted by J. A. Froude, History of England, vol. ix. p. 163. Indeed, there are instances in which the substantive of this form is no longer known, while the verb is in familiar use. Such is the verb to chastise, which appears in its substantive character, equivalent to chastity, in Turbervile, Poem to his Loue (about 1530) : — ' And sooth it is, she liude in wiuely bond so well As she from CoUatinus wife of chastice bore the bell.' 294 I'HE NOUN'GROVP, I imagine the case is the same with the verbs to jeopardise, and to advertise. Both of these I would identify with this substantive form, though I am not prepared with an example of either in its substantive character. But there is perhaps evidence enough in Shakspeare's pronunciation, that the verb to advertise was not formed from the Greek -ize. In all cases, though with degrees of clearness in proportion to the clearness of the passage, does this verb in Shakspeare sound as advertice, and never as now advertize : — ' Aduertysing, and holy to your businesse.' Measure for Measure, v. i. 381. * Please it your Grace to be aduertised.* 2 Henry VI, iv. 9. 22. * For by my Scouts, I was aduertised.' 3 Henry VI, ii. I. 116. 'I haue aduertis'd him by secret meanes.' 3 Henry VI. iv. 5. 9. *We are aduertis'd by our louing friends.' 3 Henry VI, v. 3. 18. * As I by friends am well aduertised.' Richard III, iv. 4. 501. ' Wherein he might the King his Lord aduertise.' Henry VIII. ii. iv. 178. There is one instance in which the First Folio writes it with a z, and the pronunciation is not so plain, yet it is by no means certain even here that it is to be pronounced in the modern fashion : — 'I was aduertiz'd, their Great generall slept.' Troylus and Cressida, ii. 3. 21 1. In -esse, and by anglicism -ess. Either from the Latin -issa, as abbatissa, or from -itia, like the last. M. Brachet SUBSTANTIVES— FRENCH. 295 derives it from -zVz'^. So that it would be little more than a collateral form to the last. And the French language pre- sents us with justice and justesse, co-existent in differing shades of sense. 'ExdiXw^le?,:— finesse (quite acknowledged as an English word, and found in Mr. Poynder's School Dictionary), largess. Riches belongs here by its extraction, as it is only an altered form of richesse. The grammatical conception has been transformed from a singular noun to a plural which has no singular. This may be set down as one of the effects of a Latin education continued during three or four centuries. The word richesse having been constantly used to render opes or divitice, which are plural forms,and being itself so nearly like an English plural, has thus come to be so con- ceived of, and written accordingly. Burgess has taken this shape, but it is from the French bourgeois, and that from the Latin burgensis. The form -esse as derived from -issa, has its chief im- portance as expressive of the feminine gender. Examples of this will be found at the close of the present section. As to the origin of all the forms in the above list, it clearly cannot belong to English philology to do much more than indicate the source from which we received them. Their derival into French from Latin has therefore been only slightly touched upon. The reader who wishes to know more on this head should consult the Historical Grammar of the French Tongue, by Auguste Brachet, an admirable manual, which has been rendered accessible to the English student by Mr. Kitchin's Translation, This book supplies all the information which is needed for tracing the forms intelligently from the Latin through the French, to the threshold of their entrance into the English language. 2g6 THE NOUN-GROUP. The effect of the French pre-occupation of our language was not limited to the period of its reign. It also imparted a tinge to the subsequent period of classic influence. The Latin words that were next admitted into English, became subject to those French forms which were already familiar among us. -aey, from the Latin -aci'a, 2,'^ fallacy. -ance and -ancy, from the Latin -antia ; as substance^ constancy. The words acquaintance, cognisatice, and many- others of this form, are rather French than Latin. Illustration : — cognisance. ' The honourable member ought himself to be aware that in this house we have no cognisance of what passes in debate in the other house.' — House of Commons, July 21, 1869. -ence and -ency, from the Latin -entia. Examples : — affluence, beneficence, benevolence, competence, confidence, conscience, consequence, continence, difference, dif- fidence, eminence, evidence, exigence, experience, impotence, influence, licence, magnificence, munificence, negligence, opulence, preference, reticence, science, sequence. Illustration : — pubescence. ' Pubescence on the branches, peduncles, or tube of the calyx is the only invariable character I have discovered in Roses. Distinctions drawn from it I have every reason to consider absolute.' — John Lindley, A Monograph of Roses (1820), p. xxiii. The following are of a different origin, being either from Latin nouns in -ensio, or from Latin participles in -ensus, but they have been assimilated to this group. Such are defence, expence (obsolete), offence, pretence. With these may be men- tioned a few which have not succumbed to this assimilation, as incense, sense, suspense, and one which has recovered its original classical consonant, namely expense. SUBSTANTIVES — LATIN. 297 The -eney form is peculiarly English. Clemency is in French demence. -ity, from the Latin -itas ', as quality, vanity. The English termination is after the French -ite, with the last syllable ac- cented, because it represents the two syllables of the Latin accusative -tatem. Examples : — antiquity, benignity, civility, dexterity, equality, fidelity, gratuity, humanity, integrity, joviality, legibility, ma- jority, nativity, obscurity, posterity, quality, rapidity, sincerity, timidity, urbanity, velocity. Illustration : — civility, equity, humanity, morality, security. ' The morality of our earthly life, is a morality which is in direct subser- vience to our earthly accommodation ; and seeing that equity, and humanity, and civility, are in such visible and immediate connection w^ith all the secu- rity and all the enjoyment which they spread around them, it is not to be wondered at that they should throw over the character of him by whom they are exhibited, the lustre of a grateful and a superior estimation.' — Thomas Chalmers, Sermons in Tron Church, Glasgow (1819), Sermon V. Among these, the forms in -osity have acquired a pro- minence, as animosity, curiosity, impetuosity, pomposity. Mulier osity is quoted by Dr. Trench {On Some Deficiencies in our English Dictionaries, p. 7) from Henry More, with the observation that it expresses what no other word in the language would do. He has also produced others of this type from writers of the seventeenth century, as fabulosity, populosity, speciosity. The latter also from Henry More. ' So great a glory as all the speciosities of the world could not equalize.' — - On GodltTiess, iv. 12. § 4. The words in which this formative appears merely as -ty, are of an early mediaeval French strain. Examples : — casualty, certainty, fealty, loyalty, mayoralty, nicety , novelty , royalty, shrievalty, soverainty, surety. 298 THE NOUN-GROUP, chiefeiy, souverainety. ' I could wish that in this discourse and in the whole body of your booke wheresoever mention is made of to Kvpiov, you should give yt the same name. You terme yt sometymes chiefety of dominion, sometymes souverain- ety, sometimes imperiall power. I thinke theys wordes (souverainety of dominion or souveraine dominion) are the fittest to be alwayes used, and plainest to be understood. If you be of this mynd, you may alter those places before, and make them all alike.* — George Cranrher, MS. Notes on Hookers Sixth Book. Hooker's Works, ed. Keble, vol. iii. p. 1 14. -ion, -tion, -ation, -ition, from the Latin -zo, -ah'o, -t'h'o, genitive -zom's; as coronation, description, region, compassion, contrition, salutation, ' We behold men, to whom are awarded, by the universal voice, all the honours of a proud and unsullied excellence — and their walk in the world is dignified by the reverence of many salutations — and as we hear of their truth and their uprightness, and their princely liberalities,' &c. — Thomas Chalmers, Sermon V. (1819.) The exigency of translation occasionally projects new specimens, as externalization. ' The utter externalization of the religious consciousness by superstitious usages, and the consequent fading of the sense of moral personality and responsibility.' — Bunsen, God in History. Translated by S. Winkworth, Bk. III. ch. vii. This is a form upon which new words have been made with great facility, as witness the off-hand words savation, starvation. A gardener once desiring to have his work admired— he had been moving some of the raspberries, to make the rows more regular — 'There sir,' cried he, 'that's what I call row-tation now!' From this facility it has naturally followed that many have grown obsolete. Jeremy Taylor uses luxatio7i to signify the disturbing, disjointing, disconcerting, shocking of the understanding : ' An honest error is better than a hypocritical profession of truth, or a violent luxation of the understanding.' — Liberty of Prophesying, ix. 2. S UBS TA NTIVES — LA TIN. 299 Perhaps this word is not quite obsolete in its physical sense. It originally meant the putting a limb out of joint, and possibly it is still so employed by surgeons. Dr. Trench, in his pamphlet On Some Deficiencies in our English Dictionaries (1857), has cited the following words now obsolete but once used by good authors, subsannation, coaxation, delinition, conculcation, quadripartition, excarni- fication, dehonestation. The reader who desires further in- formation on any of these words is referred to the above work. This abstract form is capable of a thundering eloquence, under conditions fitted to exhibit its full effects. When a new ship of war of the most advanced and formidable class of turret-ships was lately announced by the name of ' The Devastation,' it might well be said that the new cast of name was an apt exponent of the weight of metal by which the terrors of marine warfare have recently been enhanced. -our; as ardour, fervour. In this class of words, derived at secondhand from the Latin in -or, as fervor, ardor, the « is a trace of the French medium. This distortion has moreover communi- cated itself even where there was previously nothing either of French or of Latin, as in the purely Saxon compound neigh- bour {neh = nigh, gebilr = dweller). A partial disposition has manifested itself to drop this French tc. Especially is this observable in American litera- ture. But the general rule holds good through this whole series of nouns from the Latin, that what we call 'anglicising' them, is the reducing of them to a set of forms which we borrowed originally from French. And thus it is true that the French influence still accompanies us, even through the course of our latinising epoch. Latin scholarship was, however, continually nibbling 300 THE NOUN-GROUP, away at these monuments of the French reign. The forms of many of our Romanesque nouns were too permanently fixed to be shaken, but wherever the classical scholar could make an English word more like Latin, he was fain to do it. Thus the French form parlement was drawn nearer to its Latin form of parliamentum ; and words of old standing, like Cristen, as old in our speech as the national con- version, became re-latinized into Christian. -al. This form, which is derived from the Latin adjectival formative -alis^ -ale, has attached itself not only to words radically Latin, as acquittal, dismissal, disposal, nuptials, pro- posal, refusal, rental, but also to others which are purely English, as in the familiar geological term upheaval. Pro- fessor Lightfoot in his Paul and Seneca, uses the uncommon word uprootal. Illustrations : — testimonial. ' And thus it is, that there is a morahty of this world, which stands in direct opposition to the humbling representations of the Gospel ; which can- not comprehend what it means by the utter worthlessness and depravity of our nature ; which passionately repels this statement, and that too on its own consciousness of attainments superior to those of the sordid and the pro- fligate and the dishonourable; and is fortified in its resistance to the truth as it is in Jesus, by the flattering testimonials which it gathers to its re- spectability and its worth from the various quarters of human society.' — Thomas Chalmers, Sermon V. (1819). approval, refusal. ' I well remember his [O'Connell's] smile as he nodded good-humouredly to us as we passed him, and I must say it was one of approval rather than otherwise at our refusal to do him homage.' — W. Steuart Trench, Realities of Irish Life, p. 39. A word which does not belong here, but which has assumed the guise of this set, is bridal, from the Saxon beyd ( = bride), and EALO ( = ale), so that it really meant the ale or festivity of the bride. One or two other compounds on this model, such as church-ale, scot-ale, have become obsolete. SUBSTA NTIVES — LA TIN. 3OI Another word, which has an equally deceptive appearance of being formed with the Latin -al is burial. This is a pure Saxon word from its first letter to its last. The Saxon form is byrigels, a form which is of the singular number, though it ends with s. The plural was hyrigehas. The termination -ary, direct from the Latin -arms (French -aire), is, like the former, originally adjectival ; but it has some substantives. Examples : — contemporary, fiduciary. ' Under no circumstances whatever can a trustee appropriate to himself the property of which he is the fiduciary.' — House of Commons, March 18, 1869. -tude, from the Latin substantives in -tudo, -tudinis. Examples : — gratitude, disquietude, latitude, longitude, mag- nitude, multitude, solicitude, turpitude, vicissitude. turpitude. ' There is ever with you, lying folded in the recesses of your bosom, and pervading the whole system both of your desires and of your doings, that which gives to sin all its turpitude, and all its moral hideousness in the sight of God. There is a rooted preference of the creature to the Creator. — Thomas Chalmers, Sermon III. (1819). disquietude. ' Look around this congregation. "We are all more or less the children of sorrow. There is not one of us who has not within him some known or secret cause of disquietude.' — Charles Bradley, Clapham 'Sermons, 1831, Sermon VII. solicitude. ' The excellent breed of sheep, which early became the subject of legis- lative solicitude, furnished them with an important staple.' — William H. Pres- cott, Ferdinand and Isabella, vol. i. p. 29 (ed. 1 838), The substantives in -ite must be reckoned among the Latin ones, as we received the form through the Latin ; but it is Greek by origin. It was of European celebrity in the middle ages as a 302 THE NOUN-GROUP. class-word, especially for sects and opinions. The fol- lowers of the early heresies were thus designated, as Ophites, Caimles, Monothelites, Maroniies, Marcionifes, Monophysites. Yet the odium which now attaches to this form cannot have been felt in the sixteenth century, or our Bible would not show the form so generally as it does, not only in such cases as the Canaanttes, Perizzites, Hivites, 2Xi6. Jebusites, but also in the Levtfes, Gadites, Manassites, and Bethlehemite. Already, however, at the close of the seventeenth century, we find the ecclesiastical historian Jeremy Collier, using the term Widiffists, as if with purpose to avoid writing Wiclifite. And thus in our own time the alumni of Winchester are justly sensitive about being called Wykehamites instead of Wykehamists. The fact is, that with our sensitiveness about religious differences, this form has become almost odious; and we scruple to quote instances of its appHcation out of respect for names that may be embodied. Suffice it for illustration to put down such as Joanna- Southcotites and Mormonites. Still, there are terms of speech in which it may come in harmlessly or even pleasantly : — ' Whilst the trial was going on, and the issue still uncertain, I met Cole- ridge, who said, "Well, Robinson, you are a Queenite, I hope?" — "Indeed I am not," — " How is that possible ? " — " I am only an anti-Kingite." — " That's just what I mean." ' — H. C. Robinson, Diary, 1820. A considerable number of Latin and Greek words have been adopted in their original and unaltered forms. Such are, abacus, animus, apparatus, arcafia, area, arena, basis, census, chaos, circus, cosmos, compendium, deficit, epitome, equilibrium, fungus, index, interest, item, medium, memento, memorandum, minutice, modicum, oasis, odium, onus, overplus (Numbers iii. Contents), phenomenon, requiem, residuum, stigma, stimulus, terminus, vortex. SUBSTANTIVES — LATIN, ETC. 303 Jane Austen censured one of her nieces for writing about a ' vortex of dissipation/ the expression was so intolerably hackneyed. arcana. ' They may not yet see the arcana of the temple, but they may see the road which leads to the temple.' — Thomas Chalmers, Sermons in Tron Church, Glasgow, 1819; p. 98. epitoyne. 'Paul's walk is the land's epitome, or you may call it the lesser isle of Great Britain. It is more than this, the whole world's map, which you may here discern in its perfectest motion, justling and turning.' — ^John Earle, Microcosmography , ed. BHss, 181 1 ; p. 116. interest. ' He hates our sacred Nation ; and he railes Even there where Merchants most doe congregate, On me, my bargaines, and my well-worne thrift, Which he cals interrest : Cursed be my trybe If I forgive him.' — Merchant of Venice, i. I. interest (in another sense). ' " Ye think," wrote Grange to Randolph, " ye think by the division that is among us, ye will be judge and party ; ye have wrecked Teviotdale, your mistress's honour is repaired, and I pray you seek to do us no more harm, for in the end you will lose more than you can gain. The Queen your mistress shall spend mickle silver, and tyne our hearts in the end ; for what- ever you do to any Scotchman the haill nation will think their own interest.' — J. A. Froude, History of England, April, 1 5 70. medium. ' Madame de Stael said, and the general remark is true, " The English mind is in the middle between the German and the French, and is a medium of communication between them,"' — H. C. Robinson, Diary, vol. i. p. 175. There are a certain number of nouns which have come to us through the French, from the southern Romance lan- guages. Such are those Spanish words in -ad, -ade, which represent the termination -atus of the Latin participle — esplanade, fusillade, lemonade, promenade, marmalade, masquerade, salad. 304 THE NOUN-GROUP. Illustration: — fusillade. ' Everybody acquainted with country life must be aware of the commotion created in some of our villages by the first fall of snow, especially if it happens on a Sunday. Old and young turn out, leaving the parson to edify women and empty pews, and high up on the hills and down in the valleys such a fusillade ensues on the day of rest as could hardly be justified by any event short of the landing of French invaders upon our shores,' Round by the Spanish peninsula have also come to us those English (or rather European) nouns which are de- rived from Arabic, as alchemy, alcohol, alcove, algebra, almanac, ammiral (Milton, Paradise Lost, i. 294), cipher, elixir, magazine, nadir, zenith. To these we must add a word, once celebrated, though now obsolete, algorithm, or more familiarly, augrim. Also sometimes, algorism, after the French form algorisme. This Arabic word was the universal term in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries to denote the science of calculation by nine figures and zero, which was gradually superseding the abacus with its counters. ' I shall reken it syxe times by aulgorisme, or you can caste it ones by counters.' — John Palsgrave, French Grammar, 1530!^. Coming now to Greek formations, the most conspicuous are the following : — Nouns in -y from Greek words in -m and -€ia ; as irotiy, tyranny. irony (^elpoiveiaj. ' There was no mockery in Miss Austen's irony. However heartily we laugh at her pictures of human imbecility, we are never tempted to think that contempt or disgust for human nature suggested the satire.' synonymy (o-vvawfjiia). ' As the synonomy is one of the most difficult and perhaps important parts of the subject, it has of course received particular attention. But I have ^ Mr. Albert Way's note in Pro^nptorhwi Parvulonon, p. iS. SUBSTANTIVES — GREEK. 305 rarely been very anxious about the synonyms of botanists of an earlier date than the time of Linnaeus, on account of the extreme uncertainty of the pre- cise plants which they intended/ — John Lindley, A Monograph of Roses, 1820; p. ix. threnody {6pr]vcdhia). ' We crave not a memorial stone For those who fell at Marathon : Their fame with every breeze is blent, The mountains are their monument. And the low plaining of the sea Their everlasting threnody.' The Three Fountains (1869), p. 1 00. In -ism from the Greek -khios ; as atheism, idolism (Milton), modernism (Sir A. Grant, The Ancient Stoics), propagandism, ventriloquism. catechism. ' The objection to catechisms in the abstract is simply an objection to systematic religious teaching.' — Feb. 16, 1870. Scotticism, Protestantism, Catholicism, Preshyterianism. 'For our part, we should say that the special habit or peculiarity which distinguishes the intellectual manifestations of Scotchmen — that, in short, in which the Scotticism of Scotchmen most intimately consists — is the habit of emphasis. All Scotchmen are emphatic. If a Scotch- man is a fool, he gives such emphasis to the nonsense he utters, as to be infinitely more insufferable than a fool of any other country; if a Scotchman is a man of genius, he gives such emphasis to the good things he has to communicate, that they have a supremely good chance of being at once or very soon attended to. This habit of emphasis, we believe, is exactly that perfervidum ingenium Scotorum which used to be remarked some centuries ago, wherever Scotchmen were known. But em- phasis is perhaps a better word than fervour. Many Scotchmen are fervid too, but not all ; but all, absolutely all, are emphatic. No one will call Joseph Hume a fervid man, but he is certainly emphatic. And so with David Hume, or Reid, or Adam Smith, or any of those colder-natured Scotchmen of whom we have spoken; fervour cannot be predicated of them, but they had plenty of emphasis. In men like Burns, or Chalmers, or Irving, on the other hand, there was both emphasis and fervour ; so also with Carlyle ; and so, under a still more curious copibination, with Sir William Hamilton. And as we distinguish emphasis from fervour, so would we dis- tinguish it from perseverance. Scotchmen are said to be persevering, but the saying is not universally true ; Scotchmen are or are not morally persevering. 3o6 THE NOUN-GROUP. but all Scotchmen are intellectually emphatic. Emphasis, we repeat, intel- lectual emphasis, the habit of laying stress on certain things rather than co-ordinating all, in this consists what is essential in the Scotticism of Scotchmen. And, as this observation is empirically verified by the very manner in which Scotchmen enunciate their words in ordinary talk, so it might be deduced scientifically from what we have already said regarding the nature and effects of the feeling of nationality. The habit of thinking em- phatically is a necessary result of thinking much in the presence of, and in resistance to, a negative ; it is the habit of a people that has been accus- tomed to act on the defensive, rather than of a people peacefully self-evolved and accustomed to act positively ; it is the habit of Protestantism rather than of Catholicism, of Presbyterianism rather than of Episcopacy, of Dissent rather than of Conformity.' — David Masson, Essays (1856); 'Scottish Influence in British Literature.' Sioi'a'sm. ' Stoicism was in fact the earliest offspring of the union between the reli- gious consciousness of the East and the intellectual culture of the West.' — Professor Lightfoot, St. Paul and Seneca. ventriloquism. ' Coleridge praised " Wallenstein," but censured Schiller for a sort of ven- triloquism in poetry. By-the-by, a happy term to express that common fault of throwing the sentiments and feelings of the writer into the bodies of other persons, the characters of the poem.' — Henry Crabb Robinson, Diary, &c., vol. i. p. 396. truism. ' But after this explanation you will perhaps be disposed to think me guilty of a truism ; for it now appears that when I said that the study of history is indispensable to the politician, all I meant was that a politician must needs study politics. But is it a truism to say this ? Is it a truism to say that a politician must study politics? I fear not.' — Professor Seeley, Inaugural Lecture at Cambridge. How readily new words are builded on this model may be seen from the following instances : — ' The three schools of geological speculation which I have termed Catas- trophism, UniformifariaJiisTn, and Evolutionism, are commonly supposed to be antagonistic to one another.' — Address of the President of the Geological Society, 1869, landlordism. ' The sum of the whole matter may be briefly stated : — If the tenant under the bill will enjoy security of tenure, it is subject to the condition that he does his duty to the landlord and to the proprietor ; if the landlord finds his SUBSTANTIVES — GREEK. 307 powers nominally abridged, they are abridged only on the side of arbitrary authority — capricious eviction, all that in Ireland goes by the name of " landlordism "—while he remains master of his estate so far as to secure its due cultivation in a proper course of industry, and so far as to be entitled to receive the surplus profits after the farmer is repaid for his industry and the capital he sinks in its cultivation.' — (February 17, 1870.) These nouns are in fact now formed just as readily as the verbs in -z'ze, from which the noun-formative -z'sm is an outgrowth. And so is the formative -ist; as atheist, egotist, idolist (Milton), 77ies7}ierist, publicist, ritualist, WykehajJiist, minis- terialist (Sir Stafford Northcote, in Times, April 29, 1869; Letter to Editor.) publicist. ' The same evening I had an introduction to one who, in any place but Weimar, would have held the first rank, and who in his person and bearing impressed every one with the feeling that he belonged to the highest class of men. This was Herder. The interview was, if possible, more insig- nificant than that with Goethe — partly, perhaps, on account of my being introduced at the same time with a distinguished publicist, to use the German term, the eminent political writer and statesman, Friedrich Gentz, the translator of Burke on the French Revolution,' — H, C. Robinson, Diary, 1801. indiffer enlist. ' There are, ' it is true, men who. without any knowledge of history, are hot politicians, but it would be better for them not to meddle with politics at all 1 there are men who, knowing something of history, are indiiferentists in politics ; it is because they do not know history enough.' — Professor Seeley, Inaugural Lecture. dogmatist. ' In short, past history is a dogmatist, furnishing for every doubt ready- made and hackneyed determinations. Present history is a Socrates, knowing nothing, but guiding others to knowledge by suggestive interrogations.' — Id. ibid. Infallibilist. * The concluding words of this Schema appear to us to embody all that has ever been contended for by the most: extreme advocates of the cause. " Hence we teach, with the approval of the Holy Council, and define as a dogma of faith, that, by the Divine assistance, the Roman Pontiff, of whom, in the person of St. Peter, it has likewise been said by our Lord Jesus Christ, ' I have prayed for thee,' &c., cannot err when, acting as the highest X 2 3o8 THE NOUN-GROUP. teacher of all Christians, he authoritatively defines what should be adhered to by the whole Church in matters of faith and morals ; and that this preroga- tive of incapability to err, or infallibility of the Roman Pontiff, is equally extensive with the infallibility of the Church. If any one should presume to contradict this our definition, let him know that he thereby falls away from the truth of the faith." If this language be adopted by the Council, mild though it maybe in comparrison with other texts which have been projected, the Infallibilists will have gained the day.' — (March, 1870.) But fond as we appear to be of the Greek verbs in -ize and the Greek nouns in -ism, -isf, we have drawn very Httle from a Greek form that lies close beside these. There are Greek verbs in -aze, and corresponding noun-forms in -asm, -ast, which have been almost neglected by us. Perhaps we ought to rank among our English nouns those In -asm, having lately heard so much of protoplasm, and having also the well-established words chasm, spasm, pleo- nasm. chasm. 'On the night When Uther in Tintagil past away Moaning and wailing for an heir, the two Left the still king, and passing forth to breathe, Then from the castle gateway by the chasm Descending thro' the dismal night — a night In which the bounds of heaven and earth were lost — Beheld so high upon the dreary deeps It seem'd in heaven, a ship, the shape thereof A dragon wing'd, and all from stem to stern Bright with a shining people on the decks, And gone as soon as seen.' Alfred Tennyson, The Coming of Arthur. ' And felt the boat shock earth, and looking up, Beheld the enchanted towers of Carbonek, A caslle like a rock upon a rock, With chasm-like portals open to the sea, And steps that met the breaker ! ' Id. The Holy Grail. And also -ast. For the recent protoplasm has its counter- part in an eidti protoplast, which had its day under the reign of other theories. The word was used to designate the SUBSTANTIVES— CURTAILED. 309 ' first-formed ' (TrpcoTOTrXao-Tos), that is to say Adam. Men theorised in the days of protoplast just as hardily as they do in these days of protoplasm. For Richardson quotes Glan- vill in a book entitled The Vanity of Dogmatizing, saying: — ' Upon such considerations, to me it appears to be most reasonable, that the circumference of our protoplast's senses should be the same with that of nature's activity : unless we will derogate from his perfections, and so reflect a disparagement on him that made us.' In conclusion, we will notice a group of nouns of a pecu- liarly national stamp. They are easy and familiar expres- sions formed by a curtailment of longer words, and are mostly monosyllabic. It is generally but not always the first part that has been retained. Thus for ' speculation ' we hear spec, for ' omnibus ' bus, for ' cabriolet ' cab, for ' incog- nito ' i7icog. The curt expression of tick for credit is as old as the seventeenth century, and is corrupted from ticket, as a tradesman's bill was formerly called. John Oldham (1683) has: — ' Reduced to want, he in due time felt sick, Was fain to die, and be interred on tick.' If it appear below the dignity of philology to notice such half-recognised slang, let it be remembered that this science is quite as much concerned with first efforts, of however uncouth an aspect, as it is with those mature forms which enjoy the most complete literary sanction. The words which one generation calls slang, are not unfrequently the sober and decorous terrris of that which succeeds. The term bus has made for itself a very tolerable position, and cab is absolutely established. The curt form of gent as a less ceremonious substitute for the full expression of ' gentleman,' had once made considerable way, but its career was blighted in a court of justice. It is about twenty years ago that two young men, being brought 3IO THE NOUN-GROUP. before a London magistrate, described themselves as 'gents.' The magistrate said that he considered that a designation little better than ' blackguard.' The abbreviate form has never been able to recover that shock. A more respectable example of a curt form is the title Jlli'ss, which, though nothing but the first syllable of Mistress, has won its way to an honoured position. Already in 171 1, Mr. Spectator, in an interesting paper for the study of the English language, No. 135, commented upon the tendency of these curt forms to get themselves estabHshed. ' It is perhaps this humour of speaking no more than we needs must, which has so miserably curtailed some of our words, that in familiar writings and conversations they often lose all but their first syllables, as " mob. rep. pos. incog." and the like ; and as all ridiculous words make their first entry into a language by familiar phrases, I dare not answer for these, that they will not in time be looked upon as part of our tongue.' In fact, these words have a crude and fragmentary look only while they are recent. Give time enough, and the abruptness disappears. Who now thinks of 7?iok (talpa) as a curt form of moldhvarp the mouldcaster .? Who finds it vulgar to say Consols, though this is but a curt way of saying Consolidated Annuities ? A peal of bells is even an elegant expression, although it is curtailed from appeal. Story is a pretty word, though curt for history. But it has always borne a comparatively familiar sense, as it does to the pre- sent day. It is only used twice in the text of our Bible, and then to represent midrash, that is, commentary upon history rather than history. But into the contents of the chapters, which are couched in homelier speech, we find it more readily admitted. Thus in Deuteronomy : — 'Chap. I. Moses' speech in the end of the fortieth yeere, briefly rehearsing the story, &c.' ' Chap. II. The story is continued, &c.' ' Chap. III. The story of the cotiqvest of Og king of Bash an* SUBSTANTIVES — CURT FORMS. 3II Curtailments which are now obsolete, are in some cases preserved to us in compound words. Thus the word cobweb seems to indicate that the attercop (old word for spider) was curtly called a cop or cob. We have been very easy in our admission of long classic words; nay, we have exhibited a large appetite for them. But there still lingers the Saxon taste for the monosyllable, and it often breaks out in the writer of fine taste, when for a moment he feels unawed by critical observers. A clear example of this occurs in a letter of Keble's, wherein he has adopted the highly expressive word splotch. ' We have two girls and little Edward with us, and a great splotch of sunshine they make in the house.' — Life of Kehle, p. 394. This word has its habitat in Oxfordshire, where school- children may be heard to use it in speaking of a blot on their copybooks. There has been in our time a visible reaction against the tyranny of long words, in favour of the despised monosyllable. We have not indeed arrived at the decision ' To banish from the nation, All long-tail'd words in osity and ation^ Frere's Whistlecraft. But ostentation and pride of invention is now seen at least as often in short or Saxon-like words as it is in the long- robed words of classic sweep. Perhaps it may be the case that the Americans are leading the way in this. Certain it is that words of this character do win their way into English literature from across the Atlantic. The following introduc- tion of a new word is in point. ' Boston is the huh of the world. So say those who, not being Massa- chusetts men themselves, are disposed to impute extravagant pretensions to the good old Puritan city. The huh, in the language of America, is the 312 THE NOUN-GROUP. nave, or centre-piece of the wheel, from which the spokes radiate, and on which the wheel turns. As the Americans make with their hickory wood the best wheels in the world, they have some right to give to one of the pieces a name of their own. But, however, Boston need not quarrel with the saying. Nations, like individuals, are generally governed by ideas, and no people to such a degree as the Americans : and the ideas which have governed them hitherto have been supplied from New England. But Mas- sachusetts has been the wheel within New England, and Boston the wheel within Massachusetts. It has therefore been the first source and foundation of the ideas that have moved and made America ; and is, in a high and honourable sense, the huh of the New World.' — F. Barham Zincke, Last Winter in the United States (1868), p. 279. Familiar abbreviations of Christian names belong here. They are commonly made, with alteration or without, from the first syllable ^. Will, Tom, Wat (from Walter, according to its old faded-French pronunciation Water), Sam, &c. These are specially liable to alteration from the caprices of the little folk among whom they are most current, and to this cause (mixed with the imperfection of the childish organs of speech and the fondness which elder brothers and sisters have for propagating the original speeches of the little ones) must be assigned such forms as Bob for Rob, Bill for Will, Dick for Rich. Mr. Charles Dickens signed his writings ' Boz ' after a childish alteration of the first syllable of Moses, which was a Christian name in his family. In the case of names beginning with a vowel, the curt form takes a con- sonant, as Ned, Noll, Nell, for Edward, Oliver, and Ellen. While we are upon these familiar appellations, we may as well complete the list by noticing some which do not spring from the causes here under consideration. Harry for Henry is a rough English imitation of the sound of the French Henri ; Jack is the YYQYi.Q}i\ Jacques, which has attached itself somehow to the English John. ^ The Germans, having a diminutival form =d)en, which attaches to the end of a word, are thus naturally led to preserve the final syllable in their familiar abbreviations of Christian names, as C&r£tcl)£n, ^ibtU^^lt, (!truXlct)cn, from Margarethe, Charlotte, Gertrude. SUBSTANTIVES — SLANG FORMS. 313 A survey of English nouns would indeed be deficient which should omit that curt, stunt, slang element to which we as a nation are so remarkably prone, and in regard to which we stand in such contrast with our adoptive sister. The French language shrinks from such things as it were from an indecorum. Our pubHc-school and university life is a great wellhead of new and irresponsible words. Gra- dually they find their way into literature. For example : — ckaf. ' He wishes to confound the whole school of those who think that a faith is to be tested by the inward experience of life. And so he sets himself to overwhelm Mr. Hughes v/ith ridicule, rioting in that kind of banter vulgarly described as " chaff," and bringing up against him the stock difficulties which can always be cast in the way of belief.' — J. Llewelyn Davies, The Gospel and Moderfi Life, p. xviii. And as such words in shoals proceed from the gathering- places of young Saxons, so also a kindred work is being achieved by that young Saxon world which lives beyond the western main. It almost seems as if they, or a certain school among them, were bent on raising a standard of rebellion, and were resolved to dispute that superiority which the classic tongues have so long exercised over our barbarian language. Nothing in American literature bears such a stamp of originality and determination as those writings in M^hich reverence for antiquity is utterly cast aside, and their old obedience to the King's English is thrown to the winds. The genial and suasive satire of the Biglow Papers, as well as the mocking horse-laugh of Hafis Breit?jiann, are at one • in their contemptuous rejection of the old senatorial dignity of language. It is in both cases an audacious renunciation of the long captivity in which our speech and literature have been held under classic sway, and it seems to us at first sight as little less than an impudent assertion of the prior claims 314 THE NOUN-GROUP. of familiarity and barbarism. But it cannot be denied that Mr. Lowell has practically demonstrated the power of mind over matter, the power of resolution over restraint, the superiority of thought in literature over every conventional limit that can be imposed upon the forms of expression. It is an assertion of the natural freedom of dialect and lan- guage and diction. Who, with any feeling for humour, can refuse to condone the literary audacity of the following? Nay, who can refuse to it a certain degree of admiration .? ' I've noticed that each half-baked scheme's abettors Are in the habbit o' producin' letters. Writ by all sorts o' never-heerd-on fellers 'Bout as oridgenal ez the wind in bellers ; I've noticed tu, it's the quack med'cines gits (An' needs) the grettest heap o' stiflfykits.' Or who with any love of nature can let the dialect blind him to the burst of real poetry that there is in this description of the New England spring, ' that gives one leap from April into Tune'.? — -' I ' Then all comes crowdin' "m ; afore you think The oak-buds mist the side-hill woods with pink, The cat-bird in the laylock bush is loud. The orchards turn to heaps o' rosy cloud, In ellum-shrouds the flashin' hangbird clings, An' for the summer vy'ge his hammock slings, All down the loose-walled lanes in archin' bowers The barb'ry droops its strings o' golden flowers 'Nuff sed, June's bridesman, poet o' the year. Gladness on wings, the boboHnk is here ; Half hid in tip-top apple blooms he swings Or climbs against the breeze with quivering wings. Or givin' way to 't in a mock despair Runs down, a brook o' laughter, thru the air.' Mr. Lowell's dialect is the true Yankee, the speech of the Northern farmer. It is difficult to believe that Mr. Leland's poetry represents any existing form of speech, but it is described as Pennsylvanian German. S UBSTA NTIVES — FLEXION. 3 1 5 Inflection of Substantives. This consists almost entirely of the letter s attached to the noun for the expression of the genitive singular: and the same letter does duty for the plural. The latter feature is due to French influence. There was in Saxon a group of masculine nouns which made its plural in -as. Thus : — Singular. Plural. smi^ (smith) smi'Sas ende (end) endas dsEg (day) dagas cynmg (king) cyningas weg (way) wegas stasf (^letter) stafas This old plural s is one of the points by which our near- ness to the Moeso-Gothic is indicated. In that dialect the s plural has a very much larger incidence than in Anglo- Saxon. In fact it applies to all the masculine and feminine nouns of the dialect. In the Old- and Middle-High German it is untraceable. In the Scandinavian dialects it is repre- sented by R. In the Old-Saxon alone (besides the Moeso- Gothic) do we find the plural s : there it holds much the same sort of place as in Anglo-Saxon. The Saxon influence of this plural will not be highly esteemed, when it is considered that of the nine Anglo-Saxon declensions made by Rask, this group occupies only one. The really dominant plural-form in Saxon times was that in -an, which later was written -en and -yn. Out of Rask's nine declensions three formed their plurals thus, one for each gender. Of these we still retain some little relics, as in the plural oxe7t. To this we may add the form eyne for eyes, which is not altogether obsolete. It is occasionally used even now in the higher forms of poetry. In Chaucer's time 3l6 THE NOUN-GROUP. it was spelt eyen, which comes nearer to the Saxon eagan. Thus, in the description of the Monk — ' His eyen stepe and roUyng in his hed.' In the northern dialect it appeared as ene. Thus in the Troy Book, 3821 : * ' Grete ene and gray, with a grym loke.' Of another hero it is said, 3969 : ' All the borders blake of his bright ene.' To this we might add the form shoon, for shoes, as being within the horizon of our reading if not of our speaking or writing. It is however extant in Scotch, as spoken. ' We will not leaue one Lord, one Gentleman : Spare none, but such as go in clouted shooen.^ 2 Hefiry VI. iv. 2. 178. Spenser hasy^;?^, meaningy^^j-. ' Great Gormond, having with huge mightinesse Ireland subdewd, and therein fixt his throne, Like a swift Otter, fell through emptinesse, Shall overswim the sea, with many one Of his Norveyses, to assist the Britons fone.' Faerie Queene, iii. 3. 33. We have indeed other plurals in -en ; but they are younger than Saxon times. They are a proof of the power to which this form had arrived, and they indicate that, had not a stronger external influence interfered, the plural -en would have become as general in modern English, as it is in modern German. Such forms are brethren, children, housen (Glouces- tershire and Suifolk), hosen. The latter word is in our Bible, Daniel iii. 21. Mr. Barnes's Poems in the Dorset Dialect supply others, as cheesen, furzen. Of these, the first two, hretheren and children, are cumulate plurals. They have added the -en plural- form on to an elder S UBS TA NTIVES — FLEXION. 3 T 7 plural ; for h'ether and childer were plurals of ' brother ' and ' child/ The form sisieryn is likewise found, as ' bretheryn and sisteryn ^' The form sistren is said to be in full use in America, in the phraseology of the meeting-house, as the counterpart of brethren. Another kind of cumulation some- times takes place. The modern s gets added to the old n. In the passage just quoted from 2 Henry VI. the First and Second FoHos have shooen, the Third has shoon, and the Fourth has shoons ! With this may be classed the Norfolk boy-expression for birds' nests, which is hcds' nesens. It was by the French influence, leading the van of educa- tion for three centuries, that the plural in s, which held so small a place in Saxon grammar, became the all but universal law of English grammar. Other plural-forms deserve a word of notice. The plurals feet, geese, men, teeth, made by internal vowel-change from foot, goose, man, tooth, as strong verbs make their preterites ; the forms lice, mice, mere frenchified orthographies of the Saxon plurals lys (from singular lus^ and mys (from singular mus"), — are relics of an ancient class, never numerous within recorded- knowledge, but which has been reduced by the do- mination of the prevalent forms. Thus, cu (cow) once had its plural cy, a form which survives in the Scotch kye ; but with us it has been assimilated to the plurals in n, or else infected with the word swine, and has been converted into kine. So hoc had for its plural hec, but now it is hooks. We also meet with gayte in the transition period as a plural of goat {Pricke of Conscience, 6134), and geet (Camden Society's Political Songs). Here also we get the cumulate plural. Even if kine is not to be so regarded, yet certainly we have ^ The Will of Dame jane Lady Barre, 1484, printed in A Memoir of the Manor of Bitton, by the Rev. H. T. Ellacombe, sometime Vicar of Bitton. 3 1 8 THE NO UN- GR UP. in the Scottish dreeks a cumulate plural, wherein the modern s is imposed upon the old strong plural ; for in Saxon it was singular broc plural brec. There was a group of neuters, forming one of Rask's declensions, which formed its plural nominative and accu- sative without inflection. Such were kaf, ^mg, wif, word, and many others, of which the plural was the same as the singular; not as now, leaves^ things, wives, words. The feature has survived in two words, which are still of one form for singular and plaral, viz. sheep and deer. To these might be added swine, only that it seems now to be accepted only as a plural, while sow and the upstart word/z^, fill the office of the singular. Those words which we have adopted from Latin or Greek in the singular nominative unaltered, have usually been pluralised according to Greek and Latin grammar. Thus the plural of ' phenomenon ' is phenomena ; of ' oasis,' oases ; of ' terminus/ termini ; of ' iViXigM^^ fungi. But occasionally we see the plurals in English form, as when Dr. Badham entides his book, not ' Edible Fungi,' but Esculent Funguses, and uses this plural all through it, as ' No country is perhaps richer in esculent Funguses than our own ; we have upwards of thirty species abounding in our woods.' — (p. xiii.) Some few of the nouns which we have admitted from Latin without alteration are not nouns in that language, and consequently have no Latin plurality. These we have pluralised with s, as items, ijtterests. On the subject of inflection there remains to be con- sidered the formation of the feminine noun. The ancient and native form of the noun feminine was in -en, as God, Deus ; gyden, dea ; ivealh, servus ; wylen, serva, ancilla ; ^egen, minister ; Jnmen, ministra. But this form has been supplanted by a French substitute. SUBSTANTIVES — FLEXION. 319 and so nearly extinguished that it is difficult to find an extant specimen to serve for an illustration. Beyond sport- ing circles, not one person in a thousand is aware that vixen is the feminine oi/ox. In general speech it is only known as a stigma for the character of a shrewish woman. Yet this is the history of vixen ; and it is a very well preserved form, having enjoyed the shelter of a technical position. Not only is there the -en termination, but also the thinning of the masculine vowel, as in the Saxon examples above. So also in German fuc^g, fiid^ginn. Instead of this Saxon feminine, we now use the French termination -ess, as countess, duchess, empress, goddess, go- verness, laundress, marchioness, princess, sempstress ^. Governess is not invariably applicable as the feminine of governor. There are considerations which override gram- mar, as our practice of common prayer witnesses. Yet I remember to have heard ' Queen and Governess ' in church. But grammar has brought this class of cases under another rule which she has made, namely this, that the masculine gender is more worthy than the feminine. And on this ground it would have been quite admissible, majes- tatis causa, to have had founder in the following passage where we Tt2k,di/ou7idress. ' The central plains of Australia, the untrodden jungles of Borneo, or the still vacant spaces in our maps of Africa, alone now on the globe's surface represent districts as unknown and mysterious as the north-east angle of Ireland in the reign of the great foundress of the modern British Empire.' — J. A. Froude, Reign of Elizabeth ; History, vol. x. p. 554. Of this feminine form some are found in books which are no longer in use. Dr. Trench has produced from ^ Why the form sempstress is retained, in preference to the spelling seam- stress, reformed on etymological principles, it will belong to the last chapter to explain. 320 THE NOUN-GROUP. writers of the seventeeth century the following : — buildress, captainess^ flatter ess, intrudress, soverazntess. — Some Deficiencies in our English Dictionaries, p. 19. The example of sempstress reminds us that there was a Saxon feminine termination estre, whereof a trace is still visible in that word between the root seam and the French termination -ess. This feminine is still extant in spi7iner, spinster. But we cannot recognise the termination -ster as being, or as having been at some time past, a feminine formative in every instance. Not only does the present use of such old words as Baxter, huckster, maltster, songster, Webster, and the more recent oldster, youngster, roadster, vc^2kQ it hard to prove them all feminine s, but even if we push our enquiries further back, we do not find the group clearly defined as such. There was in Anglo-Saxon hcEcere and bcBcistre, and yet Pharaoh's baker in Genesis xl. is bcBcistre. Grimm has conjectured that these nouns in -estre are all that is left of an older pair of declensions, whereof one was masculine in estra, the other feminine in -estre. This would explain the attachment of masculine functions to some of the group, which was clearing itself for a special purpose. In Dutch these forms are exclusively feminine. Concluding Observation. If from this point we cast a look back over the verbs and substantives, we perceive a certain quietude in the former, and a corresponding energy in the latter. In making this remark I am naturally taking as my standard of com- parison those languages with which the philological student is most likely to be equipped. The remark will hold good, as against the Latin language, still more so as against the ADJECTIVES. 321 Greek, and most of all as against the Hebrew. In all of these languages, but especially in the latter, the mental activity of the nation is gathered up and concentrated in the verb. This is displayed by the immense superiority of the verb over the substantive in its attractive power of sym- phytism, and its expressive stores of variability. Time has been when this was partially true of our ancestral verb in the Gothic family. But it is no more so. It certainly is not so in our own insular branch. During the modern period, which dates from the fourteenth century, in which we have the movements of the language historically before us, it is equally remarkable on the one hand how little our verb has done to extend its compass, and on the other hand how much the substantive has done to increase its variability. The quotations of this section are a sufficient proof that some of the strongest lineaments of character in the English language are now and have long been finding their chosen seat of expression in our substantives. 11. Of the Adjective. The adjective, or word fit for attachment, is a word which presupposes a substantive, and is for this reason essentially relative and secondary. This inward nature of adjectives is beautifully expressed in Greek and Latin by the outward conformation of their physical aspect. Whereas the bulk of the Latin substantives are in -us, or -a, or -um, and the bulk of the Greek substantives are in -o$-, or -r), or -ov, their adjectives are, for the most part, not in some one, but in all three of the forms, as becomes those whose business it is to agree with their consorts in gender, number, and case. Y ^22> THE NOUN-GROUP. They are furnished with a threefold power of modification, in consideration of their dependent, relative, and secondary nature. Such is the adjective as against the substantive. Both are presentive words ; but the substantive is the primary, and the adjective is the secondary presentive word. But what is the adjective as against the verb ? It is plain that both of them are, as towards the substantive, secondary words. There is no verb without a subject ; and that subject is a substantive. The verb and adjective alike have their very nature based upon the pre-supposition of the sub- stantive. Therefore the verb and the adjective are both secondary words. And they differ only in the force and energy of their action. In the beginning of the last section verbs were compared to flame, while substantives were only inflammable stuff. We may fitly continue this metaphor, and say that adjectives are glowing embers. They not only give warmth, and tell of a flame that has been, but they also retain the power of future activity. If I say 'good man,' it is not asserted, but it is presented to thought that the man ^ is good.' If I say 4ive dog,' it is contemplated as predicable, though not predicated, that the dog ' lives.' And thus the adjective is nothing more nor less than a dormant verb — a verb in a state of quiescence. And by way of endeavouring to indicate the position which they both hold in the general economy of language, we will designate them as Secondary Presentives. We will begin our catalogue of English adjectives with a sample of those whose history belongs to an elder stage — those which were already ancient at the opening of the present era of our language. Such are : — dare, bright, dear, fair, fresh, full, good, great, hard, high, late, lief, light, like, long, much, new, nigh, old, quick, rathe, ripe, short, sick, small, sooth, strong, sweet, swift, true, whole, worth, young. ADJECTIVES. 323 Next to these should naturally be placed the Saxon forma- tives, such as those in -/, -m, -n, -r, and -sh] those in -y, -ing, -ly, -some, -ed, -ward, -full, -less. In -1, -el, or -le : — idle, evil. Utile, middle, brittle, stickle ( = steep, still used about Dartmoor, and entering into the word stickleback, and the local name Sticklepath, near Oak- hampton), tickle. A fine local example of brittle, in the form of brutel, occurs in a legend carved on an oak clothes-bat in the collection of the Rev. George Weare Braikenridge, of Christchurch, Clevedon. It appears to have been a wedding-gift, and altogether it is a remarkably interesting object, the more so as it is dated. The inscription is : — ROS. DAVESON. 1 664. IF . YOV . LOVE . ME . LEND . ME . NOT VNTO . A . SLLET . FOR . I . VERY . BRVTEL . WOOD. To these should be added bri?tdle ; for although we have cast it into other forms, as brinded (Milton), or the more common brindled, yet the pure word still lives in New England, where they talk of a ' brindle yearling,' or, as I believe it is spoken, ' brindle yerlin.' The fact is, we are no longer conscious that this termi- nation makes an adjective : it is no longer in productive operation. This is the reason why brindle has been con- verted into brindled, because all men know that the termi- nation -ed signifies the possession of a quaUty, but they do not know that -le has this signification. In the same manner we now say 7iew-fangled, but the original word is newfangil or new f angel, as in the Babees Book, p. 9, where the letter N is exempHfied by the following line of N-initials : — ' To Noyous, ne to Nyce, ne to Newfangill.' (Not to be) too pressing, nor too fastidious, nor too new- fashioned. Y 2 324 THE NOUN-GROUP. tide, tickle (above, p. 152). ' So tide be the termes of mortall state,' The Faerie QiieeiiQ, iii. 4. 28. ' The Earl of Murray standing in so tickle terms in Scotland.' — Earl of Pembroke, 1569 ; quoted by J. A. Froude, History of England, ix. 427. As brindle has been altered into hrindled, so tickle into ticklish. The old word wittol, '■ knowing/ which had a sinister meaning in Shakspeare's time, has been restored to com- parative innocence by Dr. Anster in his translation of Goethe's Faust: — ' Unmannerly wittol Be quiet a little.' In -m. These have never been numerous within his- torical times. In Saxon there was earm = poor, and rum = wide, the former of which is extinct, and the latter altered to roo?ny. The only extant adjectives that I can quote in this class are grim, warm. There is a fine old poetic word hrim^ with much the same variety of meaning as the modern brave — ' She was brim as any bear.' Prim is obscure : Richardson says it is short for primitive. I would rather believe it to be a northern form of hrim. Halliwell gives ' Prim, a neat pretty girl. Yorksh! Mim is perhaps worthy of mention : it means daintily shy. Out of these two vocables is made the jingling junto mim- miny primminy. In -n, or -en. Here we are much richer : even, oivn, open, fain, stern, heathen, wooden, tinnen, woollen, elmen, treen (made of tree, arboreus ; Spenser, Faerie Queene, i. 2. 39), leaden, hempen, threaden, oaten, olden, golden. This class of adjectives cannot be separated by any decisive line from the participial forms, such as drunken, shrunken, &c. ADJECTIVES. 325 elmen. 'When the ebnen tree leaf is as big as a farding, It 's time to sow kidney beans in the garding ; When the elmen tree leaf is as big as a penny, You must sow your beans if you mean to have eny.' Popular Rhyme. * A leaden acquiescence.' — Marvel, Doctor Johns, c. 22 (1866). wooden. ' Wooden wals.' — Spenser, Faerie Queene, i. 2. 42. oaten. ' Nought tooke I with me but mine oaten quill.' — Colin Clouts Come Home Againe, 194. Silvern, golden. ' Speech is silvern, but silence is golden.' — Thomas Carlyle. Milton has the beautiful expressions coral-paven and azurn. hempen. ' Slow ' are the steeds that through Germania's roads With hempen rein the slumbering post-boy goads.' Poetry of the Anti-Jacobin, The Rovers, 1798. Tennyson has cedarn — ' Right to the carven cedarn doors.' Recollections of the Arabian Nights. This formative has been partially supplanted by the Latin -ian. Thus our ancestors before the revival of letters never said Christian but ' Christen' : ' A Christen man/ &c. A magazine lately started by Blackheath School took the waggish name of The Blackheathen. Critics asked why not rather Blackheathian ? , The reply might justly be that the Latin formative to a pure English compound is incongruous. This is, in fact, only one of a multitude of little tokens that our language is sated with classicism. 3^^ THE NOUN-GROUP. Of local names this form is found in Furzen Leaze, between Cirencester and Kemble. In -r or -er. Examples : — wicker, slipper (the elder form for the modern slippery). Slipper is still the common word in Devonshire, where they say, ' It 's very slipper along the roads to day.' A good illustration is afforded by the follow- ing line from Surrey, the Elizabethan poet : — ' Slipper in sliding as is an eeles tail.' In -sh, or by disguise -eh, representing the Anglo-Saxon adjective in -isc. This may be called, more than any other particular form, the native adjective. It is the form of the adjective ' English ' itself, and generally of our adjectives by which we designate nationalities : — Welsh, Irish, Scottish, French, Dutch, Danish, Swedish, Spanish, Turkish, Flemish, Polish. In a few cases, however, we have admitted the Latin adjective -anus, as Roman, Italian, Russiaji, German. Here the Germans, truer to old habit, still say Oiomifc^, Statienifrf;, Oiuffifc^, ©eutfc^. The antiquity of this form is sufficiently demon- strated by the fact that it is the prevalent ' gentile ' adjective with all the nations of our family. The Germans call them- selves 5)eut[cf), the Danes call themselves Dansk, the Nor- wegians call themselves Norsk, the Swedes call themselves Svensk. Besides the recognised nations, there is many an obscure community that asserts its gentility by setting up an -ish of its own. A friend, fresh from travel, writes that when he arrived at the Tyrolese valley which is called ©roben ^()al, he asked whether they spoke Stalicnifd; or ^eutfc^ there .? He was answered that they spoke ©robnerifd). And as an illustration how green and vigorous the form is in German to this day, we may observe it combining with some of the most modern classical innovations, and making ADJECTIVES. ^1"] adjectives like nteta:pt)orif(^, metaphorical ; meta^^^i)jtfc^, meta- physical ; met^obifc^, methodical; metonV)mtf^, ^ertow/itKos. In England the tide of classicality drove back this and many other forms. The Latin -an was the ready substitute for -ish. In 1535, Miles Coverdale, in Daniel i. 4, has ' and to lerne for to speake Caldeish ' — a form that will be sought in vain in our present Bible. elvisch = elf-like, uncanny, shy, at the close of the Prioress's Tale : — ' He semeth elvisch by his countenaunce, For unto no wight doth he daliaunce.' churlish. ' Where the bleak Swiss their stormy mansions tread, And force a churlish soil for scanty bread.' Oliver Goldsmith, The Traveller. This termination is also put to adjectives, with a diluting effect, as longish, sweetish. In -y or -ey, representing the Saxon adjective in -ig, as mmtig, empty. Examples : — bloody, burly, corny (Chaucer, Milton), dainty (Spectator, 354), dirty, doughty, dusty, fatty, flighty, fusty, filthy, flowery, foody, gouty, haughty, heady, hearty, inky , jau7ity , leaf' (Mark xi. Contents), lusty, mealy, mighty, milky, misty, moody, murky, musty, Jtasty, noisy, oily, plashy, pretty, ready, reedy, rusty, saucy, silky, silly, speedy, steady, sturdy, sulky, trusty, weedy. The word silly has the appearance of belonging to another group, namely, those in -ly. But the Saxon scel-ig and the transition form seely were the precursors of the form silly, which appears as early as Spenser: — * She wist not, silly Mayd, what she did aile.' The Faerie Queene, iii. 2. 27. 328 THE NOUN-GROUP. There has been a certain amount of assimilation from French forms, as hardy^ which is the French hardi. Espe- cially has this adjectival form been confused with the French in -if (Latin -ivus), as tardy, from French tardif ; jolly, from Old French jolif. In the case of caitiff, however, we have preserved this Frenchy very emphatically. Chaucer uses jolif ; but in Spenser it is jolly : — ' The first of them by name Gardant^ hight, A jolly person and of comely vew.' The Faerie Queene, iii. i. 45. Reversely also we find genuine members of this class written as if they belonged to French adjectives in -if. Thus we find in the texts of Chaucer the native word guilty written giltif and gultyf This formative is still in the highest state of activity. There is more freedom, for example, about making new adjectives in -y than in -ish. Illustrations : — corny. ' Now have I dronk a draught of corny ale.' Canterbury Tales, 13871. foody. ' Who brought them to the sable fleet from Ida's foody leas.' Chapman, Iliad, xi. 104. huttony. ' That buttony boy sprang up and down from the box.' — Thackeray, Vanity Fair. plastery, ruhhishy. ' St. Peter's disappoints me ; the stone of which it is made is a poor plastery material ; and indeed Rome in general might be called a rubbishy place.' — Arthur H. Clough. moody y unhappy. ' Though moody, unhappy, and disappointed, he was a hard-working conscientious pastor among the poor people with whom his lot was cast.' — Anthony TroUope, The Last Chronicle of Barset, ch. i. ADJECTIVES, 329 saucy. ' In that clear and saucy style which he knows how to manage.' — B. Disraeli. plashy. ' All but yon widow'd, solitary thing, That feebly bends beside the plashy spring.' Oliver Goldsmith, The Deserted Village. An interesting adjective of a rather doubtful kind, but which seems to come under this class, is the ' incony Jew ' of Shakspeare. Pretty is from the same French word as proud, although its sense is not identical with proudie. That famous old French word prud, which forms part of the well-known prud'hommes, was one of the earliest of the French words that made themselves quite at home among us. Already in one of the later Saxon Chronicles prut is substituted for the native word ranc, as a fine word (I suppose) for a vulgar one. When prut was first naturahsed, it meant grand, splendid, proud, magnificent, insolent. From this prut, by our Saxon grammatical procedure, we made an abstract noun prit or pritte, which signified grandeur, splendour, pride, magnificence, insolence. The following lines are from a metrical life of St. Chad, in the Library of Corpus Christi College, Cambridge, MS. cxlv. : — ' Al a vote he wende aboute * ne kepte he nan pritte ; Riche man J)ei he were imad * he tolde J)er of litte.' All afoot he went about, be kept no dignity; Rich man though he was made, small count thereof made he. This form is sometimes found in modern names of places, as Bushy Park. In -ing, as wilding. * O wilding rose, whom fancy thus endears, I bid your blossoms in my bonnet wave.' Sir Walter Scott, Lady of the Lake, Canto iv, init. 330 THE NOUN-GROUP. ' And like a crag was gay with wilding flowers.' Alfred Tennyson, Enid, p. 17. But this form is found mostly in combination with an /, which seems to imply that it was grafted on an adjective in -el, as darling, darkling, flailing, yearling. These words are now but little used as adjectives ; they have either got the substantive habit, as darling, yearling ; or the adverbial, as darkling, flailing, for examples of which see the next section. In -ly. In Saxon this formative was -lie, which was at the same time a noun, meaning body, as it still is in German, ^etc^. The transition from the substantival sense of body to the symbolic expression of the idea of similarity, provokes a comparison with a transition in the Hebrew, from the word for bone (and body), which is '^'^V, to the pronominal sense of very or same. Examples : — cleanly, godly, goodly, likely, only, sieelly, un- mannerly, rascally. cleanly. ' A cleanly housewife.' sieelly. 'Steel through opposing plates the magnet draws, And steelly atoms culls from dust and straws.' — Crabbe. only. ' The only prime minister mentioned in history whom his contemporaries reverenced as a saint.' — William Robertson, Charles V, Bk. I, a.d. 15 17. In the adjective likely we have the curious phenomenon of the altered form of a word coming to act as a formative to a better preserved form of itself; the first and last syl- lables of the word being originally the same word lie. This form has been the less used as an adjective in con- sequence of its general employment for adverbial purposes. ADJECTIVES, 331 And often it happens when we come across it in our elder Hterature adjectively used, we need a moment's reflection to put us in the train of thought for understanding it. In the following beautiful passage from Chaucer's Boethius, the adjective wepely, in the sense of pathetic, would give most readers a check. The passage is here printed with its marginal summary, as a sample of the excellent way in which the editors of the Early English Text Society turn out their work. wepely. ' Blisful is Jiat man ];at may seen J)e clere weile of good. ' Happy is he that blisful is he >at may vnbynde hym fro ])e bonde of heuy g'lp'lfyle ma^nthat ex\Q. % ])e poete of trace [Orphez/s] |)at somtyme hadde f,cm twrestrl^i . ' chains ! The Thra- ryjt greet sorowe for the deej» of hys v/ijf. aftir Jsat he cian poet, con- sumed with grief for hadde maked by hys wepely sonees be wodes meueable to the loss of his wife, -' -' -^ -' o J- sought relief from rennen. and hadde ymaked jje ryueres to stonden stille. ^"longg^Jrew'the" and maked ]>& hertys a7id hyndes to ioignen dredles hir romng rivers ceas^ed . J , , 111- J ,- \ to flow ; the savage Sides to cruel lyou^s to herkene his songe. (p. 100.) beasts becameheed- less of their prey.' In -some : — adventuresome, darksome, gladsome, handsome, irksome, wholesome, winsome. This is the German -gam, as langfatn. It looks in spelling as if this termination belonged to our pronoun so7ne, and so it has been interpreted by Dr. Wallis. (See Richardson, v. Handsome.) It is connected however with a different pro- noun, namely same. adventuresome. ' And now at once, adventuresome, I send My herald thought into a wilderness.' John Keats, Endymion. darksome. ' Darksome nicht comes down.' — Robert Burns. The word buxom belongs here. This might not be 332 THE NOUN-GROUP. apparent at first sight. It does not look like one of the adjectives in -some; but it is so, being the analogue of the German BiegSam, ready to how or comply. ' Great Neptune stoode amazed at their sight, Whiles on his broad rownd backe they softly slid, And eke him selfe mournd at their mournful plight. Yet wist not what their wailing meant ; yet did, For great compassion of their sorow, bid His mighty waters to them buxome bee.' The Faerie Queene, iii. 4. 32. Hence unhuxum and unhuxumness signified ' disobedient ' and 'disobedience/ as in Handlyng Stnne, p. 250 (ed. Fur- nivall), ' pou art unbuxum.' Lissom is supposed to be short for lithesome. This formative is one that is in present activity. In Sir J. T. Coleridge's Memoir of Keble, p. 464, we find a new adjective on this model namely, long-some: — 'It is thought to labour under the fault of being long-some.' But perhaps we see here only an imitation of the German langfam. In -Q±\— ill-conditioned, landed, learned, leisured, moniedj wicked, wretched. weaponed. ' & hee had beene weaponed as well as I, he had beene worth both thee & mee,' Eger and Grime, 1039. As we can draw no decisive line between participles in -en and adjectives in the same termination, so neither can we distinctly sever between adjectives and participles in -ed. There are many which everybody would call adjectives, and many which everybody would agree to call participles. The ground of distinction would generally turn upon this, — whe-^ ther they could or could not be derived from a verb. Yet this is not a very positive rule, because of course it is open to any grammarian to say the root must be a verb in order ADJECTIVES. '^'^'^ to have generated the form in -ed. Thus, for example, it is open to any one to maintain that patterned in the following quotation is a participle, and that it implies a verb to pattern. But to me it appears simpler to class it as an adjective in -ed, formed upon the noun pattern. ' Professor Rawlinson tells us that, among the Persians, dresses were not often patterned, but depended generally for their effect on make and uniform colour only.' — William Ewart Gladstone, Juventus Mundi, p. 140. As to the word gifted in the next quotation, I would not undertake to pronounce whether it is the -ed participial or the -ed adjectival. ' The gear that is gifted, it never Will last like the gear that is won,' Joanna Baillie. A different use and of another flavour is when we hear of a gifted or talented man — expressions both of them which savour a little of affectation. leisured. 'Was it true that the legislative Chambers which were paid performed their duties more laboriously and conscientiously than the British House of Commons? It was admitted in other countries that that House stood at the head of the representative assemblies of the world. (Cheers.) What other assembly was there that attempted to transact such an amount of business ? (^Hear.) What assembly was there whose members sacrificed more of per- sonal convenience and of health in the discharge of its duties? (Hear.) The condition of this country was peculiar. There was a vast leisured class to which there was nothing parallel on the face of the earth.' — House of Commons, April 5, 1870. Associated with these in meaning was a form which we only mention to deplore. This is the old Saxon adjectival form -eht or -iht, as staniht, stony. Thus, in Cod. Dipt. 620, ' ondlong broces on ^one stanihtan ford,' — along the brook to the stony ford. This form is preserved in German, as Bergid^t, hilly; bornic^t, thorny; ecfic^t, angular; grafi(^t, grassy ; fteinicf)t, stony ; and it makes one of the dainties of German poetry. 334 ^-^-^ NOUN-GROUP. Unb ^an Bef^ii^t bie filBertvoUtc^ten ^eerben. And Pan protects the flocks with silvery fleeces. Wieland, Die Grazien, Bk. I. 5lm Btumtd^tett (Se^:^ifen. Oti hloo7ny Cephissns. Id. Bk. V. j4«, is in Italian Tedesco. So that this French -esque is radically the same as our Saxon -isc and English -ish, only having performed a tour through two Romanesque tongues, it has come round to us with a pecuHar complexion of its own,— an excellent specimen of the way in which the resources of language are enriched by mere variation. While we are touching Italian, we may notice (paren- thetically) an adjectival form which looks Italian, though we probably adopted it at first from the Spaniards. This is the form -ese, in certain national designations, as Cingalese, Chinese, Maltese, Portuguese, This orthography is rather Italian than Spanish. An Englishman is in Spanish called Ingles, but in Italian Inglese. At the time when our maritime expeditions and our politics brought us most into contact with Spaniards, our literary habits were more influenced by the Italian lan- guage than by the Spanish : and hence it is quite probable that this form may at first have been learnt of Spaniards and afterwards modified by an Italian orthography. Before we have quite done with our French adjectives, we ought to notice one which has filled a large space in the history of our language. This is the adjective quaint. It was already a great word in the transition period; it was an established word of old standing when Chaucer wrote, ADJECTIVES. 343 and it still retains some vitality. A word so often met with in ages so widely distant, and bearing such a variety of sig- nification, merits a paragraph to itself. There have been at all periods of history certain prominent and favourite words — words of the day. By way of ready illustration, we might mention fine and elegant as favourite words of last century ; and nice and interesting as words that are repeated with great frequency in our own day. Such favourite words are generally adjectives. Such an adjective was quaint in the twelfth, thirteenth, and fourteenth centuries. In the old French it was written coint, choint, and it has been derived with great probability from the Latin comptus, neat, trim, orderly, handsome. At the time of the rise of King's English in the fourteenth century, this was a great social word describing an indefinite compass of merit and appro- bation. Whatever things were agreeable, elegant, clever, neat, trim, gracious, pretty, amiable, taking, affable, proper spruce, handsome, happy, knowing, dodgy, cunning, artful, gentle, prudent, wise, discreet (and all this is but a rough translation of Roquefort's equivalents for coint), were in- cluded under this comprehensive word. In Chaucer, the spear of Achilles, which can both heal and hurt; is called a ' quaint spear ' : — ' And fell in speech of Telephus the king And of Achilles for his queinte spere, For he coude with it both hele and dere.' Canterbury Tales, 1 05 5 3. By the time we come to Spenser it has acquired a new sense, very naturally evolved from the possession of all the most esteemed social accomplishments; it has come to mean fastidious. Florimell, when she has taken refuge in the hut of the witch, is fain to accept her rude hospitalides : ' And gan recomfort her in her rude wyse, With womanish compassion of her plaint, 344 THE NOUN-GROUP, Wiping the teares from her suffused eyes, And bidding her sit downe, to rest her faint And wearie limbes awhile. She, nothing quaint Nor 'sdeignfuU of so homely fashion, 1 Sith brought she was now to so hard constraint. Sate downe upon the dusty ground anon : As glad of that small rest as bird of tempest gon.' The Faerie Queene, iii. 7. lO. Another stage in our national history, and we come to the period at which the word has stuck fast ever since, and there rooted itself. We may almost say that the word quaint now signifies ' after the fashion of the seventeenth century/ or something to that effect. It means something that is pretty after some bygone standard of prettyness ; and if we trace back the time we shall find it in the seventeenth century. As the memory of man is in legal doctrine localised to the reign of Richard the Second, as ' Old English' is (or was, before there was an Early English Text Society, and before Mr. Freeman had arisen to assign a new meaning to the word English) particularly identified with the language of the fifteenth century, so quaintness of diction has acquired for itself a permanent place in the literature of the seventeenth. In the Edinburgh Review, January, 1842, is an article on Thomas Fuller, in the course of which are some excellent remarks bearing on the word now before us : — ' In many respects Fuller may be considered the very type and exemplar of that large class of religious writers of the seventeenth century to which we emphatically apply the term " quaint." That word has long ceased to mean what it once meant. By derivation, and by original usage, it first signified " scrupulously elegant, refined, exact, accurate," beyond the reach of common art. In time it came to be applied to whatever was designed to indicate these characteristics — though excogitated with so elaborate a subtlety as to trespass on ease and nature. In a word, it was applied to what was ingenious and fantastic, rather than tasteful or beautiful. It is now wholly used in this acceptation ; and always implies some violation of the taste, some deviation from what the " natural " requires under the given circumstances Now the age in which Fuller lived was the golden age of " quaintness " of all kinds — in gardening, in architecture, ADJECTIVES. 345 in costume, in manners, in religion, in literature. As men improved ex- ternal nature with a perverse expenditure of money and ingenuity — made her yews and cypresses grow into peacocks and statues, tortured and clipped her luxuriance into monotonous uniformity, turned her graceful curves and spirals into straight lines and parallelograms, compelled things incongruous to blend in artificial union, and then measured the merits of the work, not by the absurdity of the design, but by the difficulty of the execution, — so in literature, the curiously and elaborately unnatural was too often the sole object The constitution of Fuller's mind had such an affinity with the peculiarities of the day, that what was " quaint " in others seems to have been his natural element — the sort of attire in which his active and eccentric genius loved to clothe itself.' The word sometimes signifies merely a nicety in small things, as in the following : — ' But how a body so fantastic, trim. And quaint in its deportment and attire, Can lodge a heavenly mind — demands a doubt.' William Cowper, The Time-Piece. Here we may bring our French list to an end, but not without the observation, which has been already made above under the substantive, that the line of division between our French and Latin groups is much blurred. The general case is this : We took the form from the French ; but the great bulk of the words that now constitute the group, have been derived to us from the Latin. And it may be added that many words seem now most easily traceable to the Latin, which we originally borrowed from the French. In the great latinising tyranny, many words were purged from the tinge of their originally French nationality, and reclaimed to a Latin standard. The delitahle of Chaucer and Piers Plowman had become delectahle long before Bunyan wrote of the De- lectable Mountains. When the learned of the nation were steeped in Latin, vast quantities of French words in our language had a new surface of Latin put upon them. And the Latin invasion did not stop here; many old Saxon forms were modified in a Latin sense. 34<^ THE NOUN-GROUP. Our list of the Latin formatives begins with one which was erected upon a Saxon basis. This is the form in -ous, -eous, Latin -ius, or -osus. In adopting this form we seem to have been continuing and gradually modifying the Saxon adjectives in -wis. Thus rihiwis became righteous. Examples : — boisterous, covetous, dexterous, disastrous, erroneous, glorious, gracious, jealous, luxurious, meritorious, multitudinous (Shakspeare), necessitous, noxious, obstreperous, outrageous, pious, poisonous, riotous, tedious, zealous. joyous, courteous, gracious, spacious. 'Long were it to describe the goodly frame, And stately port of Castle Joyeous, (For so that Castle hight by commun name) Where they were entertaynd with courteous And comely glee of many gratious Faire Ladies, and of many a gentle knight, Who, through a Chamber long and spacious, Eftsoones them brought unto their Ladies sight, That of them cleeped was the Lady of Delight.' The Faerie Queene, iii, I, 31. ' And all . . . wondered at the gracious wordes, that proceeded out of his mouth.' — Luhe iv. 22. barbarous. ' The Scythian counted the Athenian, whom he did not vnderstand, bar- barous : so the Romane did the Syrian, and the lew, (euen S. Hierome him- selfe calleth the Hebrew tongue barbarous, belike because it was strange to so many) so the Emperour of Comtantinople calleth the Latine tongue, barbarous, though Pope Nicolas do storme at it : so the lewes long before Christ, called all other nations, Log?iazim, which is little better than bar- barous.' — The Translators to the Reader, 161 1. rhizopodous. ' Spongilla is a rhizopodous animal.' fastuous. ' In reforming the lives of the clergy he was too fastuous and severe.* — Jeremy Taylor, ed, Eden, vol. v. p. 139. ADJECTIVES. 347 slumbrous. ' And awaken the slumbrous state of conscience in which too many of us habitually live.' — Sir J. T. Coleridge, Memoir of Keble, ch. xiv. erroneous. ' Mr. said the right hon. gentleman who had just sat down had made statements which, from his experience, he would show to be entirely false. ' The Speaker — The hon. member means to say erroneous. (A laugh.) ' Mr. begged to apologise for using a word which was not Parlia- mentary, He had been but a short time in the House, and was therefore not well versed in Parliamentary terms (a laugh), but if there was any Par- liamentary term stronger than the word " erroneous," he would beg leave to use it with reference to some of the statements of the right hon. gentleman.' —House of Commons, June 17, 1870. stercoraceous. ' The stable yields a stercoraceous heap,' William Cowper, The Garden. obstreperous. * Nor is it a mean praise of rural life And solitude, that they do favour most. Most frequently call forth, and best sustain. These pure sensations ; that can penetrate The obstreperous city; on the barren seas Are not unfelt.' William Wordsworth, The Exctirsion, Bk. IV. luxurious. ' A free nation ought not to provoke war ; but it ought not to be too luxurious and ease-loving to fight, if the occasion should arise.' — Llewelyn Davies, The Gospel and Modern Life, p. 45. generous, conspicuous, illustrious. ' As belonging to the old blood he had especially recommended himself to Elizabeth's favour by his loyalty, and in 1572 he had been rewarded for his services by the earldom of Essex. He was young, enthusiastic, generous ; the first conspicuous representative of that illustrious company who revived in the England of Elizabeth the genius of mediaeval chivalry. He was burning to deserve his honours ; and in Ireland ... he saw the opportunity which he desired.' — J. A. Froude, History of England, vol. x. p. 551. Bumptious was a slang Oxford adjective which started about 1 84 1. It is now sometimes seen in literature : 348 THE NOUN-GROUP. • " Look at that comical sparrow," she said, " Look how he cocks his head first on one side and then on the other. Does he want us to see him ? Is he bumptious, or what ? " ' — George Macdonald, The Seaboard Parish, ch. xi. The next place seems due to another form of the Latin termination -osus. It is as markedly modern as the previous one is distinguished for its old standing in the language. It has an Italian tinge. This is the form in -ose. Examples : — bellicose, globose (Milton), gloriose, grandiose, operose, otiose, varicose. otiose, ' We lay out of the case such stories of supernatural events as require on the part of the hearer nothing more than an otiose assent ; stories upon which nothing depends, in which no interest is involved, nothing is to be done or changed in consequence of believing them.' — Paley's Evidences. operose. ' I heard Dr. Chalmers preach. It was a splendid discourse, against the Judaical observance of the Sabbath, which he termed " an expedient for pacifying the jealousies of a God of vengeance," — reprobating the operose drudgery of such Sabbaths. Many years afterwards, I mentioned this to Irving, who was then the colleague of Chalmers ; and he told me that the Deacons waited on the Doctor to remonstrate with him on the occasion of this sermon.' — H. C. Robinson, Diary, 182 1. In -ive, Latin -ivus. Examples : — active, aggregative, appreciative, associative, authoritative, comparative, conclusive, creative, detective, dis- tinctive, elective, exclusive, for getive (Shakspeare, 2 Henry IV, iv. 3), imaginative, inventive, motive, passive, pensive, positive, reflective, reparative, repulsive, responsive, retentive, sensitive, speculative, suggestive, superlative. ' Grew like the Summer Grasse, fastest by Night, Vnseene yet cressiue in his facultie,' Shakspeare, Henry V, i. : persistive, ' Persistive constancy.' — Troilus and Cressida, i. 3. ADJECTIVES, 349 narrative. ' Narrative old age.' — Alexander Pope. responsive. ' The swain responsive as the milk-maid sung.' Oliver Goldsmith, The Deserted Village. represefitative. ' Home Tooke having obtained a seat in the House of Commons as representative of the famous borough of Old Sarum.'— H, C. Robinson, Diary, 1801. , Speculative. ' High on her speculative tower Stood Science waiting for the hour.' William Wordsworth, The Eclipse of the Sun, 1820. aggregative, associative, creative, motive. ' Fancy is aggregative and associative — Imagination is creative, motive.' — John Brown, M.D., Horae Subsecivae. conclusive. ' The admissions of an advocate are the most conclusive evidence.' — Bishop of St. David's, Charge, 1863. reparative. ' The art of nursing, as now practised, seems to be expressly constituted to unmake what God had made disease to be, viz. a reparative process.' — Florence Nightingale, Notes on Nursing. Appreciative has been a great word of late. Professor Lightfoot {St. Paul and Seneca) speaks of Sir A. Grant's ' highly appreciative account of the Stoic school.' distinctive. ' There was something so very distinctive in him, traits and tones to make an impression to be remembered all one's life.' — JohnKeble, Memoir, p. 452. In -ine, Latin -inus, -ineus. Examples : — divine, internecine, marine, sanguine. Our pronunciation of marine is decidedly French, and thus we are again reminded that our Latin hst is not purely S5^ THE NOUN- GROUP. and exclusively of direct Latin derival, but only preva- lently so. In -ary, Latin -arms. Examples : — contemporary, missionary, secondary^ sanitary, stationary, tertiary, visionary. petitionary. ' Ros. Nay, I pre' thee now, with most petitionary vehemence, tell me who it is.' — As You Like It, in. 2. ' Claspt hands and that petitionary grace Of sweet seventeen subdued me ere she spoke.' Alfred Tennyson, The Brook. This form occurs frequently in its substantival aspect. signatary. ' All the Powers, signataries of the Treaty of 1856.' — Queens Speech, 1867. contemporary. ' Seneca was strictly a contemporary of St. Paul.' — Professor Lightfoot, St. Paul and Seneca. In -at cry, Latin -atorius. Examples : — commendatory, criminatory, derogatory, ex- culpatory, expiatory, migratory', nugatory, obligatory, pre- paratory, propitiatory, respiratory, supplicatory. criminatory. ' And was taken with strongly criminatory papers in his possession.' In -ant and -ent, from the Latin participial terminations -ans, -antis ; -ens, -eniis. Examples : — blatant, constant, elegant, expedteftt, insolent, insolvent, jubilant, petulant, solvent. M-any of these forms are used substantively, as expedient, insolvent ; and, in one of its senses, ADJECTIVES. 351 solvent. ' And I say that the Resurrection is a fact ; attested by various and con- verging evidence ; defying the action of the critical solvents which unbelief applies to it ; and, let me add, reigning in the thought of every thinking Christian, as a vast evidential power.' — H. P. Liddon, at St. Paul's, Easter Day, 1869, Several of these are rather French than Latin, as the heraldic rampant. petulant. ' The boys, when the periodical vacation drew near, growing petulant at the approach of liberty.' — Samuel Johnson, Life of Addhon. The word elegant merits a special notice. It is now comparatively little used: we have indeed the traditional combination Elegant Extracts; but almost the only new combination it has entered into in our day is in the dialect of the apothecary, who speaks of ' an elegant preparation.' In the last century however, and down to the close of the generation that overlived into this century, we had elegant in a variety of honoured positions. Scott spoke of Goethe as ^ the elegant author of The Sorrows of Werther! In the very first sentence of Bishop Lowth's address To the King, which is prefixed to his Isaiah, this word comes in, thus : — ' SIRE, An attempt to set in a just light the writings of the most sublime and elegant of the Prophets of the Old Testament,' &c. George Home (afterwards Bishop of Norwich), towards the close of last century published some sermons, and half apologising in his Preface said : — ' This form of publication is generally supposed less advantageous at pre- sent than any other. But it may be questioned whether the supposition does justice to the age, when we consider only the respect which has so recently been paid to the sermons of the learned and elegant Dr. Blair. And greater respect cannot be paid them than they deserve.' ^^'Z THE NOUN-GROUP. The form -lent, from the Latin -lentus, must be distin- guished from the foregoing. Examples : — corpulent, esculent, feculent, flatulent, fraud- ulent, opulent, somnolent, succulent, truculent, violent, virulent. Som.e adjectives in -ent, with an l of the root, have a false semblance of belonging here, as benevolent, equivalent, indolent, insolent, prevalent, malevolent. Here we seem almost over the border of English philology, but in dealing with such a borrowing language as ours it is not always easy to draw the boundary Kne. esculent. ' The Chinese present a striking contrast with ourselves in the care which they bestow on their esculent vegetation A more general knowledge of the properties and capabilities of esculent plants would be an important branch of popular education.' — C. D. Badham, The Esculent Funguses of England, ed. F. Currey, p. xvi, -an, -ian, Latin -anus, -ianus, as African, Indian, Russian, Persian, Polynesia}!. This form acquired its importance in the first century of the Roman Empire. The soldiers who attached themselves to Julius Caesar in the civil wars were c2Medifuliani, and this grew to be the established formula for the expression of a body of supporters or followers. The friends of Otho were called Othoniani, those of Vitellius were Vitelliani; and in the same general period it was that ' the disciples were called Christians first at Antioch.' Robinsojiian. ' William Wordsworth to H. C. Robinson. 12th March, 182 1. My dear Friend, — You were very good in writing me so long a letter, and kind in your own Robinsonian way.' — H. C. Robinson, Diary. We will now proceed to the Greek forms. -ic, from the Greek -1K09. Examples : — academic, acoustic, CBsthetic, analytic, arctic. ADJECTIVES. 353 antarctic, apathetic, apologetic, archaic, aromatic, athletic, atomic, authentic, barbaric (Milton), cathartic, despotic, ethic, gastric, graphic, telegraphic, theoretic. These are roughly distinguishable from those in -ic after the French -ique, by being entirely of Greek material. That class is more mixed. There is perhaps no form that more distinctly represents the influx of Greek, and its adop- tion into scientific terminology. A large part of these adjectives are shared by us with all the great languages of western Europe. authentic. ' Methinks I see him — how his eye-balls rolled, Beneath his ample brow, in darkness paired, — But each instinct with spirit ; and the frame Of the whole countenance alive with thought, Fancy, and understanding ; while the voice Discoursed of natural or moral truth With eloquence, and such authentic power, That, in his presence, humbler knowledge stood Abashed, and tender pity overawed,' "William Wordsworth, The Excursion, Bk. VIL In -astie, -istic, -ustie, from the Greek -o-tiki]. Examples : — antagonistic, caustic, characteristic, drastic, patristic, plastic, pleonastic. Monast-ic belongs to the forms m-ic. characteristic (substantively). ' The characteristic of that movement is that it seeks to attain its object by arguments bordering on menace.' Having said so much on adjectival forms, let us now endeavour to determine something of the natural quality of the adjective, and the practical effect of that natural quality upon our habitual conversation. An adjective is plainly of the nature of a predicate, as plainly as a substantive is of the nature of a subject. Now, to select a predicate for A a 554 I'HE NOUN-GROVP. a subject is an act of judgment. It is manifest that judgment is more exercised in the utterance of adjectives than in that of substantives. I say horse from mere memory of my mother-tongue, and we hardly dignify it as an act of judg- ment if a man uses that word in the right place, and shows that he knows a horse when he sees it. But to say good horse, bad horse, sound horse, young horse, &c., is a matter of judgment. A child knows when he sees a garden, and we do not call it an act of judgment (except in technical logic) to exclaim There^s a garden. But to use garden adjectively, as when a person comes across a flower, and says it is a garden flower, this is an act of judgment which it takes a botanist to exercise safely. This being so, a speaker runs a greater chance of making a mistake, or of coming into collision with the judgments of others, in the use of ad- jectives. Partly from this cause, and partly also, perhaps, from the rarity of good and confident judgment, and partly it may also be from the modesty which social intercourse requires, we perceive this effect, that there is a shyness about the utterance of adjectives. Of original adjectives, I mean, such as can at all carry the air of being the speaker's own. And hence it has come about, that there is in each period or generation, one or more chartered social adjectives which may be used freely and safely. Such adjectives enjoy a sort of empire for the time in which they are current. Their meaning is more or less vague, and it is this quality which suits them for their office. But while it would be hard to define what such an adjective meant, it is nevertheless per- fectly well understood. Obvious examples of this sort of privileged adjective are the merry of the ballads, and iSi^fair and pretty of the Elizabethan period. In Mrs. Cowden Clarke's Concordance to Shakspeare, there are about seven hundred examples oi fair, without counting its derivatives ADJECTIVES. 355 and compounds. Perhaps this perpetual recurrence of the word made a butt at it all the more amusing : — 'King. All haile sweet Madame, and faire time of day. Qii. Faire in all Haile is fowle, as I conceiue. King. Construe my speeches better, if you may.' Loues Labour 's lost, v. 2. 340. Such was in the last century the adjective fine, and in a minor degree the adjective elegant. Of the latter we have already had some illustrations. Its companion is worthy of the like honour : — fine. ' The truly philosophical language of my worthy and learned friend Mr. Harris, the author of Hermes, a work that will be read and admired as long as there is any taste for philosophy and fine writing in Britain.' — Lord Mon- boddo, Origin and Progress of Language, init. But none of these ever reached a greater, if so great, a vogue as the chartered adjective of our own and our fathers' generation, namely, the adjective nice. Should an essayist endeavour by description to convey the signification of this word in those peculiar social uses so familiar to all, he would find that he had undertaken a difficult task. It is applicable to the possession of any quality or qualities which enjoy the approbation of society under its present code. The word dates from the great French period, and at first meant ' fooHsh, absurd, ridiculous ' ; then in course of time it came to signify ' whimsical, fantastic, wanton, adroit ' ; and thence it slid into the meaning of ' subtle, deHcate, sensitive,' which landed it on the threshold of its modern social appKcation. Of this we have already a foretaste in Milton , — ' A nice and subtle happiness I see Thou to thyself proposest in the choice Of thy associates.' Paradise Lost, viii. 399. A more special use is the following, and not the vague A a 2 ^^6 THE NOUN-GROUP. social use, yet bordering closely upon it. This sense, in which it is nearly equivalent to * fastidious,' has now but little currency, being crowded out by the social use. ' But never was a Fight manag'd so hardily, and in such a surprizing Man- ner, as that which follow'd between Friday and the Bear, which gave us all (though at first we were surpriz'd and afraid for him) the greatest Diversion imaginable : As the Bear is a heavy, clumsy Creature, and does not gallop as the Wolf does, who is swift, and light ; so he has two particular Qualities, which generally are the Rule of his Actions ; First, as to Men, who are not his proper Prey ; I say, not his proper Prey ; because tho' I cannot say what excessive Hunger might do, which was now their Case, the Ground being all cover'd with Snow ; but as to Men he does not usually attempt them, unless they first attack him ; On the contrary, if you meet him in the Woods, if you don't meddle with him, he won't meddle with you ; but then you must take Care to be very civil to him, and give him the Road ; for he is a very nice Gentleman, he won't go a Step out of his Way for a Prince,' &c. — Robinson Crusoe. Edited after the Original Editions by J. W. Clark, M.A. p. 298, As far back as 1823, a young lady objected to Sydney Smith : ' Oh, don't call me nice, Mr. Sydney ; people only say that when they can say nothing else.' This expostulation drew forth his Definition of a Nice Person, which may be seen in the Memoir of his Life, and which will serve to complete the case of this important little office-bearing adjective. Morphology of the Adjective. Let us close this section with some observations on the morphology of the adjective, or in other words, on the divers ways it has of dressing itself up to act its part on the stage of language. By ' adjective ' here is meant the pure mental conception, as opposed to the form. There are three ways in which the adjectival idea clothes itself and finds expression, which it may be convenient to call the three adjections. I. The first, which may be called the Flat, is by colloca- tion. Thus, brick and stone are substantives ; but mere posi- tion before another substantive turns them into adjectives, as, ADJECTIVES. 357 brick wall, stone wall; and the latter, when regarded as a com- pound substantive, stone-wall, may again by collocation make a new adjective, as ' Stone-wall Jackson/ And a compound . noun of the other sort, that is to say, one with its adjection after it, as matter-of-fact, may become a flat adjective, thus, a matter-off act man. ' He rather affects hostility to metaphysics and poetry ; " because," he says, " I am a mere matter-of-fact man." ' — H, C. Robinson, Diary, 1830. Thus we speak of garden flowers and hedge flowers : — ' Near yonder copse, where once the garden smiled. And still where many a garden flower grows wild.' Oliver Goldsmith, Deserted Village. In some instances we may see that a present adjective which is now nothing but an adjective, has been a sub- stantive at no very remote date. Thus 7mlch, in the ex- pressions ' milch cow/ ' milch goat/ &c., is a mere adjective, and yet it is nothing but a phonetic variety of the substantive milk, just as church and kirk are varieties of the same word. In the German language the current substantive for milk has the form of our present adjective, viz. Wi\i^. 2. The second, which may be called the Flexional, is by modification of form either in the way of flexion, as heavey-is gate, or through a symphytic formative, as heavenly mansions. The latter, being the most prevalent of all modes of adjec- tion, has occupied to itself the whole name of Adjective. 3. The third way, which may be called the Phrasal, is by means of a symbol-word, and most prominently by the preposition of. In the compound k?iighihood the word knight is (originally) an adjective, and afl"ords an instance of the adjective by col- location. We may express the same idea in this form, knight's rank, or thus, knightly rank, as in the second adjection. 35^ THE NOUN-GROUP. The third adjection is when we say rank or quality of knight. This form of adjective we have learnt from the French ; and although we use it less than our neighbours, yet we are well acquainted with such expressions as men of property, men of learning, persons of strong opinions, the girl of the period, the men of this generation, arms of precision, &c. Our first quotation supplies three instances : — ' Originally it was proposed that all the members (looo) of the Athenaeum should be men of letters, and authors, artists, or men of science — in a word, producers; but it was found impossible to form a club solely of such materials, and had it been possible, it would have been scarcely desirable. So the qualification was extended to lovers of literature,' &c. — H. C. Robin- son, Diary, 1824. In the following Yiuts, functions of a man is equivalent to human functions : — ' I think, articulate, I laugh and weep, And exercise all functions of a man.' William Cowper, The Garden. Such are the three ways in which we manage the expres- sion of the adjectival idea, or, as we may conveniently style it, the three methods of adjection. The third or symbolic method, to which, as the one which most merits attention, the title of Adjection will be more particularly suitable, is generally effected by the preposition of, and yet not by this preposition only. Any other preposi- tion can discharge this function. Thus, if we take the pre- position beyond ; it is the same thing whether we speak of hope beyond the grave, or of deathless, or immortal hope. And it sometimes happens that through ellipse of the sub- stantive-adject, the symbol preposition may by itself fill the office of an adjective ; as in the local names of Bishopsgate Without and Bishopsgate Within. Of the three methods of adjection now described, the middle one, or the second variety of it, has so much the ADVERBS. 359 greater development, that it has appropriated the name of Adjective to itself, and the body of this section has been occupied with it. This threefold variety of adjectival expression has a phi- lological importance which will more clearly be seen in the next section, where it will be made the basis of the arrangement. III. Of the Advekb, In Adverbs our attention shall be given to one leading character. It is that which has been already traced in the adjectives at the end of the last section. The adverbs rise stage above stage in a threefold gradation. They are either Flat, Flexional, or Phrasal ; and this division gives the plan of the present section. But before proceeding to exhibit these, it will be desirable to apprehend clearly what an adverb is, in the most pure and simple acceptation of the term. The adverb is the tertiary, or third presentive word. It has been shown above that the substantive is the primary, that the adjective and verb are co-ordinated as the secondary, and we now com- plete this trilogy of presentives by the addition of the adverb, which is the third and last of presentive words. Whatever material idea is imported into any sentence must be conveyed through one of these three orders of words. All the rest is mechanism. We assign to the adverb the third place, although we know that it does not stand in that order in every sentence. We do so because this is its true and natural order ; for it is in this order alone that the mind can make use of it as an 360 THE NOUN'GROVP. adverb. Whether the adverb stand first, as in very fine child, or in the third place as in John rides well, either way it is equally third in mental order. K?,fine is dependent on child for its adjectival character, so very is dependent on the two for its adverbial character. There is a good meaning in very if I say ' a very child,' but it is no longer an adverbial meaning. As a further illustration of the tertiary character of the adverb, it may be noticed that it attaches only to adjectives and verbs, that is, to the two secondary words. The adverb is further removed from the base of language, it is higher above the foundation by which language is based in physical nature ; in other words, mind is more deeply engaged in its production than it is either in the case of the substantive or of the adjective. Accordingly the adverbs cannot be dis- posed of in a catalogue such as we have made of substantives and adjectives. The power of making adverbs is too un- hmited for us to catalogue them as things moulded and made. The adverb is to be looked at rather as a faculty than as a product, as a potential rather than as a material thing. Of all presentive words, the adverb has most sympathy with the verb. Indeed, this quality is already intimated in the very name of Adverb. It is the peculiar companion of the verb, as the adjective is of the substantive. It continues or intensifies the mental action raised by the verb, or even directs it into new channels. And here having reached as it were the third and topmost storey of our edifice, we leave behind us the care for raw material, and think more and more of the arts and graces of architectural composition. We have done with the forest and the quarry, and we are absorbed in the contemplation of the effect. We may yet incidentally notice that an adverbial form has come from Saxon or other external source ; but our main attention wili ADVERBS (flat). 36 1 be required by a division as truly inward to the adverbs themselves, as that which formed the plan of the chapter on verbs. Moreover this internal division is the more worthy of consideration, as it is not limited to the adverbs alone, but is correlated to the general economy and progress of language. I. Of the Flat Adverb. The Flat Adverb is simply a substantive or an adjective placed in an adverbial position. The same word which, if it qualified a noun, would be called an adjective, being set to qualify an adjective or a verb is called an adverb. The use of the unaltered adjective as an adverb has a peculiar effect, which I know not how to describe better than by the epithet Flat. This effect is not equally appreciable in all instances of the thing; but it may perhaps be recognised in the following case of the adverb — villamous. ' Like an ape, with forehead villainous low,' The uneasy young traveller in an American car, who (as Mr. Zincke relates) exclaimed ' Mother, fix me good,' gave us there an excellent example of this original adverb of nature. Although this adverbial use of good is not admitted in literary English, the analogous use of gut is polite German. Indeed, the fiat adverb is much more extensively used in German than in English, as fc^reiBeu (8ie langfam, 'write slowly.' We do also hear in English write slow, but it is rather rustic. Our English examples of this most primitive form of adverb will mostly be found in the colloquial and familiar ^6% THE NOUN-GROUP. specimens of language. In such homely phraseology as walk fast, walk slow ; speak loud, speak low ; tell me true ; or again in this, yes, sure — we have examples of the flat adverb. We do indeed find stire thus used by good writers : — ' And the work sure was very grateful to all men of devotion.' — Clarendon, History, i. § 198. clean. ' SufFre yet a litle whyle, & ye vngodly shal be clene gone : thou shalt loke after his place, & he shal be awaye.' — Psalm xxxvii. 10. (Miles Cover- dale, 1535.) In the following, brisk is a flat adverb : — ' He cherups brisk his ear-erecting steed.' William Cowper, The Task, Bk. III. strong. ' Yet these each other's power so strong contest, ' That either seems destructive of the rest.' Oliver Goldsmith, The Traveller. In the following, warm is a flat adverb : — ' Or when the deep green-mantl'd earth Warm cherish'd ev'iy flow'ret's birth, And joy and music pouring forth In ev'ry grove, I saw thee eye the gen'ral mirth With boundless love.' Robert Burns, The Vision. solemn. 'And wear thou this, she solemn said. And bound the holly round my head : The polish'd leaves, and berries red Did rustling play ; And like a passing thought she fled In light away.' — Id. just. 'A White Starling in Pembrokeshire. — Sir: On the 27th of October last, at about 10 a.m., I was seated in my room at Solva, Pembrokeshire — ADVERBS {FLAT). ^6^ a pretty little seaside town at which I was staying for a couple of months. A friend had just sent me a few back numbers of Land and Water, and I was at the above time and place reading in your issue of October the 9th a para- graph on " white starlings," signed C. P., in which the writer says that " whilst on a visit in Berkshire 1 saw a most beautiful specimen of a white starling. The closely packed plumage of that bird gave it a most lovely ap- pearance. He was snowy white, without a spot of colour. He dropped one morning with a flock in a meadow opposite our window; was also seen at Southstoke and Basildon, but afterwards disappeared, I fear, before some ruthless gun." I had only finished reading the paragraph when, with the paper still in hand, I stepped to the window, and outside, sure enough, there was a white starling in a flock of others ! I immediately ran to the house of my friend, Edward Robinson, Esq. — a rare ornithologist and taxidermist — and by the help of his breechloader we secured the prize.' — Land and Water, January 8, 1870. extraordinary. ^ ' We had an extraordinary good run with the Tiverton hounds yesterday.' — Id. January 15, 1870. ' I don't mean to hurt you, you poor little thing. And pussy-cat is not behind me ; So hop about pretty, and put down your wing, And pick up the crumbs, and don't mind me.' Ntirsery Rhymes. The adverbs have a knack of reverberation, which in flexional adverbs is a mere echo of sound, but in flat adverbs is often a varied reiteration of the sense. The following from Mr. Skrine's Translation of Schiller's Song 0/ the Bell^ furnishes an example : — back . . . home. ' From girls the proud Boy bursts away, The outer world to roam. With pilgrim-staff pursues his way. Comes back a stranger home.' (p. 4.) Other examples of the flat adverb in the same work are : — true. ' When strong with weak is blended right, And soft with firm doth well unite, Then ever rings the metal true.' (p- 5") 364 THE NOUN-GROUP, slow, best. ' While the bell is cooling slow May the workman rest : Each, as birds through bushes go, Do what likes him best.' (p. 14.) Of our short and homely adverbs there are some few which now bear the appearance of belonging to this group, having lapsed into it from the flexional group. Such are ill, still, which in Saxon are oblique cases, ille, stille (disyl- labic). But others are ancient substantives or adjectives whose original character has been overlaid by the adverbial habit. Such are 7Jifell,/ar, near, up, down, in, out. To this group belongs a word, provincial indeed, but which prevails through the eastern half of the island from Norfolk to Northumberland, namely the adverb geyn (Ger- man gegen), meaning 'near, handy, convenient.' Its use appears in the following dialogue taken from life : — ' " Where 's the baby's bib, Lavina ? " " On the chair, m'm " " I don't see it anywhere here." " Well 'm ; I 'm sure I laid it geyn ! " ' The flat adverb is in fact rustic and poetic, and both for the same reason, namely, because it is archaic. Out of poetry it is for the most part an archaism, but it must not therefore be set down as a rare, or exceptional, or ca- pricious mode of expression. If judgment went by numbers, this would in fact be entided to the name of the English Adverb. To the bulk of the community the adverb in -ly is bookish, and is almost as unused as if it were French. The flat adverb is all but universal with the illiterate. But among literary persons it is hardly used (a few phrases excepted), unless with a humorous intention. This will be made plain by an instance of the use of the flat adverb in ADVERBS {FLEXIONAL). ^6^ correspondence. Charles Lamb, writing to H. C. Robinson, ' Farewell ! till we can all meet comfortable.' — H. C. Robinson, Diary, 1827. This flat and simple adverb suffices for primitive needs, but it soon fails to satisfy the demands of a progressive civilisa- tion. For an example of the kind of need that would arise for something more highly organised, we may resort to that frequent unriddler of philological problems, the Hebrew language. In Exodus xvi. 5 we read : ' It shall be twice as much as they gather dayly.' Instead of dayly the Hebrew has day day, that is, a flat adverb day repeated in order to produce the eff'ect of our day by day or daily. This affords us a glimpse of the sort of ancient contrivance which was the substitute of flexion before flexion existed, and out of which flexion took its rise. But for a purely English bridge to the next division we may produce one of the frequent instances in which a flat adverb is coupled with a flexional one, and of which it so happens that the example at this moment before us is Mr. Froude's assertion, that Queen Mary's letters 'were examined long and minutely by each and every of the lords who were present.' (Vol. ix. p. 347.) 2 . 0/ the Flexional A dverb. When the flexional system of language had become established, and the nouns were declined, Nominative, Geni- tive, Dative, Ablative — the simplest way of applying a noun adverbially was by adding it to the sentence in its ablative or instrumental case. This was the general way of making adverbs in Greek and Latin, and also in Saxon. Of these 0^)6 THE NOUN-GROUP, we have little left to show. The clearest and most perfect instance is that of the old-fashioned adverb tvhilom or whilome : — ' It fortuned, (as fayre it then befell) Behynd his backe, unweeting where he stood, Of auncient time there was a springing Well, From which fast trickled forth a silver flood, Full of great vertues, and for med'cine good : Whylome, before that cursed Dragon got That happy land, and all with innocent blood Defyld those sacred waves, it rightly hot ^ The Well of Life ; ne yet his vertues had forgot,' The Faerie Queene, i. II. 29. The ablative plural of nouns in Saxon was in -um, as hwile, while, time ; hwilum, at whiles, at times. This ablative plural is the form which we retain in whilom, whilome. As this can only be illustrated from the elder form of our speech, we will quote one of the proverbs of our Saxon ancestors : ' Wea bi^ wundrum clibbor,' that is. Woe is wonderfully clinging. Here the idea of wonderfully is expressed by the dative plural of the noun wonder, and wufidrum signifies literally with wonders. To this place we must assign also o/te7t and seldom : as if oft-um and seld-um. The former is somewhat obscure ; but of the latter there is less doubt. The simple seld is very ancient, and does not appear in the Saxon remains, yet it crops up curiously enough in Chaucer's Knighfs Tale : — 'Selde is the Friday all the weke ylike.' Canterbury Tales, 1 5 41. i.e. Rarely is the Friday like the rest of the week. To the flexional division belong the adverbs in -meal, though they have now lost their flexion. In Saxon they ' =hight, i.e. was named. ADVERBS (FLEXIONAL). 367 end in -vicElum, as sticcemcBlum, ' stitchmeal/ or stitch by stitch, meaning piece-meal (German (Stitcf = piece). Chaucer has stoundemele, meaning 'from hour to hour/ or ' from one moment to another/ Thus, in the Romaiint of the Rose, 1. 2304 : — ' The life of love is full contraiie, Which stoundemele can oft varie.' and in Troilus and Creseide, Bk. v. 674 : — ' And hardily, this wind that more and more Thus stoundemele encreaseth in my face.' flockmel. ' Only that point his peple bare so sore, That flockmel on a day to him they went.' The Clerhe's Tale, init. In the Book of Curtesye, of the fifteenth century, the ' childe ' is advised to read the writings of Gower and Chaucer and Occleve, and above all those of the immortal Lydgate ; for eloquence has been exhausted by these ; and it remains for their followers to get it only by imitation and extracting — by ca?tfelmele, by scraps, extracts, quotations : — ' There can no man ther fames now disteyne : Thanbawmede toung and aureate sentence, Men gette hit nowe by cantelmele, and gleyne Here and there with besy diligence. And fayne wold riche the crafte of eloquence ; But be the glaynes is hit often sene. In whois feldis they glayned and have bene.' Oriel MS. ed. Furnival, Early English Text Society, Extra Series, iii. piecemeal. ' And, when I would have smitten them, heard a voice " Doubt not, go forward ; if thou doubt, the beasts Will tear thee piecemeal." ' The Holy Grail. limb-meal. * Tear her limb-meal.* — Cymheline, ii. 4. 368 THE NOUN-GROUP. Here also I should range the adverbs in -mg or -h'ng, as groveling = xa/^a^f • ' Like as the sacred Oxe that carelesse stands, With gilden homes and flowry girlonds crownd, Proud of his dying honor and deare bandes, Whiles th' altars fume with frankincense arownd, All suddeinly, with mortall stroke astownd, Doth groveling fall, and with his streaming gore Distaines the pillours and the holy grownd. And the faire flowres that decked him afore : So fell proud Marinall upon the pretious shore.' The Faerie Queene, iii. 4. 17. flatling. ' But it is worthy of memory, to see how the women of that Towne did ply themselues with their weapons, making a great Massacre upon our men, and murthered 500 of them in such speedie and furious sort as is wonder- full : wee needed not to haue feared their men at all, had not the women bin our greatest ouerthrow, at which time I my self was maister Gunner of the Admirals Gaily, yet chained greeuously, and beaten naked with a Turkish sword flatling, for not shooting where they would haue me, and where I could not shoote.' — Wehhe his trauailes, 1590 (Ashbee's Facsimile Reprint). darkling. ' Then feed on Thoughts, that voluntary move Harmonious numbers ; as the wakeful Bird Sings darkling, and in shadiest Covert hid Tunes her Nocturnal note.' John Milton, Paradise Lost, iii. 39. Instances of the gentive in -es, used as an adverbial sign, are upwards, towards, needs, eggelinges ( = edgewise, Chevelere Assigne, 305), eftsoones (Spenser, Faerie Queene, iii. 11. 38). needs. ' Sen |50u hast lerned b}^ ])e sentence of plato J)at nedes ];e wordes moten ben conceyued to J)o Jiinges of whiche jjei speken.' — Boethius (Early English Text Society), p. 106. Translation. — Since thou hast learned by the sentence of Plato that the words must needs be conceived (fittingly) to the things of which they speak. ADVERBS (FLEXIONAL). 369 Mark xiii. 7. Tyndale, 1526. 161 1. ' When ye shall heare of warre ' And when yea shall heare of and tydinges oiF warre, be ye not warres, and rumors of warres, be yee troubled ; for they must nedes be, not troubled : For such things must butt the ende is nott yett.' needs be, but the end shall not be yet.' sonderlypes = severally. 'Were he neuere of so hey parage, Wold he, ne wolde, J)at scholde he do, Olper J)e de]> schold he go to. "^ pus sonderlypes he dide J»em swer^, Tyl Argayl schulde J)ey fai]) here.* R. Brunne's Chronicle (Lambeth MS.) 3876. Early English Text Society. Upwards, ' One's general impression of a mountain is that it should have something of a pyramidal form. The differentia of a mountain is, I suppose, that the curves of its outline should be concave upwards, whereas those of a hill are convex.' But the flexion which has obtained the greatest vogue is that in -ly ; as, ' I gave him sixpence willingly." This adverb might appear to be nothing but a collocative adaptation of the adjective in -ly to the adverbial use. Had this been its history, it would still have deserved a separate place from the flat adverbs, because of the almost universal appropriation of this adjectival form as an adverbial inflec- tion. But the fact is, that although the adjective and adverb in -ly have now the same external aspect, this is only a re- sult of that levelling process of the transition period under which so many of our flexions disappeared. In Saxon the adjective was in -lic^ as wonderlic, wonderful ; and the adverb in -lice, as wunderlice, wonderfully. And this final -e was the case-ending of the instrumental case, and so resembled the Latin adverb from the ablative, as verd. When we consider how much has been absorbed in this Bb 370 THE NOUN-GROUP, adverbial termination, we can understand why the last syl- lable of the adverb in -ly was pronounced so full and long down to the sixteenth century, as in the following : — * Ye ought to be ashamed, Against me to be gramed ; And can tell no cause why, But that I wryte trulye.' Skelton, Colyn Clout. This adverbial form has become so exceedingly prevalent above all others, as almost to eclipse them and cause them to be forgotten : while, moreover, the great dominance of this form as an adverb has cast a sort of shadow over the adjective of the same form. Sometimes these functions come into an uncomfortable collision with one another ; as, ' Their ungodly deeds which they have ungodly committed,' where the first ungodly is an adjective and the second an adverb. The expression ' truly and godly serve Thee ' is not quite free from the same disturbance. What was said in the last section about social adjectives, applies also to adverbs, though in a more superficial way. Adverbs do not take the root that adjectives do. In the last generation a marked social adverb was vastly : thus, in Mansfield Park^ when Edward was resolute that ' Fanny must have a horse,' we read : — ' Mrs. N orris could not help thinking that some steady old thing might be found among the numbers belonging to the Park, that would do vastly well.' At the present moment it may be said that awfully is the adverb regnant. ' How do ? ' ' Awfully jolly, thanks.* Verily is an adverb in which a French base has received a Saxon formative. This adverb is a memorial of the bi- lingual period of our language. It has not undergone the usual process of formation through an adjective. There has never been an adjective verily : and I do not think the ADVERBS {FLEXION AL). 37 1 adverb has been built upon very after its establishment as an English adjective; but rather that the termination -ly, as the established sign of adverbiality, has supplanted the French adverbial termination -meni. Verily is our insular substitute for the French vraiment, Italian veramente, Latin, or rather Roman, vera menie. It is curious to observe that the Romanesque languages should have taken the word for mind as the material out of which they have moulded a formula for the adverbial idea; while the Saxon equivalent has grown out of the word for lody ; lie being body, German chiefly. ' Only a sweet and virtuous soul, Like seasoned timber, never gives ; But though the whole world turn to coal.' Then chiefly lives.' George Herbert. Before we pass from this, one of the most dominant forms of our language, we may glance for a moment at the feeling and moral effects with which it is associated. As the sub- stantive is the most necessary of words, so the adverb is naturally the most decorative and distinguishing. And as it is easiest to err in that part of your fabric which is least necessary, so a writer's skill or his incapacity comes out more in his adverbs than in his substantives or adjectives. It is no small matter in composition to make your adverbs appear as if they belonged to the statement, and not as mere arbitrary appendages. Hardly anything in speech gives greater satisfaction than when the right adverb is put in the right place. • Dickens, describing the conversation of two men at a funeral as they discuss the fate or prospects of various neighbours, past and present, says, with one of his happiest touches, that they spoke as if they themselves were " notoriously immortal." ' How happy is this ' notoriously ' ! how delicately does it expose that inveterate paradox of self-delusion whereby Bb 2 'yjl THE NOUN-GROUP. men tacitly assume for themselves an exception from the operation of general laws ! How widely does this differ from the common tendency to be profuse in adverbs, which is a manifestation of the impotent desire to be effective at little cost. The following is not a strong example, but it will indicate what is meant : — ' Most heartily do I recommend Mr. Beecher's sermons .... they are instructively and popularly philosophical, without being distractingly metaphysical.' — The Pulpit Analyst. As in art the further an artist goes in embellishment the . more he risks a miscarriage in effect, so it is in language. It is only the master's hand that can safely venture to lay on the adverbs thick. And yet their full capability only then comes out when they are employed with something like prodigality. When there is a well-ballasted paragraph, sohd in matter and earnest in manner, then, like the full sail of a well-found ship, the adverbs may be crowded with glad effect. In the following passage, how free from adverbs is the body of the paragraph; and when we come to where they are lavishly displayed at the end, we feel that the demon- stration is justified. If we quoted only the termination of this passage, the adverbs would lose their raison d'etre. * I believe the first test of a truly great man is his humility. I do not mean by humiHty, doubt of his own power, or hesitation in speaking his opinions ; but a right understanding of the relation between what he can do and say, and the rest of the world's sayings and doings. All great men not only know their business, but usually know that they know it ; and are not only right in their main opinions, but they usually know that they are right in them ; only, they do not think much of themselves on that account. Arnolfo knows he can build a good dome at Florence ; Albert Durer writes calmly to one who had found fault with his work, " It cannot be better done ; " Sir Isaac Newton knows that he has worked out a problem or two that would have puzzled anybody else ; — only they do not expect their fellow-men therefore to fall down and worship them ; they have a curious under-sense of powerlessness, feeling that the greatness is not in them, but through them ; that they could not do or be anything else than God made . them. And they see something divine and God-made in every other man they meet, and are endlessly, foolishly, incredibly merciful.' ADVERBS (phrasal). 373 Unless it is used with skill and discretion, the cumulation of the formal adverb is apt to generate fulsomeness. Nay, even singly put, a certain moderation is requisite for a pleasing effect. In short, this form will not bear a very heavy charge, and when the weightiest demonstrations of this kind have to be made, it is found by experience that the requisite display of adverbiality is accomplished with another sort of instrument. As a bridge from this section to the next, the words from 2 Cor. ix. 7, 'not grudgingly or of necessity,' will do very well. Or the following : — worthily and to great purpose. ' Notwithstanding, though it [the Septuagint] was commended generally, yet it did not fully content the learned, no not of the lewes. For not long after Christ, Aquila fell in hand with a new Translation, and after him Tbeodotion, and after him Symmachus : yea, there was a fift and a sixt edition, the Authours wherof were not knowen. These with the Seuentie made vp the Hexapla, and were worthily and to great purpose compiled together by Origen' — The S'ranslators to the Reader, 161 1. Here we have an adverb of the formal kind coupled with one of the phrasal, to which we now proceed. 3. 0/ the Phrasal Adverb. The Phrasal Adverb is already considerably developed, and it is still in course of development; but it attracts the less attention because the thing is going on under our eyes. As the general progress of our language involves the decay of flexion and the substitution of symbolic words in its place, so this alteration befalls particular groups of words more or less, in proportion to the degree of their elevation and consequent exposure. The substantive, which is the primary presentive, and which lies at the base of the rest, is naturally 374 ^-^^ NOUN-GROUP. least affected ; while the adverb, which is the tertiary or top- most presentive, is naturally the most exposed to the innovations of symbolism. This expansion of the language seems to call for a cor- responding enlargement in the sense of such a term as ' adverb.' If willingly is an adverb in the sentence ' I gave him sixpence willingly/ then what am I to call the phrase 'with a good will/ if I thus express myself: 'I gave him sixpence with a good will ' .? In its relation to the mind this phrase occupies precisely the same place as that word ; and if a different name must be given on account of form only, our terminology will need an indefinite enlargement while it will have but a superficial signification. I would rather call them both adverbs, distinguishing them as Formal and Phrasal. Often we see that we are obliged to translate a formal Greek adverb by a phrasal English one, thus oixodvfxadov, in ActS ii. I, Wl'l/l one accord ; dTrepLa-n-daTas, I Cor. vii. 35, without distraction ; ddiaXelTrrcos, i Thess. v. 17, without ceasing. Of a child, in Mark ix. 21, is our rendering of naidioBev, an adverb of the formal and conventional type. Genitival forms of the adverb having ceased to grow in the language, their place is supplied by the formation of phrasal adverbs with the symbol q/"; as, of a truth, of neces- sity, of old. of old. ' And all be vernal rapture as of old.' Christian Year, Twenty-third Sunday after Trinity. The symbol of has taken the place of the genitival flex- ion, and we may say generally, that in the modern action of the language the prepositions have taken the place of oblique cases. They enter freely into the formation ADVERBS (phrasal). ^y^ of phrases which do the office both of the adjective and of the adverb. As a word may be an adjective or an adverb according to its relative place in the sentence, so also there is many a phrase which, according to its position, is either an adjec- tive of the third class or an adverb of the third class ; that is to say, either a phrasal adjective (adjection), or a phrasal adverb (adverbiation). See how this acts, for example, in the phrases z'n Joke, in earnest. If we say ' he is in joke," or ' in earnest,' they are adjectives ; but if we say ' he said so in joke,' or * in earnest,' they are, adverbs. Here we have to do only with the adverbial office of such phrases. Examples : — at best, at intervals, at large, at least, at length, at most, at random, at worst ; in earnest, infad^ in good faith, in jest, in truth, in vain.. at present. ' But at present we may accept these simple laws without going further back.' — Alfred Russel Wallace, Creation by Law. at last. ■ ' So that one may scratch a thought half a dozen times, and get nothing at last but a faint sputter.' — James Russell Lowell, Fireside Travels, 1864, p. 163. in jest. ' We will not touch upon him ev'n in jest.* Alfred Tennyson, Enid. In presence is a phrasal adverb which we have borrowed from the French, en presence ; as — ' The only antagonist in presence . . . came to be treated as the only antagonist in existence.' The phrasal adverb in fact has of late been sometimes modified to in effect, after the French en effet. 376 THE NOUN-GROUP. A phrasal adverb which has coalesced into one vocable, is that which is formed with the ^-prefix, as abed, afield, agog, aloud, afar, afoot, aright, awork. In our earlier printed literature, and down to the close of the sixteenth century, this adverb is printed as two vocables : — a right. ' They turne them selues, but not a right, & are become as a broken bowe.' — Miles Coverdale, Hosea vii. i6. I derive this a from the French preposition a; thus afooi represents a pied. Another form of the phrasal adverb is where a noun is repeated with a preposition between, as wave after wave, bridge by bridge, &c. ' And then the two Dropt to the cove, and watched the great sea fall, Wave after wave, each mightier than the last, Till last, a ninth one, gathering half the deep And full of voices, slowly rose and plunged Roaring, and all the wave was in a flame.' Alfred Tennyson, The Coming of Arthur. ' Not to be crost, save that some ancient king Had built a way, where, link'd with many a bridge, A thousand piers ran into the great Sea, And Galahad fled along them bridge by bridge.' Id. Another form of this adverb is that which is inducted by the demonstrative pronoun, or the definite article, or any other word of a pronominal nature. Such are, in the follow- ing quotations, the adverbs that time, no thynge, the while, the right way, the wrong way. Tt makes no difference whe- ther a preposition be understood, as if those phrases were abbreviations for ' at that time,' ' in no respect,' * for the while,' ' in the right way,' ' in the wrong way.' Such a con- sideration makes no difference in regard to the adverbial nature of the phrases, and has, in fact, no place here. ADVERBS {phrasal). ' ' 377 /ha^ time, 7io thynge. ' Irlond ]?at tyme was bygged no ]>ynge WyJ) hous ne toun, ne man wonynge.' R. Brunne's Chronicle (Lambeth MS.) Translation. — Ireland at that time was not-at-all built with house nor town, nor man resident. the right way, the wrong way. ' The right thing beUeved the right way must inevitably produce the perfect life. Either, then, the civilised world believes the wrong thing, or it believes the right thing the wrong way.' — Laurence Oliphant, Piccadilly, (1870), p. 274. the while. ' Yet, while they use greater earnestness of entreaty than their Lord, they must not forget His dignity the while who sends them.' — J. H. Newman, vol. i. serm. xxiii. Room enough must be given to the term ' adverb ' to let it take in all that appertains to the description of the con- ditions and circumstances attendant upon the statement contained in the sentence. If I say, ' I gave him sixpence with a good will/ and if the phrase ' with a good will ' is admitted to a place among adverbs, then there is no reason to exclude any circumstantial adjunct, such as, with a green purse, or without any purse to keep it in. If any one objects to this as too vague a relaxation of our terminology, I would propose that for such extended phraseological adverbs we adopt the title of Adverbiation. Such a term would furnish an appropriate description for the relative position of a very important element in modern diction. At the close of the following quotation we see a couple of phrases linked to- gether, which would come under this designation : — ' I had a very gracious reception from the Queen and the Prince Consort, and a large party of distinguished visitors. The affability and grace of these exalted personages made a deep impression on me. It might be copied by some of our grocers and muffin-bakers to their great improvement, and to the comfort of others surrounding them.' — The Public Life of W. F. Wallett, the Queen's Jester, 1870. 3; 8 THE NOUN-GROUP. Without effort and without thought. 'When I contemplate natural knowledge squandering such gifts among men, the only appropriate comparison I can find for her is, to liken her to such a peasant woman as one sees in the Alps, striding ever upward, heavily burdened and with mind bent only on her home ; but yet, without effort and without thought, knitting for her children.' — T. H. Huxley, Lay Sermons. If the study of grammar is ever to grapple with the facts of language, one of two things must take place : either we must make a great addition to the terminology, or we must invest the present terms with a more comprehensive mean- ing. If the ancient terms of grammar were the result of mature and philosophical thought, and if they at all reflected those mental phases which must necessarily underlie all highly organized speech, then they will naturally and without suffering any violence bear continual extension, so as still to cover the phenomena of language under the greatly altered conditions of its modern development. A multiplication of terms is not in itself a desirable thing in any method ; and least of all in one that holds a prominent place in educational studies. One of the best tests of the soundness of a system hinges on this — Whether it will explain new facts without providing itself with new definitions and new categories. The multi- plication of names and classes and groups is for the most part not an explanation at all, but only an evasion of the difficulty which has to be explained. We have, then, ex- plained a new phenomenon, when we have shewn that it naturally belongs to or branches out of some part of the old and familiar doctrine. As therefore it is the condemnation of any system that it should be frequently resorting to new devices, so it is the greatest recommendation when it appears to be ever stretching out the hand of welcome to admit and assign a niche to each newly observed phenomenon. These remarks are suggested by the stage at which ADVERBS (phrasal). 379 we are now arrived in our delineation of the phrasal adverb. For here we perceive that an opportunity oifers itself to explain philologcally one of the most peculiar of the phe- nomena of the English language. That which we call the English infinitive verb, such as /o live, to die, is quite a modern thing, and is characteristic of English as opposed to Saxon. The question, in presence of such a new phe- nomenon, is naturally raised,— Whence this form of the infinitive verb } We did not borrow it, for it is not French or Latin ; we did not inherit it, for it is not Saxon ! How did it rise, and what gave occasion to it 1 This question is one that enters into the very interior growth of language, and one that will supply the student of English with an aim for his observations in perusing our earlier literature. I have indeed my own answer ready ; but I wish it distinctly to be understood that it is to the question rather than to the answer that I direct attention, and that in propounding this and other \ roblems for his solution, I con- sider myself to be rendering him the best philological service in my power. My answer is, that it first existed as a phrasal adverb ; that it was a method of attaching one verb on to another in an adverbial manner, and that in process of time it detached itself and assumed an independent position. As the fruit of the pine-apple is not the termination of a branch, but the plant continues to push itself forward through the fruit and beyond it, so it is with language. The sentence is the mature product of language, but out of the extremity of sentences there shoot forth germs for the propagation of new sentences and the projection of new forms of speech. Let me add an illustration or two. In the Saxon Chronicle of Peterborough, anno 1085, we read : ' Hit is sceame to tellanne, ac hit ne thuhte him nan 380 THE NOUN-GROUP, sceame to donne ' — ' It is a shame to tell, but it seemed not to him any shame to do/ The Saxon infinitives of the verbs do and tell were don and tellan ; but here these infinitives are treated as if they were substantives, and put in the oblique case with the preposition to, by means of which these verbs are attached adverbially to their respective sentences, which are complete sentences already without these adjuncts. We must not confuse this case with the modern construction ' to speak of it is shameful,' where the verb is now detached, and formed into the modern infinitive, and put as the subject of the sentence. These verbs to tellanne and to donne I call phrasal adverbs ; even as in the modern sentence, ' He has three shillings a week to live on,' I call to live on a phrasal adverb. In modern English this adverbial use is eclipsed to our eyes by the far greater frequency of the substantival or in- finitive use ; but still it is not hard to find instances of the former, and there are two in the close of the following paragraph. Mr. Sargent, pleading for colonies and emi- gration, says : — ' We are told also that those who go are the best, the backbone of the nation ; that the resolute and enterprising go abroad, leaving the timid and apathetic at home. This is not the whole truth. If I look around among young men of my acquaintance, I see many who are worthy of all respect, but who cannot settle down to a fixed town employment ; who long for movement, air, sunshine, and storm, and who are impatient under the mo- notonous restraints of everyday occupations. These are the men for volun- teer fire brigades, and, in case of war, for fighting ; but they are not the back- bone of the nation in times of peace. Emigration, employment in India, a mission to the end of the world, form their natural resources. In sending them away, we get rid of an explosive material, dangerous in quiet times : we apply the material to a useful purpose, on the plains of Australia, or up the country in India. In one sense these are our best men : they are the best to go, not the best to stay.* — Essays by Members of the Birmingham Speculative Club, p, 26. As in French the phrase afaire (occurring often in such connection as quelque chose afaire, heaucoiip afaire, ' some- NUMERALS. 381 thing to do/ ' a great deal to do ') became at length one vocable, and that a substantive, affaire (English affair), so like- wise in provincial English did to-do become a substantive, as in the Devonshire exclamation, ' Here 's a pretty to-do !' In place of this to-do the King's English accepted a composition part French, part English, and hence the substantive ado. If it be admitted that affair and ado are now separate sub- stantives formed from a preposition and a verb, the strange- ness of supposing a similar origin for our formal English infinitive is much lessened. This explanation may be confirmed or corrected by the young philologer ; only he should consider in what way the infinitives may appear to have been formed in other, languages. It might be worth while to trace the origin of the Danish infinitive, which Hke ours is phrasal ; he should also cast a glance at the flexional infinitives of the Greek and Latin, and see what sort of an account has been rendered of these by the Sanskrit scholars. The Numeeals. The numerals make a little noun-group by themselves, and are (like the chief noun-group) distinguished by the threefold character of substantive, adjective, and adverb. The distinction between substantive and adjective is not quite so sharp here as in other presentive words. It is however plain that the cardinals when used arithmetically are substantives, as in two and two make four. The numeral has also this aspect when any person or thing is designated as number one, number two, &c., the word 'number' being in the nature of a mere prefix, as is felt when we look at the oblique-cased Latin word which the French use in this connection. 382 THE NOUN-GROUP. ' " En Angleterre," said a cynical Dutch diplomatist, " numero deux va chez numero un, pour s 'en glorifier aupres de numero trois." ' — Laurence Oliphant, Piccadilly, Part v. Moreover, when the numeral takes a plural form, it must be regarded as a substantive, e.g. ' There are hundreds of genuine letters of Mary Queen of Scots still extant.' — John Hosack, Mary Queen of Scots and ber Accusers, p. 198. There is in some languages an abstract substantive which is formed upon cardinals, and it has a peculiar utility in ex- pressing the more conventional quantities or round numbers. Thus in French there is huitaine, a quantity of eight, which is only used in talking of the huit jours, ' eight days ' of the week. So they have their dixaine, douzaine, quinzaine, ving- iaine, hentaine, quarantaine, cinquantaine, soixantaine, centaine. Of all this we have nothing. Only we have borrowed their word for 'a tale of twelve,' and have angUcised it into dozen. Then we have a native substitute for vingtaine, not originally a numeral at all, but a word that practically fills the place of one. This is the word score, an elongate form of scar, meaning a notch on the rind of a stick or some such ledger. Our special use of this word seems to indicate that in the rude reckoning of our ancestors a larger notch was made at every twenty. The following is from The Mystery of Edwin Drood, within a little of its abrupt termination : — ' " I like," says Mr. Datchery, " the old tavern way of keeping scores. Illegible, except to the scorer . . . Hum ; ha ! A very small score this ; a very poor score !" He sighs over the contemplation of its poverty, takes a bit of chalk from one of the cupboard-shelves, and pauses with it in his hand, uncertain what addition to make to the account. " I think a moderate stroke," he concludes, " is all I am justified in scoring up ; " so, suits the action to the word, closes the cupboard, and goes to bed.' When used numerically, as two stars, three graces, four seas, five senses, then the numerals are assimilated to adjectives. But while we trace in the variations of the numeral a broad and general resemblance to the distinctions which I NUMERALS. 383 mark the nounal group, we should just notice that there is not in thought the same adjectival character in the numeral as there is in the nounal group. If I say bright stars, fabled graces, uncertain seas, receptive senses, these adjec- tives have the same relation to their substantives, whether those substantives be taken in the plural or in the singular. Whereas the numerals two, three, four, five, belong to their substantives only conjointly and not severally. It may have been a dim sense of this difference that caused the vacillation w^hich has appeared in language about the ad- jectival declension of numerals. In Saxon the first three numerals were declined. Thus, preora is genitive oi preo : ' pis is ])3era Jjreora hida land gemsere,' &c. ' This is the land-meer of the three hides,' &c. (a.d. 974.) Adverbial numerals are such as once, twice, thrice, four times, &c., where it is to be observed that the difference of adverbial form between the first three numerals and their successors is of a piece with the fact that these three were declined, and the others were not, at least not within recorded memory. The adverbs once, twice, thrice, are in fact old genitives which have been disfigured by a frenchified ortho- graphy. In the Ormulum they are spelt thus : aness, twiyss, thriyss. This group is exceedingly retentive of antiquity. Not only is there a radical identity in the numerals of the Gothic family, but these again are identical with the numerals of other families of languages. This indicates a very high an- tiquity. It will be as well to illustrate this fact by com- parative tables. First, we will compare the different forms assumed by the numerals in some of the various branches of our own Gothic family, and then we will pass beyond that limit and take into our comparison some of the most illus- trious languages of the Indo-European stock. ^ ^ ffi ,£3 +j +J +J bo NUMERALS. 385 In consequence of the luxuriant declension of the nu- merals in Sanskrit, I have followed the authority of Bopp's Grammar for the ' theme ' in each case, that is to say, the part of the word which is present or implied in each of the various forms under w^hich it appears in literature. Ianskrit. Greek. Latin. Lithuanian. eka hen un dva du du tri tri tri tri chatur tessar quatuor panchan petite quinqme penki shash hex sex szeszi saptan hepta septem septyni ashtan okto octo asztuni navan ennea novem dewyni dasan deka decern deszimt ■ekadasan hendeka undecim dvadasan dodeka duodecim trayodasan triskaideka tredecim chaturdasaa tessareskaideka quatuordecim unavinsati undevinginti vinsati eikosi viginti trinsat triakonta triginta chatvarinsat tesserakonta quadraginta panchasat pentekonta quinquaginta shashti hexakonta sexaginta saptati hebdomekonta septuaginta asiti ogdoekonta octoginta navati enenekonta nonaginta satam hekaton centum The numerals have been inserted in this place as a sort of appendix to the nounal group, because of the manifest affinity of their form and their use to that group. At the same time enough has been said to indicate that they have a distinct character of their own, and that it would be un- philological to let them be absorbed into any class of words whatever. Their assimilation to the nounal group is less now than it was in ancient times ; that is to say, the modern languages permit their distinctive character to be more apparent than the ancient languages did. c c 385 THE NOUN-GROUP. That this is the proper place for the numerals we con- clude not only from their assimilation to the nounal group on the one hand, but also from certain traces of affinity which they bear to the pronouns, and on which we shall have to touch in the next chapter. P.S. — By an oversight, which it is now too late to correct in its proper place, the Ordinal numbers have been omitted. It is in these that the numeral more particularly assumes an adjectival character. We retain all the ordinals in the Saxon form except two, namely, first and second. First rose into its place from the dialects; but second was borrowed from the French — a solitary instance among the numerals, properly so called. The Saxon word in its place was other, a word which has now a pronominal value only. CHAPTER VIIL THE PRONOUN GROUP. We now cross the greatest chasm in language — the chasm which separates the presentives from the symbolics. So profoundly has this separation been felt by philologers, that some would even regard these two spheres of speech as radically and originally distinct from each other. The con- sideration of this theory would lead us beyond the track of the present treatise. It is only introduced here as a testi- mony to the greatness of the distinction between nouns and pronouns. Bopp, in his Comparative Grammar, § 105, taught that in Sanskrit and the kindred languages (which include English) there are two classes of roots, the one of verbs and nouns, the other of ' pronouns, all original prepositions, con- junctions, and particles.' The former he calls Verbal Roots, the latter Pronominal Roots. On the other hand, we find Professor Max Miiller at dif- ferent periods holding different views as to the derivation of aham, the Sanskrit ego; and at one time he proposed to derive it from a Sanskrit verb ah to breathe, to speak. He has in his Lectures (Second Series, 1864) given up this view without joining the ranks of those who have assigned to it a pronominal root. He gives us moreover an excellently c c 2 388 THE PRONOUN GROUP, suggestive illustration of the way in which the one class of words may be transplanted into the place of the other. ' The pronoun of the first person in Cochin-Chinese is not a pronoun, but means " servant." / /ove is expressed in that civil language by servant loves! Thus he appears not to hold the necessity of the division of the radicals into two classes. If the word servant in this case is not a pronoun, it is at least in a fair way of becoming so. Already in English 'your humble servant/ when used playfully as a substitute for /, is a pronoun ; as much so as your Honour, your Lordship, your Grace, your Highness, your Majesty. That all these have passed, or at least are passing, into the region of the symbolic, there can be little doubt. And these recent instances of the transference enables us to conceive how all pronouns may possibly have been generated from nouns. This wide difference between nouns and pronouns is equally certain, whatever may become of any etymological theory, inasmuch as it is a difference which depends not upon origin, but upon function. It is not our earliest im- pression when we first consider a butterfly, that it is a transformed caterpiller. But when we have discovered their identity of origin, we have in no wise removed their dif- ference of function. Although we know that the caterpiller and the butterfly are of the same family, this does not a whit alter the fact that they are two widely difl"erent things, in very different conditions of existence. Should it ever become capable of proof that all the pronouns had sprung from presentive roots, this would not invalidate the state- ment, that in passing from nouns to pronouns we traverse a wide gulf, and one which can hardly be overrated as the great central valley dividing the two great formations of which language is composed. SUB-PRESENTIVE. 389 These two great hemispheres of language, which we designate as the Presentive and the Symbolic, which Bopp calls the Verbal and the Pronominal, may with equal propriety and greater brevity be simply called Nouns and Pronouns, for in fact every other part of speech branches out of these two. Of all the parts of speech hitherto noticed, it is the general quality (putting aside a few marked exceptions, of which the most prominent is the symbol-verb to be) that they are presentive. Of all the parts of speech which remain to be noticed it is the general quality that they are not pre- sentive but symbolic. And yet we are not come to a dead level of symboHsm. There are varieties of this character. And the first pronouns that we shall consider, are a class which combine with their symbolism a certain qualified sort of presentive power. How completely the personal pronouns are entitled to the character of symbolic we have already shown. But here we have to add, that besides the symbolic character, the pronoun / (for instance) has also a sort of reflected or borrowed presentiveness. which I propose to call a sub- presentive power. Though this pronoun has absolutely no signification by itself, yet when once the substantive has been given like a keynote, then from that time the pronoun continues to have, by a kind of delegacy, the presentive power which has been deputed to it by that substantive. We may see the same thing, if we consider the third per- sonal pronoun him. ' ' It has been m}^ rare good fortune to have seen a large proportion of the greatest minds of our age, in the fields of poetry and speculative philosophy, such as Wordsworth, Coleridge, Schiller, Tieck ; but none that I have ever known come near him.' — H. C. Robinson, Diary, 1 831. If we read the above sentence, and ask 'Who is himV we acknowledge the two qualities which constitute the 390 THE PRONOUN GROUP. substantive-pronoun: for we imply that the word does in^- dicate somebody, and that it does not say who the person indicated is. he. ' He was a delightful man to walk with, and especially in a mountainous country. He was physically strong, had excellent spirits, and was joyous and boyish in his intercourse with his children and pupils.' — H. C. Robinson, Diary, 1 842. This sub - presentive character the personal pronouns have, as if by a right of contiguity to the great presentive body of words which we leave behind us. As we proceed with the catalogue of the pronouns, it will become less and less perceptible, until at length, when the pronoun passes into the conjunction, it entirely fades from the view, and leaves only the pure symbolic essence of words, whose meaning is so slight as to be imponderable, and whose value for the highest purposes of language is so great as to be almost inestimable. The pronouns are, as their name signifies, words which are the vicegerents of nouns. Accordingly, they vary in habit and function just in the same manner as nouns vary, and fall naturally into a similar division. This division is therefore into the same three groups as before, viz. I. Substantival, II. Adjectival, III. Adverbial. I. Substantival Pkonouns These are the pronouns of which, if the reader asked himself what presentive word they symbolise, he must make answer by a substantive. And of these the first in every sense are the personal pronouns. How ancient these are will best be seen by a comparative table. Most of them will SUBSTANTIVAL PRONOUNS. 391 be found to be radically the same in all the languages of the Gothic stock. The statement would apply much more widely; but we must be on our guard against wandering when we are entering such a ' forest primeval ' as that of the pronominal group. Hear Professor Max Miiller on the antiquity of akam, which is the Sanskrit form of /. ' It belongs to the earliest formations of Aryan speech, and we need not wonder that even in Sanskrit the materials out of which this pronoun was framed should have disappeared.' And just below, — ' The Sanskrit ahatn, a word carried down by the stream of language from such distant ages, that even the Vedas, as compared with them, are but as it were of yesterday.' — Lectures, Second Series, p. 348. Pronoun of the First Person. GOTHIC. Singular. Norn, ik ICELANDIC. ek ANGLO-SAXON. ic ENGLISH. I Gen. meina min min Dat. Ace. mis mik mer mik me (mec) me) me Dual. Nom. Gen. Dat. -1 Acc.j wit unkara (?) unkis wit okkar okkr wit uncer unc Plural. Nom. Gen. weis unsara wer war we (user) ure we Dat. ■» Acc.j unsis OSS US us The point to be noticed here is the paucity of English forms, when these are compared with the elder languages. Practically the difference is made up by the use of words like of, to, which have many other uses besides their applica- tion in this place. So that this is a case of simplificationj of 393 THE PRONOUN GROUP. economy of form, in the modern as contrasted with the elder languages. The word min as a genitive of Ic or / does not exist in English. It exists in a different character as mine, an adjectival pronoun. In German the same change has taken place : the word mein, originally an official genitive of ic^, has passed from the condition of a substantival to that of an adjectival pronoun. But the old substantival use of mein, in which it means of me, is retained in certain expressions : thus ©ebenfe mein = think of me. But the English mine is now adjectival only. The same observation applies exactly to ure, which has altogether dropped out of use as the genitive plural of a substantival pronoun, and has passed into the condition of an adjectival pronoun our. The contrast which the above table exhibits between the English on the one hand, and the ancestral languages on the other, is very striking. It shows how far we have moved from their condition in regard to an element of language which is justly esteemed among the most constant. But this will appear still more remarkable if we now proceed to compare with the English the same feature in French and Italian. Singular. Norn. Je Gen. de moi Dat. a moi Ace. me Plural. Nom. nous Gen. de nous Dat. a nous Ace. nous It is plain that our language has retained its native material throughout this pronoun, but that the shaping of that ma- ITALIAN. ENGLISH. lo I di me of me a me to me me me noi we di noi of us- a noi to us noi us SUBSTANTIVAL PRONOUNS. 393 terial is entirely copied from the Romance languages. It will not be necessary to take up space with displaying the same fact throughout the pronouns of the second and third person. It will be obvious to any one who has acquired the elements of the Gothic and Romance languages, that the example applies to those cases, and to a great many others which we leave to the young philologer to explore for himself. Pronoun of the Second Person. GOTHIC. ICELANDIC. ANGLO-SAXON, ENGLISH. Singular. Nom. thu thu thu thou Gen. theina thin thin Dat. thus ther the 1 (thee) the i thee Ace. thuk thik Dual. Nom. jut (?) (it) thit git Gen. inkwara ykkar incer Dat. inkwis ykkr inc Ace. inkwis ykkr (incit) ine Plural. Nom. jus (er) ther ge (ye) yoi Gen. izwara ythar eower Dat. izwis ythr eow '^ Aec. izwis ythr (eowie) eow J you The observations which have been made upon the pre- vious pronouns apply also here. The paucity of the modern forms is more marked here, because three out of the four are restricted in use. The genitives thin and eower have dis- .appeared as such, but they retain a place as adjectival pronouns, namely, thine and your. Here also, as in the case of the first pronoun, the blanks which the English column exhibits are supplied by a method of expression which we have learned from the French. 394 ^^^ PRONOUN GROUP. Pronoun of the Third Person. This pronoun was in Saxon declined as follows : — Singular. Nom. he * heo hit^ Gen. his f hiref his Dat. him t hire + him Ace. hine hi hit* Plural (of all genders). N. and A, , hie (hi, hig, heo) Gen. hiera (heora, hira) Dat. him (heom) If you go through this old declension word by word, seeking in each case the modern equivalent, you will find that only three of its members are still perfectly living. They are those which are marked with an asterisk. I call a given word living, not when the mere form is extant, but when that form retains the animating function of the original word. In such a comparison we need not notice the changes of shape, when a word is known to be the same. Thus the difference of spelling between the words hire and her is insignificant. But the difference of function must be rigorously weighed, or we shall let the most important distinctions slip unvalued through our fingers. For this reason I have excluded the genitive case singular neuter, as being now a dead language to us. The neuter his no longer exists, except in old literature. It has entirely disappeared, and does not even remain in the discharge of any partial or, local function. Instances of its use are abundant in Shak- speare and our Bible ; as — ' They came vnto the yron gate that leadeth vnto the citie, which opened to them of his owne accord,' — Acts xii. lo. SUBSTANTIVAL PRONOUNS. 395 Equally extinct is him, the dative neuter. But the masculine and feminine of these cases linger on with a thin and meagre function. The his, hire of the genitive are not indeed quite, but almost entirely represented and superseded by of him and of her. The his and her with which we are most familiar are no longer genitive cases of a substantival pronoun ; they have long ago become adjectival words, and they are desig- nated in Grammars as possessives. But as this does not quite shut out an occasional use of his, her, which is identical with that of Saxon times, I have marked these words with a dagger in the declension, to indicate partial continuity with the present English. And as to the two dative forms, which are also marked as partially surviving in our modern speech, their thread of identical vitality is very attenuated. Not once in a thousand times when him or her appear as substantive- pronouns, are they to be identified with this dative. We have it in such a rare instance as this : — 'So they sadled him the asse.' — I Kings xiii. 13. And this is not modern English : we should now say ' they saddled for him.' The sort of instance in which the dative him is still in familiar use, is such as this: 'I gave him sixpence.' Here, as in other cases, the influence of the little words 0/ and to have come in, through imitation of the French, to give quite a new character to our declension of the pronoun. Now here would be the place to speak of the reflexive pronoun, if we had such a thing. But we lost it at a very early period, insomuch that it is only by a stretch of our field that we can regard it as coming within our view at all. This early deciduousness of our reflex pronoun is a peculiar feature of our language. In the sister languages it flourishes without sign of decay. Of course we have in some sort 39<5 THE PRONOUN GROUP. supplied the vacant place, but we can hardly be said to have formed another distinctively reflex pronoun. We make it by adding self to the words him, her, them, and so we get him- self, herself, themselves, instead of the common-gender fic^ of both numbers, which the German retains, and whereby it reminds us of what we have lost^. The latest surviving form of it in our .language having been adjectival, we shall return to this subject in the next section. Here we have to call attention to the fact that, our reflex pronoun having perished, the pronoun of the third person he, she, it, &c. performed for a long period the double office of a direct and of a reflex pronoun. ' And Elisha said vnto him, Take bowe and arrowes. And he tooke vnto him bowe and arrowes.' — 2 Ki?igs xiii. 15. If we compare the Dutch version we shall find a distinction where our version has unto him in different senses : — ' Ende Elisa seyde tot hem : Neemt eenen boge ende pijlen : ende hy nam tot sicb eenen boge ende pijlen.' In the following verses we have the?n reflexively : — 'And the children of Israel did secretly those things that were not right against the Lord their God, and they built them high places in all their cities, from the tower of the watchmen to the fenced city. ' And they set them vp images and groues in euery high hill, and vnder euery greene tree.' — 2 Kings xvii. 9, 10. But later in the same chapter we find themselves : — ' So they feared the Lord, and made vnto themselues of the lowest of them priests of the high places, which sacrificed for them in the houses of the high places.' — ver. 32. ^ Strictly speaking, it was the establishment of one old reflexive pronoun to the exclusion of another. Self is very ancient in this use, as may be seen by its frequency in the Icelandic and German. SUBSTANTIVAL PRONOUNS. 397 Thus, in the sermon preached at the funeral of Bishop Andrewes, we read — ' The unjust judge righted the importunate widow but out of compassion to relieve him.' — Library of Anglo-Catholic Theology, Andrewes, v. 274. The last word corresponds, not to the Latin eu7n, but to se, and the modern rendering of the passage would be : ' The unjust judge righted the importunate widow only out of compassion to (relieve) himself.' We have seen that the plural oi himself is themselves, but we have not yet seen how the word them had found its way into the circle of our personal pronouns. How recently it has acquired that position will readily be appreciated by a glance at the following brief conspectus of these pronouns as they appear before verbs in some of the most important sister-languages : — Singular. Plural. 1st. 2nd. 3rd. 1st. 2nd. 3rd. Gothic ik thu is weis jus eis wer ther their we ge hi we (ye) you they vi I de wir ihr sie wij gy zy The pronoun of the second person singular is lost in Dutch; it is reserved as the pronoun of familiarity in German, while in English it is used only towards God. This is not peculiar to English, but a feature which the Germans retain as well as we. I say ' retain,' in the sense of engaging foreign aid, because I do not think it a national product, but a result of religious conditions. The two great Bible-translating nations have naturally, in their veneration for the words of Scripture, made this Hebrew idiom their Icelandic ek thu ham Saxon ic thu he English thou he Danish jeg du han German Ich du er Dutch ik hy 398 THE PRONOUN GROUP. own. It is only to be wondered at how the Dutch should have done otherwise. The natural tendency of the western civilization, apart from other influences, would be to shrink from such a use of fkou. The French have been led by this feeling, and in all addresses to God they use vous. It is not, therefore, from any radical diiference, but only from the effect of cir- cumstances, that the western languages are divided in this matter. A sensitiveness as to the social use of the second pronoun is common to all the nations of the West, but it exhibits itself in unequal degrees. We are influenced by it less than any of the other great languages. We have indeed dropped //lou, but we remain tolerably satisfied with jyoti, although we shrink from the use of it where reverence is due. At such times we are sensible of a void in our speech, unless the personage has a title, as jyour Lordship. Here it is that the pronominal use of Monsieur and Madame in the French language is felt to be so admirable a contrivance. Only, be it noted, that there is a substitution of a third- person formula to obviate the awkwardness of the second. This is what all the great languages have done. The German has done it in the directest manner by simply putting they (fie) for you (tl^r). Not more direct, but much dryer, is the (now I imagine rather obsolete) Danish fashion of calling a man to his face han, that is, he^ as a polite sub- stitute for the second person. It is common in Holberg's Plays. In Italian it is an abstract feminine substantive. But the most ceremonious of all in this matter is the ancient language of chivalry. The philologer who goes no deeper into Spanish, must at least acquaint himself with the formula which it substitutes for the second person. To say vos, that is you^ is with them a great familiarity, or even a great insult. At least, in the short SUBSTANTIVAL PRONOUNS. 399 form of OS. Something like this exists in Devonshire, where ' I tell ee what ' {ee being disrespectfully short for yee) is often heard when altercation is growing dangerous. This is just the j/o OS digo of the following vivacious interview. ' The archbishop had remained, while the ambassador was speaking, dumb with anger and amazement. At last, finding his voice, and starting from his seat in fury, he exclaimed : " Sirrah ^ ! I tell you that, but for certain respects, I would so chastise you for these words that you have spoken, that I would make you an example to all your kind. I would chastise you, I say ; I would make you know to whom you speak in such shameless fashion." "Sirrah!" replied Smith, in a fury too, and proud of, his command of the language which enabled him to retort the insult, " Sirrah ! I tell you that I care neither for you nor your threats." " Quitad OS ! Be off with you ! " shouted Quiroga, foaming with rage ; " leave the room ! awa}' ! I say." " If you call me Sirrah," said Smith, " I will call you Sirrah. I will complain to his majesty of this." ' — J. A. Froude, Reign of Elizabeth, v. 66. But to return to our table. While the above table indi- cates great permanence of the personal pronouns in general, it also shows us that this quality is weakest in the third person of both numbers : as between the Saxon and English, it is only in the third person plural that there is a real change. In that place a new word has been admitted to supersede the Saxon hi. It was a demonstrative pro- noun, the ancient plural of the word that. In Icelandic and Danish we see the analogous form, and this may partly explain the influence that made our people substitute they for hi. There was most hkely a demand for a new word in this place, in consequence of the decay of the old vowel- sounds. For a long time he had been the singular and hi the plural; and while this was the state of the pronoun, ^ ' " Yo OS digo." Sirrah is too mild a word ; but we have no full equiva- lent. " Os " is used by a king to subjects, by a father to children, more rarely by a master to a servant. It is a mark of infinite distance between a superior and inferior. " Dog " would perhaps come nearest to the arch- bishop's meaning in the present connexion.' — Mr. Froude's note. 400 THE PRONOUN GROUP. there must have been a plain distinction in the sounds of these words which became obliterated as the vowels e and i both -underwent vocal modifications. In this predicament the demonstrative was drawn upon, as will be more fully shown in the next section. But in leaving this for the present, we must notice a kin- dred point. What is the origin of our affirmative yes .? The Saxon form isgese. The former syllable in this word is one of which we can at present give no better account than to call it a particle. But the second member -se looks to some eyes like a part of the demonstrative pronoun, which is declined in the next section. To others it p.ppears like a part of the symbol-verb is. The former view has a certain support from analogies in sister dialects. Thus, in the German of the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries we find the affirmative particle ja in combination with pronouns of all persons, genders, and numbers, like any verb ! Singular. Plural. ja t(^ ! ia h)ir I ja bu ! l^vcl ia e.r ! ja [i ! fa eg ! ja fi ! Jacob Grimm's Deutsche Grammatik, iii. 765. Grimm does not admit that our ge se is analogous to this Mid-High-Dutch y<2 er / because it would have to be not gese but ge he. To this it may be replied, that in proportion as we have evidence that the personal and the demonstrative were nearing one another, so in the same proportion this objection loses its force. It is, I believe, admitted that the French oui is from the Latin hoc-illiid (Kitchin's Translation of Brachet, p. 161), and that the affirmative oc of the dialect named the ' Lange d'oc ' was just the Latin hoc. But though the pronominal affinity of the affirmatives is in many cases certain, this does not interfere with their relation to the SUBSTANTIVAL PRONOUNS. 4OI symbol-verb, for between all these there is much of com- munism. The further prosecution of this enquiry I leave for the exercise of the young student. We must now consider the Interrogative and Relative pronouns. Who, what, and which, with their inflections, of which we retain only two in their place ^, namely, whose and whom, are now both interrogative and relative. But in Saxon they were only interrogative, and not relative. Their change of character took place in the great French period, and was a direct consequence of French example. For that lan- guage, in common with all the Romance languages, uses the same sets of pronouns as interrogative s and as relatives. The Saxon relative system was based upon the demon- strative, and we retain a relic of it in our use of that as a relative. Where w^e now say that . . . ivhich, the Saxon was that . . . that (jjset . . . ])set). We have another interesting relic of this demonstrative-relative in our use of the . . . the in such expressions as, ' the more the merrier.' Our modern relative system is simply an adaptation of the Saxon interro- gatives, in imitation of the French. We went even further in this imitation, and combining the definite article with the relative pronoun, after the example of the French lequel, laquelle, we got our old familiar the which : — ' I will not ouerthrow this citie, ' le ne subvertirai point la ville de for the which thou hast spoken.' — laquelle tu as parle.' — La saincte Genesis xix. 21. Bible, Rochelle, 1616. So in the following beautiful stanza : — ' Where making joyous feast theire dales they spent In perfect love, devoide of hatefuU strife, - Why, where, when, whence, are indeed inflections of who, what, and they are retained in the language ; but they are moved to another place, namely, the company of the adverbs. Dd 402 THE PRONOUN GROUP. Allide with bands of mutuall couplement ; For Triamoiid had Canacee to wife, With whom he ledd a long and happie Hfe ; And Cambel tooke Cambina to his fere, The which as Hfe were to cache other Hefe. So all alike did love, and loved were, That since their dayes such lovers were not found elsewhere.' The Faerie Queene, iv. 3. 52. This change is more than superficial; it amounts to a transposition of internal relations in the fabric of our lan- guage. This and other organic changes into which we have been led by French example, must certainly be unper- ceived by those who go on affirming that the influence of French upon English has been only superficial. It belongs, however, to the nature of imitations that a large proportion of them are short-lived. They differ fronl the native growth as cuttings differ from seedlings. Only a reduced number gets well and permanently rooted. We proceed to notice an instance of this. The relative which, as a personal relative, is no longer used, and it is a well-known peculiarity of the English of our Bible, that it is so common there. Instances of this use are indeed numerous beyond the pages of that version. The following is from a brass in Hutton Church, near Weston- super-Mare : — ' Pray for ye soules of Thomas Payne Squier & Elizabeth hyis wiffe which departed y^ xv"^ day of August y^ yere of o"^ lord god m.ccccc.xxviij.' But when this relative is used of persons, it has generally a noun closely antecedent ; and a case like the following has the effect of a solecism : — ' Of us who is here which cannot very soberly advise his brother ? Sir, you must learn to strengthen your faith by that experience which heretofore you have had,' &c. — Richard Hooker, Sermon I, ed. Keble, vol. iii. p. 479. Instead of this first ivhich we should now put that : ' Of the present company, who is there that cannot very seriously advise his brother ? ' SUBSTANTIVAL PRONOUNS. 403 Which is in its origin a composite word derived from who and like. Its Saxon form was hwilc, which was made of hwa and lie. Compare sueh in the next section. Who7?i is now used only personally. But there is no historical reason for this, beyond modern usage. Time was when it was used of things as much as what, and examples occur in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. The following is of the date 1484, and it contains the which as well as zvhom in the use to be illustrated : — ■ ' Item. I bequethe to the auter of saint John the Baptist and saynt Nicholas the which is myne owen chapell in the parish chirche of New- londe in the Forest of Dene in whome my body shalbe buried In primis a crosse of silver,' &c. — The Will of Dame Jane Lady Barre, in Mr. Ellacombe's Memoir of Bittoti, p. 47. And lest it should be supposed that such a use can only be produced from obscure writings, I may mention the Faerie Queene, in a passage which is quoted above on p. 135, where whom refers to a ship. Before quitting this set, it may be interesting to observe that ivhat in Anglo-Saxon had a peculiar function as a lead- ing interjection, a usage which is familiar to those who know the dialect of the Lake district. The minstrel often began his lay with HwcBi I The noblest of Anglo-Saxon poems, the Beowulf, begins with this exclamation : ' Hwaet we Gar Dena on gear dagum peod cyninga )>rim ge frunon Hu J^a ae'Selingas ellen fremedon.* What bo I the tales of other times The Gar-Danes' mighty realm and martial proud array And practice bold of princes in ajffray. Interrogation, appeal, expostulation, admiration, lie very near to one another in the structure of the human mind, and hence we see in many languages an approach to this habit. In Latin there is the rhetorical use of quid ! in French of D d 2 404 THE PRONOUN GROUP. quoi ! and if we would see a situation in which several of those meanings blend inseparably, we may refer to Proverbs xxxi. 2, where the version of 1 6 1 1 is rigidly literal, while that of 1535 is homely and unconstrained according to wont: Miles Cover dale. 161 1. * My Sonne, thou sonne of my ' What, my sonne ! and what, the body: O my deare beloued sonne.' sonne of my wombe ! and what, the sonne of my vowes ! Here we must notice the old substantive-pronoun so, though it is no longer found in this character standing by itself. The Saxon form was swa, with a rarer poetic form SE ; and already in the earhest Saxon literature it had lost its original independence. Then, as now, it occurred only in composite expressions, as swa hwa swa, whoso ; swa hwcei swa, whatso, &c. These are, however, sufficient to deter- mine its ancient habit, and to indicate from what original all the varieties of so and its composite such have had their derival. In the words whoso, whatso, the so is manifestly subor- dinated, and has lost its accent. This was the result of the elevation of who, ivhat, with the depression of so. Anciently so was the leading element, what was indefinite and enclitic. We have yet a set of pronouns to mention before closing this section ; namely, the Indefinite. The chief of these was in the Saxon period a symbolised man, which is the chief indefinite pronoun to this day in German. It should also be noticed that the French on is only a form of homme, in which the spelling has varied with the sublimation of the meaning. This indefinite man, or, as it was oftener writ- ten, mon, we lost at an early date, in the great shaking that followed the Conquest. But it is so natural a word for a SUBSTANTIVAL PRONOUNS. 405 pronoun to grow out of, that we do from time to time fall as if unconsciously into this use. In the following quota- tion from Mark viii. 4, a vian is a manifest pronoun; the Greek is dwrjaerai ris. To show the pedigree of the expres- sion in this place, three versions are put side by side : — Wiclif, iJ,^g. Tyndale, 1^26. The Bible of 161 1. ' Wherof a man schal ' From whence myght ' From whence can a mowe fille hem with a man sufFyse them with man satisfie these men looues here in wildir- breed here in the wyl- with bread here in the nesse ? ' dernes ? ' wildernes ? ' This is, however, but a feeble example of the pronominal use of the word man, a use which it has been our singular fortune to lose after having possessed it in its fulness. In place of it, we resort to a variety of shifts for what may justly be entitled a pronoun of pronouns, that is to say, a pronoun which is neither / nor we, nor you nor /key, but which may stand for either or all of these or any vague commixture of two or three of them. Sometimes we say ' you ' not mean- ing, nor being taken to mean j'ou at all, but to express a corporate personality which quite eludes personal appli- ' It is always pleasant to be forced to do what you wish to do, but what until pressed, you dare not attempt.' — Dean Hook, Archbishops, vol. iii. c. 4' This jyoti is often convenient to the poet as a neutral medium of address, applicable either to one particular person, or to all the world : — ' Yet this, perchance, you'll not dispute, — That true Wit has in Truth its root, Surprise its flower, Delight its fruit. Or haply, this may be more clear, The pirouette of an Idea ; Which, just as you conclude your grasp, Slips laughing from your empty clasp, Presenting in strange combination Some ludicrous association ; 406 THE PRONOUN GROUP. Which you repel with indignation, But cannot find its confutation : — I know no other image fit To tell you what I mean by Wit.' W. M. A. in The Spectator, July 2, 1870. Sometimes, again, it is we, and at other times it is they which represents this much-desired but long-lost or not-yet- invented ' representative ' pronoun. We render the French on dit by they say. But besides the resort to pronouns of a particular person in order to achieve the effect of a pronoun impersonal, we have also some substantives which have been pronominaHsed for this purpose, as person, people, body, folk. • Bothwell was not with her at Seton. As to her shooting at the butts when there, this story, like most of the rest, is mere gossip. People do not shoot at the butts in a Scotch February.' — Qtiarlerly Review, vol. 128, p. 511. body. ' The foolish body hath said in his heart, There is no God.' — Psahn liii. i, elder version. And from this we get the composite pronouns somebody, nobody, everybody. In like manner, but less fixed in habit, some people, and also some folk, as in the well known refrain, ' Some folk do, some folk do ! ' Perhaps the French on has not been without some sort of undefined eifect in this region of our language, by guiding us through its mere sound to a use of the first numeral which is unexampled in other languages. Some of our pro- nominal uses of one are easily paralleled in other languages, the one and the other = Vun et Tautre ; ofte another = Vun Tautre, &c., but in that particular use of one which more precisely belongs to this place, as when we say, ' One never SUBSTANTIVAL PRONOUNS. 407 knows what this sort of thing may lead to/ it would be im- possible to put in that place /'u7t or ein or unus or eh. There are instances in which one language catches up a confused idea from another, and a mere sound which has been heard will suggest a term totally different in idea from the meaning of that sound. The first numeral has an intimate natural affinity with the pronominal principle, and this is widely acknowledged in the languages by the pronominal uses of it which are very common and very well known. But this English use is far from com- mon, if it is not absolutely singular ; namely, when it is employed as a veiled Ego, thus : ' One may be excused for doubting whether such a policy as this can have its root in a desire for the public welfare.' The o?te of which we speak is quite distinct from those cases in which it is little removed from the numeral, as : ' One thinks this, and one thinks that.' In this case one is fully toned, but not so in the case referred to, as when a person who is pressed to buy stands on the defensive with, ' One can't buy everything, you know ;' here the one is lightly passed over with that sensitiveness which accom- panies egotism. It is still more distinct from the case in which one appears in concord or under government : — ' As nations ignorant of God contrive A wooden one.' William Cowper, The Timepiece. ' And unto one her note is gay, For now her little ones have ranged ; And unto one her note is changed, Because her brood is stol'n away.' In Memoriam, xxi, ' The strictly logical deduction from the premises is not always found ia practice the true one.' — Sir J. T. Coleridge, Keble, p. 388. ' There will always be sharp men to practice on dull ones.' 40 8 THE PRONOUN GROUP. ' Reducing the abject one to a choice between captivity and starvation.'- — Anthony TroUope, The Last Chronicle of Barset, ch. ix. A variety of other pronouns belong to this set, which we have only space just to hint at. Such are ^/u'ng, somethings everything, nothing ; wight, whit, deal. There was, towards the close of the Saxon period, an imitation from the Latin, by which the word hwa -= ' who ' was adopted as an indefinite pronoun. The Latin si quis was the model, after which was made the Saxon gif hwa = if who. Thus, in the Saxon Chronicle, 1086, ' Gif hwa gewilnige^,' &c. = Si quis optaverit, &c. This is one of the cases already touched upon, in which imitations prove to be short-lived. We have thus reached the natural termination of this section. Having started from the pronouns which were most nearly associated with substantival ideas, we have reached those whose characteristic it is (as their name conveys) to be indefinite, to shun fixed associations, and thus to be ever ready for a latitude of application as wide as the widest imaginable sweep of the mental horizon. IL Adjectival Pkonouns. The adjectival character of some pronouns is very ap- parent; others which are classed with them will be found less manifestly adjectival. We will begin the section with some of the plainest. Such is a composite word, made up of so and like. The Saxon form was swilc, from swa and lie. In the German form fold; the original elements are very traceable : in Danish it is slig, and in Scottish sic. It is curious how words rediscover the elements of their composition after they have become obscure, by a tendency to sj^mphytise again ADJECTIVAL PRONOUNS. 4O9 once more with the word which they have akeady absorbed. Hence we get such-like ; and still more usual in Scotland is sic-like. This such is a highly pronominal word. ' In such matters a little evidence goes a long way.* — Archceological journal. No. 104, p. 331. The pronominal character of such is here apparent from the fact that the reader must refer to the page quoted in order to recover the presentive idea towards which it pointed in this passage. This adjective reverts, like other adjectives, to substantival habits, and it sometimes fills the place which has been left vacant by the ancient substantive-pronoun so described in the former section. In its substantive and adjective function alike, it is often the antecedent to a relative pronoun, and there has been a good deal of fastidiousness about this relative pronoun, as to which is the right one to come after such. We have now decided (it seems) that such can have no relative after it but as. And as a proof of the sort of affection that words bear to kindred, it may be noticed that as is a composite word made up of all and so. However, our literature abounds with instances of other relatives after such. such which. ' Of such characters which combined the species best, I selected the most remarkable.' — John Lindley, A Monograph of Roses, 1820, p. xx. such who. ' It is very natural for such who are treated ill and upbraided falsely, to find out an intimate friend that will hear their complaints,' &c. — Addison (171 1), Spectator, No. 170. Same. This word is not found (as a pronoun) in Anglo- Saxon literature, and the question arises whence it came to be so familiar in English. Jacob Grimm thinks it was ac- quired through the Norsk language, in which samr is a 4IO THE PRONOUN GROUP, prevalent pronoun. The Saxon word in its place was t'lk, which is so well known to us through Scottish literature. But, as there are traces of its having existed at an earlier stage of Saxon, it is possible that it had never died out, but that, having been superseded by z7k in the written language, it had fallen into temporary obscurity. Many genuinely native elements are found in modern English which are unknown in Saxon literature, and it is only reasonable to conclude that the vocabulary of the Saxon literature imperfectly repre- sented the word-store of the nation. Sundry is an adjectival pronoun formed upon an old Saxon adverb sundor, which we still retain in the compound asunder. Each is from the Saxon celc, having lost its /, just as which and such have. This cbIc was equivalent to our present every, so that the word for ' everybody ' was celcman, and for ' everything ' it was (Elcping. The spelling each is a modernism ; in Chaucer it is ech and eche. This is quite a distinct word from the ilk mentioned above. Every grew out of the habit of strengthening ceIc by pre- fixing cefre, whence arose the composite pronoun CBuer-cElc or euer-elc, which means ever-each, and which occurs under a variety of orthographic forms in Layamon. It had become everych by Chaucer's time, and then it had attracted to itself another pronoun, namely one, and so we get the oft-recur- ring mediaeval form everychon. To go no further than the Prologue, 1. 31 : — ' So hadde I spoken with hem euerichoon That I was of hir felaweshipe anoon/ Hengwrt MS. We find this form in Miles Coverdale's Bible, 1535 : — ' Idols and abhominacions of ye house off Israel paynted euerychone )unde aboute the wall.* — Ezechiel viii. lo. Very has retained so much of its old presentive character ADJECTIVAL PRONOUNS. 4II that it has brought over with it all the degrees of comparison, and we have in the ranks of the pronouns very, verier, veriest. ' The very presence of a true-hearted friend yields often ease to our grief.' — Richard Sibbes, SouVs Conflict, 14. ' In the very centre or focus of the great curve of volcanoes is placed the large island of Borneo.' — Alfred Russel Wallace, The Malay Archipelago, ch. i. Both verier and veriest occur in Shakspeare. A choice illustration may be had from a letter written in 1666 by the wife of the English ambassador at Constantinople to her daughter Poll in England, which Poll has been adopted by a rich relative, and is inclining to vanity ^ : — ' Whereas if it were not a piece of pride to have y'^ name of keeping y"" maide, she y* waits on y"" good grandmother might easily doe as formerly you know she hath done, all y° business you have for a maide, unless as you grow old"" you grow a veryer Foole, which God forbid ! ' Certain is an adjective which has been presentive not long ago, but it is now completely pronominalised : — ' At Clondilever, a farmer was returning from his usual attendance at the Roman Catholic Chapel on Sunday, when he was stopped by five men with revolvers, who warned him that if he interfered any further with a cer- tain person as to possession of a certain field,' &c. — April 30, 1870. The demonstrative pronouns this and that were thus de- clined in Saxon : — Neut. Masc. Fern. Neut. Masc. Fern. 'Nom thast se seo this thes theos Ace. "^ Abl. thaet thone tha this thisne thas Singular thy thaere thise thisse Dat. tham thsere thisum thisse ^Gen. rNom Ace. thaes thaere thises thisse 1 tha thas Plurai, ^ Abl. Dat. } tham thissum ^Gen. thara thiss£ ^ Of this vain Poll, the great granddaughter was Jane Austen, and it is in the Memoir of the latter, by the Rev. J. E. Austen-Leigh (Bentley, 1870), that this admirable letter has been published. 41^ THE PRONOUN GROUP. Of these two words, the former was in Saxon the more prominent by far, and we should in reference to that stage of the language not say 'this and that,' but rather 'that and this.' It was f/icB/, se, seo, which supplied the definite article, and therefore it was current in some one or other of its cases in almost every phrase that was spoken or written. This will make it easier to understand how it should have come about that fAd, the plural of this demonstrative, took the place of h' as personal pronoun of the third person plural. And, to pursue this transition to its consequences ; a place was now vacant, the demonstrative required a plural of its own. Here we have a beautiful example of the innate resource of language, which often is most admirable in this, that a new want is supplied out of a mere nothing. The sister demonstrative //it's had a plural which was grammatically written /Ms, and with this full a it was pronounced so as to be very like our //lose, which is indeed its modern form. But people whose education had been neglected were apt to make a plural in their own way by just adding on a little vague e to the singular fh's, and so they (the ungrammatical people) made a plural /h's-e. After a certain period of con- fusion, during which both demonstratives admitted a great variety of shapes ^, they at last settled down to this, that the word //lose which was the original old plural of /Ms, should pass over to the other side and be the plural of //la/, while /h's should make its plural //lese according to the later popular invention. What was at the root of all this stir appears to have been the newly-felt insufficiency of the distinction between the sin- gular he and the plural hi. And perhaps it should be added ' For which see Mr. Morris's Specimens of Early English, pp. xxvii. sq. ADJECTIVAL PRONOUNS. 413 the want of distinction between the singular dative km and the plural dative, also written h'm, though sometimes keom. In the following passage, Mark vi. 48-50, we find Mm three times, and in every case it corresponds to the modern //lem : — ' And he geseah hig on rewette swincende ; him wses wi'Serweard wind : and on niht ymbe ))a feor'San waeccan, he com to him ofer ])a sae gangende, and wolde hig forbugaii, pa hig hine gesawon ofer J^a sae gangende, hig wendon \>sst hit unfaele gast wsere, and hig clypedon : hig ealle hine gesawon and wurdon gedrefede. And sona he spraec to him, and cwse'5 : GelyfaS ; ic hit eom ; nelle ge eow ondraedan.' So that, as the English language emerged from its French incubus, it gradually substituted /key, tkeir, them, in the place of the elder ki, heora, him. This change was not quite established till far on in the fifteenth century. In Chaucer we have still the elder forms in free use, and he wrote them thus : ki, kir, kem. Here is a couplet with two of these forms in it : — ' So hadde I spoken with hem everichon That I was of hir felawship anon.' Prologue 31. It may not be amiss to add that when in provincial Eng- lish we meet with 'em in place of ikevi, it must be regarded as an ehded form not of them, but of hem. These two pronouns have held a great place in our lan- guage. We can hardly omit to notice what may be called their rhetorical use. This has a rhetorical use expressive of contempt. It was by means of this pronoun that Home Tooke expressed his contempt for the philology of Harris's Hermes : — ' There will be no end of such fantastical writers as this Mr. Harris, who takes fustian for philosophy.' — Diversions of Purley, part ii. c. 6. That, on the other hand is a great symbol of admiration ; in illustration of which we may cite Mr. Gladstone's enco- 414 THE PRONOUN GROUP. mium of political justice, in the peroration of his speech on the second reading of the Irish Land Bill, March 1 1, 1870 : ' The face of justice is like the face of the god Janus, It is like the face of those lions, the work of Landseer, which keep watch and ward around the record of our country's greatness. She presents one tranquil and majestic countenance towards every point of the compass and every quarter of the globe. That rare, that noble, that imperial virtue has this above all other qualities, that she is no respecter of persons, and she will not take advantage of a favourable moment to oppress the wealthy for the sake of flattering the poor, any more than she will condescend to oppress the poor for the sake of pampering the luxuries of the rich.' Both of these uses are to be paralleled in Greek and Latin, as the student of those languages should ascertain for himself, if he is not already familiar with the feature. But a more peculiar interest attaches to this pronoun from the circumstance that out of it has been carved the definite article. The word /he is simply an abbreviation of /kcsf on which the French pronoun le has probably exercised some influence in the way of shaping its form. And not unfrequently we experience in the course of reading, especially in poetry, a certain force in the definite article, which we could not better convey in words than by saying it reminds us of its parentage, and calls the demon- strative to mind. It is one of those fugitive sensations that will not always come when they are called for ; but perhaps the reader may catch what is meant if the following line from the Chrisiia7i Year is offered in illustration : — ' The man seems following still the funeral of the boy.' The same thing may however be shown in a manner more agreeable to science. We find cases in which the same text is variously rendered according as the interpreters have seen a demonstrative or a definite article in the original : — . Ezekiel xi. 19. 1535- 3611. 'That stony herte wil 1 take out '1 wil take the stonie herte out of youre body, & geue you a fleshy of their flesh, and will giue them an herte.* heart of flesh.' ADJECTIVAL PRONOUNS. 4I5 But there is a case, and that rather a frequent one, in which the is still a demonstrative and is not a definite article at all. It is the ablative case thy of the Saxon declension above given, and answers to the Latin eo before com- paratives. When it is doubled, it answers to the Latin qtw . . . eo, just as thcet thcBt in Saxon was equivalent to the Latin id quod. ' The more luxury increases, the more urgent seems the necessity for thus securing a luxurious provision.' — John Boyd-Kinnear, WomarHs Work, p. 353. The next adjectival pronoun which we will notice shall be the word one. It has already been largely spoken of in the former section, where it was seen to occupy an impor- tant place. But its substantival function is after all less important in the development of our language than its adjectival habit ; because out of this has grown that member which is the most distinctive perhaps that can be fixed upon as the mark of a modern language. The definite article is found in some of the ancient languages, as in Hebrew and Greek, but none of them had produced an indefinite article. The general remark has already been made in an earlier chapter, that it is in the symbolic element we must seek the distinctive character of the modern as opposed to the ancient languages. And we may appeal to the indefinite article as the most recent and most expressive feature of this modern characteristic. In the Greek of the New Testament there are certain indications (known to scholars) of some- thing like an indefinite article. In its adjectival use this pronoun is generally set in antithesis to another ; as, — ' Yf one Sathan cast out another.' — Matt. xii. tr. Coverdale (1535). ' Mike. I say one man 's as good as anither ; what do you say, Pat ? Pat. To be shure and that he is, and a dale betther too ! ' 4l6 THE PRONOUN GROUP. Out of this has been produced the indefinite article. It has not sprung directly from the numeral one, but from that word after it has passed through the refining discipline of a symboHc usage, The old spelling of the numeral was an; and this ancient form is preserved in the article an or a. This gives us occasion to remark that old forms are often preserved in the more elevated functions, while the original and inferior function has admitted changes. Having thus indicated the sources of our two articles, let us observe that they still carry about them the traces of their extraction. The magnifying quality of the demonstrative //la/ has been noticed above. Its descendant the definite article retains something of this ancestral quality. We all know how the ceremonious T/ie adds grandeur to a name, and how all titles of office and honour are jealously retentive of this prefix. On the other hand, the indefinite ardcle, which is de- scended from the litdest of the numerals, exercises a diminishing effect, as in the following : — ' This little life-boat of an earth, with its noisy crew of a mankind, and all their troubled history, will one day have vanished.' — Thomas Carlyle, Essays ; Death of Goethe. These minute vocables are the real ' winged words ' of human speech ; or, to speak with more exactness, they are the wings of other words, by means of which smoothness and agility is imparted to their motion. It is in the ardcles that the symbolic element of language finds its most ad- vanced development ; and it is not by means of these alone, but by means of that whole system of words of which these are the foremost and most perfect type, that the modern languages when compared with the ancient are found to excel in alacrity and sprightliness. ADVERBIAL PRONOUNS. 417 III. Adverbial Pronouns. This chapter of pronouns keeps up on the whole a parallel course to the chapter on nouns. Like that, it is divided into three main sections, Substantives, Adjectives, Adverbs. Moreover, as in that chapter the third section assumed a trifid form, so also here do we find ourselves compelled by the nature of the subject to divide this final section into three paragraphs. In this symbolic as well as in that presentive region, the adverbs assume the three forms of Flat, Flexional, and Phrasal. I. Of the Flat Pronoun- Adverbs. The higher we mount in the structure of language the more delicate a matter will it be to analyse and make sharp distinctions. The presentive adverbs pass off by such fine and imperceptible shadings into a symbolic state, that the division must needs be exposed to uncertainty. To let this the more plainly appear, we will begin here with the same strain of adverbs as we left off with at the close of the nounal adverbs. Up. This is clearly a presentive word so long as the original idea of elevation is preserved. But it passes off into a more refined use, a more purely mental service, and then we call it no longer a noun but a pronoun. The instance of breaking-up is an interesting one. It is one of those in which the flat adverb at one time attached itself closely to the verb, indeed almost symphytically, and had with the verb been subjected to a peculiar appropriation of meaning. This expression now is apt to suggest the E e 41 8 THE PRONOUN GROUP, holidays of a school-boy, but in the sixteenth century it was the proper expression for burglary : — ' If a thiefe bee found breaking vp.' — Exodus xxii. 2, ' Suffered his house to be broken vp.' — Matthew xxiv. 43. ' If he beget a sonne that is a breaker vp of a house.' — Ezekiel xviii. 10 (margin). Mr. Froude quotes a letter of the reign of Queen Elizabeth, in which a burglary is confessed in these terms : — ' With other companions who were in straits as well as myself, I was forced to give the onset and break up a house in Warwickshire, not far from Wakefield.' — History, vol. xi. p. 28. Also an old ship is sold ' to be broken up,' and there is a rich variety of expressions in which up figures in such a character as belongs here, e.g. to be 'knocked up,' ' done up,' ' patched up,' to be ' up to a thing,' ' up with a person,' &c. still. ' Having past from my hand under a broken and imperfect copy, by fre- quent transcription it still run {sic) forward into corruption.' — Thomas Brown, Religio Medici, Preface. ' They are left enough to live on, but not enough to enable them still to move in the society in which they have been brought up.' — John Boyd- Kinnear, Womafi's Work, p. 353. In these two examples the reader should notice that 'still run ' and ' still to move ' would be mere stultifications if the word s/i'll were taken in its original and presentive significa- tion of ' stillness.' This affords a sort of measure of the great change that has passed over the word. jusl. ' How much of enjoyment life shows us, just one hair's breadth beyond our power to grasp ! ' — The Bramleighs, ch. xxxi. The word rather may serve as an illustration of the grounds on which we assign these words to the pronominal ADVERBIAL PRONOUNS. 419 category. In an interesting letter from Sir Hugh Luttrell, in the year 1420, we have this word in its presentive sense. He is in France, and he is displeased that certain orders of his have not been carried out, and he hints that if his com- mands are not fulfilled, he is alive, and ' schalle come home, and that rather than som men wolde,' that is t*© say, he shall be at home earlier than would be agreeable to some people. Rather is the comparative of an obsolete adjective rathe, which signified ' early.' It is found once in Milton, Lycidas, 142 : ' Bring the rathe Primrose that forsaken dies, The tufted Crow-toe, and pale Gessamine.' Now compare the way in which we habitually employ this word; and a plainer example could hardly be found of the distinction between the nature of the noun and that of the pronoun. The word is so common that we can hardly read a paragraph in any daily or weekly article without coming across it, and probably more than once. ' Various appropriate sermons were preached with all desirable promp- titude, and the assertion was made in various forms that Mr. Dickens was one of the chief teachers of the day : — he had provided the public with a great quantity of thoroughly innocent literature ; Mr. Dickens shewed a thoroughly kindly nature in every line that he wrote. . . Yet all this scarcely entitles a man to the sort of praise which belongs to great moral reformers. It was his chief fault that he played with sentimental situations in a way that seems to imply an absence of very profound feeling. He fails to be truly pathetic because we do not see the agony wrung out of a strong man by the inevitable wrongs and sorrows of the world, but the easy yielding of a nature that rather likes a little gentle weeping. Mr, Pickwick with his love of mankind, stimulated by milk-punch, is not the most elevated type of philanthropy, though it is one which is unfortunately prevalent at the present day. In these respects Mr. Dickens's influence tended rather towards a softening of the moral fibre than towards strengthening it, . . We can only take the morality preached in his published works, of which every man is at liberty to form an opinion And though we may admit it to be perfectly harmless, and to provide a pleasant stock of maxims for people who wish to get through the word quietly and easily, we cannot hold that it was of that invigorating character which is most to be desired or which would entitle its organ to be considered as on that account a great E e 2 420 THE PRONOUN GROUP. benefactor of mankind. We rather feel that it is poor food for the soul of man, and that the preachers who have identified it with their own highest aspirations have not raised our opinion of their insight into the wants of the age.' — July 1 6, 1870. /OO. ' Spake I not too truly, O my knights ? Was I too dark a prophet when I said To those who went upon the Holy Quest, That most of them would follow wandering fires, Lost in the quagmire ? ' Alfred Tennyson, The Holy Grail. That famous pronominal factor so, which has already- been spoken of in both the previous sections, must come in here likewise : — ' And he was competent whose purse was so.' William Cowper, The Time-Piece. 'A declaration so bold and haughty silenced them and astonished their associates.' The presentive idea to which this so points back may- be found by reference to Robertson's Charles the Fifth, Bk. I., anno 1516, and the abruptness of the clause as it stands, gives a measure of the pronominal nature of the adverb so. further, ' Or dwells within our hidden soul Some germ of high prophetic power, That further can the page unveil. And open up the future hour.' G. J. Cornish, Come to the Woods, and Other Poems, Ixxiii. jump. ' In goodness, therefore, there is a latitude or extent, whereby it cometh to pass that even of good actions some are better than other some ; whereas otherwise one man could not excel another, but all should be either abso- lutely good, as hitting jump that indivisible point or centre wherein goodness consisteth ; or else missing it they should be excluded out of the number of well-doers.' — Richard Hooker, Of the Laws, &c., I. viii. 8. soh'd. ' " You don't mean that ! " "I do, solid ! " ' (Leicestershire.) ADVERBIAL PRONOUNS. 4^1 /low. ' How dull sermons are, compared with the brilliant compositions which may be read in the newspapers ! ' — J. Llewellyn Davies, The Gospel and Modern Life (1869), p. 218. Now we come upon a feature which is inconsiderable in its bulk, unimposing in its appearance, and which is incon- spicuous by the very continuousness of its presence ; but yet one which covers with its influence half the realm of language, which involves one of the most curious of pro- blems, and which raises one of the most important questions in the whole domain of philological speculation. This is the apparatus of Negation. It may be out of our reach to attain to the primitive history of the negative particle ; but if we are to judge of its source by the track upon which it is found, if origin is to be judged of by kindred, if the unknown is to be surmised by that which is known, it is in this portion of the fabric of speech — namely, in the flat pronoun-adverbs — that we must assign its birthplace to the negative particle. The negative particle in our language is simply the con- sonant N. In Saxon it existed as a word ne, but we have lost that word, and it is now to us a letter only, which enters into many words, as into no, not, nought, none, never. In French, however, this particle is still extant as a separate word ; as ' Je ne vols pas.' The following parallel quotations exhibit this particle both in its pure and simple state, and also in combinations such as we are, and also such as we are not, familiar with : — Anglo-Saxon, 995. Wydiffe, 1389. ' Ne geseah naefre nan man God, ' No man euere sy3 God, no but buton se an-cenneda sunu hit cy(5de, the oon bigetun sone, that is in the se is on his fseder bearme. And Saet bosum of the fadir, he hath told out. is Johannes gewitnes, Sa da Judeas And this is the witnessing of John, sendon hyra sacerdas and hyra dia- whanne lewis senten fro Jerusalem conas fram Jerusalem to him, ^aet hi prestis and dekenys to hym, that 4^2 THE PRONOUN GROUP, aecsodon hyne and ?Jus cwae'don, Hwaet thei schulden axe him, Who art thou? eart ?Ju ? And he cy'Sde, and ne And he knowlechide, and denyede wiSsoc, and Sus cwae^, Ne eom ie not, and he knowlechide, For I am na Crist. And hig acsodon hine and not Crist. And thei axiden him, Sus cwse'don, Eart ^li Elias ? And What therfore ? art thou Elye ? he cwae|) Ne eom ic hit. Da cwsedon And he seide, I am not. Art thou hi, Eart ©li witega ? And he and- a prophete ? And he answeride, wyrde and cwaej), Nic' Nay.' St. John i. 18-21, Bosworth's Gospels. In Anglo-Saxon this particle was used not only for the simple negative, as in the above quotation, but likewise as our nor : and both of these uses of the particle continued to the fourteenth century. Thus, in the Vision of Piers the Ploivman, Prologue 174 : — ' Alle |)is route of ratones • to ])is reson J?ei assented. Ac ])o \t belle was yboujt • and on Jje beise hanged, pere ne was ratou/z in alle ])e route • for alle J)e rewme of Fraunce, pat dorst haue ybounden Jie belle • aboute \& cattis nekke, Ne hangen [it] aboute J)e cattes hals • al Engelonde to wynne.' But the second use ( = nor) survived the other : it occurs repeatedly in Spenser and other writers of the sixteenth century. In the following quotation, from the same source as above, we see it in Wicliffe : — St. Matthew vi. 20. ' Gold-hordiaJ) eow sojdice gold- ' But tresoure jee to 50U tresouris hordas on heofenan, "Sser naSor 6m in heuene, wher neither rust ne ne moJ)|)e hit ne fornimj), and "Sar mou3the distruyeth, and wher theues jjeofas hit ne delfaS, ne ne forstelaj).' deluen not out, ne stelen,' In Chaucer we find the ne in both senses. The following examples are from the Prologue : — ne = not. ' He neuere yit no vilonye ne saide.' (1. 70.) ' That no drop ne fell upon hir breste.' (1. 131.) 'So that the wolf ne made it not miscarie.' (1. 513.) ADVERBIAL PRONOUNS. 4^3 ne = nor. 'Ne wete hir fyngres in hir sauce depe.' (1. 1 29.) 'Ne that a monk whan he is recheles.' (1. I79-) 'Ne was so worldly for to haue ofEce.' (1. 292.) 'Ne of his speche dangerous ne digne.' (1. 517.) 'Ne maked him a spiced conscience.' (1. 526.) ne in both senses. 'But he ne lefte nought for rayn ne thondre.' (1. 492.) When ne as a simple negative had been superseded by ?to/, it still continued in the sense of nor, and thus we find it in Spenser : — ' Then mounted he upon his Steede againe, And with the Lady backward sought to wend. That path he kept which beaten was most plaine, Ne ever would to any byway bend, But still did follow one unto the end, The which at last out of the wood them brought. So forward on his way (with God to frend) He passed forth, and new adventure sought : Long way he travelled before he heard of ought.' The Faerie Queene, i. i. 28. ' By them they passe, all gazing on them round, And to the presence mount; whose glorious view Their frayle amazed senses did confound : In living Princes court none even knew Such endlesse richesse, and so sumpteous shew ; Ne Persia selfe, the nourse of pompous pride, Like ever saw. And there a noble crew Of Lords and Ladies stood on every side, Which with their presence fayre the place much beautifide.' \'\ Id. i. 4. 7. Jacob Grimm would distinguish the former ne from the latter, writing the simple negative as ne, and the equivalent of *nor' as ne. This he educes' from comparison of the collateral forms, such as nih in Gothic for ' nor.' He thinks that this ne represented an older neh. The poetical quota- tions do not help us in this, for they show no distinction in 4^4 ^^^ PRONOUN GROUP, the quantity. Neither could we get any light from the Saxon poetry, for it had no regulated metres. But it is some confirmation of Grimm's view, that the ne to which he gives the long vowel, outlived the other, and that it took so much longer time to absorb it into newer forms. This is in itself an argument for the probability of its having been a weightier syllable. Another form of this negative was the prefix un~, which has lived through the Saxon and English period without much change. It has always been a peculiarly expressive formula, and often strikingly poetical. ungrene. 'Folde waes ]>a. gyt Grass ungrene, garsecg Jjcahte.' Caedmon, Ii6. The field was yet-whiles With grass not green; ocean covered all. Indeed, it is a very great factor in Anglo-Saxon. It stands in places where we have lost and might gladly recover its use, and where at present we have no better substitute than the unnatural device of prefixing a Latin non. In the Laws of Ine, we have the distinction between land- owners and non-landowners expressed by land dgende and unland dgende. In Chaucer and in the Ballads we meet with 'unset Steven ' for chance-meeting, meeting without appointment. Gavin Douglas, in The Palace of Honour^ written in 1501, ranks Dunbar among the illustrious poets, and adds that he is yet undead: 'Dunbar yit undeid.' undescribed, unset-down. ' When they urge that God left nothing in his word " undescribed," whether it concerned the worship of God or outward poHty, nothing unset-down,' &c. — Richard Hooker, 0/ the Laws, &c.. III. xi. 8. unborrowed. * With orient hues, unborrowed of the sun.' — Gray. ADVERBIAL PRONOUNS. 4^5 unchurch. ' Our position . . . does not force us to " unchurch " (as it is termed) either of the other great sections of Christendom ; as they do mutually one another and us.' — John Keble, Life, p. 425. And this N-particle is not limited to the Gothic family. It appears in Latin ne^ non, and in-, the negative prefix so well known in our borrowed Latin words, as indelible, in- tolerable, invincible, inextinguishable, &c. In Greek it appears in the prefix an-, as in our borrowed Greek w^ords, anodyne, which cancels pain ; anonymous, which is unnamed. There is something strange and fascinating about this faculty of negation in language. It has been often asserted that there is nothing in speech of which the idea is not borrowed from the outer world. But where in the outer world is there such a thing as a negative ? Where is the natural phenomenon that would suggest to the human mind the idea of negation .? There are, it is true, many appearances that may supply types of negation to those who are in search of them. They who are in possession of the idea of nega- tion may fancy they see it in nature, in such antitheses as light and shade, day and night, joy and sorrow. But they only see a reflection of their own thought. There is no negative in nature. All nature is one continued series of affirmatives; and if this term seem too rigid, it is only because the very term 'affirmation' is a relative one, and implies negation : in other words, the expression is improper only because of the lack of such a foil in nature as negation supplies in the world of mind. Negation is a product of mind. The first crude hint of it is seen in the mysterious analogies of instinct. A horse that has put his head into his manger and found nothing there but chaff, gives a toss and a snort that are strongly suggestive of negation. This is a case of expectation baulked. 425 THE PRONOUN GROUP, The negative in speech seems to be of this kind. Man is essentially a creature of special pursuits and limited aims. Everything in the world but that which he is at the time in search of is a Nay to him. Call it the smallness and narrow- ness of his sphere, or call it the divine, the creative, the purposeful, which out of the vast realm of nature carves for itself a route, a course, a direction — it is to this intentness of man that every obstacle, or even every neutral and indifferent thing, becomes contrasted with his momentary bent, and awakens the sense of a negative in his mind. The last great feature that rose in our path was the indefinite article. Nothing could be easier to understand how it came and what it was derived from ; indeed, it seems the most obvious and natural thing in the world. One might almost imagine it to be unavoidable. And yet it is a rare possession, and a peculiar feature of modern lan- guages. On the other hand, the negative is exceedingly mysterious in its nature and sources, and yet it seems to be common to all human speech, and to be as familiar at the earliest stage of primitive barbarism, as in the most cultured languages of the civilised world. I have never heard of a language that had no negative. But I have heard of native dialects in Australia, in which the negatives have been selected as the features of distinction, and have set the names by which the races named themselves, and were known to others ^ Just as the two main dialects of the Old French ^ ' The aboriginal tribes on the western slopes of the Australian Cordillera, from the south of Queensland to Victoria, speak a language quite distinct from that of the neighbouring tribes to the east and west, whose people, in very rare instances indeed, are found to understand it. ' The language itself, and these tribes, are called by themselves, and by the coast and more central natives, Werrageries, from their negative Werri. The other great family or chain of tribes to the west of them again, occupying the vast western lands of Australia, are designated (I have been told) in their turn by their peculiar negative.' ADVERBIAL PRONOUNS. 427 language were distinguished by their several affirmatives, and were called the Langue d'oil and Lafigue d'oc. Negation then being a sentient product, a subjective thing at its very root, we ask with curiosity out of what materials its formula was first made. Of this I have no opinion whatever to offer. But of the probable history of the N-formula I will boldly give my own notion, not so much from confidence in its certainty, as for the incidental illustration which will thus be called out. My conjecture is that our N-particle is the relic of some such a word as one, or an, or any, three words which, as the student knows, are radically identical. I con- ceive that of the primitive formula of negation we know nothing, or only know that it has perished. Like the primi- tive oak, it has passed away; but it has left others instinct with its organism. Men are markedly emphatic in denial, and hence such formulas as not one, not any, not at all, not a lit, not a scrap, not i?i the least, &c. See how any echoes back, and that with an emphasis, the antecedent negative : — ' We come back to Sir Roundell Palmer's suggestion, and repeat the inquiry whether a majority is never to be allowed any rights or privileges?' March 26, 1870. Hence too, in French, the pas and point, which back up the negation, also rie7i and aucun and jamais, and other indif- ferent words which by long contact with the negative, like steel from the company of the loadstone, have got so instinct with the selfsame force that they often figure as negatives sole. Thus,/«j" encore, point dutout ; while the other three are so well known as negatives, that when they stand alone they By the kind intervention of a friend, I have this very pertinent note from the pen of Mr. George Macleay, of Pendhill Court, many years resident in New South Wales. To the same friend I am also indebted for the information that the natives of the Pacific Islands universally designate Frenchmen as We- Wees. 428 THE PRONOUN GROUP. hardly are anything else. Yet none of these words possess by right of extraction the slightest negative signification. The fact seems to be that the word which is added for the sake of emphasis, becomes a more enduring element that its principal, and comes to bear the stress of the function, by the mere virtue of its emphasis. As in French we see but one or two extant relics of negation without the subjoined adverb, and as the subjoined adverb has in many instances grown into a recognised negative in its own right, so there is every reason to apprehend that but for the conservative influences of literature, the ne would have been by this time very much nearer to vanishing from the language than it act- ually is. And, had this happened, it would have been only a repetition of that process in which I conceive ne to have formerly borne the converse part of the action. Ne is probably the relic of some adverbial pronoun, which at first served a long apprenticeship under some ancient and now forgotten negative, of whose function it long bore the stress and emphasis, until at length it became the sole substitute. The Welsh dim, which means 'no,' 'none,' is known through the familiar answer Dim Saesoneg, which means * No Saxon,' or, 'I don't speak English.' Now this word dim etymo- logically is merely the word for //img. Poh means ' every,' and poh ddim is the Welsh for ' everything,' Thus, in modern Greek, the negative Sev is the relic of ohhh, ' not one ' : the nof has perished, and the one is now the negative. As a further illustration it may be added that in the western counties it was common thirty years ago for rustic arithmeticians to call the tenth cipher, the Zero or Nought, by the name of Ought, thus retaining only that part of the word which was purely affirmative by extraction. Nought is an abbreviation for nan-wuht, ' no-whit ' ; and the verbal negative not is but a more rapid form of nought. ADVERBIAL PRONOUNS. 4%^ 2 . 0/ the Flexional Pronoun- A dverhs. Under this head come such old familiar forms as here, there, where, when, then, hence, whence, why, hither, whither, which are ancient flexional forms that sprung from adverbs of the substantival and adjectival classes. The tracing of some of these to their origin is a matter of obscure antiquity : others are clear ; but the enquiry belongs rather to Saxon than English philology. Then there are compounds of these, as wherethrough (Wisdom xix. 8). elsewhere. • Elsewhere the plebeian element of nations had risen to power through the arts and industries which make men rich — the Commons of Scotland were sons of their religion.' — J. A. Froude, History of England, February, 1850. otherwhere. ' And one hath had the vision face to face, And now his chair desires him here in vain, However they may crown him otherwhere.' Alfred Tennyson, The Holy Grail. Space will not permit us to unravel the history of each of these words, and therefore we will choose one as a specimen for fuller treatment. This shall be the adverb-pronoun there and its co-flexionists. From the declension of that have sprung those composite pronouns which may be looked upon as a sort of half- developed new inflection of the word. Nom. that (or it) Gen. thereof Dat. thereto or therefor(e) Ace. that {or it) Abl. therefrom Instr. thereby. 430 THE PRONOUN GROUP. In the following stave of the twelfth century we have thereby in the physical sense of by thai place : ' Merie snngen Se muneches binnen Ely, Da Cnut ching rew 'Serby : RoweS cnites near Se lant, And here we "Ses muneches sang.' Merry sang the monks in Ely, As king Canute rowed thereby : Row ye boys nigher the land. And bear we these rnonhs' song. Therefore is used interchangeably with of it in i Kings vii. 27. The pronoun the^ which has been spoken of in a former section, belongs here. When we say ' so much the better/ this the is an instrumental case of the demonstrative that, and answers to the Latin eo, and is in its place here among the flexional adverb-pronouns. The first numeral has a peculiarly pronominal tendency, and so its flexional adverb once, when used without any numerical value, as in the following quotation, passes over from its place in the former chapter, to this present section. ' As in those domes, where Csesars once" bore sway, Defac'd by time and tottering in decay. There in the ruin, heedless of the dead, The shelter-seeking peasant builds his shed ; And, wondering man could want the larger pile, Exults, and owns his cottage with a smile,' Oliver Goldsmith, The Traveller. Such also is our use of this word when we open a child's story with Once upo?i a time : it is the Latin aliquando, and may be compared with the provincial English somewhen. ADVERBIAL PRONOUNS. 43 1 3. Of the Phrasal Pronoun- Adverls. As the flexional character becomes obscure, and the flexional signification is forgotten, symbolic words are called in to supplement the enfeebled adverb. Thus whence gets the larger {oimuia,/rom whence, as Genesis iii. 2 3 : Miles Coverdale, 1535. 161 1. ' The LoRDE God put him out of ' Therefore the Lord God sent the garden of Eden, to tyll y^ earth, him foorth from the garden of Eden, whence he was taken.' to till the ground, from whence he was taken.' But more commonly a new sense is gained by the em- ployment of the phrasal adverb, as /or ever. ' Prussians and Bavarians have fought side by side, and have equally dis- tinguished themselves. The Maine is bridged over for ever.' — August 4, 1870. for somethi7ig. ' Our volition counts for something, as a condition of the course of events.' — T. H. Huxley, Lay Sermons. To this section belong all such adverbial phrases as these: af all, at once, after all, of course, in a way, in a fashion, in a manner, in a sort of way, in some sort, after a sort (the two latter in R. Hooker, Of the Laws, I. v. 2). Some of these naturally develope with pecuHar luxuriance after negative verbs and as a complement to the negation, as in the following from Hugh Latimer, The Ploughers, 1549 : — ' Whereas in deede it toucheth not monkerie, nor maketh anything at all for any such matter.' not at all. ' Not at all considering the power of God, but puifed vp with his ten thousand footmen, and his thousand horsemen, and his fourescore elephants.' — 2 Maccabees xi. 4. 432 THE PRONOUN GROUP. The progress of modern languages, turning as it does in great measure upon the development of the symbolic ele- ment, naturally sets towards the production of grouped expres- sions, and this again displays itself with particular activity in the adverbial parts of language, whether they be presentively or symbolically adverbial, that is to say, whether the nounal or the pronounal character is prevalent. For the tendency of novelty is to show itself prominently in the adverbs of either category, just on the same principle as the extremities of a tree are the first to display the newest movements of growth. The adverbs are the tips or extremities of speech. Hence such adverbial phrases as the following : — somewhere or other. ' He is somewhere or other in France, leading that dreary purposeless life which too many of our ruined countrymen are forced to lead in continental towns.' Some of the phrasal adverbs have assumed the form of single words, by that symphytism which naturally attaches these light elements to each other. Hence the forms withal^ however, whenever, howsoever, whensoever, whatever, neverthe- less, notwithstanding. otherwise. • Impossible therefore it is we should otherwise think, than that what things God doth neither command nor forbid, the same he permitteth with approbation either to be done or left undone.' — Richard Hooker, Of the Laws, &c., II. iv. 4. contrariwise. ' Not rendring euill for euill, or railing for railing : but contrarywise blessing. — i Peter iii. 9. Upside-down is an adverb that has been altered by a false light from up-so-down, or, as Wiclif has it, up-se-down, wherein so is the old relative, and the expression is equivalent to up-what-down. i ADVERBIAL PRONOUNS. 433 * He is traitour to God & tumej) J»e chirche upsedown.' — John Wiclif, Three Treatises, ed. J. H. Todd, Dublin, 1 851, p. 29. ' Thus es this worlde torned up-so-downe.' Hampole, MS. Bowes — after Halliwell, v. Upsodoun. at leastwise. ' And every effect doth after a sort contain, at leastwise resemble, the cause from which it proceedeth.' — Richard Hooker, Of the Laws &c. I. v. 2; also id. II. iv. 3. at no hand. ' And in what sort did these assemble ? In the trust of ther owne know- ledge, or of their sharpenesse of wit, or deepenesse of iudgment, as it were in an arme of flesh ? At no hand. They trusted in him that hath the key of Dauid, opening and no man shutting ; they prayed to the Lord.' — The Translators to the Reader, 161 1. which way, that way. ^ ' Marke which way sits the Wether-cocke, And that way blows the wind.' Ballad Society, vol. i. p. 344. CHAPTER IX, THE LINK -WORD GROUP. 1 BORROW the title of this chapter from Mr. Thring's Grammar, though I somewhat vary the scope of the term * Link-word ' by comprising within it both prepositions and conjunctions. I know not of any happier term to com- prise that vague and flitting host of words which, starting forth from time to time out of the formal ranks of the previous parts of speech to act as the intermediaries of words and sentences, are commonly called Prepositions and Conjtinctions. These two parts of speech have a certain fundamental identity, combined with a bold divergence in which they appear as perfectly distinct from one another. Their dis- tinction is based on the definition that prepositions are used to attach nouns to the sentence, and conjunctions are used to attach sentences or to introduce them. The neutral ground on which they meet, and where no such discrimination is possible, is in the generic link -words and, or, also, for, but. PREPOSITIONS. 435 I. Of Prepositions. The preposition may be defined as a word that expresses the relation of a noun to its governing word. A few ex- amples must suffice for the illustration of a class of words so familiarly known and so various in their shades of significa- tion. The examples will be mostly of the less common uses, as we shall consider the common uses to be present to the mind of the reader; the object being to suggest to the reader's mind the almost endless variety of shades of which prepositions are susceptible. First, the prepositions of the simpler and mostly elder sort. af/er. ' Full semyly aftir hir mete she raughte.' f Prologue, [36. ' The vintners were made to pay licence duties after a much higher scale than that which had obtained under Ralegh.' — Edward Edwards, Ralegh (1868), ii. p. 23. by. ' But say by me as I by thee, I fancie none but thee alone.' Ballad Society, vol. i. p. 244. ' I will do the right thing by him.' Or, as Jane Austen, Mansfield Park, ch. v. ' I think he will consider it a right thing by Mrs. Grant as well as by Fanny.' Where we should now say ' as regards Mrs. Grant,' or ' as far as Fanny is concerned.* By having originally meant aboutj acquired in various localities, notably in Shropshire, a power of indicating the knowledge of something bad about any person, insomuch that * I know nowt by him ' is provincially used for ' I know no harm of him/ And it is according to this idiom that our version makes St. Paul witness of himself, ' I know nothing F f 2 43^ THE LINK- WORD GROUP. by myself, yet am I not hereby justified ' : and the expression occurs more than once in the curious book from which the following is quoted : — ' Then I was committed to a darke dungeon fifteene dayes, which time they secretly made enquiry where I had lyen before, what my wordes and behauiour had beene while I was there, but they could find nothing by me.' — Webbe, his trauailes, 1 590. This preposition is now mostly used as the instrument of passivity : — ' It is not unqualifiedly true that the rose would smell as sweet by any other name, — at least not the doctrine which that famous expression is used to assert. We do feel the pleasure enhanced when, in a beautiful spot, we find that that spot has been the theme of praise by men of taste in many generations.' — H. C. Robinson, Diary, 1 83 7. but. ' But (on this day) let sea-men feare no wracke ' Shakspeare, King John, iii. I. 92, where the parentheses have the unusual signification of throwing the enclosed words into a composite lump to make a noun under the government of the preposition outside. It is equivalent to ' except on-this-day.' ' And who but Rumour, who but onely I.' 2 Henry IV, Induction, 1. 11. /or. ' Ye shal be slayne in all the coastes of Israel, I wil be avenged of you : to lerne you for to knowe, that I am the Lorde.' — Ezechiel xi. 10. (1535). ' If wee will descend to later times, wee shall finde many the like examples of such kind, or rather vnkind acceptance. The first Romane Emperour did neuer doe a more pleasing deed to the learned, nor more profitable to pos- teritie, for conseruing the record of times in true supputation ; then when he corrected the Calender, and ordered the yeere according to the course of the Sunne : and yet this was imputed to him for noueltie, and arrogancie, and procured to him great obloquie. So the first Christened Emperour (at the leastwise that openly professed the faith himselfe, and allowed others to doe ihe like) for strengthening the Empire at his great charges, and prouiding for the Church, as he did, got for his labour the name Pupillus, as who would say, a wastefull Prince, that had neede of a Guardian, or ouerseer. So the PREPOSITIONS. 437 best Christened Emperour, for the loue that he bare vnto peace, thereby to enrich both himselfe and his subiects, and because he did not seeke warre but find it, was iudged to be no man at armes, (though in deed he excelled in feites of chiualrie, and shewed so much when he was prouoked) and con- demned for giuing himselfe to his ease, and to his pleasure.' — The Trans- lators to the Reader, l6ll. ' Out of that great past he brought some of the sterner stuff of which the martyrs were made, and introduced it like iron into the blood of modern religious feeling.' — J. C. Shairp, John Kehle, 1866. Of is the most frequent preposition in the English lan- guage. Probably it occurs as often as all the other prepo- sitions put together. It is a characteristic feature of the stage of the language which we call by distinction English, as opposed to Saxon. And this character, Hke so many characters really distinctive of the modern language, is French. Nine times out often that ^is used in English it represents the French de. It is the French preposition in a Saxon mask. The word 0/ is Saxon, if by ^ word ' we under- stand the two letters andy, or the sound they make when pronounced together. But if we mean the function which that httle sound discharges in the economy of the language, then the ' word ' is French at least nine times out of ten. Where the Saxon of was used, we should now mostly employ another preposition, as ' Alys us of yfle.' Deliver us from evil. The following from the Saxon Chronicle, a.d. 894, shows one place where we should retain it, and one where we should change it : — * Ne com se here oftor call ute of ' The host came not all out of psem setum Jjonne tuwwa. o}>re si])e the encampment oftener than twice : J)a hie arest to londe comon. ser once when they first to land came, sio fierd gesamnod wsere. o])re si]>e ere the ' fierd ' was assembled : once |)a hie of psem setum faran wol- when they would depart from the don,' encampment.' 438 THE LINK- WORD GROUP, Thus the Saxon 0/ has to be sought with some care by him who would find it in modern English. Those of the current type, such as are illustrated in the following quota- tion, are French : — ' Thus it has come to pass that women have, by change to times of set- tled peace, and by the reformation of religion, lost something of dignity, of usefulness, and of resources.' — John Boyd-Kinnear, Woman s Work, p. 352. Numerous as are the places in which this preposition now occurs, it is less rife than it was. In the fifteenth and six- teenth centuries the language teemed with it. It recurred and recurred to satiety. This Frenchism is now much abated. I will add a few examples in which we should no longer use it. 'Paul after his shipwreck is kindly entertained of the barbarians.' — Ads xxviii. (Contents.) ' I follow after, if that I may apprehend that for which also I am appre- hended of Christ lesus.' — Phil. iii. 12. This ^ as the instrument of passivity has been displaced, and 5y has been substituted in its stead. ' How shall I feast him ? What bestow of him.' Twelfth Night, iii. 4. 2. ' What time the Shepheard, blowing of his nailes.' 3 Henry VI. ii. 5. 3. ' Doe me the favour to dilate at full, What haue befalne of them and thee till now.' Comedy of Errors, i. i. 124. In the Fourth Folio this last ^is at length omitted. ' Solomon was greater than Dauid, though not in vertue, yet in power : and by his power and wisdome he built a Temple to the Lord, such a one as was the glory of the land of Israel, and the wonder of the whole world. But was that his magnificence liked of by all ? ' — The Translators to the Reader, 161 1. PREPOSITIONS. 439 Off is now little used prepositionally ; it has become a separate word, appropriate to a peculiar set of what we must call adverbial uses, as be off, take off, wash off, write off, they who are far off, &c. But this is a modern distinction, and it exhibits one of the devices of language for increasing its copia verhorum. Any mere variety of spelling may acquire distinct functions to the enrichment of speech. In Miles Coverdale's Bible (1535) there is no distinction between ^"and off ; as may be seen by the following from the thirteenth chapter of the prophet Zachary : — ' In that tyme shall the house off Dauid, and the citesyns off lerusalem haue an open well, to wash of synne and vnclennesse. And then (sayeth the LoRDE off hoostes) I will destroye the names of Idols out off the londe.' ' In a series of Acts i)assed over the veto of the President, Congress pro- vided for the assemblage in each Southern State of a constituent Convention, to be elected by universal suffrage, subject to the disfranchisement of all persons who had taken an active part in the civil or military services of the Confederacy.' Till is from an ancient substantive til, still flourishing in German in its rightful form as jiel, and meaning goal, mark, aim, butt. Thus in some Saxon versified proverbs, printed in the Introduction to my Saxon Chronicles, p. xxxv : — ' Til sceal on eSle domes wyrcean.' Mark shall on patrimony doom-wards work. i. e. a borne or landmark shall be admissible as evidence. The preposition is now appropriated to Time : we say till then, till to-morrow ; but not till there, &c. Earlier it was used of Place, as in Shakspeare's Passionate Pilgrim : — ' She, poor bird, as all forlorn Lean'd her breast up till a thorn, And there gan the dolefull'st ditty, That to hear it was great pity.' 440 THE LINK- WORD GROUP, to { = comparable to). ' A sweet thing is love, It rules both heart and mind ; There is no comfort in the world To women that are kind.' Ballad Society, vol. i. p. 320. Up07t. ' There were slaine of them, vpon a three thousand men.' — i Maccabees iv. 15- without. ' But now what pietie without trueth ? what trueth (what sauing trueth) without the word of God ? what word of God (whereof we may be sure) without the Scripture?' — The Translators to the Reader^ 161 1. The prepositions are more elevated in the scale of sym- bolism than the pronouns. They are quite removed from all appearance of direct relation with the material and the sensible. They constitute a mental product of the most exquisite sort. They are more cognate to mind ; they have caught more of that freedom which is the heritage of mind ; they are more amenable to mental variations, and more ready to lend themselves to new turns of thought, than pronouns can possibly be. To see this it is necessary to stand outside the language ; for these things have become so mingled with the very circulation of our blood, that we cannot easily put ourselves in a position to observe them. Those who have mastered, or in any effective manner even studied Greek, will recognise what is meant. To see it in our own speech requires more practised habits of observation. But here I can avail myself of testimony. Wordsworth had the art of bringing into play the subtle powers of English prepositions, and this feature of his poetry has not escaped the notice of Principal Shairp. In his Studies in Poetry and Philosophy, when speaking of Wordsworth, he says : — ' Here, in pass- ing, I may note the strange power there is in his simple PREPOSITIONS. 441 prepositions. The star is on the mountain-top; the silence is in the starry sky ; the sleep is among the hills ; the gentleness of heaven is on the sea — not " broods o'er," as the later editions have it.' (p. 74.) Wordsworth dedicated his Memorials of a Tour in Italy to his fellow-traveller, Henry Crabb Robinson. The opening lines are : — ' Companion ! by whose buoyant spirit cheered, In whose experience trusting, day by day.' It was originally written ' To whose experience,' &c. Mr. Robinson suggested that ' In ' would be better than ' To,' and the poet, after offering reasons for a thing which can hardly be argued upon, ended by yielding his own superior sense to the criticism of his friend. [Diary, 1837.) A second series of prepositions are those in which flexion is traceable, especially the genitival form, as against, besides, si thence, &c. besides ( = without, or contrary to). ' Besides all men's expectation.' — Richard Hooker, Of the Laws Sec. Preface, ii. 6. * Which Scripture being given to teach matters of belief not less than of action, the Fathers must needs be and are even as plain against credit besides the relation, as against practice without the injunction of Scripture.' — Id. Bk. II. V. 3. sithence. ' We require you to find out but one church upon the face of the whole earth, that hath been ordered by your discipline, or hath not been ordered by ours, that is to say, by episcopal regiment, sithence the time that the blessed Apostles were here conversant.' — Richard Hooker, Of the Laws, &c. Preface, iv. i. ;zmr (comparative of ;zz^/^). ' The fruitage fair to sight, like that which grew Near that bituminous lake where Sodom fiam'd.' Paradise Lost, x. 562. 44^ THE LINK- WORD GROUP. next (superlative). ' Happy the man whom this bright Court approves, His sov'reign favours, and his Country loves, Happy next him, who to these shades retires.' Alexander Pope, Windsor Forest, 335. Perhaps we ought to range in this series such a preposi- tion as save, which having come to us through the French sauf, from the Latin salvo, is still, at least to the perceptions of the scholar, redolent of the ablative absolute. ' In one of the public areas of the town of Como stands a statue with no inscription on its pedestal, save that of a single name, volta.' — John Tyn- dall, Faraday as a Discoverer. A third series of prepositions, consisting of more than one word, are the phrasal prepositions. In the development of this sort of preposition, we have been expedited by French tuition. A constant and necessary element in their forma- tion is the preposition of. They are the analogues of such French prepositions as aupres de, autour de, &c. long of; along of. ' All long of this vile Traitor Somerset.' I Henry VI. iv. 3. 33. * Long all of Somerset, and his delay,' Ibid. 46. An older form of this preposition was long on or along on, as it is still frequently heard in country places. The French ^prevailed over the native on, as it did also in some other positions. Chaucer has ' I can not tell whereon it was along. But wel I wot gret stryf is us among,' Canones Yemannes Tale. PREPOSITIONS. 443 in spight of; in spite of. ' As on a Mountaine top the Cedar shewes, That keepes his leaues in spight of any storme.' 2 Henry VI. v. i. 206. in presence of (French en presence de). ' The object of this essay is not religious edification, but the true criticism of a great and misunderstood author. Yet it is impossible to be in presence of this Pauline conception of faith without remarking on the incomparable power of edification which it contains.' — Matthew Arnold, St. Paul and Protestantism, p. 135. for — sake (with genitive between). ' Now for the comfortless troubles' sake of the needy.' — Psalm xii. 5 (Elder version). ' But if any man say vnto you, This is offered in sacrifice vnto idoles, eate not for his sake that shewed it, and for conscience sake.' — i Cor. x. 28. ' For Sabrine bright her only sake.' Ballad Society, vol. i. p. 386. This is the formula throughout the English Bible, and throughout Shakspeare with three exceptions, according to Mrs. Cowden Clarke. In the above examples, troubles, his, conscience are in the genitive case. The s genitival is not added to conscience, because it ends with a sibilant sound, and where there are two sibilants already, a third could hardly be articulated. The s of the genitive case is, how- ever, often absent where this reason cannot be assigned. Thus : — ' For his oath sake.' — Twelfth Night, iii. 4. ' For fashion sake.' — As You Like It, iii. 2. • For sport sake.' — I Henry IV. ii. I. ' For their credit sake.' — Id. ii. i. ' For safety sake.' — Id. v. i. * But for your health and your digestion sake.' Troilus and Cressida, ii. 3. 444 THE LINK- WORD GROUP. Instead of this genitive, however, the present use of the lan- guage substitutes an ^form, which occurs in Shakspeare three times : — for the sake of. ' And for the sake of them thou sorrowest for. Comedie of Errors, i. I. 12 2. ' If for the sake of Merit thou wih heare mee.' Anthony and Cleopatra, ii. 7. 54. ' A little Daughter, for the sake of it Be manly, and take comfort.' Pericles, iii. i. 21. This class of prepositions is useful as letting us see how the older prepositions came into their place, and (to speak generally) how the symbolic element sustains itself and pre- serves itself from the natural decay of inanition. Here is a presentive word enclosed between two prepositions, as if it had been swallowed by them, and gradually undergoing the process of assimilation. By and bye the substantive becomes obsolete elsewhere, and lives on here in a preposition, with a purely symbolic power. For instance, none but scholars can see anything but a preposition in such a case as instead of. II. Of Conjunctions. Of all the parts of speech the conjunction comes last in the order of nature. As the office of the conjunction is to join sentences together, it presupposes the completion of the simple sentence ; and as a consequence, it would seem to imply the pre- existence of the other parts of speech, and to be the terminal product of them all. It is essentially a sym- bolic word, but this does not hinder it from comprising within its vocabulary a great deal of half-assimilated pre- CONJ UNCTIONS. 445 sentive matter. This is a point which will have to be further noticed in the course of the chapter. The necessity for conjunctions (other than 'and, or) does not arise until language has advanced to the formation of compound sentences. Hence the conjunctions are as a whole a comparatively modern formation. Here we have not an array of short and ancient and obscure examples, as in the case of the prepositions. Almost all the conjunc- tions are recent enough for us to know of what they were made. And indeed they may conveniently be divided accord- ing to the parts of speech out of which they have been formed. Of the derival of a conjunction from a preposition, we have a ready instance in the old familiar hut, at first a pre- position and compounded of two earlier prepositions, namely, by and out ; in Saxon butan, from be and utan. Others of the same character are for. ' For thou, for thou didst view, That death of deaths, companion true.' till. ' As there are a thousand thoughts lying within a man that he does not know till he takes up the pen to write, so the heart is a secret even to him (or her) who has it in his own breast.' — W. M. Thackeray, Esmond, Bk. II. ch. i. until. ' Shakspeare was quite out of fashion until Steele brought him back into the mode.' — W. M. Thackeray, Esmond, Bk. 11. ch. x. 'No character is natural until it has been proved to be so.' — W. S. Macleay, quoted by Professor Rolleston, Forms of Animal Life, p. xxi. Then there are conjunctions formed by the symphytism of a preposition with a noun, as in the Shakspearian belike, which is pure English, or per adventure, which is pure French, or perhaps, which is half French and half Danish. 44^ THE LINK- WORD GROUP. peradventure. ' Some peraduenture would haue no varietie of sences to be set in the margine, lest the authoritie of the Scriptures for deciding of controuersies by that show of vncertaintie, should somewhat be shaken.' — The Translators to the Reader, i6ii. In Chaucer, Knight's Tale, 2488, we find the full phrase out of which has been made the compressed form because. 'But by the cause that they sholde ryse ' Bot be ])e cause |;at Jjei scholde rise Eerly for to seen the grete fight Erly for to seen \)e. grete fighte Vn to hir reste wenten they at night.' Vnto her reste went ]/ei,att nihte.' Ellesmere MS. Lansdowne MS. A conjunction formed from the reference of a preposition to a foregoing adverb, is too . . , to. ' I have seen too much of success in life to take off my hat and huzza to it as it passes in its gilt coach.' — ^W. M. Thackeray, Esmond, Bk. I. p. 30. But the great source of conjunctions is the pronoun. Here the ancient relative pronoun so is one of the most fre- quent factors, not only in its own form but likewise in also ; and in as, which is shortened from an elder form of ' also,' namely ealswa, i. e. ' entirely, altogether so,' ' quite in that manner.' In the following line of Chaucer, Prologue 92, we see the after as already mature, while the fore one is still in the course of formation. We see al and so in various stages of approximation until their final coalition in the form of as. By means of Mr. FurnivalFs Six-Text Print we have the comparison of the manuscripts ready to our hand : — ' He was al so fresche as is \& mone]) of Mai.' Lansdowne MS, 'He was also fressh as ys )>e moneth of May.' Petworth MS, CONJUNCTIONS. 447 ' He was als freissch as is |)e monj) of May.' Corpus MS. ' He was as frosch as is the monyth of May.' Cambridge MS. ' The volume of a gas increases as its temperature is raised, and decreases as the temperature is lowered.' as — as and as. ' The only kind of faith which is inseparable from life is a divine convic- tion of truth imparted to the intellect through the heart, and which becomes as absolute to the internal conscience as one's existence, and as incapable of proof.' — Laurence Oliphant, Piccadilly, p. 275. So and as frequently make up a conjunction by their combined action, when if we were to consider them apart, each by itself, we should be forced to call them adverbial pronouns ; and it is by their inherent capacity of standing to each other as antecedent and relative, that they together constitute a conjunction. as — so and so. ' As great men flatter themselves, so they are flattered by others, and so robbed of the true judgment of themselves.' — R. Sibbes, Soul's Conflict, ch. xiv. * With a depth so great as to make it a day's march from the rear to the ran, and a front so narrow as to consist of one gun and t)ne horseman.' — A. W. Kinglake, Invasion of the Crimea, vol. iii. ch. ix. The use of as for a conjunction- sole is now disallowed, and is in fact one of our standard vulgarisms. It is seen in the familiar saw, ' Handsome is as handsome does.' Yet this use occurs in the Spectator, No. 508 — in the course of a correspondent's letter it is true, but the correspondent is a young lady, and writes like one : — ' Is it suflferable, that the Fop of whom I complain should say, as he would rather have such-a-one without a Groat, than me with the Indies ? ' 44o THE LINK- WORD GROUP. SO — f/iaf. ' One is so near to another that no air can come between them.' — Job xli. 1 6. ' Rich young men become so valuable a prize that selection is renounced,' , — John Boyd-Kinnear, Woman's Work, p. 353. /hen or /kan. ' A wise man will make better use of an idle pamphlet, then a fool will do of sacred Scripture.' — John Milton, Areopagitica. where or whereas. ' Where in former times the only remedy for misgovernment real or sup- posed was a change of dynasty, the evil is now corrected at no greater cost than that of a ministerial crisis. Where in former times serious evils were endured because the remedy was worse than the disease, trivial incon- veniences now excite universal complaints and meet with speedy remedy. Where formerly ministers clung to office with the tenacity of despair, and rival statesmen persecuted each other to the death, the defeated premier now retires with the reasonable prospect of securing by care and skill a triumphant return ; and both he and his successors mutually entertain no other feelings than those to which an honourable rivalry may give rise. Where formerly every subsidy was the occasion of the bitterest contention, and was given at last grudgingly and with mistrust, the House of Commons has never since the Revolution refused to the Crown the maintenance of a single soldier or reduced the salary of a single clerk.' — W. E. Hearn, The Government of England, 1867, p. 126. Whether. This interesting word is a substantive-pro- noun in such passages as ' Whether of them twaine did the will of his father ? They say vnto him, The first.' — Matthew xxi. 31. ' Whether is greater, the gold, or the Temple ?' — Id. xxiii. 17. But this pronominal use is now antiquated, and whether is used only as a conjunction : — ' Whether they wil heare, or whether they will forbeare.' — Ezekiel ii. 5. ' Whether it were I or they.' — i Cor. xv. il. To this same group belongs a conjunction, not so common as it once was, but one that has a fine old English ring with CONJUNCTIONS. 449 it, albeit a translation from the French. We mean the /low before narratives, or the summary of a narrative, as in the heading of chapters. It comes from the age of chivalry ; almost every chapter in Froissart begins with Coviment. Nor has it quite lost the romantic character. Sometimes it has a sort of archness about it, as if it would prepare the reader for something droll : — ^ ' I have related how an eminent physicist with whose acquaintance I am honoured, imagines me to have invented the author of the Sacra Privata ; and that fashionable newspaper, the Morning Post, undertaking — as I seemed, it said, very anxious about the matter — to supply information as to who the author really was, laid it down that he was Bishop of Calcutta, and that his ideas and writings, to which I attached so much value, had been among the main provocatives of the Indian mutiny.'^Matthew Arnold, St. Paul and Protestantism, Y>. 'J^. There are also of this group that run into phrasal for- mulae, as — for all thai. ' Yet for all that it cannot be dissembled, that partly to exercise and whet our wits, partly to weane the curious from loathing of them for their euerywhere-plainenesse, partly also to stirre vp our deuotion to craue the assistance of Gods spirit by prayer, and lastly, that we might be forward to seek ayd of our brethren by conference, and neuer scorn those that be not in all respects so complete as they should bee, being to seeke in many things our selues, it hath pleased God in his diuine prouidence, heere and there to scatter wordes and sentences of that difEcultie and doubtfulnesse,' &c. — The Translators to the Reader, 161 1. Of all the elements that go to make conjunctions, none come near the pronouns in importance. Often where other parts of speech get a footing in this office, it has been by pronominal ushering. Thus, in the case of directly, quoted below, it is clear that this word originally came in as an adverb to a pronominal conjunction : it was at first ' directly as ' or ' directly that/ Of the conjunctions which are of pronominal extraction the so and the as are our Saxon inheritance, whereas the con- junctional use of who, whose, whom, which, what, whence, &c., 450 THE LINK-WORD GROUP. are French imitations. In the Latin language, and in those which spring from it, the relative pronoun is the chief conjunction. In French, for example, ^ui and gue play a part which their equivalents in English do not come near. Indeed, the degree in which these relatives act as conjunc- tions is almost the touchstone of a Latinised or Frenchified style. For the Latin scholar, one has only to name a few of such sentence -links as the following : qucs quum ita smf, quo facto, quihus peractis, quod si, quare, quoin or quum, &c. For a French instance, I quote the following example from Pere Lacordaire, Quarantieme Conference, with the anonymous translation as published by Chapman and Hall, 1869:— ' Vous ne fonderez done pas une doctrine, eussiez-vous devant vous mille ans multiplies par mille ans. Que si vous sortez des principes de I'incre- dulit^, a I'instant meme vous retombez en Jesus-Christ, le seul maitre possible de quiconque reconnait une autorite.' ' You would not then found a doctrine, even if you had a thousand years multiplied by another thousand before you. If you quit the principles of unbelief, at that very moment you fall back upon Jesus Christ, the only possible master for whosoever acknowledges an authority.' Although this translation is almost in the extreme of verbal fidelity, yet the Que is passed over in silence. And rightly so. As we turned who and which from interrogatives into relatives under French influence, as already shewn, so it followed that these words took a place also as conjunctions, just as the French qui and que do. Moreover, we accepted also the symbol-cases of these words as conjunctions, namely, of whom, in which, &c, and we said, ' There is the man to whom I sent you,' ' This is the thing of which I spoke ' ; instead of * The man I sent you to,' ' The thing 1 spoke of.' This Romanesque form of speech was well- established among us in the seventeenth century, and it still CONJUNCTIONS. 45 1 retains its place, though there has been a reaction, which Addison has the credit of. It often happens that when foreign idioms are admitted into a language, they make awkward combinations with the native material, at least in unskilled hands. So this relative conjunction is always getting into trouble. It is much com- plained of that even the correspondents of first-class news- papers will write ' and which,' ' and where,' &c., inappro- priately. Of course there is a position in which such expressions would be unimpeachable. If two clauses, each of them beginning with which ^ have to be combined by mid^ the second clause will necessarily begin with and which. But this will not justify examples like the following, drawn from the Bath Chronicle, where the subject has been recently noticed : — ' The Oxford correspondent of the Standard, in his letter of Saturday, writes — " In the afternoon the Flower Show will be held in the gardens of Worcester College, afid at which the band of the Coldstreams will assist;" and again, " At night Miss Neilson, the well-known actress, and who has obtained in a very short time a considerable reputation as a reader, will give a dramatic reading from the Ingoldsby Legends, Tennyson, &c., in the Clarendon-rooms, and where one may expect a crowded audience." In yesterday's paper he writes, " Then again parties without number were lionising, &c. &c., while some went to see an assault of arms conducted by Mr. Blake, at the Holywell Concert-room, and where Mr. Buller, of the Guards, exhibited some feats, &c. &c," ' Conjunctions from adverbs : — er, or, ere (Saxon cer), ' Forsaketh sinne or sinne you forsake.' Canterbury Tales, 12,220. ' There are two kinds of biographies, and of each kind we have seen examples in our own time. One is as a golden chaHce, held up by some wise hand, to gather the earthly memory ere it is spilt on the ground. The other is as a millstone, hung by partial yet ill-judging friend, round the hero's neck to plunge him as deep as possible in oblivion.' — J. C. Shairp, John Kehle, p. 69. Gg 2 4^2 ^^^-E LINK-WORD GROUP. This old conjunction is often strengthened by the addition of ever : — ' And the Lyons had the mastery of them, and brake all their bones in pieces or euer they came at the bottome of the den.' — Daniel vi. 24. Sometimes two forms of the same word were combined, as or ere. ' Two long dayes journey (Lords) or ere we meete.' Shakspeare, King John, iv. 3. 20. nevertheless. ' I cannot fully answer this or that objection, nevertheless I will persevere in beUeving.' — J. Llewelyn Davies, The Gospel and Modern Life, p. xiv. dzreclly. ' On the contrary, is it not the case that everybody and every section are telling us continually that the religious difficulty, directly you come to practice, becomes insignificant, and that it is a difficulty made rather for Parliament and for debate than one which would be raised within the schools ?' — House of Commons, June 25, 1870. Just. ■' Just as the confusion of tongues thwarted the bold attempt which men once made to ascend the heavens, so a confusion of ideas seems to wait upon all attempts to build up theories with reference to those dealings of God with man, for which Scripture affords no sufficient materials.' — Scrip- ture Revelations [J. W. Flower, Esq.] i860, p. 338. Conjunctions from adjectives : — kasf, modern lest. ' Lastly, followers are not to be liked, least while a man maketh his traine longer, he maketh his winges shorter.' — Bacon's Essays, ed. W. Aldis Wright, p. 275. no more than. This is now little more than an illustrative way of saying not at all. But it once had its literal and quantitative sig- nification : — 'So bote he loved that by nightertale He slep no more then doth the nightingale.' Chaucer's Prologue, 98. CONJUNCTIONS. 453 The idea here is not that he watched all night, but that he was a short sleeper. Conjunctions formed from nouns : — as wh'k, the old substantive for ' time/ ' But, while his province is the reasoning part, Has still a veil of midnight on his heart.' William Cowper. 7^/iaf time as. • Thou calledst upon me in troubles, and I delivered thee : and heard thee what time as the storm fell upon thee.' — Psalm Ixxxi. 7, elder version. Si'/k is an old substantive for 'journey/ 'road/ 'turn': it is used as a conjunction in Ezechiel xxxv. 6, and not again in the text of our Bible : — ' Being iustified by faith, wee haue peace with God, and ioy in our hope., that sith we were reconciled by his blood, when wee were enemies, wee shall much more be saued being reconciled.' — Romans v. Contents. It occurs five times in the First Book of Hooker, Of the Laws of Ecclesiastical Polity^ as appears by the Glossary to Mr. Church's edition. Conjunctions formed from verbs, or containing verbs in their composition. The first place here is claimed by the old familiar if Saxon gif imperative of the verb gifan, to give. i- ' Ac gif ic haefde swilcne anweald, swilce se aelmihtega God hsef}) ; "Sonne ne lete ic no Sa yfelan derian "Sam godum swa swij)e swa hi nu do]?.' — King Alfred's Boethius, ed. Cardale, p. 304. But if I had such power as the Almighty God has; then would not I let the evil hurt the good so much as they now do. Home Tooke says that an in such expressions as ' An it please your honour,' is the imperative of the Saxon verb unnan, to grant. " I doubt the explanation; but as I cannot disprove it, I place the word here. For my. own part I 454 I'HE LINK- WORD GROUP. would as lief think it merely a special habit of the common and, and we know it was often written so. ' And my will is that xii pore men and they may be gete have xii gownes,' &c. — The Will of Dame Jane Lady Barre, 1484, in A Memoir of the Ma?ior of Bitton, by the Rev, H. T. Ellacombe, formerly Vicar of Bitton. howbeif, notwithstanding. ' Howbeit (as evermore the simpler sort are, even w^hen they see no ap- parent cause, jealous notwithstanding over the secret intents and purposes of wiser men) this proposition of his did somewhat trouble them.' — Richard Hooker, Of the Laws, &c., Preface, ch. ii. seeing. ' And one morn it chanced He found her in among the garden yews, And said, " Delay no longer, speak your wish, Seeing I must go to-day." ' Idylls of the King. according. ' Their abominations were according as they loved. — Hosea ix. 10. talk of. 'Talk of the privileges of the Peerage, of Members' exemption from the Eighth Commandment, of the separate jurisdiction secured on the Continent to soldiers, what are they all put together to a privilege like this ? ' depend upon it. ' Depend upon it, a good deal is lost by not looking round the corner.' — Mrs. Prosser, Quality Fogg's Lost Ledger. When a sentence is opened with IVo doubt, this seems to claim a place among these verbal conjunctions, being a condensed expression for ' There is no doubt that.' It has,- however, a less emphatic burden than would be conveyed by the latter formula : — ' No doubt a determined effort would be made by many of those who are now engaged in these occupations, to prevent the admission of females to them, and to keep up the monopoly of sex.' — Frederic Hill, Crime. : its Amoufit, Causes, and Remedies, 1853, p. 86. Here it may be objected — Do you call these ivords sym- bolic .^ What does ' presentive ' mean, if such words as see, CONJUNCTIONS. 455 talk, depend, doubt, are not presentive ? In what sense can these belong to a group which is called essentially symbolic ? This very contradiction troubled the author of Hermes, a famous book on universal grammar, which was published in 1 75 1. He had pitched upon the distinction of presentive and symbolic as the fundamental and essential distinction of his universal grammar. He did not, indeed, use the terms ; but he spoke of v/ords as (i) significant by themselves, or significant absolutely, and (2) significant by association, or significant relatively. When he treats of conjunctions, he regards them as belonging to the second class, and yet he cannot shut his eyes to certain refractory instances. The embarrassment of James Harris on this occasion became the sport of Home Tooke, who published his Divej'sions of Purley in 1786. In his saucy manner he sums up the doctrine of the Hermes as follows : — ' Thus is the conjunction explained by Mr. Harris ; A sound significant devoid of signification, Having at the same time a kind of oh&cure signification ; And yet having neither signification nor no signification, Shewing the attributes both of signification and no signification ; And linking sigiiification and no signification together.' Diversions of Ptirley, Part I. ch. vii. This is of course a caricature, and we only avail ourselves of its exaggerated features, in order to raise up before us in bolder reHef the difficulty which we are here confronting. The solution seemxS to be this : — That the essential nature of a conjunction (or of any other organic member of speech) discovers itself, not in the recent examples of the class, but in those which have by long use been purged of accidental elements. This will be clearer by an illustration drawn from familiar experience. It is well known that many words in common use are masked, that they do not express plainly the sense which 45^ THE LINK- WORD GROUP, they are notwithstanding intended to convey. We do not always call a spade a spade. We have recourse in certain well-known cases to forms of expression as distant from the thing meant as is any way consistent with the intention of being understood. In such cases it will have struck every philological observer that it becomes necessary from time to time to replace these makeshifts with others of new device. In fact, words used to convey a veiled meaning are found to wear out very rapidly. The real thought pierces through ; they soon stand declared for what they are, and not for what they half feign to be. Words gradually drop the non- essential, and display the pure essence of their nature. And the real nature of a word is to be found in the thought which is at the bottom of its motive. As we know full well how this nature pierces through all disguise, casts off all drapery and pretext and colour, and in the course of time stands forth as the name of that thing which was to be ignored even while it was indicated, so in the case now before us. There are reasons why the speaker is not satisfied with the old conjunctions, and he brings forward words with more body and colour to reinforce the old conjunctions or to stand as conjunctions alone. If these words continue for any length of time to be used as conjunctions, the presentive matter which now lends them colour will evaporate, and they will become purely symbolic. Of this we may be sure from the experience of the elder examples. Who now thinks of if as an imperative verb ? Even in such a con- junction as because, where the presentive matter is still very plain, it has, generally speaking, no existence to the mind of the speaker. It is not indeed a singular quality in the conjunction, that being itself essentially symbolic, it should receive acces- sions from the presentive groups. This is seen also in the CONJUNCTIONS. 457 pronoun and in the preposition, and it is only as a matter of degree that the conjunction is remarkable in this respect. As far as observation reaches, the symbolic element is every- where sustained by new accessions from the presentive, and it is worthy of note that the extreme symbolic word, the con- junction, which is chiefly supplied from groups of words previously symbolic, seems to be the one which most eagerly welcomes presentive material, as if desirous to recruit itself after its too great attenuation through successive stages of symbolic refinement. The employment of conjunctions has greatly diminished from what it once was, as the reader may readily ascertain if he will only look into the prose of three centuries back. The writings of Hooker, for example, brisde with conjunc- tions, which we have now for the most part learned to dis- pense with. The conjunction being a comparatively late development, and being moreover a thing of literature to a greater extent than any other part of speech, was petted by writers and scholars into a fantastic luxuriance. It connected itself intimately with that technical logic which was the favourite study of the middle ages. Logic formed the base of the higher region of learning, and was the acquirement that popularly stamped a man as one of the learned, and hence it came that men prided themselves on their where- fores and iherefores^ and all the rest of that apparatus which lent to their discourse the prestige of a formulated piece of ratiocination. But this is now much abated, and the connection of sentences is to a large extent left to the intelligence of the reader. Two or three very undemonstrative conjunctions, such as if, hut, for, that, &c., will suffice for all the conjunc- tional appliances of page after page in a well-reasoned book. Often the word and is enough, where more than mere 45^ THE LINK- WORD GROUP. concatenation is intended, and this colourless link-word seems invested with a meaning which recalls to mind what the and of the Hebrew is able to do in the subtle depart- ment of the conjunction. Indeed, we may say that we are coming back in regard to our conjunctions to a simplicity such as that from which the Hebrew language never de- parted. The Book of Proverbs abounds in examples of the versatility of the Hebrew a7td. Our but, as a conjunction, covers the ground of two German conjunctions, fonbertt and a6er. If we look at Proverbs x, there is a but in the middle of nearly every verse, equivalent to fonbern. These are all expressed in Hebrew by and. If we look at i. 25, 33 ; ii. 22 ; iv. 18, we see but'm the weightier sense of aBer, and here also the same simple and in the Hebrew. In the close of the following quotation, the and is equiva- lent to ' and yet ' or ' and at the same time.' ' In Mecklenburg, Pommern, Pommerellen, are still to be seen physiogno- mies of a Wendish or Vandalic type (more of cheek than there ought to be, and less of brow ; otherwise good enough physiognomies of their kind) : but the general mass, tempered with such admixtures, is of the Platt-Deutsch, Saxon, or even Anglish character we are familiar with here at home. A patient stout people ; meaning considerable things, and very incapable of speaking what it means.' — Thomas Carlyle, Frederick the Great, Bk, II. ch. iv. In conversation we omit the relative conjunction very usually, and poetry often does the same with great gain of ease and simplicity : • For I am he am born to tame you Kate.' Taming of the Shrew, ii. I. ' Where is it mothers learn their love ? ' John Keble. But in proportion as conjunctions are less the vogue in recent times, they are employed with wider effect. See the expanse both ways over which, in the following quotation, v/e perceive the radiance of the conjunction CONJUNCTIONS, 459 jyef. ' The children attending these [parochial schools in Ireland] are, for the most part, clothed in rags, and fed upon the scanty and homely fare afforded in the cabin of an Irish peasant. In the charter schools, on the contrary, the children are comfortably lodged, well clad, and abundantly fed. No pains are spared to preserve their health. On the first appearance of disease, medical aid is procured ; and their teachers are in all cases equal, and generally far superior, to those employed in the daily and parochial schools. Yet I was invariably struck with the vast superiority in health, in appear- ance, in vivacity, and in intelligence, of the half-naked, and one almost would suppose half-starved, children who lived in their parents' cabins, over those so well-maintained and so carefully instructed in the charter schools. The reasons of this striking fact it might not be difficult to assign. In the charter schools all social and family affections are dried up ; children once received into them are, as it were, the children, the brothers, the sisters, the relations of — nobody ! They have no vacation — they know not the feeling of home ; and hence it is primarily, whatever concomitant causes there may be, that they are so frequently stunted in body, mind, and heart." — Quoted by Florence Hill in Contemporary Review, September, 1870. ' You may paint with a very big brush, and yet not be a great painter.'—- Thomas Carlyle, Frederick the Great, Bk. I. ch. i. CHAPTER X. OF SYNTAX. Syntax is a Greek word, signifying the order or array of words in a sentence. The study of this subject may be approached in two opposite ways. Either we may start with parts of speech as with a store of material, and out of these we may build up our syntax constructively. This is the method which is followed in grammatical exercises. The other way is to regard the sentence as the thing given, a growth or product of nature, and to proceed by the light of its sense, known to us as we know our mother tongue, to resolve it into its component parts, and so get at our syntax by a process of analysis. That this is the actual order of things we may see by a moment's reflection on the number of people who not only talk, but who daily read their news- paper, without the slightest notion of the parts of speech. This then is the natural, and consequently the philological, method. Syntax will accordingly mean the resolution of the sen- tence into its component parts, with a view of tracing by what contrivances it is made to produce a continuous and consistent signification. And we shall find that there are FLAT OR COLLOCATIVE SYNTAX. 46 1 three kinds of instrumentality which are the most active in the production of this effect. The first of these is collocation, or the relative position of words. So far as this agency is exerted, the parts of a sen- tence tell their function by the mere order of their arrange- ment. This sort of syntax we call Flat. The second is where the functions of the members of the sentence are shewn by modifications in the forms of words. This is the Flexional Syntax. The third is where the same relations are expressed by symbolic words. This is the Phrasal Syntax. The analytical action of syntax resolves the sentence not merely into words, but into parts of speech. The knowledge of words as parts of speech is the sum total of the doctrine of syntax. And it happens quite naturally that many of the details which are ordinarily comprised under the head of syntax have already been disposed of in the foregoing chap- ters on the parts of speech. Accordingly, we have in the present chapter only to attend to the salient points, and those which are of the most essential value in the mechanism of the sentence ; and these are comprised in the above division, which will therefore constitute the plan of this chapter. I. Of Flat ok Collocative Syntax. How important an element mere position is in the structure of the English sentence, may readily be seen by the con- trast which appears if we consider how unimportant, or at least secondary the same element is in Latin. If we have to say that men seek victual, the words by which this would be expressed in Latin are so unaffected by the order of their 462 OF SFNTAX. arrangement that it is impossible to dislocate the sentence. It is good in any order : — Homines quaerunt victum Qiiaerunt victum homines Victum homines quaerunt Homines victum quaerunt Victum quaerunt homines. All these variations are possible, because each word has its inflection, and that inflection determines the relative office of each word and its contribution towards the meaning of the whole. But in English the sense depends upon the arrange- ment, and therefore the order of the English sentence can- not be much altered without detriment to the sense : — Men seek victual. Cats like fish. Boys love play. Fools hate knowledge. Horses draw carts. Diamonds flash light. These examples present us with the simplest scheme of a sentence ; and in these examples we see that the sense requires the arrangement of the words in a certain order of collocation. Each of these three words is capable of amplification. In the first place the subject may be amplified by an adjective ; thus, — Hungry men seek victual. Wise men desire truth. Healthy boys love play. This adjective has its proper collocation. We have no choice whether we will say himgry men or men hungry. The latter is inadmissible, unless it were for some special exigency FLAT OR COLLOCATIVE SYNTAX. 463 such as might rise in poetry ; and then the collocation would so far affect the impression communicated, that after all it could not be called a mere alternative, whether we would say hungry men or men hungry. The next thing is the placing of the article. The article stands immediately before the adjective : — The hungry man seeks victual. The healthy boy loves play. The wise man desires truth. This ampHfication brings out to view an important conse- quence of the order last observed. As w^e put our adjective before our substantive, it results that when the article is put before both, it is severed from the substantive to which it primarily appertains. The French, who can put the adjective either before or after its noun, have by this means the opportunity of keep- ing the article and noun together in most cases where it is desirable. This is a trifle, so long as it is confined to the difference between the wise man, a good man, and Thomme sage, un homme ban. But then the adjective being capable of amplification in its turn, the gap between the article and its noun may be considerably widened. An adverb may be put to the adjective, and then it becomes the truly wise man, a really good ma?i. Or, as in the following : — ' The inadequacy of our means to meet the spiritual wants of the annually increasing population of this colony.' — Letter of the Bishop of Adelaide, 1859- The severance between the article and its noun had not extended beyond such examples as these, until within the recent period which may be designated as the German era. Our increased acquaintance with German literature has caused an enlargement in this member of our syntax. We not unfrequently -find a second adverb, or an adverbial 464 OF SYNTAX. phrase, or a negative, iaelnded in the interval between the article and its noiin ; thus, — y ' In that not more populous than popular thoroughfare.* — Charles Dickens, Pickwick Papers, ch. xii. ' A young man, with some tints of academical training, and some of the livid lights of a then only incipient Rationalism on his mind.' — Edwin Pax- ton Hood, Lectures to Students for the Ministry, 1867. ' And is it indeed true that they are so plied with the gun and the net and the lime that the utter extinction of their species in these islands may be looked upon as a by no means remote eventuality ? ' In a translation from the German which I happen to be now reading, the following illustrations present themselves: — ' A not altogether unsatisfactory picture.' ' There he puts down the varied and important matter he is about td say, according to a large plan and tolerably strictly carried out arrangement.* This is now sometimes used by highly qualified English writers. In the following, from Mr. Weld's Vacation in Brittany, 1866, our stands in the place oi the: — ' I have now travelled through nearly every Department in France, and I do not remember ever meeting with a dirty bed : this, I fear, cannot be said of our happily in all other respects cleaner island.' ' Douglas, in the Nenia, p. 10, is so far as I know the first who called attention to this passage of our great poet [Hamlet v. l], as illustrating the very commonly to be observed presence of " shards, flints, and pebbles," in graves, into which it is diflScult to think they could have got by accident.' — George Rolleston, On Romano-British and Anglo-Saxon Sepidture. This expansibility of the noun applies equally to the sub- ject and to the object ; that is to say, it may take place either before or after the verb, or even both. It does not often happen that the two wings of the sentence are expanded in the same manner, because the effect would not be pleasing. But the same order rules on the one side as on the other ; and variety is sought only to avoid monotony. If we were FLAT OR COLLOCATIVE SYNTAX. 465 speaking of the sense of liberty which is nourished in a people by the habit of discussing and correcting the laws which bind them, we might say, — Deliberation implies consent. Continuous deliberation implies continuous consent. A continuous deliberation implies a continuous consent. A continuous deliberation on the law implies a continuous consent to tlie law. A continuous deliberation on the law by the subject, implies a continuous assent to the law on the part of the subject. So well established is the general order of collocation, that marked divergences arrest the attention, and have, by reason of their exceptional character, a force which may be con- verted into a useful rhetorical eifect; thus, — beauties the most Oi ' Having been successively subject to all these influences, our language has become as it were a sort of centre to which beauties the most opposite con- verge.' — H. T. W. Wood, The Reciprocal Influence of French and English Literature in the Eighteenth Century, 1870. And it occasionally happens that the surprise of an unusual order becomes the evidence to our minds that there is such a thing as a usual order of collocation. In the following sen- tence the putting of the comparative clause before the verb is an illustration of this : — • And this it is that I think I have seen, and that J wish, if I can be so happy, to shew to those who need it more than myself, and who better than myself may profit by it.' — The Mystery of Pain, When in the Idylls we read of the * Table Round,' we ex- perience a sort of pleasure from the strangeness of the collo- cation by which the adjective is put after its substantive : starting from the principle that the reverse is the true English order of collocation. This is one of the things Hh 4^6 OF SYNTAX. which we have adopted for use in poetry .and in high style generally, and it is one of the traces which early French culture has left on our literature : — 'A spring perennial rising in the heart.' Edward Young, Night Thoughts, viii. 958. *Futl many a gem of purest ray serene.' Thomas Gray, Elegy in a Country Churchyard. 'Devastation universal.' — Henry Taylor, Natural History of Enthusiasm. Some parts of speech exhibit what' may be called, without too strong a figure, a jealousy of their position in the sen- tence. The adjective offers a ready illustration of this. The place between the article and the substantive is first and foremost the property of the adjective. An adverb may be there as attendant on an adjective, but not alone. To exemplify this we need a word that has changed from an adjectival to an adverbial habit. Such a word we have in only. As an adjective, the place of this word is between the article and the substantive — ' The only path.' In our early literature this word is usually an adjective, but at present it is usually an adverb. And this is why the reader is often checked by meeting this word in what seems an unintelligible position. Spenser has {The Faerie Queene, iii. 2.38) * But th' only shade and semblant of a knight ' where we should now say 'only the shade,' &c. If we preserve the order we must change the word, and say, * the mere shade.* When only had come to be an adverb, it was felt that its collocation required altering, so as to be outside the pale of the article and substantive. And as the adjective only, having acquired the habit of FLAT OR COLLOCATIVE SYNTAX. 467 an adverb, had to shift from the place of the adjective to that assigned to the adverb; in hke manner may we find cases where the same adjective might well shift its position from the adverb's place, for fear of the inconvenience of being accounted an adverb. In Psalm Ixxxiii. 18 (elder version), it is said, 'Thou art only the most Highest over all the earth/ So Richard Sibbes {Puritan Divines, vol. i. p. 92) has 'which will only give us boldness,' meaning to say that which we should now express by this ' which only {or alone) will give us boldness.' To understand this only as an adverb would be to stultify the sense. How absurd would it sound to say that the Queen is only the supreme authority in the British Empire ! While only had no character but its original one of an adjective, the above order might stand without risk of con- fusion ; but after the adverbial habit had developed itself, it became necessary, not only for the adverb to keep out of any place where it might be accounted an adjective, but also equally necessary for the adjective to keep out of any position in which it might look like an adverb. And there- fore it must be thus collocated : ' Thou only art,' &c. Thus we see in the case of this word two contrary illustrations of its sensitiveness in matter of collocation. In the former case it has to move from the adjectival place because it can no longer sustain the adjectival character, having come to be reputed as an adverb ; in the latter case it has to protect its adjectival character against adverbial appearances by moving from that position in front of an article which is the lot of the adverb. Before the development of flexion and symbolism, there was a dearth of means for expressing those modifica- tions which are now efi'ected by adverbs and adverbial phrases. In the collocational stage of syntax, the chief H h 2 468 OF SYNTAX. means resorted to for this end was repetition. Early lan- guages bear about them traces of this contrivance. The Hebrew is remarkable for this. The following little speci- men may serve as an indication. In Mark vi. 39, 40, there occurs a Hebraism in the Greek text which is not rendered, and indeed hardly could be rendered, in English. The Hebrew (we will call it) says ' companies companies,' and ' ranks ranks.' The English says * by companies ' and * in ranks/ Here we have a certain idea expressed in the one by a syntax of collocation — for repetition is a form of collo- cation, and in the other by a syntax of symbolism — namely, by th« intervention of prepositions. Here then we have the most ancient form of expressing this idea, contrasted with the most modern. Between these t^vo lies the flexional way of saying the same thing. The true Greek idiom or the Latin gives it to us flexionally in the forms €ik-qh6v and catervaHm, which we cannot match by any extant expression in English. It seldom happens that means which have once been largely used, even though they should be superseded by other contrivances, are -entirely abolished. We still have recourse to mere repetition for heightening an effect ; as — ' A lesson too too hard for living clay.' The Faerie Queeite, iii. 4. 26. *Oh that this too too solid flesh would melt!' Hamlet, i. 2. B\it we proceed to notice a feature of flat syntax which is peculiarly English. This is the transformation of a sub- stantive into an adjective by position alone. I doubt whether there is anything that is so characteristic of our language as this particular faculty. FLAT OR COLLOCATIVE SYNTAX. 469 cottage dames. 'What sages would have died to learn, Now taught by cottage dames.' Christian Year, ' Catechism.' In the region of pre-historic archaeology alone we hear of the stone period, a copper period, the bronze period, and the iron period. In all these expressions the epithets are substantives converted into adjectives by position alone. There are three examples of this in the following short quotation from Sir John Lubbock : — ' Stone weapons of many kinds were still in use during the age of bronze, and even during that of iron, so that the mere presence of a few stone im- plements is not in itself sufficient evidence that any given " find " belongs to the stone age.' — Pie-Historic Times, 2nd ed. 1869, p. 3. vme discasey cattle disease, potato disease. ' In Hungary there has been no vine disease, no cattle disease, and no potato disease.' In Hebrews x. Contents, we find an instance which amounts to a solecism : ' the law sacrifices.' This constructive juxtaposition of two nouns stands in an intimate relation with that great body of English com- pounds which will be treated of in the first section of the next chapter. But nearly related as these two features are, they must be carefully distinguished from one another, as their very tendency to blend makes it the more necessary to keep them well apart. Just as the lowest stage of organised existence is that in which we are met by the difficulty of dis- tinguishing between animal and vegetable life, so here, in the most elementary region of syntax, we are hardly able to keep the organism of the sentence distinct from that of the word. In many instances there is fair room for doubt whether two words are in the compound or the construct 47 O OF SYNTAX. State. Perhaps some of the following m^y be so regarded : — race horse, horse race ; field path, path field ; herb garden, garden herb. These may be written either with or without the hyphen, that is to say, either as compound words or as words in construction. In such cases it is not to be sup- posed that principle is wanting, but that through the fine- ness of the difference our discernment is at fault in the application of the principle. The following from a first-class print is a clear instance of a misplaced hyphen ; it ought to be written thus : — ffiarriage settlements. ' The Married Women's Property Act, 1870, was intended to prevent the personal property of a woman, her wages and earnings, being at the absolute mercy and control of her husband's creditors. It was supposed that it would be an especial protection to that poorer class of women whose property before marriage was too small to be worth the expense and life-long trouble of marriage-settlements.' There are in English two great formulas for the con- struction of substantival phrases, and there is perhaps no more convenient, as there certainly cannot be a more national medium of exhibiting these, than through the long and short titles of our Acts of Parliament. According to one of these formulas, the words and phrases which constitute a substantival whole, are con- catenated by means of prepositions thus: — ' An Act further to amend the Laws relating to the Representation of the People in England and Wales.* ' An Act for the Abolition of Compulsory Church Rates.' 'An Act to make further Amendments in the Laws for the Relief of the Poor in England and Wales.' The Other formula merely collocates some of the more substantival words in juxtaposition, and that in a reversed order: as — FLAT OR COLLOCATIVE SYNTAX. 47 1. ' The Representation of the People Act.' ' The Compulsory Church Rate Abolition Act.' ' The Poor Law Amendment Act.' •The Sea Birds Preservation Bill.' Our speech has acquired this faculty and range of varia- tion by its historical combination of the two great linguistic elements of Western civilization, the Roman and the Gothic. The long style of structure is that which we have learned from the French : the shart and reversed style is our own native Saxon. We will close this section with the flat infinitive, or in- finitive expressed by position alone. The most peculiarly English use is that of the infinitive after the verb do, as / do think, I did expect In order to understand the original action of the auxiliary do, we must remember that it has been symboHsed into its present function from a state in which it meant make to with an infinitive of the act In the Ordinance of the Guild of St. Katherine at Stam- ford (1494) we may see an instance of do followed by a flat infinitive, and in the course of the same sentence a second instance where do has the phrasal infinitive after it, and the power of do is the same in the one case as in the other : — ' Also it is ordeyned, that when any Broder or Suster of this gilde is decessed oute off this worlde, then, wdthyn the xxx. dayes of that Broder or Suster, in the Chirch of Seynt Poules, ye Steward of this Gilde shall doo Ringe for hym, and do to say a placebo and dirige, w* a masse on ye morowe of Requiem, as ye comoun use is.' But the construction is precisely similar in such cases as the following : — I will hope. I shall go. You cannot think. You may try. 472 OF SYNTAX. You might get. They would have. They should not have. They shall smart. In all these the final word is an infinitive by position. In Saxon it would have been expressed by a flectional infinitive. ' iErest mon sceal God lufian. Ne First we must love God. We sceal mon mann slean. ne stelan. must not man-slay, nor steal, nor ne leasimga secgan. ac aelcne mann tell lies : but we must always respect mon sceal a weorJ)ian. and ne sceal every man ; and no man ought to do nan mann don o'Srum J)aet he nelle to others what he would not they J)aet him mon do.' — Suuithun, p. 112. should do to him. Our present flat infinitive cannot therefore be derived from Saxon, but must be regarded as an example in lan- guage of a tendency to reversion from the more advanced and developed to the more primitive and archetypal forms of speech. The positional stage of syntax is most highly displayed in the Chinese language. This is in itself S, confirmation of the claim which Chinese literature makes to an exceed- ingly high antiquity. Speaking generally, it may be said that the whole of Chinese grammar depends upon position. Chinese words change their grammatical character as sub- stantives, adjectives, verbs, according to their relative posi- tions in the collocation of the sentence. M. Julien has published a Chinese syntax with a title in which this prin- ciple is conspicuously displayed^. From a notice of this ^ Syntaxe Nouvelle de la Langue Chinoise, fondee sur la Position des Mots, suivie de deux Traites sur les Particules, et les principaux Termes de Grammaire, d'une Table des Idiotismes, de Fables, de Legendes et d'Apo- logues traduits mot a mot. Par M. Stanislas Julien, Paris : Librairie de Maisonneuve. London: Triibner and Co. 1869. FLAT OR COLLOCATIVE SYNTAX. 473 work in the Academy the following illustrations are bor- rowed : — ' For instance, the character tch'i, " to govern,"" if placed before a sub- stantive remains a verb, as tch'i koUe," to govern a kingdom;" if the order of these two characters is reversed, they signify, " the kingdom is governed ;" and if the character tch'i be placed after chi, " a magistrate," it becomes a substantive, and the two words are then to be translated, " the administration of the magistrates." ' Very remarkable is the plasticity of signification which such a grammatical system demands. ' For instance, we find the expression i tsouan tsonan tchi. The primary meaning of the character tsouan is " an awl," or anything with which a hole is bored ; and in this sentence we recognise that, since the first tsouan is preceded by i, the sign of the instrumental case, it stands in the place of a substantive ; i tsouan, therefore, means " with an awl ;" but the character tchi being plainly the object of a verb, the second tsouan must, by virtue of its position, be considered as a verb, and the sentence will then read thus.^ " with an awl to bore it " {tchi).' It must not be supposed that the Chinese language stands alone in the possession of such a syntax : what it does stand alone in, is in the development of a great literature through means so rudimentary. The whole outer field of so-called Allophylian languages, those namely which lie outside the Aryan and Semitic families, appear to be of this character. Mr. Farrar in his Families of Speech, p. 160, divides these into — (i) Isolating, i.e. monosyllabic and unsyntactical ; (2) Agglutinating ; (3) Poly synthetic : and all these are but different stages and conditions of the positional. This is therefore to be regarded as the basement storey of all syntax^ and it is largely discoverable in the English language. 474 OF SYNTAX, , II. Syntax of Flexion. Flexion is any modiiication of a word whereby its relation to the sentence is indicated. The syntax of the English language is weakest in this division. We can only collect a few remaining features, which have lived through the collision of the transition period, and have up to the present time defied the innovations of the symbolic movement. We have retained the genitive singular of nouns, as ' Simon's wife's mother.' — Luke iv, 38. With regard to the possessive s there is a sort of canon stated by S. T. Cole- ridge in a letter to H. C. Robinson, which though perhaps a litde oif-hand, is worth consideration : — ' I have read two pages of Lalla Roolih, or wiiatever it is called. Merci- ful Heaven ! I dare read no more, that I may be able to answer at once to any questions, " I have but just looked at the work." Oh, Robinson ! if I could, or if I dared, act and feel as Moore and his set do, what havoc could I not make amongst their crockery-ware! Why, there are not three lines together without some adulteration of common English, and the ever-recur- ing blunder of using the possessive case, " compassion's tears," &c. for the . preposition "of" — a blunder of which I have found no instances earlier than Dryden's slovenly verses written for the trade. The rule is, that the case 's is always penonal ; either it marks a person, or a personification, or the relique of some proverbial personification, as *' Who for their belly's sake," in Lycidas.'— Diary, 1817. This doctrine cannot now be rigidly insisted upon. The following is from the editorial part of a leading English journal ,• — • President Woolsey \North American Review, October, 1870] incidentally raises one point which is at the present time being warmly discussed with us — the question whether international injuries are independent of municipal law or arise out of it and are to be measured by it. The American jurist holds to the former opinion. The rights of other nations do not end with the provisions of any country's municipal law.' The last clause would in French have to be expressed SYNTAX OF FLEXION. 475 after in this manner : — ' the provisions of the municipal law of any country.' ' Religious great men have loved to say that their sufficiency was of God. But through every great spirit runs a train of feeling of this sort ; and the power and depth which there undoubtedly is in Calvinism, comes from Calvinism's being overwhelmed by it.' — Matthew Arnold, St. Paul and Protestantism, p. 120. Other inflections of the noun we have lost, but there sometimes remains in construction a reminiscence of some obsolete case-flexion. Thus in i Kings vii. 40, 'The work that he made king Solomon/ the two final words are in a dative position though not in dative forms. The same may be said of the words ' their bodies ' in the following quotation : — ' They surely trust to win their bodies a resurrection to immortality.' — Homily on the Sacrament, Part I. Of pronominal inflection there is but little remaining which really serves any purpose of syntax. In such cases as o/me, to him, from them, it is true that me, him, them, are inflections; but then the relation which they once served to express is now expressed by th^ preposition. Mine may be regarded as a flexion by an archaeological efl"ort of mind, for it is an old genitive of me. But in its ordinary use there is no call to think of this, for it appears as an adjectival pro- noun. But when there is a phrase in which it shews a trace of its old genitival extraction, then it is accompanied with a preposition ; as, ' That boy of mine.' We have, however, dative pronouns without the preposi- tion, as in give me, teil him, and in our elder literature more frequently : — me. ' That my hand may be restored mee againe.' — i Kings xiii. 6. 47 6 OF SYNTAX. In the following quotation him in the second part is equiva- lent to the unto him that went before : — ' Lend not vnto him that is mightier then thy selfe ; for if thou lendest him, count it but lost.' — Ecclesiasticm viii. 12. In the next quotation, we should now say to him : — ' And sent him them to Jezreel.' — 2 Kings x. 7. Not even a poet in our day could write her for to her in such a structure as this : — ' His lovely words her seemd due recompence.' The Faerie Queene, i. 3. 30. Methinks is now written as one word. It consists of me in the dative case, and thinks, an old impersonal equivalent to the Latin videtur, radically connected no doubt with our verb ' I think,' ' he thinks,' &c., but quite distinct from it. The distinction is kept up in German between benft the verb of thought, and biiinft of seeming, which is that now before us. But the verb is the great stronghold of flexion. More than any other part of speech it attracts and attaches inflec- tions to itself in times when flexion is growing : and on the other hand, when flexion is on the wane, the verb is the most retentive of its relics, and the most reluctant to part with them. There is no language of Western Europe in which the verb has parted with its flexion more than in English. The Gothic languages are the most advanced in this respect, and especially the Danish, Swedish, and English. The verbal inflections which are still used to express person, tense, or mood, are as follows : — (See) seest, sees, seeth, saw, sawest, seen, seeing. (Look) lookest, looks, looketh, looked, lookedst, looking. SYNTAX OF FLEXION. 477 Half of these are antiquated, and all that are in habitual use are, — sees, saw, seen, seeing, looks, looked, looking. A feature worthy of contemplation is that whereby the flexion which expresses past time is employed also for con- tingency or uncertainty. It appears as if the link of sym- pathy between the two things thus rendered by a selfsame formula were remoteness from the speaker's possession. Looking at the ^oxdi attempted hy\i?>e\i ^e should associate it with the idea of past time, but in the following sentence it expresses contingency and not time, or if it regards time at all, the time is future. ' His power would break and shiver like glass, if he attempted it.' had (subjunctive). *I say not that she ne had kunnyng What harme was, or els she Had coulde no good, so thinketh me. And trewly, for to speke of trouth. But she had had, it had be routh.' Chaucer, The Booke of the Dutchesse, 996. ' If this man had not twelve thousand a-year, he would be a very stupid fellow.' — Jane Austen, Mwisfield Par}, ch. iv. • And some among yau held, that -if the King Had seen the sight he would have sworn the vow; Not easily, seeing that the King must guard That which he rules, and is but as the hind To whom a space of land is given to plough. Who may not wander from the allotted field. Before his work be done.' Alfred Tennyson, The Holy Grail. In the single case of the verb to be, however, there are distinct forms or flexions for the subjunctive. Be was originally indicative, as it still is in Devonshire, and in . our Bible: 'They be blind leaders of the blind.'— Matt. xv. 14. 47 8 OF SYNTAX. But inasmuch as the present had another form ts, are, a division of labour took place, whereby be was reserved for the subjunctive and conditional present. In the revision of the Common Prayer Book in 1661, are was substituted for be in forty-three places, and the indicative be was left standing in one place only, namely this — ' Which be they ? ' ^ The subjunctive thus recently acquired is now antiquated; and not even in a sermon of the present day should we meet with the like of this of Isaac Barrow's : — ■ ' Be we never so urgently set, or closely intent upon any work (be we feeding, be we travelling, be we trading, be we studying), nothing yet can forbid, but that we may together wedge in a thought concerning God's good- ness, and bolt forth a word of Praise for it.' — The Duty of Prayer. On the same principle was and were took distinct offices: — ' I am not able to unfold, how this cautelous enterprise of licencing can be exempted from the number of vain and impossible attempts. And he who were pleasantly dispos'd, could not well avoid to lik'n it to the exploit of that gallant man who thought to pound up the crows by shutting his Park- gate.' — ^John Milton, Areopagitica. ' If every action which is good or evill in man at ripe years, were to be under pittance, and prescription, and compulsion, what were vertue but a name, what praise could be then due to well-doing, what grammercy to be sober, just, or continent ? ' — Id. This were is not so freely employed now as it once was, and if it goes out, it will be a beauty lost. But however it may be with colloquy and familiar prose, it can hardly be spared from poetry and the style of dignity : — ' But to live by law, Acting the law we live by without fear; And, because right is right, to follow right Were wisdom in the scorn of consequence.' Alfred Tennyson, CEnone. '^ From the beautiful photozincographic facsimile done at the Ordnance Survey Office in Southampton, 1870. SYNTAX OF FLEXION. 479 But should these subjunctives be and were fall into complete desuetude, they will leave behind some fossil traces of their existence in the conjunction howbeit, and in the phrasal adverb as it were. Under the head of Flexional Syntax we must notice that participial and generalising prefix ge-, which once was so rife in our language, and which still flourishes with such a fine effect in German. With us it has dwindled into a poetical curiosity, and it has taken the form oi y- or other forms still less recognisable. ychain'd. 'Yet first to those ychain'd in sleep, The wakeful trump of doom must thunder through the deep.' John Milton, On the Morning of Christ*s Nativity, xvi. yclept. ' But come thou Goddess fair and free, In Heaven ycleap'd Euphrosyne.' Id. VAllegro. ypointing. 'What needs my Shakespear for his honour'd Bones, The labour of an age in piled Stones, Or that his hallow'd reliques should be hid, Under a Star-ypointing Pyramid?' Id. On Shahspear, 1630. Our examples of English flexion are mostly of the decrepit kind, in the last stage of decay. They are rather relics of a flexion that has been active in a former stage of the language, than of what properly belongs to modern English. But there is at least one instance of a flexion that has taken form within the English period. Such is the adverbial flexion beginning with the French preposition a, which has in most instances become symphytic. It has lost the memory of its origin and has become a mere flexion. Thus, amain or aright is as much an adverbial flexion of the 480 OF SYNTAX. substantive main or the adjective ngkf, as is the adverb mainly or rightly. amain, ' And with his troupes doth march amaine to London,' 3 Henry VI, iv. 8. 4. In early times the a was often written as a separate pre- position, to the confusion of modern annotators : — ' There-fore he was a prikasoure a right.' Chaucer, Prologue, 189 ; Lansdowne MS, a laughter. ' And therewithal a laughter out he brast.' The Court of Love^ ad finem. a forlorn. ' And forc'd to Hue in Scotland a Forlorne.' Shakspeare, 3 Henry VI, iii. 3. 26. In this passage we are furnished with tlie correction * all forlorn/ We will close this section as we closed the previous one, with the infinitive. The old grammatical infinitive in -en lingered in our language as late as the Elizabethan period. Thus Surrey : — sayen. * Give place, :ye lovers, here before That spent your boasts and brags in ^-aiu; My lady's beauty passeth more The best of yours, I dare well sayen, Than doth the sun the candle light. Or brightest day the darkest night.' But while we lost the form in -en, we unconsciously re- tained the same thing in a slightly disguised form, namely with the ending in -ing. The function of this infinitive was chiefly (but not entirely) restricted to what in Latin grammar would be called gerundial uses. The tendency to turn -an SYNTAX OF FLEXION. 48 1 or -en into -mg shews itself elsewhere : thus, Ahhandun has become Abingdon ; and we are all pretty familiar with such forms as garding, capting, lunching. When the mind has lost its hold on the meaning of a given form, the organs of speech are apt to slide into any contiguous form that has more present currency or is more vital with present meaning. The -an or -en of the infinitive became -ing because it was surrounded with nouns and participles in -ing which differed from the infinitive by a difference too fine to be held-to in the transition and Early English periods, with their neglect of the vernacular. Hence it has become traditional to explain this form always either as a substantive or as a present participle. But there is a large class of instances to which these explanations will not apply. In such a sen- tence as the following, ' Europeans are no match for Orientals in evading a question,' evading is clearly a verb governing its substantive ; and yet it is not a participle, for it has nothing adjectival about it. By an infinitive I under- stand a verb in a substantival aspect ; by a participle, a verb in an adjectival aspect. In the saying of Rowland Hill to his co-pastor Theophilus Jones, ' Never mind breaking grammar if/ &c., the word breaking is clearly a verb, and can be no otherwise grammatically designated than as an infinitive. The nature of the participle is seen in the following : — ' All is hazard that we have, Here is nothing bideing ; Dayes of pleasure are like streams Through faire Medows gliding.' Ballad Society, vol. i. p. 350. The analysis of a sentence is, however, a subjective act, as we have already observed ; and if any insist on mentally supplying the formula requisite to establish the participial 482 OF SYNTAX. character ot every verb in -mg, I know of no argument potent enough to restrain them. But there is a large number of instances in which I think that whether the case be his- torically or grammatically tested, it must be pronounced an infinitive. As this is a point of some importance, I have collected rather a copious Ust of examples of the infinitive in -ing. Historically there is no case clearer than that in which it follows verbs of going ; as — ' Oh how shall the dumb go a courting ? ' Bloomfield. Perhaps the plainest instances (to the modern grammatical sense) are those in which the word has a verbal government, and yet canno^; be accounted a participle, as : — fitiding. ' And I can see that Mrs. Grant is anxious for her not finding Mansfield dull as winter comes on.' — Jane Austen, Mansfield Park, vol. ii. ch. iii. simplifying, ' I feel it a surprise, every time I see Parry : there seems to be a power of simplifying whatever comes near him, an atmosphere in which trifles die a natural death.' — Memoirs 0/ Sir W. E. Parry. believing in. ' Babes are not expected to prove their relationship before believing in their mothfers.' — Laurence Oliphant, Piccadilly (1870), p. 275. organizing, gathering, obtaining, distributing, detecting. • Organizing charitable relief over areas conterminous with those of the Poor Law, and gathering together all the representative forces we can for common action, seems to us the best method of obtaining the two impor- tant aims of distributing judicious charity and detecting imposition.' — Alsager Hay Hill, Tiines, October 22, 1869. marrying, abandoning. - Their choice lies, then, only between marrying money, or abandoning all their connexions, habits, and amusements.' — John Boyd - Kinnear, Woman's Work, 353. SYNTAX OF FLEXION. 4S3 creating. ' It does not seem safe in regard to this to rely on the ordinary rule of demand creating supply.' — Sir J. T. Coleridge, Keble, p. 381. predicting, conspiring. ' Some people will never distinguish between predicting an eclipse and conspiring to bring it about.' A very good illustration of our point may be got from sentences of the following type, in which the infinitive- regnant with to stands counterposed with our flexional infinitive : — ' Where the case is so plain, it is not for the dignity of this house to inquire instead of acting.'— TzTOgs, February 11, 1870, Summary. Sometimes the infinitive with to has been pushed beyond the sphere now alloted to it, and a rendering by the infinitive in -ing would seem more natural. Spenser has ' For not to have been dipt in Lethe lake Could save the son of Thetis from to die ; which in modern English would be expressed thus : — ' His having-been-dipped in Lethe could not save Achilles from dying.' The following is somewhat similar : — ' It comes either from weakness or guiltiness, to fear shadows.' — Richard Sibbes, Soul's Conjiict, ch. x. The following passages contain some mixed examples : — ' I am convinced a man might sit down as systematically and as suc- cessfully to the study of wit, as he might to the study of the mathematics ; and I would answer for it, that, by giving up only six hours a day to being witty, he should come on prodigiously before midsummer, so that his friends should hardly know him again. For what is there to hinder the mind from gradually acquiring a habit of attending to the lighter relations of ideas in which wit consists ? Punning grows upon everybody, and pun- ning is the wit of words. — Sydney Smith, Wit and Humotir. I i 2 4^4 OF SYNTAX. * But it is clear that, as society goes on accumulating powers and gifts, the one hope of society is in men's modest and unselfish use of them ; in simplicity and nobleness of spirit increasing, as things impossible to our fathers become easy and familiar to us; in men caring for better things than money and ease and honour ; in being able to see the riches of the world increase and not set our hearts upon them ; in being able to admire and forego.' — R. W. Church, Sermons, ii. 1 868. Defend me, therefore, common sense, say I, From reveries so airy, from the toil Of dropping buckets into empty wells, And growing old in drawing nothing up.' William Cowper, The Garden. ' True religion prescribes a kind of grace, not only before meals, but before setting out for a pleasant walk, for a moonlight ramble, for a pleasant meeting ; a grace before reading any author that delights us,' — Charles Lamb, Essays of Elia, 'Grace before Meat.' ' She had then no alternative but to take the path of the thicket, nor did she pursue it long before coming in sight of a singular spectacle.' — Sir Walter Scott, Castle Dangerous, ch, iv. A case that deserves a place apart is that of being and having when they enter into the composition of infinitives, active or passive : — ' The present apparent hopelessness of a really CEcumenical Council being assembled.' — John Keble, Life, p. 425. In the next piece it would be allowable to substitute ' to have heard ' for ' having heard ' : — ' I recollect having heard the noble lord the member for Tiverton deliver in this House one of the best speeches I ever listened to. On that occasion the noble lord gloried in the proud name of England, and, pointing to the security with which an Englishman might travel abroad, he triumphed in the idea that his countrymen might exclaim, in the spirit of the ancient Roman, Civis Romanus sum.' — John Bright, Speeches, 1853, ed. J. E. T. Rogers. In our next quotation it appears in a passive form : — ' Great men like Sylla and Napoleon have loved to attribute their success to their fortune, their star ; religious great men have loved to say that their sufficiency was of God. But through every great spirit runs a train of feeling of this sort ; and the power and depth which there undoubtedly is in Cal- vinism, comes from Calvinism's being overwhelmed by it.' — Matthew Arnold, St. Paul and Protestantism, p. 1 20. SYNTAX OF FLEXION. 485 The expression in the following line is certainly con- densed, and the grammar by no means explicit, but I should be curious to know by what process of thought the word ivriting could be accepted in any other character than that of an infinitive : — ' Nature's chief master-piece is writing well.' Alexander Pope, Essay on Criticism, 725. The expression ' about doing anything ' is considered bad grammar, yet it is met with in authors of repute : — ' He was about retracing his steps, when he was suddenly transfixed to the spot by a sudden appearance.' — Charles Dickens, Pickwick Papers, ch. xxiii. The aversion which there is to this particular expression might perhaps be modified if the verb in -ing were acknow- ledged to be an infinitive. I do not mean to say that this consideration ought to be decisive. Language is not alto- gether governed by logic. Any form of speech is doomed, if it minister occasion to confusion of thought. The really dubious cases are those where this infinitive is so like a noun-substantive as to be hardly distinguished from it. In fact these two blend so closely as to defy all attempts at a Hne of demarcation. One could not even convince a determined adversary on the ground of their governing a case, if he were quick enough to remember that in Plautus the Latin substantive in -lo governs an accusative case just like a verb ! I will therefore only say, that in such instances as the following I think the meaning is better apprehended by regarding them as verb-substantives, that is to say, infinitives. versing. ' I once more smell the dew and rain, And relish versing.' George Herbert. 486 OF SYNTAX. flying. ' Johnny watched the swallows trying Which was cleverest at flying.' prelating, labouring, lording. ' Amende therfore, and ye that be prelates loke well to your office, for right prelatynge is busye labourynge and not lordyng.' — Hugh Latimer, The Ploughers, 1 549. While we are on this flexional infinitive, I must call atten- tion to one of the finest of our provincialisms. It is when this infinitive is used as sonething between active and passive, as if it were a neutral voice, like the so-called middle voice in Greek. In all classes of society in York- shire it may be heard ; as, ' Do you want the tea making/ ' I want my coat brushing,' &c. In the prospectus of a projected almanack which was circulated in November, 1869, and which was dated from Darwen, Lancashire, it is said that ' The miscellaneous matter on the other pages of the almanack treats of topics which the clergy are likely to want prominently placing before their parishioners.' Not very unlike this is the expression in the Offertory Rubric — 'While these sentences are in reading.' In modern English we should make it passive, and say — ' While these sentences are being read.' We may well contend for the infinitival character of this -ing, if only to rescue from the wreck of our old flexional system some time-honoured relic. The English language has divested itself of flexion to a most remarkable degree. But we must not suppose that when a language puts off the garb of flexion it becomes with her as if she had never put it on. No; we must allow for something like what the naturalists calls 'heredity', whereby a result once obtained is continued traditionally. SYNTAX BY SYMBOLIC WORDS. 487 If it was difificult to accomplish the task of the first section of this chapter, and delineate in a complete manner a syntax of collocation, this is due to the influence of flexion. Flexion itself may pass away, but its consequences remain. The maxim of the jurist, ' Cessante causa cessat effectus/ does not govern language. In a deflexionised language like ours, though almost all the flexions have themselves disappeared, they have not carried away with them those modifications of arrangement and collocation of which they first furnished the occasion. III. Of Syntax by Symbolic Words. As the natural division of flexion is into the two kinds, the flexion that attaches to the noun and that which attaches to the verb, and as symboUsm is an equivalent of flexion, the most convenient plan for this section will be the division, into the symboHsm of the verb and the symbolism of the noun. And this division will not only be found to rest upon a sound philological basis, but it will also prove convenient from a historical point of view. For that explicitness of syntax which we have acquired by the development of sym- bolism, is drawn partly from the Gothic and partly from the Roman source. It may be said, speaking in general terms, that the explicit verb has come to us from the Saxon, and the explicit noun from the French, The most signal example of a symbolic word, which exists entirely to serve the purposes of syntax, is the symbol-verb * to be.' From the moment that this verb had acquired its symbolic value, we may say that the reign of flexion was 488 OF SYNTAX. doomed. Not that it is the universal solvent of flexion, but it has been the chief means of undermining it in its own favourite stronghold, the verb. We are told by Sanskrit scholars that this symbol is found in the oldest Sanskrit monuments, and that none of the Aryan languages are with- out it. But if we compare its functions now in the great languages of Europe with those which it had in Greek and Latin, we shall find that the agency of this verb to be has greatly enlarged its sphere. Take for example the passive verb, which had a complete flexional apparatus in Greek as (f)iXov[iai with its parts, and in Latin as a?7ior with its parts — all these flexions have disappeared, and in place of each one of them has stepped in a function of this symbolic verb. Amor, I am loved. Amabar, I was loved. Amabor, I shall be loved. Amarer, I should be loved, &c. This substitution of symbol-verbs for inflections is found equally in French and German : — Je suis aimd ; 3^ Bin gelie6t. But in English we have our own peculiar little openings for enlarging this ever-growing power of be. Such idiomatic terms as ' I am to go,' ' She is to do it,' ' Such a thing is to be,' ' I 'm to be queen of the May,' are thoroughly English. On the other hand, ' Where have you been ? I have been to seek for you,' is French — ' Ou avez vous ^t^ ? J'ai ^t^ vous chercher.' The great power of this symbol-verb for revolutionizing flexional languages has lain a long time dormant. Espe- cially has this been the case in sacred languages. The Hebrew is an eminently flexional language, especially in regard to its system of verbs. The symbol-verb is there found in full development, but in very limited action. The following little piece of statistics wifl give some idea of this. SYNTAX BY SYMBOLIC WORDS. 489 In the English version of the little Book of Jonah, I count forty-two occurrences of the verb ' to be,' but when I refer to the original, I find that only six of these are represented by the verb ' to be ' in Hebrew. And as one of the cases is not symbolic but substantive, we have the still wider ratio of five to forty-one. I one day expressed to an intimate friend my regret that the collectors of vocabularies among savage tribes did not tell us something about the verb ' to be,' and especially I instanced the admirable word- collections of Mr. Wallace. To this conversation I owe the pleasure of being able to quote Mr. Wallace's own observations on this subject in his reply to my friend's query. He says : — ' As to such words as " to be," it is impossible to get them in any savage language till you know how to converse in it, or have some intelligent inter- preter who can do so. In most of the languages such extremely general words do not exist, and the attempt to get them through an ordinary inter- preter would inevitably lead to error. . . . Even in such a comparatively high language as the Malay, it is difficult to express " to be " in any of our senses, as the words used would express a number of other things as well, and only serve for " to be " by a roundabout process.' Keeping a sort of company with the verb to be, there is found in all the great languages a verb which signifies to come to be, to get to be. This is in Greek ylveadai, in Latin Jien, in French devenir, and in German txierben — symbol- verbs of great mark each in its own language. In our native tongue the old word was weor^an, the analogue of the German tcerben, but we gradually lost it ; and now we retain only a fossil relic of it in the imperative or subjunctive worthy as in the expression, ' Woe worth the day.' Instead of this weor^an we have qualified a new word for its place, a com- pound of the verb comCy namely become. In early times the sense of coming was dominant in this word. In the Saxon Gospels, Luke ii. 38, ' theos thaere tide becumende ' answers to our ' she coming-in that instant.' 49^ OP SYNTAX. Even as late as Shakspeare this sense was still vigorous ; as — ' Riji. But Madam, where is Warwicke then become ? Gray. I am inform'd that he comes towards London.' 3 Henry VI. iv, 4. 25. In our day where and become will not construe together, because the latter has lost all signification of locality. Eithet we should ask ' Where is Warwick gone to ? ' or ' What is become of Warwick ? ' In short, the word has been tho- roughly symboHsed, and so qualified to take the place of our lost verb weoi^an. And here again, as in so many other places, it has to be observed that we have followed the French. It is the French devenir that we give expression to (nay, that we mimic) in our modern verb becoine. But this is a matter of only superficial importance so far as syntax is concerned. What does it matter whether a certain function is discharged by weor^an or by devenir? it is functions and not roots that structural philology attends to. In so far as we construe our become difi"erently from the construction of the old weor^an, so far is the change struc- tural, and no further. Broadly speaking, the analogues of this become have a general resemblance of construction in all the great languages, so that the fact of our having changed our word under French tuition is a matter of small structural consideration. . But now we come to a symbol-verb of a peculiarly insular character, namely, the auxiliary do. This also is French under a Saxon exterior. It is the Yrench /aire, as in f aire f aire., ' to cause a thing to be done.' And, at first, even in English, its action was just the same as is that of the Siuxilmiy /aire to this day in French. Thus ' dede translate ' (Early English Text Society, Extra Series^ SFNTAX BY SYMBOLIC WORDS, 49 1 vol. i. p. ix.) meant not, as now, our ' did translate/ but ' caused to be translated/ Next it came to figure as a representative or vicegerent for any antecedent verb : — ' A wise man will make better use of an idle pamphlet, then a fool will do of sacred Scripture.' — John Milton, Areopagitica. Then as a symbolic expression of tense, both in affirmative and negative sentences. This is its pecuharly English function. But now it has dropped half its function, for it is not used with the affirmative verb unless something more than the ordinary force of assertion is required. The affirmative and negative verb therefore are thus declined: — FFIRMATIVE. Negative. I wish I do not wish I wished I did not wish Go Do not go If I go If I do not go If I went If I did not go Thus we see the affirmative side is clear of this auxiliary. Apart from emphasis, it is confined to the negative pro- position, and to interrogations : Where did you go ? What do you think? But the earlier usage still holds in provincial dialects, as in the following from the Dorset Poems : — 'Where wide and slow The stream did flow, And flags did grow and lightly flee, Below the grey-leaved withy tree ; Whilst clack clack clack from hour to hour Did go the mill by cloty Stour.' 49^ OF SYNTAX. How thoroughly this is a word of the modern language, and how recently it ascertained its own final place and func- tion, may be seen from the following quotation, wherein Spenser, a contemporary of Shakspeare, yokes dz'd with a verb in the preterite : — ' Astond he stood, and up his heare did hove.' The Faerie Queene, i. 2. 31. At present this auxiliary is not used to form tenses of the verb to de, but we find it so used in the Ballads and Romances. Thus, in I^ger and Grime : — ' Gryme sayd, " how farr haue wee to that citye whereas that Ladyes dwelHng doth bee ? " ' Line 758. ' " why Sir," said shee, " but is it yee that in such great perill here did bee ? " ' Line 788. ' It was a heauenly Melodye for a Knight that did a louer bee.' Line 926, The verb do is thus an auxiliary which peculiarly belongs to English, though at its start it was a French- borrowed plume. But the great bulk of the auxiliaries of our language are of home origin and development, and they will be found to correspond to the verbal modes of expression which are used in German and the other dialects of the Gothic stock. I speak of such auxiliaries as shall, will, may, can, let, might, could, would, should. An example or two will suffice to indicate how greatly we are in a state of contrast with the Romanesque tongues on this feature. amare amero aimerai I shall or will love. ainariamos ameremmo aimerions we should or would love. amemos amiamo aimons let us love. SYNTAX BY SYMBOLIC WORDS. 493 There is yet another feature in the symbolism surromiding the verb, in which the English use is in accordance with the Gothic languages, and at variance with the Romanesque. This is in regard to those adverbs which in the Romanesque languages have the habit of prefixing themselves inseparably to their verbs. The equivalents of these are not always, but for the most part, separate or at least separable in EngHsh and German and the Gothic languages generally. This will be readily understood by the help of a few examples of this contrast between French and English. They are taken from Randle Cotgrave, 1611 : — Abboyer, to barke or bay at, Decourir, to run down. Deprier, to pray instantly. Descrier, to cry down, Entrecouper, to cut between. Parservir, to ser/. thoroughly, Proteler, to shift off. Pourvoir, to provide for, Rebouillir, to boil once more, Rebouler, to bowle againe. If we turn now from the symbolism that surrounds the verb, to that which is attendant on the noun, we shall see that the latter is most prominently drawn from the articles and the prepositions. These are the symbolic satellites of the noun. And there is perceivable a certain co-operation with one another in their action. When two substantives are united by a genitival relation, as ' servus servorum,' ' Junonis ob iram,' ' haelejja hleo,' ' heofena rice,' ' my body's length' (3 Henry VI, v. 2. 26), 'man-kind,' and you substitute an qf^OT the genitival flexion, or genitival relation of the one noun, you find yourself often obliged to give the other noun an article ; thus, ' a servant of servants,' * for 494 ^^ SFNTAX. Juno's wrath' avoiding both preposition and article, — or using them both, ' for the wrath of Juno/ ' heroes' shelter,' ' heroum columen,' or, ' the shelter of heroes,' ' the kingdom of heaven,' ' the length of my body,' ' the family of man.' If we compare the Versions of 1535 and of 161 1 in Daniel i. 2, the elder has ' and there brought them in to his gods treasury ; ' but the younger has it ' into the treasure- house of his god/ The change of structure from flexional to symbolic has thus brought in two symbols to attend on the noun — namely, the preposition and the article. And this is not the only class of instances in which the introduction of one symbolic word provokes a tendency to call in another. In the earlier stages of Saxon Hterature we find a preposition with a bare noun ; but this is less the case in the riper language of the tenth century, and in modern English it is (with certain special exceptions) altogether inadmissible. ' Adrifen of biscopdome." Driven from the see ; or, from bis see. ' Of wealle geseah.' From the wall he saw. The substitution of the preposition instead of the case of the noun, has been extended also to the pronoun. Hence the variety of phrases, such as o/?jiy own, from thence. of itself. ' Warsaw is not of itself a strong fortress, but it closes the railway and defends the passage of the Vistula.' And as the pronouns are the great source of conjunctions, the latter soon catch this phrasal habit. out of which. ' But those wise and good men whose object it had been all along to save what they could of the wreck, out of which to construct another ,ark,' &c. — Blunt, History of the Reformation^ ch. ix. SYNTAX BY SYMBOLIC WORDS. 495 This has been felt to be a Frenchism or a classicism, and the English humour has never thoroughly liked it. At best it is but book-English. It is one of the most salient of the features of Addison's style that he asserted the native idiom in this particular, as : ' This is the thing which I spoke to you of.' This English reluctance to welcome the ' of which,' ' to which,' ' from which,' as a conjunction, is to be noted as the point where our instincts lead us to resist the further progress of the symbolic element. At this point there is, however, much vacillation and uncertainty : the English ear not being satisfied with either construction. The following is from one of Addison's papers in the Spectator, No. 499 : — ' This Morning I received from him the following Letter, which, after having rectified some little orthographical Mistakes, I shall make a Present of to the Publick.' The contact of two such words as 0/ to is not pleasing. One of the prepositions has acquired for itself a very remarkable function, and that not in attendance on a noun, but on a verb. And yet it is a noun also ; it is at the point of union between noun and verb, that is to say, the infinitive. Here the preposition to has made for itself a permanent place, just as at has in Danish, and a (Latin ad) in Walla- chian. Danish, English. Wallachian at baere at skrive to bear to write a purta a scrie Thus we perceive that the prepositional form of the infinitive is not peculiar to English, nor yet to the Gothic, as opposed to the Romance family of languages ; but that it springs up indifferently under various conditions, and therefore must be 49^ OF SYNTAX. referred to some general tendency. What that tendency is I have already surmised in the chapter on the adverbs. Modern languages have a continuity of development and a flexibility of action, and growing out of these a power of following the movements of the mind, such as was never attained by the classical languages. If we take Demosthenes and Cicero as the maturest products of the Greek and Latin languages, we feel that they do not attain to the range of the best modern writers, or even to that of the fine passages in the prose writings of Milton. Great elasticity, great plasticity, has been added to language by the development of symbolism ; great acquisitions have been made both in the compass and in the go of language. This of course displays itself chiefly in the grander oratorical efforts. The capacity of a language is seen best in the masterly periods of great orators. In our day we have heard much praise of short sentences ; and that praise for the most part has been well bestowed. The vast majority of writers are engaged in the diffusion of knowledge, in popularising history or science ; or else they write with the avowed purpose of entertaining. Wherever the object is to make knowledge easy, or to make reading easy, the short sentence is to be commended. But when the mind of an original thinker burns with the conception of new thoughts, or the mind of the orator is aflame with the enthusiasm of new combinations and newly perceived conclusions, it is natural for them to overflow in long and elaborately sub- ordinated sentences, which tax the powers of the hearer or reader to keep up with them. These are among the greatest efforts of mind, and their best expression naturally con- stitutes the grandest exhibition of the power of human speech ; and this power has received great accessions by the modern development of symbolism. SYNTAX BY SYMBOLIC WORDS. 497 Short sentences are prevalent in our language, as long ones are in the German. In all things we incline to curtness and stuntness. Not that this gives the full account of the mat- ter. German literature has been far more engaged in the acquisition, while English literature has been employed more in the diffusion, of knowledge. This is probably the chief cause of our short and easy sentences. But we can use the cumulate construction when needed, and there are places in which force would be lost by dividing it into two or three successive and seriatim sentences. The following affords a fair example of a cumulative subject. It is all ' subject ' down to the words printed in capitals, ' The houses of the grandmothers and great-grandmothers of this genera- tion, at least the country houses, with front-door and back-door always standing open, winter and summer, and a thorough draught always blowing through; with all the scrubbing and cleaning and polishing and scouring which used to go on ; the grandmothers and still more the great-grand- mothers always out of doors and never with a bonnet on except to go to church ; these things, when contrasted with our present ' civilized ' habits, ENTIRELY ACCOUNT for the fact so often seen of a great-grandmother who was a tower of physical vigour, descending into a grandmother perhaps a little less vigorous but still sound as a bell and healthy to the core, into a mother languid and confined to her carriage and house, and lastly into a daughter sickly and confined to her bed.' — Florence Nightingale, Notes on Nursing. He who hopes that his writings may be an agreeable accompaniment to tea and bread-and-butter, may well adopt as his literary type the conversational sentences of Addison, the father of popular English literature, and the founder of easy writing for recreative study : — ' It is with much satisfaction that I hear this great city inquiring day by day after these my papfers, and receiving my morning lectures with a becom- ing seriousness and attention. My publisher tells me that there are already 3000 of them distributed every day; so that if I allow twenty readers to every paper, which I look upon as a modest computation, I may reckon about three score thousand disciples in London and Westminster, who I hope will take care to distinguish themselves from the thoughtless herd of their ignorant and inattentive brethren. Since I have raised to myself so great an audience I shall spare no pains to make their instruction agreeable and their diversion useful. For which reasons I shall endeavour to enliven morality wit Kk 498 OF SYNTAX. wit, and to temper wit with morality, that my readers may, if possible, both ways find their account in the speculation of the day. And to the end that their virtue and discretion may not be short, transient, intermittent starts of thought, I have resolved to refresh their memories from day to day, till I have recovered them out of that desperate state of vice and folly into which the age is fallen. The mind that lies fallow for a single day sprouts up in follies that are only to be killed by a constant and assiduous culture. It was said of Socrates that he brought philosophy down from heaven to inhabit among men ; and I. shall be ambitious to have it said of me, that I have brought philosophy out of closets and libraries, schools and colleges, to dwell in clubs and assemblies, at tea tables, and in coffee houses. ' I would, therefore, in a very particular manner, recommend these my speculations to all well-regulated families, that set apart an hour in every morning for tea and bread-and-butter ; and would earnestly advise them for their good to order this paper to be punctually served up, and to be looked upon as a part of the tea equipage.' — Spectator, No. 10. But he who wishes for periods that will furnish a mental gymnastic, must read page after page of Milton's prose works, or of the very dissimilar Jeremy Taylor, where, amidst much that is almost chaotic in its irregular massiveness, he may from time to time fall in with such a piece of architecture as will reward his patient quest. If the following piece from the close of Milton's Re/orjiiation in England appears to the reader hardly to match this description, it will at least serve to give a taste of what a really great sentence can be. ' Then, amidst the hymns and hallelujahs of saints, some one may perhaps be heard offering at high strains in new and lofty measures, to sing and cele- brate Thy divine mercies and marvellous judgments in this land throughout all ages, whereby this great and warlike nation, instructed and inured to the fervent and continual practice of truth and righteousness, and casting far from her the rags of her old vices, may press on hard to that high and happy emulation to be found the soberest wisest and most Christian people at that day, when Thou, the eternal and shortly expected King, shalt open the clouds to judge the several kingdoms of the world, and, distributing national honours and rewards to religious and just commonwealths, shalt put an end to all earthly tyrannies, proclaiming Thy universal and mild monarchy through heaven and earth; where they undoubtedly, that by their labours counsels and prayers, have been earnest for the common good of religion and their country, shall receive, above the inferior orders of the blessed, the regal addition of principalities, legions, and thrones with their glorious titles, and, in supereminence of beatific vision, progressing the dateless and irrevoluble circle of eternity, shall clasp inseparable hands with joy and bliss, in over- measure for ever.' SYNTAX BY SYMBOLIC WORDS. 499 It is a gain to our general literature that the long sentence is but rarely used, for it is sorely out of place in ordinary writing, such as historical narrative, or any other kind that is produced at a moderate temperature. It is the defect of Clarendon's style that his sentences are too long for their energy. Long sentences are intolerable without enthusiasm. It is only under the glow of passion that the highest capabilities of a language are displayed. As, however, we are not now engaged upon the rhetorical aspect of the language for its own sake, but only by way of illustrating the resources of modern syjitax for continuous and protracted structure, it should be added that to the beauty of the long sentence it is not necessary that the passion be at all furious, but only that the feeling be strong enough to sustain itself during the flight from one resting-place to another. The following four stanzas from In Memonani constitute but one period, which though quiet enough is yet well sustained \— ' I past beside the reverend walls In which of old I wore the gown ; 1 roved at random through the town, And saw the tumult of the halls; And heard once more in college fanes The storm their high-built organs make, And thunder-music, rolling, shake The prophets blazon'd on the panes; And caught once more the distant shout, The measured pulse of racing oars Among the willows ; paced the shores And many a bridge, and all about The same gray flats again, and felt The same, but not the same; and last Up that long walk of limes I past To see the rooms in which he dwelt,' K k 2 500 OF SYNTAX. If we ask, What is this sustaining power, which bears along more than a hundred words in one movement, with all the unity of an individual organism? the answer is, that it is rhythm. The particular notice of rhythm will find its place in the last chapter : here, it will be enough to illus- trate what manner of thing symbolic syntax is when it is without rhythm. If we want to see this form of syntax carried out to an extreme and exaggerated development, unsupported more- over and unbalanced by rhythm, we have only to read a legal document, such as a marriage settlement, or a re- lease of trust. Often whole lines are mere strings of words till the reader's head swims with the fluctuations of the unstable element, and, like a man at sea, or in a balloon, he longs to plant his feet on terra firma. ' And that the said sum when paid should be held upon the trusts there- inafter declared of and concerning the same.' ' Four other of the children of the said testator are entitled respectively to one other of the remaining four other of the said shares.' The following is from a release of trust: — * And also of from and against all and all manner of actions and suits cause and causes of action and suit reckonings debts duties claims and demands whatsoever both at Law and in Equity which they the said releasing and covenanting parties or any or either of them their or any or either of their heirs executors administrators or assigns or any other person or persons whomsoever {sic) claiming or who shall or may at any time hereafter claim by from through under or in trust for them him or her or any or either of them may or can have claim challenge or demand of from or against the said.' And so it goes floating on, when it could almost all be said by a mere passive verb ; as. The trust is discharged. CHAPTER XL OF COMPOUNDS. In a general way of speaking, compounds are merely morsels of syntax which, from being often together, have become adherent, and have grown into something between phrases and words. A mature language makes fresh com- pounds after the pattern established ; but the origin of the pattern is to be sought in the habits, often the earlier habits, of the syntactical structure. Compounds vary extremely as regards laxity and compactness of fabric. When first made they are very lax, and hardly to be distinguished as com- pounds from words in syntax. Such loose compounds are daily made by little more than the trick of inserting hyphens. In the Cornhill Magazine a writer upon rhetoric designates a certain style of diction as the allude-to-an-individual style. In those languages which have a ready faculty of com- pound-making, this sort of off-hand compound has always been one of the recognised means of being funny. Passing over this sort, which are hardly to be ranged as compounds at all, we have such loose examples 2i?, forget-me-not, and such compact examples as mankind, nostril, boatswain, which through long use are so well knit as to be more like simple 502 OF COMPOUNDS. words than compounds. The compound state, properly so called, is an intermediate condition between the phrase and the word ; a transition which the phrase passes through in order to become gradually condensed into a simple word. We are of old familiar with the grammatical idea that phrases are made out of words, but we now recognise that the reverse of this is also true, and that words are made out of phrases. • The distinctive condition which marks that a compound has been formed, is the change of accent. The difference between ' black bird ' and ' blackbird ' is one of accent. Or, when it is stated of a horse that he is 'two years old/ each of these words has its own several tone. But make a trisyllable of it, and say ' a two-year-old,' and the sound is greatly altered. The second and third words lean enclitic- ally upon the first, while the first has gathered up all the smartness of tone into itself, and goes off almost like the snap of a trigger. The written sign which is used to signify that a compound is intended, is the hyphen; which may therefore be regarded as being indirectly a note of accent. This is the reason why the hyphen is so much more used in poetry than in prose. The poet is attending to his cadences, and therefore feels the need of the accentual sign of the hyphen. Our prose (on the other hand) is sprinkled with compounds which are written as if they were in construc- tion. There is no need to search for examples, they offer themselves on the page of the moment. On the page that happens to be under my eye, I find two compounds, one of the first and one of the second order ; both without hyphens. coas/-h'ne. ' Indeed these old coal layers call to mind our peat bogs. We find a layer of peat nearly everywhere on our coast line between high and low water mark.' OF COMPOUNDS. 503 I think most people would read coal layers and peal dogs as compounds also ; but on these there might be a difference of opinion. The same may be said of millslone gril in the next quotation. But there can be no doubt as to coal-producing. ' You know that if you heat a poker, it expands ; the heat making it longer. The earth is in the same state as a hot poker, and parts of it expand or contract as the heat within it ebbs and flows. I have here a section of the coal measures of Lancashire. Upon a thick base of millstone g'rit, of which most of our hills are composed, you have the coal producing rocks, which, instead of being horizontal as they were originally, have been tilted up.' — W. Boyd Dawkins, On Coal. An incident which attends upon the act of compounding is this, — that the old grammatical habit of the final member is subjected to the grammatical idea of the new compound. Any parts of speech will assume in compounding the sub- stantive character, and will pluralise as such. Th.\xsforgel- me-nol, plural forget-me-nots. I remember a quaker lady, who, with the grave and gentle dignity that formed part of her beautiful character, disapproved of chimney-ornaments, on the ground that they were need-nots. A plural form, on entering into composition, takes a new character as a singular, and withal a new power of receiving a new plurality. Thus, sixpence, plural sixpences. Inasmuch then as compounds are in their nature and origin nothing but fragments of structure in a state of cohesion, it follows that they will most naturally be classified according to the divisions of syntax. And although a precise classifi- cation may hardly be practicable, owing to the vast play of fancy, and the consequent inter-crossing of the kinds of compounds, yet we shall experience in following such a division some of that practical convenience which attends a method that is substantially true to nature. The relation between the parts of a compound is expressed either by the 504 OF COMPOUNDS. relative position of the parts, as in the difference between pathfield, racehorse, 2ir\di fieldpath, horserace ; or by an inflec- tion of one of the parts, as in suhtle-cadenced ; or by the intervention of a symbolic word, as in man-of-war, hread- and-cheese. We will speak of these three as Compounds of the First Order, Compounds of the Second Order, and Compounds of the Third Order. I. Compounds of the First Order. '■ The most prevalent means by which compounds are made is by mere juxtaposition. This is the case in many im- portant languages besides English. In Hebrew for example, Beer signifies a well, and Sheba signifies an oath ; and when these two are put together, we have the' name Beersheba, which means the well of the oath. But in the true English analogue the positions of the parts would be reversed, and it would stand as Oath-well. In Welsh the order is the same as in Hebrew, and the reverse of the EngHsh order. Thus Llan is church, and Fair is an altered form of Mair, which is Mary, and the Welsh express Mary-church in the reverse order, Llanfair. In all these instances the compound fol- lows the order usual in the syntactical construction of each language. But our English order of juxtaposition is the most widely adopted, and it may be regarded as the most natural. The famous collection of ancient Sanskrit hymns is called the Rig-Veda, and this title answers part for part to our ' Hymn- book.' The general principle of the compounds of the first order is this, — that two words are united, with the understanding COMPOUNDS OF THE FIRST ORDER. 505 that the first is adjectival or adverbial to the second ; in other words, the second is principal and the first modificatory. The simplest examples are those which are made of an adjective and a substantive, as hlackhird. The most cha- racteristic are those which are made of two nouns, the first acting as an adjective. Such are the following : — air-balloon main-spring alder-bush marsh-mallow bed-stead nine-pins bell-wire nut-cracker boat-swain oak-apple cart-horse packe-horse (Shakspeare) clock-work park-paling coal-scuttle pig-nut dog-kennel prize-03^ edge-tool quern-stone fire-balloon rick-yard fish-wife ring-leader gift-horse sail-yard girl-graduates (Tennyson) ship-mate goat-herd spindle-whorl hand-loom tar-barrel hearth- stone time-piece heir- loom town-clerk horse-box upas-tree ingle-nook vine-yard ink-horn war-horse king-cup water-hole (Australia) lamp-oil yeaning-time loop-hole yoke-fellow This is the sort of compound for which the German lan- guage is so distinguished. The flat syntax has disappeared from that language, and it has gone to swell the numbers of their flat compounds. Examples are such as ^anb^fcf^u^ (hand-shoe), glove; B^ingcr^ut (finger-hat), thimble; (£rb=funbe (earth-knowledge), geography; @^rac^4c^re, speech-lore. There is so close an affinity between the German and English compounds of the first order, that the one will occasionally supply a comment on the other. Handywork affords an example of this. As we find it 5o6 OF COMPOUNDS. printed, it has the appearance of our adjective handy com- bined with a substantive work. But the German «§anbti3erf suggests a truer etymology. It consists, in fact, of two sub- stantives, namely i^^;z^ zndi geweorc, or (medisevally) ywork ; so that it would be more correctly written thus, hand-ywork. But if this looks too archaic, it should be spelt handiwork, as indeed it is given in Dr. Latham's edition of Johnson's Dictionary. The Saxon original is found in Deuteronomy iv. 28 :— ' And ge ])eowia}) fremdum godum, And ye (shall) serve foreign gods, manna hand geweorc, treowene and men's handiwork, tree-en and stonen, staenene, ])a ne geseoj), ne ne gehiraj), that see not, nor hear ; and they eat ne hig ne eta|), ne hig ne drinca]).' not, and drink not. Other Saxon compounds there are of the same mould, but none that have so nearly preserved their original form as handiwork has. One of these was hand gewrit, which has been turned into handwriting. There is no hyphen in Saxon manuscripts, but words that have an accentual at- traction were often written somewhat nearer to one another. In the text of my Saxon Chronicles, this is represented by a half-distance, where the originals justify it. Some words were thus divided in two, which have coalesced since. A.D. 47; . (K) here reaf army-spoil 495 aldormen chief-men 514 WestSeaxe West-Saxons 633 biscepsetl bishop-seat 643 Cenwalh. 648 Cu>red. 660 biscepdom bishopric 676 Centlond Kent-land 704 munuchad monk-hood 738 Eoforwic York 755 godsunu godson 773 set] gong setting (of sun) 823 Ecgbryht 832 Sceapige Sheppey 833 waelstow battle-ground 8k I healfhund half-hundred COMPOUNDS OF THE FIRST ORDER. 507 • 853- biscepsunu god-son monigmon many-a-man 855- hamweard homeward healfgear half-year 866. winter setl winter-quarters 871. wael sliht battle-slaughter 878. morfaesten moor-fastness crismlising chrysom-loosing 882. sciphlsestas ship-loads 887. bro|}orsunu nephew (lit. brother-son) folcgefeoht folk-fight 891. boclasden book-Latin 894. herehy'S army-stuff 896. stalwyrS stal worth 921. mundbora protector 933. land here land-array sciphere ship-array 937- beah gifa badge-giver garmitting spear-meeting wsepen gewrixl weapon-wrestling wslfeld battle-field. The following have an adjective (or participle) in the second place, and the same relation holds good between the parts ; for the first part, whatever its habit as a part of speech, is still the subordinate and modificatory of the two : — spedacle-hestrid. ' Misled by custom, strain celestial themes Through the pressed nostril, spectacle-bestrid.' - William Cowper, The Timepiece. blood-thirsty fancy-free (Shakspeare) full-blown foot-sore heart-sick heart-weary The following are Tennysonian : — five-words-long love-loyal heart-whole life-long rathe-ripe thunder-struck weather-wise mock-solemn maiden-meek In these compounds each part retains its presentive sig- nification, although the one part is subordinated to the other 5o8 OF COMPOUNDS. in the act of producing a united sense. This subordination is expressed by an accentual elevation whereby the specific word is raised into a sharp prominence, while the generic word is let down»to a low tone. There are some exceptions, as in the word man- kind ; but the general rule is that the accent strikes the first or specific part of the compound. This is not the place to speak of accents, any further than just to notice that the accent indicates where is the stress of thought. This will be found to explain the occasional exception. Out of composition has grown, and by insensible modifi- cations developed itself, that phenomenon so interesting to the philologer, and so frequent in his discourse, namely. Flexion. The origin of flexion appertains to this eldest group of compounds ; but for the action and behaviour of flexion when once established, we may go to the second or middle order of compounds ; and indeed, we may speak more generally, and say: — Flexion occupies the middle zone of the whole sphere of human language as it is historically known to us. A slight indication of the process is all that can be at- tempted in this place. The chief attention being usually fixed on the fore-part of the compound, the after-part is left free to undergo alteration. This has been attended with remarkable con- sequences, in certain instances, where the termination was already of a widely generic character. The slighting of the tone and the generalisation of the sense, go on together and favour one another. At length the termination reaches a symboHc value, and we obtain those forms in which the after-part is merely an abstract or collective sign to the fore- part; as childhood, friendship, happiness, kingdom, kindred, warfare, wedlock. COMPOUNDS OF THE FIRST ORDER. 509 Other cases there are in which the second part passes into a sort of adjectival or adverbial termination ; as graceful, careless, froward, contrariwise. So far we can still regard these as a sort of compounds. But the symbolising process goes on, and with it the waning of the form of the second part, until we are landed in flexion : thus from good-like we at length get goodly. Such are the steps whereby composition passes into terminal flexion. But there is a sort of flexion which is initial, which takes place at the beginning of a word. And to see how this comes about, we must consider another group of compounds. These are they in which the fore- part is an adverb or preposition, as beco7?ie, belong, forego, foreshorten, forlorn, forward, mistake^ purblind, undo, with- stand. fore-right. * If well thou hast begun, go on fore-right.' Robert Herrick. In these the attention as well as the accent is m-ostly on the second part, and as a consequence the first part, being symbolised to begin with, passes soon into the higher sym- bolism, which constitutes flexion. The whole class of prefixes (as they are called) lie in the region between compounds and flexion. When the prefix comes to be so destitute of separate meaning as is the a- in the following instances, we may then regard it as an inflection of the word to which it is prefixed : — ajar, akin, along, aloud, away, afield, aright, afar, astir, abed, athwart. This is a favourite strain of words in the seafaring life, as ahead, astern, alongside, aback, abaft, aloof aloft, aboard, ashore, aground, afloat. alow, aloft. Stunsails alow and aloft! said he, As soon as the foe he saw.' John Harrison, Three Ballads. 5IO OF COMPOUNDS. A very large majority of the words of a mature language, if we could analyse them correctly, would be found to dis- solve into phrases. So that we may reverse the ordinary grammatical view whereby words are regarded as the material of sentences; and we should be philologically justified in this seeming paradox : — The Seiitence is the raw material of the Word. 11. Compounds of the Second Order. This group consists of those in which the connection of the parts of the compound is indicated by flexion. Many compounds have flexion without belonging to this group, 2^s/ar-seeifig, which I should range with the previous group. But when the inflection is applied in such a manner as to belong only to the combination and not to the latter part by itself, then we have a flexional compound of the most distinct kind. In the above example, seeing is equally an inflected word whether it be in or out of the compound, and the 'ing has no more special relation to the compound than the -ful has in the compound all-powerful. But if we take long-legged, this is a flexional compound. It is not a com- bination of long and legged, but rather of long and leg or legs, which are clamped together into one formation by the par- ticipial inflection. rock-thwarted. * One show'd an iron coast and angry waves. You seem'd to hear them climb and fall, And roar rock-thwarted under bellowing caves, Beneath the windy waU.' Alfred Tennyson, The Palace of Art. COMPOUNDS OF THE SECOND ORDER. 511 Such are the following, of which the less common are marked with the initials of Milton or Tennyson : — arrow-wounded (T) large-moulded (T) bare-headed lily-handed (T) broad-shouldered meek-eyed (M) bush-bearded (T) neat-handed (M) crest-fallen open-hearted cross-barred (M) pure-eyed (M) deep-throated (M) royal-towered (M) . eagle-eyed (M) self-involved (T) fair-haired serpent-throated (T) far-fetched sinew-corded (T) golden-shafted (T) thick-leaved (T) hard-grained (T) vermeil-tinctured (M) high-toned white-handed (M) icy-pearled (M) This class of compomids is seen in its highest perfection in the Greek language, and the authors who have used this form of speech with the greatest effect and in the most op- posite ways are vEschylus and Aristophanes. What was a trumpet to the former was employed as a bauble by the latter. Our modern poets are great performers upon this instrument. Keats handled it very effectively. In his Endymion we read of ' yellow-girted bees ' ; also suhtle-cadenced. ' Twas a lay More subtle-cadenced, more forest wild Than Dryope's lone lulling of her child.' Id. lidless-eyed. 'Whereat, methought, the lidless-eyed train Of planets all were in the blue again.' Id. Also Mr. Robert Browning may well be quoted to illus- trate this fondness : — billowy-bosomed. ' Hush ! if you saw some western cloud All billowy-bosomed, overbowed By many benedictions.' 512 ■ OF COMPOUNDS. fawn-skin-dappled. ' That fawn-skin-dappled hair of hers.' Others by the same poet : honey-coloured, fruit-shaped, fairy-cupped, elf-needled. One from a still more recent poem : — country-featured. • And all glad things were welcome in thy sight, Save the glad air of heaven ; all things bright. Save the bright light of day ; and all things sweet, Save country-featured Truth and Honesty : All these thou didst abolish from thy seat, Because these things were free.* Robert Buchanan, Napoleon Fallen, 1870. In such instances the inflection reacts on the whole com- pound with a consolidating force. Several words may thus be strung together. When the last member of a linked composite has an inflection, it seems to run back pervadingly through the others, supplying the whole with a thread of coherence. We do not use this power so much as the Germans do. Richard Rothe said of his student life at Heidelberg, that it was ein ^oetifc§=retigiog=njiffettc§aftlic^eg In the following quotation, though it is not so printed, yet the word old is part of the compound. oldfriend-ish-ness. * The author having settled within himself the most direct mode of securing the ear of his readers, throws himself upon their favour with an air of trust- fulness and old friend-ish-ness, which cannot fail to secure him welcome and audience.' — Quarterly Review, vol. cxxviii. p. 545. Here also seem to belong those instances in which the last member is a present participle, governing the former members of the compound : ' As a tool-and-weapon-using being, man stands alone,' — E. T. Stevens, Flint Chips, Preface. COMPOUNDS OF THE THIRD ORDER. 513 hovie-enfolding. ' The lonely wand'rer under other skies Thinks on the happy fields he may not see. The home-enfolding landscape seems to rise With sunlight on the lea.' Horace Smith. Indeed, wherever there is a verbal government between the parts of a compound, I would reckon that compound as belonging to this section, because rection, though not neces- sarily connected with flexion, has ever been found as its close companion and ally. In the above examples, we have however an unequivocal trace of the work of flexion, in the displacement of the governed word and its being put before the verb. But even where such grounds are wanting, if only government exists between the parts, I should regard it (at least in our own language) as presumable that the compound had its roots in a former state of flexional syntax. Accordingly, I range here such compounds as makeshift^ makeweight^ viakehelieve, marplot, pickpocket, pickpurse, pick- thank. III. Compounds of the Third Ordee. Here belong all those compounds which are formed by an accentual union of phrases wherein the syntactical con- nection is entirely or mainly symbolic. There was a mediaeval English expression for vain regret, which was made up of the words ' had I wist,' that is to say, ' Oh, if I had only known what the consequence would be.' It was variously written, and the variations depend on the degree of accentual intensification : — H 514 OF COMPOUNDS. hadde-y-wiste. ' And kepe ])e well from hadde-y-wiste.' Babees Book, p. 15, ed. Furnivall, Early English Text Society. /iad}>-zvj's/. ' When dede is doun hit ys to lat ; be ware of hady-wyst.' The chief symbol which threads together these com- pounds is the preposition ' of,' as will-d -the-wisp, cat-d -nine- tails, man-of-war, lighi-d-love. The distinction between compounds and constructs is a dehcate one, so much so that two persons of Hke birth and education may be found to differ upon it. When however we see the of abraded to d , or when we hear it in speech, as we often hear man-d-war, then there is no doubt of the compound state of that expression. This class of compounds is essentially French, and it is from our neighbours that we have caught the art of making them. Thus, we say after them : — mot-d'ordre word-of-command point-d'honneur point-of-honour But the instances in which we make use of it are far less numerous than those in which we keep to our natural com- pound, that of the first order. It is only necessary to offer a few examples by which it will appear how very far we are from overtaking the French in the use of their compound : — chef-d'oeuvre master-piece maison-de-campagne country-house chemin-de-fer rail-road bonnet-de-nuit night-cap tete-de-pavot poppy-head culottes-de-peluche plush-breeches Bureau-de-Poste Post-OfEce COMPOUNDS OF THE THIRD ORDER. 515 And if we are slow to adopt their compounds with de, still less do we concern ourselves to imitate those which they so readily make with other prepositions ; as : — arc-en-ciel rain-bow verre a vin wine-glass manche a balai broom-stick So strong is our preference for our own old hereditary compound, that even where we substantially adopt the ex- pression of a French compound, we alter it to the world-old form, as in the case of coup-de-Bourse, which in the following newspaper-cutting is turned into Exchange-stroke, ' Secretary Boutwell was in New York almost on the eve of the outbreak. He was aware, as indeed the whole city was, that a conspiracy was brewing — that what we might call an " Exchange stroke " was contemplated.' The transition from the construct to the compound state is a slight and delicate thing, but it takes time to accomplish. The symbolic syntax has produced few as yet ; the flexional syntax has produced far more, for the compounds of the second order have been greatly fostered by the study of Greek. But the great shoal of Enghsh compounds is derived from the eldest form of syntax, and they have their roots in a time immeasurably old. They claim kindred with Red-Indian compounds like Tso-?nec-cos-fee and Tso-me-cos- te-won-dee and Pah-puk-kee'na and Pah-Puk-Kee'wis and other such, of which the ready and popular repertory is the Song of Hiawatha. Ll 2 CHAPTER XII. OF PROSODY, OR THE MUSICAL ELEMENT IN SPEECH. ' Point not these mysteries to an Art Lodged above the starry pole ; Pure modulations flowing from the heart Of divine Love, where Wisdom, Beauty, Truth, With Order dwell, in endless youth ? ' William Wordsworth, On the Power of Sound. The first of these chapters was on the Alphabet, out of which, by a multiplicity of combinations, a conventional garb has been devised for the visible representation of lan- guage. By the artifice of literature, speech is presented to the eye as an object of sight. Partly in consequence of the pains which we are at to acquire literary culture ; partly also, perhaps, in consequence of the greater permanency of the visual impressions upon the mind ; — certain it is, that the cultivated modern is apt to think of language rather as a written than as a spoken thing. And this, although he still makes far greater use of it by the oral than by the literary process. It is, however, quite plain that writing is but an external and necessarily imperfect vesture, while the true and natural and real form of language is that which is made of sound, and addressed to the ear. OF PROSODY. 517 Human speech consists of two essential elements, and these are Voice and Meaning. I say ' meaning ' rather than ' thought/ because it seems a more comprehensive term, in- cluding the whole sphere of emotion, from its innermost and least explored centre to its outermost frontiers in physical sensation. Voice will, moreover, be found to consist of two parts, by a distinction worthy to be observed. For, in the first place, there is the voice which is the necessary vehicle of the meaning; and, in the second place, there is the voice which forms a harmonious accompaniment to the meaning. It is the former of these which is represented in literature ; for the latter literature is almost silent. Here the mechan- ical arts of writing and printing can do but little. ' One may put her words down, and remember them, but how describe her sweet tones, sweeter than musick?' — W. M. Thackeray, E&7nond, Bk. ii. ch. XV. Poetry, which is the highest form of literature, makes great efforts to express this finest part of the voicing of language. All the peculiar characteristics of poetry, such as verse, rhythm, metre, rhyme, alliteration, assonance, are directed towards this end. In prose this is only faintly and remotely indicated by such means as punctuation and italics and parentheses. But the distinction here drawn applies to prose as well as to poetry. It is perfectly well known, and generally recognised. It lies at the base of the demand for ' good reading.' A man may articulate every word, pro- nounce faultlessly, read fluently, and observe the punctuation, and yet be far from a good reader. So much of voice as is the vehicle of sense is given, but the harmony is wanting, and there is no pleasure in Hstening to him. It is felt that, besides the sound which conveys the sense of the words, there is a further and a different kind of sound due as an 5l8 OF PROSODY. illustrative accompaniment, and it is the rendering of this which crowns the performance of the good reader, as it is the perception of this which constitutes the appreciative listener. Or again. Consider the sound of a passionless Oh as it might be uttered by a schoolboy in a compulsory reading lesson, and then consider the infinite shades of meaning of which this interjection is capable under the emotional vibra- tions of the voice, and we must acknowledge that the dis- tinction between these two elements of vocal sound is of a character likely to be attended with philological con- sequences. Of sound as the necessary vehicle of speech, and as the passive material of those phenomena which our science is concerned to investigate, we have already treated in the first and second chapters. But of sound as bearing an ac- cordant, concentive, illustrative part, as being an outer harmony and counter-tenor to the strains of the inner meaning ; of sound as an illustrative, a formative, and almost a creative power in the region of language, we must endeavour to render some account in this concluding chapter. The distinction here urged is akin to that which is me- chanically effected by the musical instrument maker. A musical note on an instrument is a natural sound from which another sort of sound, namely that which we call 7toise, has been eliminated. All mechanical collision pro- duces sound, and that sound is ordinarily of a complex kind, being in fact a noise with which a musical note is con- fusedly blended. It is the work of art to contrive me- chanical means whereby these two things may be parted, so that the musical notes which give pleasure may be placed at the command of men. What he does physically, we may do mentally. We may separate in our minds between the SOUND AS AN ILLUSTRATIVE AGENCY. 519 mere brute sound necessary to speech, and that musical tone which more or less blends with it according to the temper and quality of various voices. The latter is a sove- reign agency in the illustration and formation and develop- ment of language, and this is the Sound of which the present chapter treats. I. Of Sound as an Illustrative Agency. The modulatory accompaniment of speech is not un- worthy of comparison with music, although it is far more restricted in the range of its elevations and depressions. If its ups and downs are altogether on a smaller scale, if its motions are more subdued and less brilliant, yet, on the other hand, it has an advantage in the extent of its province. Music is the exponent of emotion only ; it cannot be said to have any share in the expression or illustration of thought intellectual. Now speech-tones are in force over the whole area of human cognisance and feeling ; they are coincident with the whole extent of meaning. They are emphatically the illustration of meaning. As music is made of two elements, time and tune, so also is the modulation of speech. Time is expressed in quantity ; and tune, or rather tone (which is the rudiment of tune), is embodied in accent. Our grammatical systems now take little heed of quantity, except as a poetical regulator in classical literature. The poetry of the classics was measured by quantity; that of the moderns is measured by accent. The period at which quantity was consciously and studiously observed as an element of ordinary speech, must have been very remote. Perhaps we may even venture speculatively 530 OF PROSODY. to regard quantity as the speech-note of that primitive period before the rise of flexion, when language was (as it still is in some respectable nations) syllabic or agglutinative. We know from a thousand experiences how conservative poetry is, and we may reasonably imagine that the quantitive measure of Greek poetry had descended with a continuous stream of song from high antiquity. With the decay of the Roman empire it ceased to be a regulative principle even in poetry, and from that time accent has been foremost, as it had previously been in the background. We must not suppose the principle of quantity to be extinct ; but it is no longer formulated ; it is absorbed into that general swelling and flowing movement of language which is known under the somewhat vague name of rhythm. Leaving quantity then, we proceed to consider the illus- trative value of accent. In the first place, accent appears as the ally and colleague of sense in the structure of words. In the first order of compounds we have to do with words like the following : — ash-house, bake-house, brew-house, wood-house. In these words the accent is on the predicate. That is to say, the stress of sound falls on that member of the word which bears the burden of the meaning. That which is asserted in those words is not house, but ash, bake, brew, wood. House is the subject or thing spoken of, and that which is asserted concerning it is contained in the word prefixed. x\nd this word or syllable is signalised, as with a flag, by having the accent upon it. There is a diff"erence between good 7nan and goodman. The difference in the sense ought to be rendered by a dis- tinction in the sound. Good man is a spondee : good- man is a trochee. The latter means a man, not who is good (adjective), but a man who is master of the good (sub- SOUND AS AN ILLUSTRATIVE AGENCY. 5 21 stantive), i.e. of the household or property. Randle Cotgrave (16 11), under the word ' Maistre/ says, towards the close of his definition — ' A Iso, a title of honour {such as it is) belonging to all artificers, and tradesmen; whence Maistre Pierre, Maistre Jehan, &c. ; which we giue not so generally, but qualifie ihe mea?ier sort of them (especially in countrey townes) with the title of Goodman {too good for many)' This illustration is useful for the English reader towards the understanding of Matthew xx. 11 — ' And when they had received it, they murmured against the goodman of the house ; ' which, in the Geneva Bible of 1560, is thus rendered : — ' And when they had received it, they murmured against the master of the house.' It is not always that we hear this word properly pro- nounced in church; and our Bibles, from 16 11 down nearly to our own time, appear to have printed it erroneously. The reprint of 161 1 itself has 'good man' in two words. The handsome folio Baskerville of 1763 has it in the same manner. But in the modern prints of the last thirty years this has been set right, and it may be hoped that the true vocal rendering will also be restored by and by. The fact is, the early printers did not attend to these minutiae. As a rule they left such matters to the intelli- gence of the reader. In the first folio of Shakspeare, Love's Labour's Lost, i. i. 289, it is printed, ' He lay my head to any good mans hat,' where, plainly, the meaning is ' goodman's hat,' as suggested in the Cambridge edition. And it is astonishing to find that such a critic as Capell should have proposed to correct as follows : — * I'll lay my head to any man's good hat,' prosaically deeming that, for the purpose of the wager, the goodness of the hat was of more import- than that of its wearer. S22 OF PROSODY. Just in the same manner chapman has the accent on the first syllable. The meaning of this word is a man engaged in chaffare, or merchandise. It is of the same family of words as Cheapside, which means market-side. It occurs in another form in Chippenham, Chipping Norton, and Copen- hagen. It is still the standard word in German for a mer- chant, ^aufmann. But when the French word had occupied the foremost place in English, the native word chapman fell into homelier use. This may be seen in the following quotation, which exhibits also the accentuation of the word on its first or determinating syllable : — ' Beauty is bought by iudgement of the eye, Not uttred by base sale of chapmens tongues.' Loves Labours, Lost, ii. I. 15. Considering the relation of thought which exists between the two parts of a compound, it is plain that there is a har- mony between the thought and the sound, when the first or specific part of the compound is distinguished in the accentuation. We have hitherto noticed only the instance of a compound consisting of two monosyllabic words, as good- mafi, blackbird. But where the first element of the compound has more than one syllable, there we find a secondary accent rests upon the after, or generic part ; or, if it cannot be said to have an accent, it recovers its full tone, as water-course, or in Crabbe's expressions of Whitechapel-bred, lonely-wood. ' His, a lone house, by Deadman's dyke-way stood ; And his, a nightly haunt, in Lonely-wood.' Sometimes we fall in with a triple compound, with its three storeys or stages of accentuation forming a little cascade of gradations, as Spenser's holy-water-sprinckle in the following lines : — ' She alway smyld, and in her hand did hold An holy-water-sprinckle, dipt in deowe, With which she sprinckled favours manifold.' SOUND AS AN ILLUSTRATIVE AGENCY. 523 The habit of putting the specific or predicative part of a compound first, and the habit which leads us to throw our accents back on the former part of a long word, are plainly to be regarded as an example of harmonious action between the intelligence and the sentiency of the mind. Even when the reasons arising from the structure of a word are no longer present, there is a tendency to pursue the track which habit has created, and to throw the accent back. Many a word of French origin has thrown its accent back according to this English principle of accentuation. Here we are able to give an illustration in which Shak- speare's spelling represents his pronunciation. One of the difficulties of dealing with the whole subject of sound in language arises from the imperfections of orthography. Spelling is so traditional, and gives us so little information of the shades of pronunciation, that when we do get a little light from this niggard source, we may value it the more highly. In Richard II. we have the word revenues, and the larger number of the early prints spell it with nn. But some even of the quartos spell it with a single n ac- cording to the modern pronunciation. And if we look at the line we find that the modern pronunciation is that which reads most smoothly. So that it appears as if the diversity of spelling in this place was due to a conflict between the French and English manner of pronouncing the word. ' Towards our assistance, we do seize to us The plate, coine, reuennewes, and moueables, Whereof our Uncle Gaunt did stand possest.' Richard //. ii. i. 161. Many a word has had its accent moved a syllable further back within the period of the last generation. The protest of the poet Rogers has often been quoted, — ^Contemplate,' 534 Oi^ PROSODF. said he, 'is bad enough, but hdlcony makes me sick.' Now- a-days contemplate is the usual pronunciation. It was already so accented by Wordsworth. ' The good and evil are our own : and we Are that which we would contemplate from far.' The Excursion, Bk. v. The elder pronunciation is indeed still used in poetry, as ' When I contemplate all alone.' In Memoriam, Ixxxii. ' Contemplating her own unworthiness.' Enid (1859), P- 29- The pronunciation of balcony^ which seemed such an abomination to Rogers, is now the only pronunciation that is extant. The modern reader oi John Gilpin^ if he reads with his ear as well as his eye, is absolutely taken aback when he comes upon balcony in the following verse : — ' At Edmonton, his loving wife From the balcony spied Her tender husband, wondering much To see how he did ride.' We often find the Americans outrunning us in our national tendencies. There are many instances in which they have thrown the accent back one syllable further than is usual in the old country. When we speak of St. Augus- tine, we put the accent on the second syllable, and we have no idea of any other pronunciation. But in the following verse by Longfellow we have the name accented on the first syllable. ' Saint Augustine ! well hast thou said, That of our vices we can frame A ladder, if we will but tread Beneath our feet each deed of shame ! ' In the same way they say invalid, partisan, not for the ancient weapon ' pertuisan,' but for the more familiar word ; SOUND AS AN ILLUSTRATIVE AGENCY. ^2^ and I am informed by Mr. Fraser ^ that they also pronounce resources in a manner that would suggest the union of the French spelling of the word ressources, with the English trisyllabic pronunciation. And here it may be noticed that there is to be found in English country places an excess of clustering words together in pronunciation, beyond anything that is acknowledged in the standard language. I often find it hard to understand the name of a rustic child, because the child utters Christian and surname together as one word. One little girl I well remember how she puzzled me by repeatedly telling me she was called ' An ook.' I had to make further enquiries before I learnt that this represented Ann Hook. The following instance is not the less to our purpose, because it is borrowed from fiction. I can myself confirm its fidelity. It is useful here, and it adds this circumstance, that the peculiar pronunciation is not from rustic lips, but comes from a lady : — ' However, Miss Max had adopted Jameskennet (she always said the name as one word), and he had been a great comfort to them all.' — L. Knatchbull-Hugessen, The Affirmative (Macmillan's Magazine, May, 1 8 70). Hitherto we have been chiefly concerned with that inter- pretative power of sound which we call accent. We must now distinguish between accent and emphasis. Accent is that elevation of the voice which distinguishes one part of a word from another, as in the compounds exemplified above. Emphasis is the distinction made between one word and another, by the note or tone of its utterance. And this may happen in two ways, either grammatically or rhetorically. The grammatical emphasis rests upon such 1 Not yet Bishop of Manchester when these pages were written. 526 OF PROSODY. points as the following. There are certain words which are naturally unaccented, and in a general way it may be said that the symbolic words are so. It is the province of grammar to teach us what words are symbolic and what presentive. Grammar teaches, for instance, when the word one is a numeral, and when it is an indefinite pronoun. In the former case it is uttered with as full a note as any other monosyllable ; but in the latter case it is toneless and enclitic. It can hardly be a good line wherein this word, standing as an indefinite pronoun, receives the ictus of the metre, as in the following : — • Where one might fancy that the angels rest.' He would be an ingenious man who should devise a sentence in which this word ought to bear the accent. A wTiter in the Christian Remembrancer for January, 1866, undertook to shew that almost any word may be so placed as to be the bearer of emphasis. In proof of this he devised an hexameter in which a and the are emphasized : ' A man might have come in, but the man certainly never,' Thus a rhetorical emphasis can be contrived for most words. You can emphasize any word to which you can oppose a true antithesis. To the word one you can oppose in some instances the word two, or any other number. And thus one may be emphasized, as — ' I asked for one, you gave me two.' In other cases the word none would be a natural antithesis to one. But when we use the word one in the sense of the French pronoun 'on,' it is incapable of antithesis, and therefore it cannot carry emphasis. These being gram- matical distinctions, we call the emphasis which is based upon them the grammatical emphasis. To give another example. It belongs to grammar to SOUND AS AN ILLUSTRATIVE AGENCY. 527 direct the attention towards the antecedent referred to by any pronoun; and according as that antecedent is under- stood the pronoun will or will not carry emphasis. In Psalm vii. 14, the word kim admits of two render- ings according to the antecedent which it is supposed to represent, '13 If a man will not turn, he will whet his sword : he hath bent his bow and made it ready. 14 He hath prepared for him the instruments of death : he ordaineth his arrows against the persecutors.' We sometimes hear it read as if it were a reflexive pro- noun, such as would be represented in Latin by sz'dz] in which case it is toneless. But if the reference be, as it is generally understood, to ' the man who will not turn/ spoken of in the preceding verse, then the reader ought to express this by an emphatic utterance of the word h'm, such as shall make it apparent that it is equivalent to/br thai man. This is again an emphasis which is used to mark a grammatical distinction. But when words grammatically identical are exposed to variations of emphasis, this is due to the exigencies of the argument, and we call such emphasis rhetorical. This happens in the following passage with the pronoun some : — * Very likely : to some phenomena there is, as yet, no explanation. Per- haps Newton himself could not explain quite to his own satisfaction why he was haunted at midnight by the spectrum of a sun ; though I have no doubt that some later philosopher, whose ingenuity has been stimulated by New- ton's account, has by this time suggested a rational solution of that enigma.' — Lord Lytton. The natural tone of symbolic words is low ; / came^ 1 saw, I conquered. No one would emphasize the pronouns here. The same may be observed of the pronouns in the following quotation : — * I went by, and lo, he was gone ; I sought him, but his place could no where be found.' — Psalm xxxvii. 37. 528 OF PROSODY. But words of this rank may receive the rhetorical em- phasis. The reply of Sir Robert Peel to Cobbett makes a good illustration : — ' Why does the hon. Member attack mef I have done nothing to merit his assaults, / never lent him a thousand pounds.' Here the pronouns are emphasized, because there is an allusion to Mr. Burdett, who had lent Cobbett a thousand pounds, and had been rewarded with scurrility. At the close of the Night Thoughts we have this line, — ' The course of nature is the art of God.* Here it will be perceived that the symbol-verb comes in for some emphasis, receiving as it does the ictus of the metre ; though this little word is naturally toneless. The emphasis which it here carries awakens the remembrance of the fact that there are philosophers in the world who would question the state- ment. W-e may show ourselves that this is the case by play- ing a variety or two upon the phrase. If we say thus, * the course of nature is changeful,' the symbol- verb does its duty in the most unobtrusive manner. If now we contrive to force the is into prominence, we shall convert a proposition which, as it stands, is a very inoffensive truism, into a ludi- crous dictum emphasizing a statement which nobody denies. And this may be done by expressing that truism in the form of a heroic line, with the stroke of the metre upon the symbol verb. ' The course of nature is a course of change.' The elevation given to the word is produces the effect of leaving one to expect a pointed assertion in the predicate, and the disappointment of this expectation produces the palpable bathos. Emphasis, then, is a distinct thing from accent. The latter is an elevation of a syllable above the rest of the word ; the i SOUND AS AN ILLUSTRATIVE AGENCY. 529 former is the elevation of a word over the rest of a phrase. But it should be noticed that, while there is this difference of relation between emphasis and accent, there is, on the other hand, an identity of incidence. The emphasis rests on the selfsame point as does the accent. We say indeed that the emphasis is on such and such a word, because by it one word is distinguished above all other words in the phrase. But the precise place of the emphasis is there where the accent is, in all words that have an accent; that is to say, in all words that have more than one syllable. In the case of a polysyllable, which has more than one accented syllable, the emphasis falls on the syllable that has the higher tone. An accented word is emphasized by the intensification of its chief accent. In Acts xvii. 28, ' for we are also his offspring,' there is no doubt that the emphatic word is ' offspring.' The Greek tells us so explicitly, by prefixing to this word a particle, which is in our version ill rendered by * also.' A reader who enters into the spirit of the reasoning in this place, will very markedly distinguish the word ' offspring.' And he will do so by sharpening the acuteness of that accent which already raises the first syllable above the second. There is a well-known line in the opening of the Satires of Juvenal, which the greatest of translators has thus rendered, and thus emphasized by capitals : — ' Hear, always hear ; nor once the debt repay ? * In this instance of a disyllabic emphasized, the rhetorical emphasis rests on that syllable which had the accent, while the word was in its private capacity. In fact, emphasis is a sort of public accent, which is incident to a word in regard of its external and social relations. Where a polysyllable, like elementary, has two accents, the S3^ OF PROSODY. emphasis heightens the tone of that which is already the higher. In a sentence like this, — 'I was not speaking of grammar schools, but of elementary schools,' the rhetorical emphasis falling on ekmen/arj, will heighten the tone of the third syllable. In all this there is no change of quantity, no lengthening of the syllable so affected by accent and emphasis together. It is true, we often hear such a syllable very sensibly length- ened, as thus : * I beg leave once more to repeat, that I was speaking only of ele-ma-entary schools.' The syllable is isolated and elongated very markedly, but then this is some- thing more than emphasis, it is stress. In living languages, accent and emphasis are unwritten. The so-called French accents have nothing whatever to do with the accentuation of the language, but belong solely to its etymology and orthography. In Greek, as transmitted to us, the accents are written, but they were an invention of the grammarians of Alexandria. In the Hebrew Bible, not only are the accents written, but likewise the emphasis; these signs are, however, no part of the original text, but a scholastic notation of later times. Written accents are very useful as historical guides to a pronunciation that might be lost without them. But for the present and living exercise of a living language they are undesirable. All writing tends to become traditional, and characters once established are apt to survive their significa- tion. Had our language been accentuated in the early printed books, we should have had in them a treasure of information indeed, but it would have been misleading in modern times, and probably it would have cramped the natural development of the language. For example, we now say wMtso and whoso, but in early times it was whatso and whoso. This change is in natural and harmonious keep- 1 SOUND AS AN ILLUSTRATIVE AGENCY. 53 1 ing with the changes that have taken place in the relative values and functions of the words entering into these com- pounds, as already explained above, p. 404. Here, there- fore, we see the accent still true to its office as an interpreter and illustrator. An instance of the old emphasis on so occurs in The Faerie Queene, iii. 2. 7 : — ' By sea, by land, where so they may be matt.' But, while we make no attempt to write accent, we may be said to attempt some partial and indirect tokens of em- phasis by means of our system of punctuation. It is, how- ever, in our old Saxon literature that we find emphasis in the most remarkable manner signalised. The alliteration of the Saxon poetry not only gratified the ear with a resonance like that of modern rhyme, but it ^Iso had the rhetorical advantage of touching the emphatic words ; falling as it did on the natural summits of the construction, and tinging them with the brilliance of a musical reverberation. The most convenient illustration we can offer of the Saxon alliteration will perhaps be obtained by selecting from the Song of the Fight of Maiden, such staves as have retained their alliteration in Mr. Freeman's version, in Old English History for Children :— ' Eac him wolde Eadric * Eke to him would Eadric his ealdre gelsestan. his Elder serve. lucon lagu-streamas ; Locked them the lake-streams ; to lang hit him ])uhte. too long it them thought. wigan wigheardne, A warman hard in war ; se waes haten Wulfstan. he hight Wulfstan. Wodon ]ja wael-wulfas, Waded then the slaughter-wolves, for waetere ne murnon. ' for water they mourned not, bogan waeron bysige, Bows were busy, bord ord onfeng. boards the point received. 532 OF PROSODY. he sceaf ]>a mid >am scylde, He shoved then with his shield, )>aet se sceaft to baerst. that the shaft burst. Wiga wintrum geong, Warrior of winters young, wordum maelde. with words spake. hale to hame, Hale to home, o'SSe on here cringan. or in the host cringe. mod sceal ])e mare, Mood shall the more be, ])e ure maegen lytlaS.' as our main lessens.* Had we continued to be isolated from the Romanesque influence, like the people of Iceland, we might have de- veloped this form of poetry into something of the luxuriance and precision which it has in Icelandic literature, as may be seen in the Preface to Mr. Magnusson's Lilja, 1870. Since we have adopted the French principles of poetry, alliteration has retired into the background. As late as the fourteenth century we find it pretty equally matched as a rival with the iambic couplet in rhyme; but within that century the victory of the latter was assured. By Shaks- peare's time alliteration was spoken of contemptuously, as if it had reached the stage of senility. The pedantic Holofernes says he will 'affect the letter,' that is to say, compose verses with alliteration. ' Hoi. I will something affect the letter, for it argues facilitie. The prayfull Princesse pearst and prickt a prettie pleasing Pricket, Some say a Sore, but not a sore, till now made sore with shooting.' Loves Labours Lost, iv. 2. But however much it had come to be despised, it has not- withstanding managed to retain a certain position in our poetry. ' Alliteration's artful aid ' is still found to be a real auxiliary to the poet, which, sparingly and unobtrusively used, has often an artistic effect, though its agency may be unnoticed. Shakspeare himself provides us with some very pretty instances of alliteration. SOUND AS AN ILLUSTRATIVE AGENCY. 533 ' If what in rest you haue, in right you hold.' King John, iv. 2. 55. ' Fear'd by their breed, and famous by their birth.' King Richard II. ii, i. 52. • And sigh'd my English breath in forraine Clouds, Eating the bitter bread of banishment ; While you haue fed upon my Seignories, Dis-park'd my Parkes, and fell'd my Forrest Woods.' Id. iii. I. 20. One of the boldest poets in its use is Spenser, as — 'Much daunted with that dint her sense was daz'd.' *Add faith unto your force, and be not faint.' • His gall did grate for griefe and high disdaine.' ' Sober he seemde, and very sagely sad.' The Faerie Queene, i. i, 18, 19, 29. In Blew Cap for Me, a ballad of the time of James I, is this good alliterative line : — ' A haughty high German of Hamborough towne.' In Paradise Regained we have the following : — ' Yet held it more humane, more heavenly, first By winning words to conquer willing hearts.' i. 221, *A table richly spread in regal mode.' ii. 339. 'Weepe no more, wofuU shepherds, weepe no more.' Lycidas. ' The French came foremost, battailous and bold.' Fairfax, Tasso, i. 37. ' Talk with such toss and saunter with such swing.' Crabbe, Parish Register, Part II. ' The ploughman homeward plods his weary way.' Gray, Elegy. 534 OF PROSODY, A very good example, and one which, from the coin- cidence of the emphasis with the alliteration, recalls the ancient models, is this from Cowper's Garden : — ' He settles next upon the sloping mount, Whose sharp declivity shoots off" secure From the dash'd pane the deluge as it falls.' The Christian Year affords some very graceful examples. On Palm Sunday we read : — 'Ye whose hearts are beating high With the pulse of Poesy. By whose strength ye sweep the string. That thine angels' harps may ne'er Fail to find fit echoing here.' The ancient taste for alliteration has produced some per- manent effects on the stock phraseology of the language. It is doubtless the old poetic sound that has guaranteed against the ravages of time such conventional couplings as these : — Cark and care. Rhyme and reason. Weal and woe. Wise and wary, (Cf. Chaucer, ProZo^z/e, 1. 312.) Wit and wisdom. And to the same cause I would attribute the preservation of the old word sooth in the phrase sooth to say. Except in the zQim^^ovccidi forsooth^ the word sooth is otherwise quite unused. A little attention would soon discover a great many other instances, showing how dear to humanity is the very jingle of his speech, and how he loves, even in his riper age, to keep up a sort of phantom of that harmony which in his infancy blended sound and sense in one indistinguishable chime. SOU^'D AS AN ILLUSTRATIVE AGENCY. ^^^ The various kinds of by-play in poetry, such as alliteration, rhyme, and assonance, seem all to harmonise with the ac- centuation. While alliteration belongs naturally to a lan- guage which tends to throw its accent as far back as possible towards the beginning of the word, rhyme and assonance suit those which lean rather towards a terminal accentuation. Hence alliteration is the domestic artifice of the Gothic poetry, as rhyme and assonance are of the Romanesque. Rhyme has indeed won its way, not only in England, but in nearly all the other seats of Gothic dialects; still it is in the Romance literatures that we must observe it, if we would see it in the full swing, which is possible only in its native element. Let us conclude this section with an observation of a more comprehensive kind than any which has yet been made in regard to the illustrative energies of sound. A rich and various modulation is the correlative of a richly variable collocation in matter of syntax. One illus- tration of this may be gathered from the fact that all lan- guages use greater freedom of collocation in poetry than in prose ; that is to say, in the more highly modulated literature the freedom of displacement is greater. Anything like the following would be simply impossible in English prose : — ' Who meanes no guile be guiled soonest shall.' The Faerie Queene, iii. I. 54. Another manifest illustration of the same lies in the fact that it is in the most musical languages we meet with the extremest liberty of collocation. How strangely variable was the collocation of the classical languages, is pretty well known to all of us, whose education consisted largely in 'construing Greek and Latin,' that is to say, in bringing together from the most distant parts of the sentence the 53^ OF PROSODY. words that belonged to one another functionally. If we have in English less of such violent and apparently arbitrary displacements, it should be remembered that we also have less of musical animation to render justice withal to the signification of such displacements. And further, if the modern languages generally have less variation of arrange- ment than the ancient classics had, it is supposed that even the most musical of the modern languages are less musical than were the Greek and Latin. But in this sovereign quality of music, a language is not doomed to be stationary. There is such a thing as progress in this no less than in syntax. And as an argument that musical progress has been made in EngUsh, we have only to reflect how modern is the public sense of modulation, and the general demand that is made for 'good reading.' All things are double over against one another ; and the demand for well-modulated reading is one indication that the power and range of modulation is progressing. And with this modulatory progress there is certainly a collocatory progress afoot. The proofs are not perhaps very conspicuous, but mey are visible to those who look for them, demonstrating that a greater elasticity and freedom of displacement (so to speak) are being acquired by the English language. 11. Of Sound as a Formative Agency. We now proceed to consider sound as a power which affects the forms of words. The attention must be directed to the accentuation and its consequences. I. The simplest instance is where the accent has a con- servative effect upon the accented syllable, while the unac- cented syllable gradually shrinks or decays. Thus, in the word SOUND AS A FORMATIVE AGENCY. 537 goodwife the accented syllable was preserved in its entirety, while the second syllable shrank up into such littleness as we are familiar with in the form goody. This is a plain example of a transformation conditioned by the incidence of sound. In American literature the word grandsire has assumed the form of grandsir from the same cause. The accented syllable remains complete, while the unaccented dwindles. The following quotation will be sufficient to establish the fact : — ' Viewing their townsman in this aspect, the people revoked the courteous doctorate with which they had heretofore decorated him, and now knew him most famiharly as Grandsir DoUiver. ... All the younger portion of the inhabitants unconsciously ascribed a sort of aged immortality to Grandsir DoUiver's infirm and reverend presence.' — Nathaniel Hawthorne. The way in which the accent has wrought in determining the transformation of words from Latin into French, has been briefly and eff"ectively shewn by M. Auguste Brachet, in his Historical Grammar of the French Tongue. The unaccented parts have often lost their distinct syllabi- fication, while the syllable accented in Latin has almost become the whole word in French. Thus — Latin. French. angelus ange computum compte debitum dette decima dime porticus porche Mr. Kitchin's Translation, p. 33 sqq. This is but a small part of the case as there expounded, and the student should by all means go to the book itself, and master this portion, for this is the marrow of philology. A good example is afforded by the modern Greek nega- tive. The negative in modern Greek is 5eV, and this is an 53^ OF PROSODY. abbreviation from the classical Greek ovdcv. A person who looked at ovdev might be inclined to say that the essential power of that negative is stored up in the first syllable, while the second is a mere ^expletive or appendage. From this point of view it would be inconceivable how the first part should perish and the second remain. But if we consider that the first is the elder part, and that the second was added for the sake of emphasis, it is plain that the second part would carry the accent, as indeed the traditional notation represents it. This eff'ect of the accent must be particularly attended to, as presenting, perhaps, the best of all keys for explaining the transformations which take place in language. Were we to disregard the influence of the laws of sound, and imagine that sense was the only thing to be taken into con- sideration, we should often be at a loss to understand why the most sense-bearing syllables have decayed, while the less significant ones have retained their integrity. The national and characteristic Scottish word u7tco is an instance. It is composed of un and coufh, the ancient participle of the ^•erb ciinnan, '■ to know.' So that uncouth meant * unknown,' ' unheard-of,' and consequently ' strange.' In England the word has retained its original form, because the accent is on the second syllable; but in Scotland, the accent having been placed on the first, and the word having been much used in such a manner as to intensify the accent by em- phasis, the second syllable has shrunk up to the condition which is so familiar to the admirers of Scottish literature. 2. So far we have been considering the formative effect of accent in its simplest instances, — those namely where the accented syllable retains its integrity, while the unaccented seems to wither, as it wxre, by neglect. But we must now proceed to a somewhat more complicated phenomenon. SOUND AS A FORMATIVE AGENCY. 539 The accent does not always prove so conservative in its operation. It is like wind to fire ; a moderate current of air will keep the fire steadily burning, but if the air be applied in excess, it will destroy the flame which before it preserved. So with the accent; if it be highly intensified it will not conserve, but rather work an alteration in the syllable to which it is applied. A familiar instance of the eff"ect of an accent in altering the form of a syllable may be seen in the word woman. This word is compounded of wife and man, and the change which has taken place in the first syllable exhibits the altering effect of an intense accent. The same thing may be observed in the word gospel. This word is composed of good and spel ; but the first syl- lable has been reduced to its present proportion by 'cor- reption,' if we may revive the very happy Latin term by which a shortened syllable was said to be seized or snatched. When we seek the cause why accent should have operated in manners so opposite, we shall probably find that the diversity of result is due to a difference of situation in the usual employment of a given word. A word, for instance, whose lot it was to be often emphasized would naturally be the more liable to correption of its accented syllable. 3. As we have seen that each of the syllables of a di- syllabic word may be in different manners affected by the accent, so we may next observe that both of these changes may sometimes be found in one and the same word. The word housewife is often pronounced huz'if and this pronunciation is the traditional one. The full pronunciation of all the letters in housewife is not produced by the natural action of the mother tongue, but by literary education. Regarding huz'if then, as the natural and spontaneous utterance of housewife^ we see that both syllables have 540 OF PROSODY. suffered alteration. The condition of the second syllable is accounted for by the absence of the accent; while the first syllable has suffered from an opposite cause. There it has been the intensification of the accent that has occa- sioned the change. And when, through the beat of metre, the accent becomes emphasis, we sometimes find the first syllable spelt with correption. In Milton's Co?nus, 1. 751, this occurs: — ' Beauty is Nature's brag, and must be shown In Courts, at Feasts, and high Solemnities, Where most may wonder at the workmanship ; It is for homely features to keep home, They had their name thence ; coarse complexions And cheeks of sorry grain will serve to ply The sampler, and to teize the huswives wooll.' (Ed. Tonson, 1 7 25.) The name of Shakspeare, it is well known, appears with many variations of orthography. The most curious perhaps of all its forms is that of Shaxper \ which exhibits both of the phenomena that we are now considering. In Shaxper we see that each of the two syllables is shrunken, but from opposite causes. The first syllable is compressed by the, intensifying power of the accent, while the second syllable is impaired by reason of the languor of an enclitic position. These changes, which thus result from accentuation, are sometimes seen to carry with them interesting phonetic ac- companiments. Standish is the name of a place in Glouces- tershire, but it is better known as a man's name in the poetry of Longfellow. This word is an altered form of Stonehouse, or rather of that word in its ancient shape of Stanhus. Here the accented syllable has drawn a d on to it, and the languid syllable an h. The former is but an instance of a well- ^ This form is found with the date of 1579. Shakespeareana Genealogica, compiled by George Russell French. 1869. SOUND AS A FORMATIVE AGENCY. 54I known phonetic affinity which in various languages has so often produced the combination nd. But that the kzis should have lapsed into zsk is something more particularly English, and belongs to the same class of tendencies by which that sound has often risen among us both out of Saxon and out of French materials. A great number of transformations which are a stock item of astonishment with us, are only to be accounted for by the consideration of accentual conditions. Such are Ciceter for Cirencester; Yenion for Erdington; Ransom for Rampisham (Dorset) ; Posset for Portishead, &c. So Clat- fordtun has become Claverton ; Cunacaleah is Conkweil, &c. The scene of the following quotation is laid in the time of Queen Anne : — Candish, Chumley. ' Why should we say goold and write gold, and call china chayny, and Cavendish Candish, and Cholmondeley Chumley ? ' — W. M. Thackeray, Esmond, Bk. III. ch. iii. Here may be noticed such a familiar formula as Good dye, which has come out of ' God be with ye.' But there are effects traceable to accent, which are of a more deep-seated and comprehensive character. It is to accent that we must attribute the rise of flexion, in the great bulk of the phenomena included under that name. Flexion is the result of the adhesion of low-toned words to those which are higher toned, to words rendered eminent and attractive by a superiority of accent. Thus, if the word ibo resolves itself into three words answering to the three letters of which the word is now composed, and if these three words stood once free of each other in this order — go will i, it was because of the accentual pre-eminence of go that the other two words first of all began to lean enclitically on it, and at length were absorbed into unity with it. 542 OF PROSODY. And as the action of sound is a matter of great conse- quence in the shaping of words, so also we may detect a like power working to effect transpositions in phraseology. Why do people often say ' bred and born ' instead of ' born and bred/ except that they like the sound of it better? There is in most newspapers a quarter which is thus headed : — Births, Marriages, and Deaths. But in conversation it is hardly ever quoted in this form. The estabHshed col- loquial form of the phrase is this : — Births, Deaths and Marriages. Now it is plain that the latter does violence to the natural order of things, to which the printed formula adheres. Whence then has this inconsequence arisen? Solely, as it seems, from the fact that the less reasonable order offers the more agreeable cadence to the ear. III. Of Sound as an Instinctive Object of Attraction. Our path leads us more and more away from the con- scious action of man in the development of speech, to mark how the sentient and instinctive tendencies of his nature claim their part in the great result. There is observable a certain drawing towards a fitness of sound ; that is to say, the speaker of every stage and grade strives after such an expression as shall erect his language into a sort of music to his own ear. And this is reached when harmony is established between the meaning and the sound; that is to say, when the sound strikes the ear as a becoming repre- sentative of the thought. It is a first necessity in language, that it should gratify the ear of the speaker. As the savage and the civilised man have different stand- ards of music, so have they different standards of what is SOUND AS AN OBJECT OF ATTRACTION. 543 harmonious in their speech. The civilised nations are con- verging towards an agreement on both these heads ; but they will sooner be at one on the matter of music than they will on the modulation of speech. In the very elements of the melody of language, namely the tones which are proper to the several vowels, there is an hereditary differ- ence which, though of the most delicate and subtle kind, yet produces by combination great divergences in the modulation of speech. Each separate nation has in fact a vowel-gamut of its own. The following paragraph, which is borrowed from the Academy (December, 1870), gives the results of some minute investigations which have recently been made in the gamut of the North German dialect : — ' The Nature of Vowel-Sounds. — A discovery announced in the Comptes rendiis for the 25th of last April, by Rudolf Koenig, the well-known maker of acoustical apparatus, seems likely to have an important bearing on some points of philology. It is known that Helmholtz has shown that the dis- tinctive character of the vowel-sounds is due to fixed tones characteristic of each, and that he has investigated the pitch of the tones proper to the dif- ferent vowels, by examining the resonance of the cavity of the mouth, when adjusted for whispering them, by means of vibrating tuning-forks held near the opening of the lips. In this way he arrived at the following results : — Vowel U O A E I Characteristic tone . . / h''^\) 6»b &'"!? d\^ ' Koenig, on repeating Helmholtz's experiments with more complete ap- paratus, has entirely confirmed his general result, but has arrived at slightly different conclusions as to the characteristic tones of the vowels U and I, which he finds are respectively lower and higher octaves of the tones of the intermediate vowels. For the North German pronunciation (to which Helmholtz's results also refer) the vowels are accordingly characterised as follows : — Vowel U O A E I Characteristic tone . . b\) h^\) 6"b ^'"b ^^^lJ Simple vibrations per) ^ o /: ^ h,^«« sLnd {approximate)]'^^'' 9°° ^S°° 3^00 7200 As Koenig points out, it is more than probable that the physiological reason of the occurrence of nearly the same five vowels in different languages, is to 544 OF PROSODY. be sought for in the simplicity of these ratios, just as the simplicity of the ratios of the musical intervals explains the adoption of the same intervals by most nations.' In consonants there is a great difference as regards national standards of taste. The Gothic ear enjoys a pre- cipitous consonantism, while the Roman family prefers a smooth and gentle one. And as a natural consequence of this difference, we, when we were most Gothic, could endure an abruptness of consonants which now that we have been Frenchified in our tastes, is displeasing to our national ear. Thus, we now count it vulgar to say ax, and yet this sound was quite acceptable to the most cultivated Saxon. We have transposed the consonants, and instead of ks we say sk ; instead of ax we say ask ; and we prefer tusks to the Saxon tuxas. In like manner, we now say grass, cress, where the elder forms were gcers, ccErs. Reversely, however, we say bird, third, cart, in preference to the elder forms brid, thridde^ crcEt. There is observable at different eras in the language of a nation a certain revolution of taste in regard to sounds; and this exhibits itself in modifications of the vowel-system, and in conversions or transposi- tions of old established consonantisms. It is not possible (apparently) to reduce such cases to any other principle than this, that it has pleased the national ear it should be so. This national taste is inherited so early, and rooted so deep in the individual, that it becomes part of his nature, and forms the starting-point of all his judgments as to what is fitting or unfitting in the harmony of sound with sense. The association between his words and his thoughts is so intimate, that to his ear the words seem to give out a sound like the sound produced by the thing signified; nay, further, that his words seem like the thing signified even where it is an abstract idea or some other creation of the mind. So that it SOUND AS AN OBJECT OF ATTRACTION. 545 becomes a difficult matter to say how far certain words are really like certain natural sounds, for instance ; or whether it is only an inveterate mental association which makes us think so. That is the first difficulty about the onomatopoetic theory of the origin of language. That theory appeals to a sense which we have of likeness between many of our words and the natural sounds of the things signified. Sir John Lubbock, in his recent work On the Origin of Civilisaiion Sec, has given lists of words of which, in his opinion, there can be no doubt that the origin is onomatopoetic. That is to say, they were coined at a blow in imitation of audible sounds. Now the fact is, that many of them are resoluble in earlier forms, which had meanings distinct from the present meanings; and the onomatopoetic appearances are the results of that instinctive attention to fitness of sound, which is one of the habitual accompaniments of linguistic develop- ment. An example will make it clearer : Sir John Lubbock says, — ' From pr, or prut, indicating contempt or self-conceit, comes proud, pride, &c. From fie, we have fiend, foe, feud, foul, Latin putris, Fr. puer, filth, fulsome, fear. In addition I will only remark that. From that of smacking the lips we get yXvKvs, dulcis, lick, like.' p. 282. We shall all as Enghshmen be ready to acknowledge that proud and pn'de do sound like the things signified. But how are we to reconcile the supposed onomatopoetic origin of these words with the fact that they have an earlier history, which may be seen inDiez, Lexicon Linguarum Romanarum, and which leads us far enough out of the track of the idea here assigned to pr. They are traced either to Old French prude, moral, decorous; or to the Latin prudens, providus, prudent, provident. It is not too much to say that all of these examples rest upon the ground of a superficial appearance, and that their 54^ OF PROSODY. onomatopoetic origin will not bear inspection. Let us proceed to the last of the series. The work like is here derived from the sound of smacking the lips. It is in fact the old Saxon word for 'body/ lie, which in German is to this day Seicfc, pronounced almost exactly as our like. Great as the distance may seem between body and the liking of taste, it is measured at two strides. There is but one middle term between these wide extremes. From substance to similitude the transition is frequent and familiar ; and so lie, 'body/ easily produced the adjective like. That likeness breeds likiiig is proverbial. This fact has been used by Dr. Trench, Parables, p. 24, to explain the natural delight of the human mind in the method of teaching by similitude or parable ; where also is added the following note, so germane to our present study : — ' This delight has indeed impressed itself upon our language. To like a thing is to compare it with some other thing which we have already before our natural or our mind's eye ; and the pleasurable emotion always arising from this process of comparison has caused us to use the word in a far wider sense than that which belonged to it at the first. That we lilie what is Wke is the explanation of the pleasure which rhyme gives us.' If the reader desires to enquire further into the onomato- poetic theory, he will find all that can be said in its favour in the philological writings of Mr. Wedgwood ; and there is a judicial examination of onomatopoeia by Professor Max Miilier in the ninth lecture of his First Series. Our present interest in this theory is rather incidental. It bears by its very existence a valuable testimony to that prin- ciple which we are just now concerned to elucidate. It proves that several men of the best and most highly ex- ercised faculties do perceive throughout language such a harmony of the sound of words with their sense, that they not only would rest satisfied with an account of the origin of language which referred all to external sound, but that it SOUND AS AN OBJECT OF ATTRACTION. 547 appears to them the only rational explanation. Those who reject the onomatopoetic theory need not discredit the phe- nomenon on which it relies. They may admit that there is, running through a great part of human speech, a remarkable chime of sound with sense, and yet doubt whether language was founded upon an imitation of external sounds. The phenomenon itself may not have been primitive and original, but rather the ripe fruit of late efforts of the genius of speech. At every stage in the development of every word, there are a great number of possible variations or alternative modes of utterance; and before a word settles down into an estab- lished position, it must have been (unconsciously) recog- nised as the best for that particular purpose of all those that were in the field of choice ; and among the qualifications and conditions of the competition, the satisfaction of the ear has never been absent, though it may have been little noticed. When we speak of the satisfaction of the ear, we of course mean a mental gratification ; namely, that which arises from a sense of harmony between voice and meaning. There is a pleasure in this, and as there is a pleasure in it, so there is naturally a preference for it, and, other things being equal, the utterance which gives this pleasure will survive one that gives it not. One of the words which has been thought to favour the onomatopoetic origin is squirrel. If this word had been destitute of a pedigree, and had been dashed off at a moment of happy invention, then its evidence might have been invoked in that direction. But when we perceive that it has a long Greek derivation, and that the idea upon which the word was moulded was that of umbrella-tail, we can only marvel at the sonorous fitness of the word to express the manners of the funny little creature, after all traces of the signification of the word had been forgotten ; and we must allow that somewhere in the speech-making genius there N n 2 54^ OF PROSODY. must be a faculty which concerns itself to seek the means of harmony between sound and sense. It would indeed be too much to say that the basis of this harmony is not in any absolute relations between things and ideas on the one hand, and sounds on the other. But this may be said : that while such absolute relations have been often maintained by a certain show of reason, there has not as yet been any proof such as science can take cognisance of. It seems rather as if each race had its own fundamental notions of harmony, and that from these the consonance of words had taken shape as from some elementary postulates. Well as squirrel seems to us to harmonise with its object, there is no reason to doubt that in the judgment of a Red Indian it would appear very inappropriate, and that he would consider Adjidaumo as much more to the point. ' Boys shall call you Adjidaumo, Tail in air the boys shall call you.' Longfellow, Song of Hiawatha. Taking it then as certain, that there is in speech a striving after this expressiveness of sound, we must next observe the varying ways it has of displaying itself, in the successive stages of the development of human speech. It does not always occupy the same ground. The English language has passed that stage in which words are palpably modified to meet the requirements of the ear. And accordingly, those who make lists of words in support of the onomatopoetic theory, will be found to lean greatly to old-fashioned and homely and colloquial words, in short, to such words as figure but little in the forefront of modern English literature. They are the offspring of a period when the chime of the word was more aimed at than it now is. And we may in some ancient literatures find this so-called onomatopoeia in greater vigour than in English. SOUND AS AN OBJECT OF ATTRACTION. 549 Most abounding in examples of this kind is the Hebrew language, where we have a glorious literature that was formed under the conditions now spoken of; that is to say, while the language was still sensitive to the grouping of consonants in the chime of its words. The details cannot here be produced, but the student may find his way to them in the Heh-ew Grammar of Heinrich Ewald, as for instance, sections 58, 59, sqq., on the meeting of consonants, 3ufam= mentrefen s?on 3i)titlauten. But without minute details, an illustration or two may be given. It is no mere illusion which causes even a slightly imbued Hebrew scholar to feel that in the kindly, soothing, 'noc- turne ' sound of Mlah, the Hebrew word for night, there is a suggestion of that thought which some have supposed to be etymologically expressed by the Greek evcppovrj, the thought which is thus rendered in familiar lines from the Hebrew fountain : — ' And from the due returns of night Divine instruction springs,' The Hebrew word for 'righteousness,' zedakah, has a melody which chimes admirably with the idea. Whatever beauty of thought is embodied in the Themis and Dike and Astraea of the Greek personifications, may all be heard in the sound of the Hebrew zedakah. Nor is this mere fancy. That the word spoke not to the mind alone through the ear as a mere channel, but that the sound of the word had a musical eloquence for the musical ear of the He- brew, we have such evidence as the case admits of. We find it set against the cry of the oppressed zeghdkah, where the dental has been exchanged for the most rigid of gut- turals, represented here by gh. In fact, there is a stage in language, when the musical appropriateness of the word is the chief care. This is the age of the Hebrew antitheses K^^O OF PROSODY. and parallelisms. In the passage alluded to, not only is there the contrast already described, but also that of mishpat, 'judgment,' with viishpach, 'oppression,' and here also the gende sound of the dental is changed to the grating sound of a guttural, though milder than in the other instance. 'He looked for judgment {mishpat), but behold oppression (mishpach) ; tor righteousness (zeddkah), but behold a cry (zeghdkah).^ — Isaiah v. 7. This class of cases has been sometimes inconsiderately treated as if they approached in some sort to the nature of the paronomasia or pun. But no two things could be more distinct. The pun rests on a duplicity of sense under unity of sound, and it is essentially of a laughter - provoking nature, because it is a wanton rebellion against the first motive of speech, whereby diversity of sense induces diversity of sound, that the sound may be an echo to the sense. A few years ago, in the time of spring, two men were riding together across the fields, and observing how back- ward the season was. Neither of them had seen the may- blossom yet. Presently, one dashed ahead towards some- thing white in a distant hedge, but soon turned round again, exclaiming to his companion : ' No, it is not the may, it is only the common sloe.' Whereupon the ready answer came : ' Then the may is uncommon slow ! ' That is a pun, where the unity . of sound between widely different words is sud- denly and surprisingly fitted into the sense of the con- versation. Different, but akin, is the Double-meaning, where the two senses of an identical word are played upon. Mr. Wadge, in his speech of thanks on the occasion of a presentation banquet in his honour, at the Albion, June i, 1866, was dilating on the interest he had taken from earliest youth in the study of mineral deposits ; how he found matter even in his school-books to feed this enthusiasm; how he devoured SOUND AS AN OBJECT OF ATTRACTION 55 1 Lucretius De Rerum Natura, but especially the passage about the discovery of metals. This being delivered with some intenseness, was pleasantly relieved by the ensuing remark, that only in one thing did the speaker differ from the poet. Lucretius deplored that whereas in the good old time, brass was highly valued and gold disregarded, now that was changed, — gold had dethroned brass, and the harder metal was of no account by the side of the softer. ' I have nothing to say against gold, which certainly now, as when the poet wrote, is m summum hotioretn ; but I must say something for brass. (Laughter.) Whatever may have been the case when Lucretius wrote, it cannot now be truly said nunc jacet aes ; for in my experience brass is, next to gold, the greatest power that influences the world.' (Great cheers and laughter.) Such are the double-meaning and the pun. But these things are very wide of the feature now under consideration. These are laughable from their eccentricity. They are funny because they traverse the law of the language in a playful manner. As an expression of wit they are perfectly legiti- mate only so long as the rhetoric of the language turns on word-sound. In English, they are now half-recognised, because the language has passed beyond that stage of which they were a wanton inversion. Hence we may ob- serve that the mind of the scholar, that is to say, the mind which is imbued with the elder conditions of language, is ever prone to punning. In contradistinction to all this, the Hebrew antitheses arise out of the legitimate exercise of the rhetorical properties of the language; and their very consonance with the present condition of the language is an element of their solemnity. In every successive stage of language there is a music proper to that stage ; and if we seek the focus of that music, we must watch the action of the language in its exalted moods. When we see that the poetry and the oratory of a ^^Q, OF PROSODY. language avails itself largely of the contrast of word-sounds, we cannot doubt that the national ear is most alive to that particular form of speech-music which gives prominence to individual words. This is the case of the Hebrew paral- lelisms; and it is the key also to alliteration in poetry, where the echo of word to word is the sonorous organ of the poet. But a period comes in the course of the higher development of language, when the sonorousness of words gives place to the sentiment of modulation, whereby a musical unity is given to the sentence like the unity of thought. It is to this that the foremost languages of the world, and the English language for one, have now at- tained. If we look at Saxon literature, we see two widely different eras of language Uving on side by side, the elder one in the poetry, and the later one in the prose. The alliterative poetry belongs to an age in which the word-sound was the prominent feature; the prose is already far gone into that stage in which the sound of the word has fallen back and become secondary to the rhythm of the sentence. The development of rhythm had already become so full and ample by the time of the Conquest, that the restraint of iambic metre was needful, and it was readily accepted at the hands of our French instructors. Rhyme also was adopted, not indeed for the first time, for occasional examples occur before; but the general use of rhyme came in with the iambic metre under French influence. Rhyme is an attend- ant upon metre, but it acts in concert with rhythm neces- sarily ; and for the most part it corresponds to the divisions of syntax, though this is unessential. Rhyme is a very insignificant thing philologically, as compared with allitera- tion: for whereas this is, as we have before shown, an accentual reverberation, and rests upon the most vital part of words; rhyme is but a syllabic resonance, and rests SOUND AS AN OBJECT OF ATTRACTION. 553 most frequently upon those syllables which are vocally of the lowest consideration. It is, however, one among the many little tributaries towards the evidence of a fondness in man for a sonorous accompaniment to his language. Rhyme is a feature attached to metre ; its office is to mark the ' verse ' or /urn of the metre, where it begins again. The relation of verse to syntax is undetermined. The line may end with a grammatical pause, or it may end in the middle of a phrase where the most lavish punctuationist could not bestow a comma. But it must never mar the rhythm : with or without rhyme, the turn of a verse must never occur but at a rhythmical subdivision, and these are finer and more frequent than grammatical subdivisions. ' So thy dark arches, London Bridge, bestride Indignant Thames, and part his angry tide.' The poetry of the Anti-Jacobin is a good repertory for varieties of verse-making, because it contains lawless as well as lawful examples. In the above couplet, the reader will perceive that though there is not a grammatical division be- tween the Hues, there is a rhythmical one, and that there is a real gain to the effect by the voice being made to rest a perceptible time on bestride : the modulation so obtained is a help to the picture on the imagination. One of the commonest means for producing the effect of drollery in verse, is by offending against this rule, and break- ing the verse in spite of rhythm. 'Weary Knife-grinder! little think the proud ones. Who in their coaches roll along the turnpike- road, what hard work 'tis crying all day " Knives and Scissors to grind O ! " ' Metre and rhythm must be wedded together, in order to produce the true harmony of poetry. A limping line is the result of discord between these two. Not long ago a manu- 554 OF PROSODY. script of Samson Agonistes was sold at Messrs Sotheby's auction-rooms in which the prosaic lines — ' For God haih wrought things as incredible For his people of old ; what hinders now ? ' were rendered so majestic as to be worthy of the poet by the following simple transposition : — • For God of old hath for his people wrought Things as incredible ; what hinders now ? ' The same alteration has rectified at once both the metre and the rhythm, but the gain in metre is a small thing compared to the gain in having those two lines restored to rhythm. The metre of the passage is that which has been used by all our poets in their chief works, from Chaucer to Tennyson. But the rhythm of those two lines, as of all lines which we recognize as Miltonic, is the author's own. The identity of the metre does not hinder varieties in the character of poetry, any more than the identity of the letters of the alphabet excludes varieties in the forms of words. Shakspeare, whose verse has a sound so peculiar to itself, employs the most ordinary metre. Dryden's grand feats of musical language are sometimes, it is true, combined with extraordinary metres, as in Alex- ander's Feast. But these are not necessary to him, as witness the following lines from the opening of his JEneid : — ' From hence the line of Alban fathers come, And the long glories of majestic Rome ' The blank verse of Thomson is framed on the same metre with that of Milton. Metre is to rhythm what logic is to rhetoric ; what the bone frame of an animal is to its living form and movements. As the bony structure of a beautiful animal is amply enveloped ; as the logic of a good discourse is there, but undisplayed, — so is the metre of good SOUND AS AN OBJECT OF ATTRACTION. ^^^ poetry lost to the view, while the ear is entirely occupied with its rhythm. And as men use rhetoric before logic, so, likewise, did they use rhythm before metre. Metre may be artificially transplanted from one nation to another, as the French m.etre was transplanted to our language. But rhythm is more deeply rooted in the race and nation, and the individual writer can only within a limited range play variations upon the natural rhythm of his mother tongue. In common parlance we give a writer the credit of his rhythm, as we do to Milton. But the elemental stuff out of which it is made, is rather an inheritance than a personal product. Every man inherits a certain national intonation. This is that which is most ineradicable of all things which go to constitute language. This is that which we call the brogue of the Irishman, the accent of the Scotchman, or of the Welshman. By great care and early training it may be disciplined out of an individual, but we have no experience of its wearing out of a population. The people of Devon, who hardly retain two Welsh words in their speech, have an intonation so peculiar, that it can only be interpreted as a relic of the otherwise extinct West- Welsh language. Any one with an ear for the melody of language, and with a heart accessible to romantic feelings, cannot but be drawn towards the Irish people, if it were only for the singular and mysterious air which constitutes the melody of their speech. What though they speak Saxon now instead of Erse, the rhythm is unshaken. It runs up into, and is indistinguish- able from, that native music which is the surest exponent of national character and its most tenacious product, over- living the extinction of all other heirlooms, as it is touch- ingly and tunefully said in fitting cadences by Thomas D'Arcy Mc Gee in the following Ode : — OF PROSODY. 'TO OSSIAN. ' Long, long ago, beyond the misty space Of twice a thousand years, In Erin old, there dwelt a mighty race, Taller than Roman spears ; Like oaks and towers, they had a giant grace, Were fleet as deers : With winds and waves they made their 'biding-place, These Western shepherd-seers. Great were their deeds, their passions, and their sports : With clay and stone They piled on strath and shore those mystic forts Not yet o'erthrown ; On cairn-crown'd hills they held their council-courts ; While youths alone, With giant-dogs, explored the elk resorts. And brought them down. Of these was Finn, the father of the bard Whose ancient song Over the clamour of all change is heard, Sweet-voiced and strong. Finn once o'ertook Granu, the golden-hair'd, The fleet and young ; From her the lovely, and from him the fear'd, The primal poet sprang. Ossian ! two thousand years of mist and change Surround thy name — Thy Fenian heroes now no longer range The hills of fame. The very names of Finn and Gaul sound strange, Yet thine the same, — By miscall'd lake and desecrated grange — Remains, and shall remain ! The Druid's altar and the Druid's creed We scarce can trace ; There is not left an undisputed deed Of all your race. Save your majestic song, which hath their speed, And strength and grace; In that sole song they live, and love, and bleed, — It bears them on through space. SOUND AS AN OBJECT OF ATTRACTION 557 Oh, inspired giant ! shall we e'er behold In our own time One fit to speak your spirit on the wold Or seize your rhyme ? One pupil of the past, as mighty-soul'd As in the prime Were the fond, 'and fair, and beautiful, and bold, — They, of your song sublime ! ' The distinctiveness of all that which we call brogue, accent, &c., is ultimately resoluble into a speciality of modu- lation or rhythm. Here is the stronghold of Nature and the seat of national and provincial peculiarity. The fact that the English language has not retained the music of the Saxon, is the greatest of all evidences how profound a change was accomplished by the great French interval of the transi- tion. Had the new language started with a provincial basis, instead of springing up as it did in the Court, the result might have been different. As it was, we got a new music, based on a new key-note, and one quite distinct from any of its constituent elements. But while we acknowledge in rhythm something pro- founder than metre, we must not deny to the latter a certain magisterial and interpretative function, which it obtains by its position and office. As the man of formulas often directs, and sometimes practically determines the action of his superior, so metre exercises a sort of judicature even over rhythm. Metre acts as a sort of stiffener to the rhythm. It has on the one hand a suppressive, and on the other a sustaining agency. It helps to sustain elevation, while it controls the natural swell of enthusiastic rhythm. This con- straint exercised by metre over the rhythmical movement is least felt in blank verse, because terminal rhymes are like so many studs or clasps, which pin down the metre from point to point, and greatly add to its stringency. » ^^S OF PROSODY. Rhyme has developed its luxuriance in its native regions, that is to say, in the Romanesque dialects. The rhyming faculty was not born with our speech, and it is still but im- perfectly naturaUsed among us. The English language is found to be poor in rhymes when it is put to the proof, as in the essay of translating Dante in his own /erza rima. Of all the forms which the Romanesque metres have assumed in the English language, the blank verse is that which we have most completely nationalised and made our own. And the probable explanation of this is, that Rhyme is too confining for our native rhythm, when it would put forth its full strength. On the other hand. Metre, though it restrains, does unquestionably help to sustain the elevation, by the way in which it brings out the subordinate pauses and finer articulations in the rhythm. I would ask the reader to consider the following lines, lending his ear especially to the verse-endings which close without punc- tuation : — * A gracious spirit o'er this earth presides, And o'er the heart of man : invisibly It comes, to works of unreproved delight, And tendency benign, directing those Who care not, know not, think not what they do. The tales that charm away the wakeful night In Araby, romances ; legends penned For solace by dim light of monkish lamps ; Fictions, for ladies of their love, devised By youthful squires ; adventures endless, spun By the dismantled warrior in old age. Out of the bowels of those very schemes In which his youth did first extravagate ; These spread like day, and something in the shape Of these will live till man shall be no more. Dumb yearnings, hidden appetites, are ours, And they must have their food. Our childhood sits. Our simple childhood, sits upon a throne That hath more power than all the elements.' William Wordsworth, The Prelude, Bk. V. All true poetry feels after, and grows towards, a sweet low J SOUND AS AN OBJECT OF ATTRACTION. 559 musical accompaniment, which sounds to the ear of the mind h'ke the thing described, even though it should be the process of nature, which marches in silence. The following lines, from an unknown poet who signs G. M., display this har- mony of the rhythm with the description : — ' On that opposing hill, as on the stage Of rural theatre, or Virgil's page, I watch the shifting scenes of country life, — Man's patient labour and his world-old strife. First, the stout team drags on the biting plough; Thro' the hard clods it cuts and pierces slow ; The careful yeoman guides the furrow'd way, The rook succeeds, and lives another day. Then come the sowers, who with careless skill Scatter the grain and every fissure fill ; Then the light harrow the smooth soil restores, And soon the field feels life in all her pores. Next some bright morning, as I mark the scene, My fancy soothes me with a shade of green, Which after every shower more vivid grows. Till em'rald brightly o'er the surface glows, Then yellow clothes the scene, and soon, too soon, Red ears bow heavy to the harvest moon.' In making a poetical translation, the first thing is to get hold of a melody. The metre, and even in some mea- sure the grammar, must be secondary ; else there can be no rhythm, and therefore no unity. Your verses may parse, and they may scan, and be but doggerel after all. The master-principle then is rhythm. In the following lines from Mr. Griffith's translation of the Rdmdyana, we have not only words and phrases and metre, but we have also a rhythm, which gives the whole a unity and an individuality, making it ' like something ' ; and we, who do not read Sanskrit, can enquire whether that is a faithful rendering of the effect of the original : — ' Balmy cool the air was breathing, welcome clouds were floating by, Humming bees with joyful music swelled the glad wild peacock's cry. Their wing-feathers wet with bathing, birds slow flying to the trees Rested in the topmost branches waving to the western breeze.' 560 OF PROSODY. But no English reader, with a cultivated ear, would be likely to ask whether the following bore any resemblance to Horace, simply because, through lack of rhythm, it has no unity, and it leaves on the mind no impression of having any likeness or similitude of its own : — ' Methinks Dame Nature to discriminate What *s just from what 's unjust entirely fails ; Though doubtless fairly she can separate What 's good from what is bad, and aye prevails What to avoid, what to desire, to state ; And Reason cannot prove that in the scales The man who broke another's cabbage-leaf Should weigh as guilty as the sacrilegious thief.' It would lead us too far if we attempted to exemplify in detail the conclusion at which these latter pages are pointed. It is this : — Our language has passed on beyond the stage at which the chime of words is a care to the national ear, and it has adopted instead thereof the pleasure of a musical rhythm, which pervades the sentence and binds it into one. Ewald has happily described the perception of rhythm as ®inn fiirS ® anjc — a feeling or sentiment for the Whole. When the English language is now used so as to display a sonorous aptness in the words, we call it Word-painting. We will conclude this final chapter by a few illustrations to the same effect drawn from the inceptive stages of speech. The first dawn of intelligence, the first smile of the infant on the mother, is in response to the tones of her maternal encouragements : * Incipe parve puer risu cognoscere matrem.' Vergil, Eclogue iv. 60. ' Smile then, dear child, and make thy mother glad.' Translation by H. D. Skrine, 1868. SOUND AS AN OBJECT OF ATTRACTION, 56 1 Before speech is attained by the infant, he gets a set of notes or tones to express pleasure or offence, assent or refusal. The first attempts to speak are mere chirruppings and warblings ; that is to say, it is the music of what is said that is caught at first, while the child has as yet no ears for the harder sense. By a beautiful and true touch of nature, and all the more noticeable because it is not a common- place of poetry, a poet of our own day has coupled the early speech of children with the singing of birds : •I love the song of birds, And the children's early words.' Charles Mackay, A Plain Man's Philosophy. John Keble has justified the teaching of divine truths to children, on the ground that, if the sense is beyond them, there is a certain musical path of communication : ' Oh ! say not, dream not, heavenly notes To childish ears are vain. That the young mind at random floats, And cannot reach the strain: Dim or unheard the words may fall, And yet the heaven-taught mind May learn the sacred air, and all The harmony unwind.' The general effect of such observations is towards this : — That the sentient and emotional parts of human nature have a greater share in the origins of language than the intel- lectual faculty. The first awakener of language is love. I knew a litde orator who, at the age of five years, would make speeches of irresistible force, though he was more than usually backward in grammatical sequence. It being one morning said in his presence that he had been found half out of bed, and the cause surmised that his brother elbowed him out, he exclaimed, ' Yes, he elbowed me o o 562 OF PROSODY. harder and harder — could be!' In modulation this was a perfect utterance : the voice had risen very gradually and plaintively so far as * harder and harder ' — then a pause, as he was feeling after a climax — and then out broke in an octave higher the decisive words ' could be ! ' It was the same boy who once said it was not his bed time ' this 'reckly,' a compromise between ' this tninute ' and •' directly/ but which, in the way it was delivered, very far surpassed either of these forms of expression. The fact is that children have a greater appreciation of sound than of sense, and that accordingly their early words are in good melody and bad grammar. Their judgment of the fitness of words for the office they fill, will often be very distinctly pronounced. And this judg- ment rests, as indeed it can rest, on nothing else than the chime of the sound with their notion of the thing indicated. The judgment of children is often found so firm and distinct on this matter, that we must conclude a great part of the early exercise of their wakening minds has been concerned with the discrimination of sounds. A little watch- ing might supply many illustrations on this head ; what is here produced is not the result of any careful selection, but just what offered itself about the time that this chapter was in preparation. A father who took an interest in some pigeons that were kept for the amusement of his children, had the whim to call them all by some fanciful name ; and as they multiplied it became harder to invent acceptable names. So it hap- pened that, after many familiar names, there came in some from classical sources. Of these it was observed (months after) that one had fixed itself in the memory of the children. They were playing with the kitten, and their inward glee was venting itself in the name of Andromache, SOUND AS AN OBJECT OF ATTRACTION. ^6^ which they used as a term of endearment. Some days later, when they were again at play, and shouting Andromache, their father asked them, ' Which is Andromache ? ' The younger answered with an exuberance of satisfaction : * Johnnie 's calling me Andromache ! ' Their father replied, ' If Johnnie calls you Andromache, Td call him Polyhymnia ! ' At this, Johnnie (a boy of six years old) towered up like a pillar of moral indignation, and in a tone of mingled disdain and deprecation, said : ' Augh ! Nobody couldn't be called that, I'm sure ! ' A boy of five years old was asked, ' Do you know where your cousin Johnnie is at school ? ' ' No ! I don't know ; where is he ? ' ' At Honiton.' ' At Hon-t-iton ? Isn't that a funny place ; / call it ? ' Here it will be observed the place is judged of by the sound of its name ; there is no distinction between the name and the thing. In the minds of children and savages the word and the thing are absolutely identified. If they are able to grasp the name, they seem to have a satisfaction analogous to that which the mature mind tastes in the fullest description or analysis. I was staying in the house of a friend, where the youngest child was a brave, bold, golden-locked boy, under three years old. As I was dressing in the morning he came into my room, and we had a long and varied conversation. One of the topics was broached and disposed of somewhat in the following manner : — ' Are Mabel and Trixey coming to-day ? ' he asked. ' I'm sure I don't know. Who are Mabel and Trixey ? ' Thereat he took up a strong and confident attitude, and with a tone which at once justified himself and refuted me, he said : ' They are Mabel and Trixey ; that's their names ! ' — the last clause a perfect bar 2 564 OF PROSODY. of remonstrative music ; as much as to say, * You surely are satisfied with /haf !' This is very delightful in a child, as all truly childish things are. But in more advanced stages of human Hfe, when childishness is formulated into a sort of wisdom of the ancients, then it gradually assumes a less agreeable aspect. We no longer admire this identification of the word with the thing, when an eastern doctor or charmer writes a good word on a slip of paper and makes of it a pill for his patient. Here the childish conception of speech has stagnated into a fetichism which is at the root of incantations and verbal charms. The following most significant record of native talk in the Aru Islands is from The Malay Archipelago, by Alfred Russell Wallace (1869): * Two or three of them got round me, and begged me for the twentieth time to tell them the name of my country. Then, as they could not pro- nounce it satisfactorily, they insisted that I was deceiving them, and that it was a name of my own invention. One funny old man, who bore a ludicrous resemblance to a friend of mine at home, was almost indignant. " Unglung ! " said he, " who ever heard of such a name ? — anglang — anger- lang — that can't be the name of your country; you are playing with us." Then he tried to give a convincing illustration. " My country is Wanumbai — anybody can say Wanumbai. I'm an orang-Wanumbai ; but, N-glung ! who ever heard of such a name ? Do tell us the real name of your country, and then when you are gone we shall know how to talk about you." To this luminous argument and remonstrance I could oppose nothing but asser- tion, and the whole party remained firmly convinced that I was for some reason or other deceiving them.' — ch. xxxi. This is a very significant narrative, and I have authority from Mr. Wallace to add that it is a literal and faithful record. He says it ' was written down on the spot the day after it occurred, and is strictly accurate as far as I could reproduce the words and tone of it in English ^' ^ Communicated to me through the Rev. George Buckle, to whom also I owe many other acknowledgments. SOUND AS AN OBJECT OF ATTRACTION. ^6^ The notion that by the possession of the name of the country they would have the wherewithal to talk of their visitor after his departure, is an excellent illustration of the germination of the Myth as expounded by Professor Max Miiller in the Oxford Essays of 1856. All these are instances of the inability of man, in the ear- lier stages of his career, to assume the mastery over language. His mind is enthralled by it, and is led away after all its suggestions. We are told by Professor Jowett that the Greek philoso- pher, ' the contemporary of Plato and Socrates, was incapable of resisting the power of any analogy which occurred to him .... and he was helpless against the influence of any word which had an equivocal or double sense \' It may be imagined that we, in our advanced condition of modern civilisation, are now completely masters over language, but an investigation of the subject might pro- duce an unexpected verdict. Philology is one of the most instrumental of studies for investing man with the full prerogative over his speech, for its highest office is to enable him to comprehend the relation of his words to the action of his mind, and thus to render the mind superior to verbal illusions. Those who think that the sounds of nature first sug- gested language to man, hold a theory of language which may be compared to that theory of music by which music is derived from the cataract in the mountains, the wind in the trees, or the sound of the ocean on the shore. It appears to me that there is nothing in inward or outward experience ^ The Dialogues of Plato, vol. ii. p, 505, 566 OF PROSODY. to justify such a theory. Music and language ahke must have come from within, from the greatest depths of our nature. Man's conscious work upon language in fitting it to express his mind, is the least part of the matter. The greater part is worked out unconsciously. And long eras pass after the perfecting of its processes, before intellectual man awakes to perceive what he himself has done. This only proves from what a depth within his own nature this power of speech is evolved ; only proves what a mystery man is to himself: and it casts a doubt over the prospect of our ever tracing a scientific path up to those springs which fancy calls the Origin of Language. For me, the poet speaks most appropriately on this theme, because he speaks most vaguely, most wonderingly and most inquiringly : — ' Ye wandering Utterances, has earth no scheme. No scale of moral music, to unite Powers that survive but in the faintest dream Of memory? — O that ye might stoop to bear Chains, such precious chains of sight As laboured minstrelsies through ages wear ! O for a balance fit the truth to tell Of the Unsubstantial, pondered well ! * To make a path from the visible, ponderable, and sub- stantial, to that which is invisible, imponderable, and spiritual, with no other material than vocal sound to erect a bridge from matter to mind, — tempering it in the finest filtered harmonies that can be appreciated by the sentient, emo- tional, and intellectual nature of man ; — this seems to be the task and function of human speech. Of its origin W3 can only say, it is of the same root with that poetic faculty whereby man makes nature echo his sentiments; it is correlated to the invention of music, whereby SOUND AS AN OBJECT OF ATTRACTION. 567 dead things are made to discourse of human emotions ; it is a peculiar property of that nature whose other chief and .proper attributes are the power of Love, and the capacity for the knowledge of God. IN DEX. [The ordinary Roman type is used to indicate English forms that have been illustrated or exemplified : the Italic type indicates those of the Transition stage of the language : forms of high antiquity are put in SMALL CAPITALS : the TMck type indicates Subjects that have been treated or touched upon, over and above those which are already indicated by the general plan of the work.] A, the article, 416. — the character, 196. — the vowel, 105, 107. aback, 509. abacus, 302. abaft, 509. abandoning, 482. abed, 376, 509. abet, 81. abidden, 229, 232. abide, 229. Abingdon, 481. -able, 336. aboard, 509, abode, 229. about, 38, 129, 435. abstraction, 195. abut, 84. academic, 352. Accent, 537, accept, 79, 337. acceptable, 336, 337, 338. acceptance, 337. accepted, 337. accessible, 336. accidental, 339. accord, 79. according, 454. account, 36, 337. accountable, 336, 337. accountant, 337. accounted, 337. ace, 56. aches, 149. acknowledge, 114. acoustic, 352. acquamt, 79. acquaintance, 296. acquaintanceship, 275. acquittal, 300. active, 348. acupement, 2 3o. -acy, 296, -ad, 303. add, 79. -ade, 303. adieus, 180. ado, 381. adubbement, 280. advance, 79. advancement, 280. adventure, 79. adventuresome, 331. adverse, 79. advertize, 258, 294. advice, 262. advise, 262. advowson, 279. Alfred, 272. ^theling, 268. iEthelred, 272. sesthetick, 114, 352. afaitment, 280. afar, 376, 509. affair, 38 1, affluence, 296. afield, 376, 509. afloat, 509. afoot, 376. a-forlorn, 480. African, 352. after, 435. after all, 431. after a sort, 431, aftermath, 267. againe (Spenser), 138. against, 38, 441. -age, 283. -ager, 285. Agglutinating lan- guages, 473. aggregative, 348, 349. agoe, 129. agog, 376. aground, 509. AHAM, Sanscrit pronoun ego, 391. ahead, 509. aid and abet, 81. air-balloon, 505. ajar, 509. akin, 509. -al, 299, 338. alack, 166. alas, 165. a-laughter, 480. alchemy, 304. alcohol, 304. alcove, 304. alder, 21, ill. alc'er-bush, 505, Aldhelm, Bishop of Sherborne, 28. Aleph, 196. Alfred, King, 29. algebra, 304. algorism, 304. algorithm, 304 all, 107, 138, 409. alley, ill. 570 INDEX. all hail, 173. Alliteration, 531. Allophylian lan- guages, 473. allow, 254. allowed, 254. all-poweiful, 510. allude-to-an-individual style, 501. almanac, 304. aloft, 50Q. along. 509. along of. 442. along on, 442. alongside, 509. aloof, 509. aloud, 376, 509. alow, 509. Alpha, 196. also, 434, 446. alsoe, 129, 134. ALWALDA, 27. alway, always, 136. am, 242. amain, 479, 480. amen, 174. amendement, 280. amiable, 79, 338. amid, 38. ammiral, 304. amo?iesiement, 2 So. American nsage, 133, 186, 239, 311, 524.- among, 441. an, numeral and article, 33, 38, 416, 427. an, ? form of ' and,' 453- -an (adj.), 326, 352. -an (inf.), 481. analytic, 352. anathematize, 258. anatomize, 258. -ance, 296. ancient, 185. -ancy, 296. and, 129, 434, 445, 454.457.458- angehc, 330. Angle, 25. Anglian dialect, 48, 53- Anglo - Saxon, the term, 17. animosity, 297. animus, 302. anodyne, 425. anonymous, 425. another, 415. -ant, 350. antagonistic, S53. antarctic, 353. antiquity, 297. any, 427. apathetic, 353. ape, 262. apologetic, 353. opos(le7ie, 67. apostolic, 339, 340. apparatus, 302. apparayl merit, 280. appeal, 310. apple, 2 I . appreciable, 336. appreciative, 348, 349. approachable, 336. approval, 300. aquatic, 339. Arabic, 340. arcana, 302, 303. archaeological, 341. archaic, 353. Arctic. 352. -ard, 289, 338. ardor, 299. ardour, 299, are, 149, 242. area, 302. arena, 302. aright, 376, 479, 480, 509. arize (Spenser), 293. arm, 266. armlet, 283. arms of precision, 358. arnement, 280. aromatic, 353. around, 38. array, 79. arrow-wounded, 51 T, Article, in Danish and Swedish, 7. artistic, 339, -ary, 300, 350. Aryan languages, 391. 473- AS, Sanscrit root, 219. as, 1 89, 409, 446, 447. as — as, as — so, 447. ascendant, 79. ascetick, 137. ash, 21, 266. ash-house. 520. ashore, 509. as it were, 479, -asm, 308. aspect, 133. aspen, 21. assay, 79. assent, 79. asseyment, 280. assize, 79. associative, 348, 349. -ast, 308. astern, 509. -astic, 353. astir, 509. asuinere, 221. asunder, 410. at, preposition, 37. at all, 431. at best, 375. at intervals, 375. at large, 375. at last, 375. at least, 375. at leastwise, 433. at length, 375. at most, 375. at no hand, 433. at once, 431. at present, 375. at random, 375. at worst, 375. ate, 107, 230, -ate, 258. atheism, 305. atheist, 307. athletic, 353. athwart, 509, -ation, 270, 298. atomic, 353. -atory, 350. attempted, 477. attercop, 311. audible, 336. auditor, 79. augrim, 304. August, 186. aiilnage, 285. aulneger, 285. aunt, 277. Austria, 278. authentic, 353. authoritative, 348, available, 336. avarice, 291. a vaunt, 79. away, 509. awe, 266. awfully, 370. awinter, 221. awl, 266. awork, 376. Axe, 20. Aytoun, 155. -aze, 308. azure, 79. azurn, 325. B, the character, 197. bace {for base), 138. back . . . home, 363. bacon, 44. bade, 229. badge, 266. Eaeda's account of the Saxon colo- nists, 17. Baeda quoted, 26. baggage, 283. baiie and borowe, 81, bairn, 90. bait, 85. bake,li, 128, 229, 237. bakehouse, 520. baken, 229. baker, 268, 287. balcony, 524. INDEX. ball, 108. banish, 77, 79. barbaresque, 341. barbaric, 353. barbarous, 346. bard, 22. Bardic, .^40. bare, 229, 322. bareheaded, 511. bargain, 277- barn-door, 194. barrier, 289. basis, 302. basket, 20. bastard, 289. bat, 107, 262. bate, 107. batelment, 280. bath, II. Bath, 20. battels, 85. Baxter, 320. be, verb, 4, 239, 240, 24IJ 243, 478. BE (preposition), 38. be off, 439. beacon, 266. BEAH, 229. BEALH, 229. beam, 21, 266. • bean, 21, bear, 4, 229, 266. beard, 11. beast, 79. beat, 229. beaten, 229. beatify, 257. beating (Yarmouth), 84. beautify, 257. beauty, 79. becalm, 39. because, 40, 446, 456. bechance, 257. beck, II. become, 257, 489, 509. BECUMAN, 39. bed, 266. bedabble, 39. bedaub, 39. 57^ bedeck, 39. bedew, 39. BEDiciAN, 39. bed-ridden, 23. bedstead, 505. bee, 266. beech, 4, 21. beef, 44, 94. been, 229, 240. befall, 39, 257. befit, 39, 257. befool, 39. before, 39, 136, 187. befriend, 39, 257. began, 229, 251. BEGAN GAN, 39. beget, 39, 136, 257. begin, 39, 229, 257. begnaw, 257. begrime, 39, 257. begrudge, 39. beguile, 39, 257. begun, 229, BEGYRDAN, 39. behalf, 40. behave, 39, 257. behead, 136, 257. BEHEAFDIAN, 39. BEHEALDAN, 39. behest, 40. behide, 39. behind, 39. behold, 39, 257. behoof, 40. BEHORSIAN, 39. behove, 39, 257. behowl, 257. BEHREAWSIAN, 39. Being, idea of, 340. belabour, 39. BELANDIAN, 39. belate, 39. belay, 39. beldame, 276. beleaguer, 39. beleeue, 124. BELENDAN, 39. BELGAN, 229. belie, 39, 257. belieffulness, 270. 57^ believe, 39, 155, 226, 254. 257- believing in (inf.), 482. belike, 39, 445. BELISNIAN, 39. bellicose, 348. bell-v^rire, 505. belong, 39, 257, 509. belove, 39, 257. below, 39, 136. bemad, 257. bemete, 257. bemoan, 39, 257. bemock, 257. bemoil, 257. bench, 1 1, bend, 253, 254, beneath, 39. Benedicite ! 169. beneficence, 296. benevolence, 296. benevolent, 352. benign, 79. benignity, 297. BENIMAN, 39. benison, 279. bent, 253, 254. BEON, 229, 242. BeowTilf, the poem, 27. bepaint, 257. bequeath, 3<>, 136, 257. bequest, 136. berattle, 257. Bercta, 112. Berctfrid, 112. Bertgils, 112. Bercthun, 112. Berctred, 112. Berctuald, 112. here, 21, 43, 108. BEREAFIAN, 39. bereave, 257. berhyme, 257. BESCIERAN, 39. beseech, 39, 257. beseek, 257. beseem, 39, 257. beset, 82, 257. beshrew, 39, 257. INDEX. besides, 40, 441. besiege, 79, 82, 257, BESITTAN, 39. beslubber, 257. besmear, 257. besmirch, 257. besort, 257. besot, 39, 257. bespatter, 39. bespeak, 39, 257. bespice, 257. besprinckled (Spenser), 138. best, 364. bestain, 257. bested, 257. bestill, 257. bestir, 39, 257. bestow, 39, 257. bestraught, 257. bestrew, 257. bestride, 257. BESYREVi^IAN, 39. Beta, meaning of, 197- betake, 257. beteem, 257. beteli, 39. Beth, Hebrew letter, 197 bethiifk, 39, 136, 257. Bethlehemite, 302. bethump, 257. betide, 257. betoken, 257. betoss, 257. betrap, 39. betray, 39, 82, 257. betrim, 257. betroth, 257, between, 39, betwixt, 39. BETYNAN, 39. beuk (Scottish), 232. bewail, 257. beware, 136, 257. bewed, 39. beweep, 257. bewet, 257. bewitch, 257. bewray, 257. beyond, 39, 136, 358. Bible translations. II, 12, 27, 404. bid, 229. bidden, 229. bide, II. bier, 1 1, 266. bight, 267. bill, 312. Billingsgate, 49. billowy-bosomed, 511. bind, 229. birch, 21. bird, 544. bishop, 62. bishopric, 275. Bishopsgate, Without. Within, 358. bit, 85, 108, 229. bite, 85, 109, 229. bitten, 229. blackbird, 505, 522. Blackheathen, -ian, 325- blacksmith, 135. blame, 79. blanc-mange, 79- blatant, 350. bled, 254. bleed, 254. blemish, 77. blessing, 267. blew, 229. blight, 267. blincked (Spenser), 138. bhss, 266. bloodshed, 135. bloodthirsty, 507. bloody, 327. bloom, 2r. blossom, 21. blow, 229. blown, 229. board, 43. boat, 22, 266. boatswain, 501, 505. bob, 266. Bob, 312. bodes ( = command- ments), 283. body, II, 330, 406. bog, 109. boil, 79. boisterous, 346. bold, II. BOLGEN, 229. bone, II, 128, 330. bonnie, 90, 94. bookbinder, 287. books, 317. boor, 43. boot (' to-boot '), 83. bore, 229. born, II, 229. borne, 229. borough, 266. borowe, 8r. borrow, 237. bosom, 266. bote (noun), 84. bote (verb), 229, 232. both, 128. bottle of hay, 85. bought, 247. bound, 229. bounden, 229. bountihed, 274. bourne, 86. Bournemouth, 87, bow, 229, 237, 332. bowln, 229, 232. bowne, 229, 232, boy, 276. boyhood, 274, ' Boz,' 312, bracelet, 783. ' Brad Scots' dia- lect, 28. braid, 87, 237. brain, 265. brake, 229. bramble, 21. bran, 20. branchlet, 283. brave, 32 j. brawn, 265. bread, 266. bread-and-cheese, 504, breadth, 267. break, 229. INDEX. breaking up, 417. breast, 266. breathe, 24 1, breeches, 20. bred, 254. breed, 254. breeks (Scotch), 318. brether, 317, brethren, 316, 317, Bretwalda, 27. brewhouse, 520. brick, 356. brick-wall, 357. bridal, 300. bride, 266. bridge by bridge, 376. bright, 1 12, 322. Brihthelm, 112. Brihtnoth, 112, Brihtric, 112. Brihtwold, 112. Brihtwulf, 112. brim, .-^24. brimstone (Spenser), 136. brinded, 323. brindle, 323. brindled, 323. bring, 247. brisk, 362. Britanny, 278. Eritisb. words, 19 foil. Brito - Eoman words, 19. brittle, 323. broaden, 257. broad-shouldered, 511. Brogue, 557. broided, 87. broider, 87. broidered, 87. broke, 229. broken, 229. brook (verb), 237. broomstick, 515. brother, 4, 267. brotherhood, 274. brought, 247. brutel ( = brittle), 323, Brutes, language of, 213. bruze (Spenser), 293. bubble, 266. buck, 266. buds' nesens (Norfolk), 317- build, 254. buildress, 320. building, 240. built, 254. bumptious, 347. burden, 266. burgage, 283. burgess, 295. Burgundy, 278. burial, 300. burly, 327. burn, 86, 237. burned, 78. burnish, 78, Burns, his lan- guage, 28,201,232. burst, 229. bursten, 229. 'bus, 309. bush-bearded, 511. Bushy Park, 329. business, 85, 86. busy, 85. butcher, 94, 287. but, 186, 194, 434, 436, 445, 457, 458. buttony, 328. buttress, 84. buxom, 34, 331, buy, 247. buzzard, 289. by, 4o> 435' 438. -by, 240. by'r leave, 1 70. C, the consonant, II r. cab, 309. cable, 182 Caedmon, the poet, 26. CiEG, 127. Cainites, 302. Caistor, 155. 574 INDEX. Caithness, 269. caitiff, 79, 328. calculate, 258. calf, 44, 266. call, 107, no. came, 229. can, 33, 36, 128, 249, 251, 492. Canaanites, 302. cantelmele, 367. cap, 262. cape, 79. captainess, 320. capting, 48 1, captivate, 258. cards, 56. careless, 509. carf, 229, 232. cark and care, 534. carnal, 339. carpenter, 79, 81. carriage, 283, 284. carry, 79. cart, 544. cart-horse, 505. carve, 229. cast, 229. casten, 229, 233. castle, 42, 43. casualty, 297. cat, 107. catastrophism, 306. catch, 247. catechism, 305. cathartic, 353. catholic, 137. Catholicism, 305. cat-o'-nine-tails, 514. cattle, 79. cattle disease, 469. caught, 247. cause, 79. caustic, 353. cauterize, 258. cavalry, 277. Cavendish, 541. CAZiEi, 120. CEAFU, 127. CE ASTER, 127, 155. cedarn, 325. celestial, 79. celestiall, 138. cement, 280. CENE, 127. census, 302. CENT, 127. CEOL, 127. CEORL, 127. CEOSAN, 127. CEP AN, 127, certain, 79, 41 1. certainly, 297. certainty, 297. -ch, 326. chaff, 313. Chaldee, 2, 327. cham = 1 am, 221. champion, 79. chance, 57, 79 chancellor, 42. change, 254. changed, 254. changez (French), 171. chaos, 302. chapman, 522. chapelry, 277. characteristic, 353. charioteer, 289. charitableness, 269. charlock, 273. charm, 79. chasm, 308. chastise, 293. chastisement, 2S0. Chaucer, 61, 68, 75, 91, 122, 169, 200, 221, 227, 243, 335. 343' 367> 410, 446. cheap, 184, 190. cheat, 153. cheer, 79. cheesen (Dorset), 316. -Chester, 18. chew, 237. chicken, 267. chid, 229. chidden, 229. chide, 229. chiere and face, 81. . chiefety, 298. chiefly, 371. childer, 3 1 7. childhood, 274, 50S, children, 316. chill = I will, 221. chin, 266. China, 149. Chinese, 342. Chinese syntax, 191, 472. chivalrous, 79, chivalry, 79. chode, 229, 232. Cholmondeley, 541. choose, 229. choosed, 255. chose, 229. chosen, 229. Christendom, 272. christian, 325. Christianity, 272. Christianity and languages, 11. christianize, 258. chud, = 1 would, 221. church, 127. church ale, 300. churchyard, 34. churl, 43, 56, 266, churlish, 327. Ciceter, 541. cmAN, 127. CILD, 127. Cingalese, 342. ciNNE, 127, cink, 56, 57. cipher, 304. CIRCE, 127, circuit, 79. circus, 302. city, 79. civility, 297. clad, 254. Clarendon's style, 499. classification, 195. clave, 229. Claverton, 541. clean, 362. cleanliness, 271. 515 cleanly, 330. cleare (Spenser), 138. cleave, 232. clemency, 195, 297. clerk, 146. climacterick, 138. climb, 229, 237. cling, 229. clock, 22. clockwork, 505. clomb, 229. closure, 291. cloth, 266. clothe, 254. clout, 20. clove, cloven, 229. clover, 21. clung, 229. clupie = ciW, 61. CNAPA, 127. CNAWAN, 127. CNEDAN, 127. CNEOW, 127. CNIHT, 127. coal-layers, 503. coal-producing, 503. coal-scuttle, 505. coast-line, 502. coaxation, 299. cob, 311. cobweb, 311. cock-boat, 22. cockchafer, 267. cockle, 20. cod, 21, no. codify, 257. cognizance, 296. colourable, 337. comandement, 280. come, 229. comen, 229, 233. comer, 288. comestibles, 185. comfortable, 336. commauudement, 281. commendatory, 350, commeth, 124. commission, 79. compacement, 280, 282. companion, 67. company, 79. comparative, 348. comparison, 279. compass, 79. compassion, 79, 298. compendium, 302. competence, 296. complain, 79. complete, 136. complexion, 79. composedness, 269. con = to be able, 251. conceive, 155. concerns, 36. conclude, 79. conclusion, 79. conclusive, 348, 349. conculcation, 299. condiment, 281. confessional, 3^9. confidence, 296. conjurement, 280. Conkwell, 541. Conner, 267. conquest, 79. conscience, 79, 296. conscionable, 337. conseili, 61. consequence, 296. consider, 79. consols, 310. conspicuous, 347. conspiring, 483. constancy, 296. constant, 350, constitutionalize, 258, contemplate, 524. contemporary, 185, 30i> 350. contemptible, 336. content, 79. contentedness, 269. contest, 133. continence, 296. contract, 20 1, contrariwise, 432, 509. contrary, 133, 134. contrition, 298. cook, 79. coost (Scotch), 232. cop, 311. cope, 79. coral-paven, 325. cordial, 79. CORFEN, 229. corn, 21, 266, Cornwall, 24. corny, 327, 328. coronation, 79, 298. corone77ient, 280. corpulent, 352. cosmos, 302. cottage, 283. cottage dames, 469. could, 141, 146, 249, 251, 492. counsell, 138. count, 42. countenance, 79. countless, 42, 319. country, 79. coun ry-featured, 512. country-house, 514. Court English, 74, 76, 89, 97. Court Hand, 69. courteous, 79, 346. covenant, 79. cover, 79. cover-chief, 79. covetise, 291. covetize (Spenser), 293. covetous, 346. covey tise, 291. cow, 44, 266. coward, 289. cowardice, 291. crack, 114. craft, 266. crag, 20. crap, 230, 233. creating (inf.), 483. creative, 348, 349. creature, 154. creep, 230, 237, 247. creeped, 255. crept, 247. crescive, 348. cress, 544. crest-fallen, 51 1. 51^ INDEX. crew, 230. criminatory, 350. cristen = christian, 257, 30^. 325- crock, 20. crope, 230, 233. cropen, 250, 233. cross-barred, 511. crotiny (infinitive), 61. crow, 230, 237. crowd, 36. cruel, 79. cruell, 138. cruppen, 233, 230. Cudberct, 112. Cudbriht, 112. cudto, cudtono (Lan- cashire), 221. ctiviherment, 280. cure, 79. curiosity, 297. ciirteisye, 82. custom, 79. cut, 110. cw^S, 115. cwALM, 115. CWEN, 115. cwic, 115. -cy, 271, 296. cyS, 127. CTLE, 127. CYN, 127. CYNERIC, 275. CITMAN, 127. D, the consonant, ill, 197. -d, as form of past tense, 256. dafter, 126. dagger, 107. dainties, 79. dainty, 327. dale, 9. Daleth, Hebrew letter, 197. dalfe, 230, 233. damn, 79. dance, 79. danger, 79, 285, 286. Danish, 326. Danish language, 8, 205, 225, 381, 398, 408, 495. Dantesque, 342. dare, 249. darkling, 330, 368. darknesses, 269. darksome, 331. darling, 330. dart, 262. Dartmouth, 147. dastard, 289. date, 107. daughter, 4, 9, 112, 113, 126, 267. day, 9, III, 266. 381, 38'^^ 392, 401, 437, 442, 445, 471, 479, 487, 544. 552. 58o INDEX. French contrasted with. English, 133, 398, 493, 514. tresh, 322. fret, 237. friend, 190, 257, friendship, 275, 508. frighten, 257. frog, 266. Froissart, Chro- nicler, 279, 449. frolic, 185. from, 4. Frome, 20. from whence, 431. frost, 266. froward, 334, 509. froze, 230. frozen, 230. fruitful, 336. fruitless, 336. fruit-shaped, 512. fudge ! 171. full, 139, 322. -full. 32 3> 336. full-blown, 507, Fuller, Thomas,344. fungi, 318. fungus, 302. Furness, 269. furnish, 78. further, 136, 420. furze, 21, 266. furzen, 316. Furzen Leaze, 326. fusillade, 303, 304. fusty, 327. fyi 257. G, the letter, iii. Gadites, 302. Gaelic, 340. Gaelic Language, 22. gall, 107. Gallic, 340. gan, 251. gander, 107. gap, 263. gape, 107, 262. garden, 18, 262, 276. gardener, 28 garden flowers, 357. garden herb, 470. garding, 481. garnement, 280. garrison, 279. gastric, 353. gathering (infinitive), 482. gay, 79- gayte=^02X%, 317. GE, 117, GEAR, 117. GEARD, 117. GEARO, 117. geese, 317. geet, 317. GELYFAN, 227. generalize, 258. generalization, 195. generous, 347. gent, 309. gentle, 79, 190. gefitrise, 291. geometry, 79. GEORN, I I 7. German, 326. German influence, 463- German Language, 5, 9, 200, 202, 204, 226, 243, 272, 316, 319. 331. 334. 357. 392, 396, 400, 439. 479,489, 505, 512. germinate, 254. germinated, 254. GESE, 117. get, 230. gewesen (Germ.), 232. gewcrden(Germ.), 243. geyn (Cambridgeshire), 364. ghost, 266. GIELD, 1x7. gifted, 333. gift-horse, 505. gigantesque, 341. gigantic, 340. gild, 254. GILPAN, 117. gilt, 254. gird, 254. girl. 276. girl of the period, 358. girl-graduates, 505. girt, 254. GIT, I 17. give, III, 230. give me, 475. given, 230. gladsome, 331. glass, 266. glen, 22. glide, 230, 237. glisten, 257. globose, 348. glod, 230, 233. glorious, 346. gloriose, 348. Gloucester, 20, 48. gluttony, 57. gnat, 266. gnaw, 230. gnawn, 230, 233. gnew, 230, 233. go, 109, 230. goat, 266, 317. goat herd, 505. goddess, 319. godhead, 274. godly, 330. gold, 149. golden, 325. golden-shafted, 511. gone, 230. good, 95, 322, 361. good-bye, 541. goodlike, 509. goodly, 330, 509. good cheap, 190. goodman, 520, 522. goodness, 85, 269. goose, 227, 266. got, 230. Gothic, 340. Gothic Family of languages, 6, 476. INDEX. 581 Gothic ( = Moeso- Gothic) Dialect, 12, 14, 226, 245, 315- gotten, 230. gouty, 327. governance, 79 governess, 319. Gower, the poet, 68, 75, 78. gown and gownd, ill. grace, 278. graceful, 509. gracious, 346. GRAFE, 230. graff, 183. Grammar, 176, 201, 264, 378- grandiose, 348. grandsir (American), 537- grant, 79. graphic, 353. grass, 21, 544. grasshopper, ill. gratitude, 301. gratuity, 297. grave, 237. graven, 230, 233. gray. iii. great, 152, 322. Greek influence, 259' 302, 308, 318, 340, 515. Greek Language, 191, 214, 2 16, 218, 323, 246, 374, 415, 440, 468, 486, 511, 530. grew, 530. grig, III. grim, 324. Grimm's Law, 2, 5, Grimm, quoted, 245, 423- grind, 230. grinder, 268. grocer, 287. GROF, 230. grotesque, 341. ground, 230, 266. groveling, 368. grow, 230. growing, 240. grown, 230. guarantee, 289. guardian, 277. guerdon, 140. guess, 140. guest, 1 40, 266. guild, 140. guile, 140. guilt, 140. guilty, 328. guize (Spenser), 293. Guthlac, 274. H, the letter, 112. ha! 180. habiliment, 281. habitual, 339. had, 354, had (subjunctive), 477- hadde-y-wiste, hady- wist, 514. haggard, 290. hag-ridden, 23. hail ! 172. hale, 128. halidam, 272. hall, 42, 107. hand, 190, 266. handicap, 181. handiwork, 505. handloom, 505. handsaw, 194. handsome, 331. handwriting, 505. handy-work or hand- ywork? 505. hang, 230. happen, 254. happened, 254. happiness, 508. harbinger, 285. harbour, 79. hard, 322. harden, 257. hard-grained, 511. hardihood, 274. hardiment, 281. hardy, 328. hare, 128, harper, 268. Harris, author of Hermes, 355.!4i3. 455- Harry, 312. hasardery, 57. haste, 79, 256, hasten, 256. hastow, 222. hat, 107. hatchet, 283. hate, 107. hater, 288. hatred, 272. haughty, 327. haunt, 7g. have, 254. Havelok, the poem of, 60. haw, 21. hawk, 129. hazard, 57. he, 108, 390, 396, 398, 399,412. head, 257, 266. -head, 274. heady, 327. heal, 237. heap, 33, 36, 266. i(jpar, 168, 247. heart, 266. heart-sick, 507. heart-weary, 507. heart-whole, 507. hearth, 43. hearth-stone, 505. hearty, 327. heat, 152. heathen, 324. heathendom, 272. heave, 230. heaven, 59, 267. heaviness, 269. Hebraize, 259. Hebrew influence, 397- 5S2 INDEX. HebreTV Language, 2, 330, 415. 458, 468, 488, 504, 5,9. -hed, 274. -hedd, 274.. hedge, 128. hedge-flowers, 357. heigh-ho ! 166. height, 256, 267. heighten, 256, heir-loom, 505. held, 230. helm, 266. help, 230. hempen, 324, 325. hems, 180. hence, 429. her, 394, 395. her (dative), 476. herb-garden, 470. herd, 247. here, 429. Hereberct, 112. heroic, 340. heron, 194. herself, 396. HI, 412. high, 109, 322. High Dutch, 6. high-mindedness, 269. high-toned, 511. hight, 245. Highway, why the Queen'^s, 68. « hill, 266. him, 389, 395, 396, 3Q7'4i3- him (dative), 476. himself, 396, 3(^7. himselfe (Spenser), 1 3-. hind, 43. hine, 221, hing (Scotch), 230, 233- ' HIRE (pronoun), 394. his, 223, 394, 395. history, 310. hither, 429. Hivites, 302. hoe, no, 130, hoised, in. hold, 230. holden, 230, 234. holp, 230, 233. holpen, 230. holt, 21. holy - water - sprinckle, 522. homage, 42. home, 43. home-enfolding, 513. homeward, 334. 335- honest, 79. honey-coloured, 512. honour, 79, 82, 129. honorable, 133. hood, 266. -hood, 268, 274, hoof, 266. Hooker, Richard, 420,431, 432, 441, 453. 457- hop, 109. hope, 109, 253. hopefulness, 270. hoped = hope-did (?) 256. hoper, 288. hopper, 288. home (Spenser), 137. Home Tooke, 167, 183,413.453.455. horrible, 79. horrify, 257. horrour, 129. horse, 266, horse-box, 505. horse-race, 470, 504. hoseli = to house!, 61. hosen, 316. host, 79, hot, 10, 128. hound, 266. hour, 79. house, 43, 262, 266. housen (provincial), 316. housewife, 539. hove, 230. how, 194, 421, 449. howbeit, 454, 479. however, 432. howsoever, 432. HRYCG, 128. Huaetberct, 112. hub (American), 31 1. huckster, 320. hum, 180; human, 136, humane, 136. humanity, 297. humble, 79. humour, 79. hung, 230, 234. husk, 21. HWA, 125. HW^L, 125. HW^R, 125. HWffiS, 125, HW^T, 125. HWJETE, 125. HW^T-STAN, 125. HWEOL, 125. HV7I, 125. nwiL, 125. HWISPERUNG, 125. HWISTLERE, I 25. HWIT, 125. HWYLC, 125. hydraulic, 119. hypocrisy, 119. hypothesis, 119. hyrst, 120. hyson, 120. hyssop, 119. Hythe, 120. I, the pronoun, 194, 212, 391. I, the vowel, 106, 109. -ian, 325, 352. -ible, 336. 10 (Saxon pronoun), 220. -ic, 339. 352. -ical, 340. -ice, 291. ice, 266. Icelandic poetry, 532. 583 ichave, 222. icy-pearled, 5 1 1, idle, 323. idolism, 305, idolist, 307. -ier, 289, if, 453, 456, 457. -if, 328. ile = I'll (Shakspeare) 222. ilk (Scotch), 410. ill. 364- ill-conditioned, 332. illustrious, 347. image, 79. imagery, 277. imaginative, 56, 348. impetuosity, 297. implacable (Spenser), 338. impound, ill. impotence, 296. improvement, 281, in. 37» 194. 364. 441- in a fashion, 431. in a manner, 431. in a sort of w^ay, 431. in a way, 431. incense, 296. incog., 309. incony, 329. increase, 79. indebtedness, 269, 270. indeed, 169, 190. indelible, 425. index, 302. Indian, 352. indicate, 258. indifFerentist, 307. indolent, 352. Indo-European lan- guages, I. -ine, 349. in earnest, 375, in fact, 375. in good faith, 375. in jest, 375. in joke, 375. in presence, 375, in presence of, 448. m some sort, 431. in spight of, 443. in spite of, 443. in truth, 375. in vain, 375. in vi^hich, 450. inextinguishable, 425. infallibilist, 307. infernal, 79. Infinitive, 379, 471, 481,405. Inflectional stage of language, 219, 468, 508. influence, 296. influential, 339. -ing. 323. 329. 368, 481. -inger, 285. ingle-nook, 505. injure, 255. ink, 262. ink-horn, 505. inky, 327. i-nowe = enough, 280. inquisitorial, 339. insolent, 350, 352. insolvent, 350. instead of, 444. instrument, 79, 280, 281. integrity, 297. intellectual, 339. intelligential, 339. mtendiment, 281. intent, 79. intentional, 339. intercede, 108. interest, 302, 303. interesting, 343. interests, 318. internecine, 349. intervene, 108. intolerable, 425. intrudress, 320. invalid, 524. invalidate, 258. inventive, 348. invincible, 425. inwardness, 265, 270. -ion, 298. Irish, 326. Irish modulation, .555- irksome, 331. irrationals, 185. irrepressible, 336. irony, 304. is, the substantive verb, 218,' 220, 241. -ise, 291. ~ish, 326, 328. -ism, 305. issue, 277. -ist, 307, -istic, 353. it, 396. Italian, 326. Italian influence, ^ 284, 342. Italian Language, 29, 392, 492. -ite, 301. item, 302. items, 318. -ition, 298. -ity, 297. lUNG, 118. -ive, 348. ivy, 266. -ize, 258, J, the letter, 113. Jack, 114, 312. jailor, 79. jangle, 55, 79. jangler, 55, 113. jangleress, 55. jape, 55, 107. japer, 55. japery, 55. japeworthy, 55. jaunty, 327. jealous, 113, 346. Jebusites, 302. jeopardise, 294. jeopardy, 57, 79, 129. jest, 113. " jewel, 79, 113. Jewry, 277. 584 Jews, 67. Joanna - Southcotites, 302. jocose, 136. jocund, 79. John, 312. join, 8o, 113, 147. joint, 147. joke, 255. joked, 255. jolif, 328. jollity, 81. jolly, 80, 113, 328. journey, 80, 113. joust, 113. joviality, 297. joy, 80, 113. joyous, 346. jubilant, 350. Judaize, 259. judge, 80, 113, 123. judgment, 281. Judgment, the means of expressing, 224, 354- juggement, 280. J'Jggler, 55. July, 113. jump, 420. junket, 283. just, 362, 418, 452. justice, 80, 113, 195, 291. justifiable, 336. Jutes, the nation, 1 7. K, the letter. T13. K, in Swedish, 128. keel, 266. keep, 114, 247. liempa, 114. hene, 114. Kent, 20, 1 1 4. kept, 247. kiln, 144. kin, 114. kind, 81. kindle, 255. kindred, 272, 508. kine, 317. INDEX. king, 42, 1 14, 265, 266, 267. king-cup, 505. kingdom, 272, 508. kinglet, 283. King's English, 68. Kirk (Scotch), 127. kite, 109. knave, 266. knee, 266. kneel, 247. knelt, 247. knight, 262, 266, 357. knighthood, 357. knocked-up, 418. knot, 266. know, 37, 251. knowledge, 36, 1 28,273. koyntise, 291. kye (Scotch), 317. kyind (American), 107. -1 (terminal), 323. la ! 163. labouring, 486. -lac, 273. lack, 114. lackadaysical, 166. lade, 128, 230, laden, 230. ladyship, 275. laggard, 290. laid, 254. lain, 230. lake, 128.- lake ( = to play), 273. lakefellow, 273. lakers, 273. lamb, 266. lamentable, 336. lamp-oil, 505. land, 107, 128, 262, 266. landed, 332. landlordism, 306. landscape, 275. language, 80, 283. Langue d'oil, d'oc, 427. large, 80. large-moulded, 51 f. largess, 80, 295. latch, 128. latchet, 283. late, 107, 322. lateward, 334, Latin language, 32, 191,217, 468, 537. Latin, usurping it over French, 345. latitude, 301. laugh, 255, 266. laughter, 36, 126. laundress, 319. law, 67. lay, 230, 254. Layamon, 48, 132, 172, 410. layed = laid, 124. -le, 323. lea, 151. Lea, family name, 155. lead, 254. leaden, .^24, 325, leaf, 266, 318. leafy, 327, lean, 247. leap, 237, 247. leain, 254. learned (adj.), 332. learnt or learned, 254. LEAS, 238. least (modern lest), 45 2. leather, 267. leave, 247. leaves, 318. -ledge, 273. leek, 21. leeward, 334. left, 247. legibility, 297. leisured, 332, 333. lemonade, 303. lend, 254. length, 256, 267. lengthen, 256. Lent, 266. lent, 352. LEOSE, 238. lese, 230. -less, 323, 336. lessee, 289. lesson, 279. lessor, 289, let, 251, 492, -let, 283, lethargic, 340. letter, 102. letters, 102. Levites, 302. lice, 317. licence, 139, 296. license, 139. licht (Anglian), T12, 113- lidless-eyed, 511. lie (jacere), 230. lie (mentiri), 237. lief, 322. lien or lain, 230, 234. life-long, 507. light, J09, 254, 267, 322. lighten, 257. lightning, 136. light-o'-love, 514. LIHT, 125. like, 187, 322, 403, 408, 437, 546. likelihood, 274. likely, 330. likeness, 546. liking, 546. lilac, 149. lilly (Spenser), 138. lily-handed, 511. limb-meal, 367. lime, 21. linch, 283. lincked (Spenser), 137. lineage, 80, 283. -ling, 368. Link, 283. liquidate, 258. lissom, 332. listener, 268, lit, 254. literary, 102. literature, J02. litten, 34. INDEX. little, 190, 323. livelihood, 275. liver, 267. lo! 163. load, 129. LOG, 163, Local names, 20, 48, 120, 126, 155, 269, 278, 283, 288, 323, 326, 329, 358. lock, 237. -lock, 268, 273. loden, 230, 234. logic, 340. logical, 341. London, 20, 147. lonely-Wood, 522. long, 322, 365. longish, 327. longitude, 301. long-legged, 510. long of, 442. long on, 442. longsome, 332. look, 476, lookedst, 476. loop-hole, 505. lop, 109. lording (inf ), 486. lordship, 275. lore, 266. lorn, 230, 238. LOREN, 238. lose, 238, 247. lost, 238, 247. louse, 266. love, 59, 129. loved, 177. love-loyal, 507. loyalty, 297. lubbard, 338. lunching, 481. lust, 266. lustihed, 274. lusty, 327. luxation, 298. luxurious, 346, 347. -ly, 323. 330. 369- lynchet, 283. LYS, 317. 585 -m (terminal), 323, 324- Macaulayesque, 34I, Madam, 80, 276. Madame (in French), 398. madden, 257. made (short for maked), 254. magazine, 304. magic, 80. magnificence, 296. magnitude, 301. maiden, 267. maidenhed, -hood, 274. maiden-meek, 507. main, 184, 267. mainspring, 505. majestic, 340. majority, 297. make, 107, 128, 254. make-believe, 513. makeshift, 513. make to, 471. make-weight, 513. making, 268. making mouths at, 87. malady, 80. malevolent, 352. malice, 291, 292. malison, 279. mallard, 290. malt, 107. Maltese, 342. maltster, 320. man, 33, 34, 107, 128, 246, 266, 404, 405. manageable, 336. Manassites, 302. Manchester, 20, manhood, 274. mankind, 501, 508. manner, 80. man-of-war, 504, 514. manor, 20. mansion, 80. mantle, 80. marchioness, 319, Marcionites, 302. marine, 349. 5S6 INDEX. marionette, 283. mark, 262, 266. marketable, 336. marmalade, 303. Maronites, 302. marplot, 513. marriage. So. marriage - settlements, 470. marrying (inf.), 482. marsh-mallow, 505. martial, 339. martirement, 280. martyrdom, 272. masquerade, 303. master, 80. masterpiece, 514. match, 127. math, 267. mathematical, 341. matter, 36, 80. matter-of-fact, 357. matutinal, 339. majindemens, 282. may (symbolic), 206, 249, 251, 492. mayoralty, 297. me, 108. me (dative), 475. -meal, 366. mealy, 327. mean, 247. meaned, 255. meanness, 269, measure, 152, 290. measureable, 80. meat, 80. mechanical, 341. medium, 302, 303. meed, 266. meek-eyed, 511. meet, 247. melt, 230. memento, 302. memorandum, 302. memory, 80. men, 317. men of learning, 358. men of property, 358. men of this generation, 35». -ment, 280. mention, 255. mentioned, 255. mercenary, 80. merchandise, 291, 293. merchant, 80, 147. meritorious, 346. merry, 354. mesmerist, 307. mesmerize, 258. message, 283. messenger, 285. met, 238, 247. mete ( = measure), 237, 238. methinks, 476. methodical, 341. Metre, 557. mice, 246, 317. Michaelmas, 63. mid, 38. middle, 323. Middle Voice, 486. Middlesex, 27. might, 109, 206, 249, 267, 492. mighty, 327. mignonette, 283. migratory, 350. MIHT, 125. milch, 357. milky, 327. miller, 287. millstone-grit, 503. MU:-PADAS, 18. Milton, John, 184, 419. 49 S 498^ 540. 554- mim, 324. mimminy - primminy, 324- mine, 109, 392, 475. minion, 277. minister, 80. ministerialist, 307, minutely, 365. minutiae, 302. miracle, 80. mirth, 81. mischief, 80. misease, 152. Miss, 310. missionariness, 270. missionary, 350. mist, 266. mistake, 509. misty, 327. mitigate, 258. mockery, 277. mock-solemn, 507. modernism, 305. modicum, 302. modify, 257. moist, 80. moldiwarp, 310. mole (talpa), 310. mollify, 257. molten, 230. moment, 280. mon (Scottish), 128. monarchize, 258, monastic, 353. monger, 268. monied, 332. Monophysites, 302. monopolize, 258. Monothelites, 302. Monsieur, 398. monster, 80. mood, 10. moody, 327, 328. moon, 266. mop, 109. moral, 80. morality, 297. more, 207. Mormonites, 302. mortal, 80. mortall (Spenser), 138. mortgagee, 289. mortgagor, 289. mortify, 257. moss, 21. mosfe, 249. mote, 174, 249, 251. motive, 348, 349. mother, 267. mourn, 237. 587 mouse, 246, 266. mouth, 227, 266. move, 129. mowe, 251. much, 188, 202, 322. muleteer, 289. mulierosity, 297. multitude, 301. multitudinous, 346. munificence, 296. murky, 327. must, 180, 249. mustard, 290. musty, 327. mutton, 44, 94. MTS, 317. mystery, loi. -n (terminal), 323, 324. N (particle), 421, 425, 427. nadir, 304. nail, 266. nam, 221. name, 128. nap, 107. nape, 107. narcotic, 340, narrative, 349. Nash Point, 269. nasty, 327. nativity, 297. natural, 80. naturall, 138. naturalness, 270. nature, 81. Nautical speech., 509- navestu, 221. Naze, The, 269. NE, 422, 423, 428. near, 364, 441. neat-handed, 511. necessitous, 346. necht (Anglian), 112, 113- Ned, 312. need-nots, 503. needs, 368. Negation, 421, negligence, 296. neighbour, 129, 299. neighbourhood, 273, Nell, 312. nelt, 221. -ness, 268, 269, 271. nest, 266. net, 266. Neustria, 278. never, 194, 421. nevertheless, 432, 452. new, 322. new-fangled, 323. new-fangleness, 269. Newport Pagnell, 18. next, 442. Nibelungen Lied, 6. nice, 343, 356. nicety, 297. nigardise, 291. niggard, 290. nigh, 322, 441. night, 109. night-cap, 514. nightshade, 21. NIHT, 126. NIMAN, 39. nine-pins, 505. nip, 108. no, 421. nobody, 406. no doubt, 454. noisy, 327. Noll, 312. nominate, 258. no more than, 452. none, 421. n«n-namelessness, 270. nor, 422, 423. Norman Conquest, 42. Norsk, 325. north, 266. northness, 270. nose, 266. nostril, 501, Northern English, 47, 48- not, 421, 423. not a bit^ 427, not any, 427. not a scrap, 427. not at all, 427, 431. not in the least, 427. not one, 427. notable, 336. note, 80. nothing, 408. notice, 291. noticeable, 336. notwithstanding, 432, 454- nought, 421, 428. nourish, 78. nourishing, 80. novelty, 297. now, 207. noxious, 346. nugatory, 350. nullify, 257. number, 262, nuptial, 339. nuptials, 300. nut-crackers, 505. O, the interjection, 162. O, the vowel, 105. oak, 21, 266. oak-apple, 505. oasis, oases, 302, 318. oaten, 324, 325. oath, 266. oats, 43. obey, 34. oblidge, 129. obligatory, 350. oblige, 149. obscurity, 297. obstacle, 80. obstinate, 80. obstreperous, 346, 347. obtaining, 482. odium, 302. -oe, 130. oecumenical, 341. of, 37, 194, 357, 358, 374, 39I' 395, 437, 438, 442. of a child, 374. of a truth, 374. .^S8 J' INDEX. of course, 431. of it, 430. of itself, 494. of me, 475. of necessity, 374. of old, 374. of whom, 450. OFERS.^WISCA, 115. off, 439. offence, 296. office, 80. officer, 80. Official Adjectives, 354- offspring, 135. often, 366. oh ! 159, 161. oi (diphthong), 130. oil, oiled, 255. oily, 327. old, 322. ' Old English,' 344. old-friendishness, 512. oldster, 320. on. 33- 37. 441- once, 383, 430. once upon a time, 430. one, 35, 38, 100, 143, 406, 410, 415, 416, 427, 4^8. one another, 406, 415. only, 330, 446. Onomatopoeia, 5.15. onus, 302. open, 324. open-hearted, 511. operate, 258. operose, 34*^. Ophites, 302. opinion, 80. oppression, 80. opulence, 296. opulent, 352, or, 434, 445. 451- -or, 299. orchard, 18. ordain, 80. order, 262. ordinance, 80. or ere, 452. or ever, 452. organizing (inf.), 482. orientalize, 259. orison, 279. Ormulum, 50, 122, 383. orneme?it, 280, -ose, 348. -osity, 297. Ossian, 556. ostler, 80, otherwhere, 429. otherwise, 432. otiose, 348. ou (diphthong), 130. ought, 237, 428. our, 392, 464. -our, 299. -ous, 346. Ouse, 20. out, 186, 364, out of which, 494, outrageous, 346. over, 194, 4^9. overplus, 302. owe, owed, ought, 249. owl, 62. own, 324. ownership, 275. ox, 44, 266. oxen, 315. Oxford, 20. oynemetit, 280. P, the letter, 114. pace, 80. packe-horse, 505. paddock, 20. paint, 80. pair, 80, 99, 262, palace, 4?, 43. palette, 283. palfrey, 81. pall, 108. pamphleteer, 289. pan, 107. pane, 107. parchment, 282. pare, 99. parental, 339. park-paling, 505. parlement, 280, 300. parliament, 80, 281. parochial, 80. parochialize, 258. partial, 339. partialize (Shakspeare). 258. partisan, 524. party, 80. pass, 80. passage, 283. passenger, 285. passive, 348. patched up, 418. patent, 80. path, 114, 266. path-field, 470, 504. patience, 195. patient, 80. patristic, 353. patronize, 258. patterned, 333. pavement, 280. payment, 280. pea, 151. peaceable, 336, 337. peaceableness, 269. peal, 310. pear, 18, 99. pease, 151. pease-cod, 21. peason, 151. peat bogs, 503. pedantic, 340. pen, 254. penance, 84. pensive, 348. pent, 254. pentice, 292. people, 129, 4^6. peradventure, 445, 446. perceive, 155. perfect, 80. perhaps, 445. perish, 78. Perizzites, 302. Persian, 352. persistive, 348. person, 80, 406. INDEX. personable, 338. personage, 284. pestilence, 80. petitionary, 350. petulant, 350, 351. Pet words, 343. phenomena, 318. phenomenon, 302. philosopher, 80. philosophize, 258. philosophy, 80. Phrasal Adjectives, 357- Adverbs, 373. Pronoun - Ad- verbs, 431. Syntax, 487. physic, 340. pick-pocket, 513. pick-purse, 513. pick-thank, 513. Pickwick Papers, 209. picturesque, 341. piecemeal, 367. pig, 276, 318. pight, 247. pig-nut, 505. pikestaff, 194. pimen , 280, pious, 346. pipe, 109. pit, 4. pitch, 247. pith, 266. pity, 80. placard, 290. place, 80. plain, 80. plashy, 327, 329. plastery, 328. plastic, 353. plit, 230. play, 114. plea, 151. pleasant, 80. please, 80, 152. pleasure, 152. pled ( = pleaded), 238. plenteous, 80. pleonasm, 308. pleonastic, 353. plet (Scottish), 230, 234- plight, 82. plough, 43, 126. plow-bote, 84. plumb-bob, 266. plush-breeches, 514. Plutarchize, 258. poetick, 139. poetry, 277, 278. Poetry, 517. poignant, 80. point-of-honour, 514. poison, 279. poisonous, 346. Polish, 326. polite, 136, politick, 114, 139. pollard, 290. Polynesian, 352. pomp, 80. pomposity, 297. pooh ! 166. poor, 80. poppy-head, 514. populosity, 297. pork, 44, 94. porringer, 285. PORT, 18. port (Chaucer), 80. Portuguese, 342. positive, 348. Posset ( = Portishead), 541- posterity, 297. post-office, 514. postulate, 258. potato-disease, 469. pottery, 277. pottinger, 285. pouch, 80. poultry, 277. pound, 80. poundage, 283. pourtray, 80. powder, 80. practicable, 336. practiser, 80. practize (Spenser), 293. prechement, 280. predicting (inf.), 483. preferable, 336. preference, 296. prejudice, 292. prelating (inf.), 486. preparatory, 350. Presbyterianism, 305. present (vb.), 255. Presentive words. 195. pretence, 206. pretty, 327, 329, 354, 363. prevalent, 352. preventive, 185. pride, 545. prim, 324. primitive, 324. prince, 42, 80. princess, 80, 319. prison, 80. privateer, 289. privily, 80. prize, 80. prize ox, 505. process, 80. proctorship, 275, procurable, 336. profitable, 336, promenade, 303. promise, 80. propagandism, 305. prophecy, 139, 262. prophesy, 139, 262. propitiatory, 350. proposal, 300. Protestantism, 305. protoplasm, 308, 309. protoplast, 308, 309. proud, 329, 545. prove, 80, 129. proven, 239. Provincial English, 69, 93, 96, 204, 316, 364.413- prude, 545. psaltery, 279. psha ! 166. 590 INDEX, Ptolemaic, 340, pubescence, 296. publicist, 307. pulled (Chaucer), 77- pullet, 44. punish, 78, 147. Punning, 550. purblind, 509. purchase, 80. pure-eyed, 511. pttrveatince, 72, 154. putted (Allan Ramsay), 255- Q_, the letter, 115. quadripartition, 299. quaint, 342, 343, 341. quake, 115. qualify, 257. quality, 255. qualm, 1 15. Quantity, 520. quarrel, 115. quarry, 1 1 5. quart, 56, 1 15. quarter, 115. quarterne, 1 1 5. quash, 115. queen, 115. Queen's English, 68, 91, 96. guei?itise, 291. queU, 115, 237. quern-stone, 505. question, 255, 262. questionable, 336. questioned, 255. quha (Scottish), 125. quhat, 125, quhilk, 125. quick, 115, 322. quire, 1 1 5, quit, 80, 115, Quixotic, 340, -r (terminal), 323, 326. racehorse, 470, 504. radish, 21. rail-road, 514. rain, 267. rain-bow, 514. rake, 266. ram, 266. rampant, 351. ran, 230. rang, 230. range, 262, 277. ransom, 80, 279, 541. rapidity, 297. rascal, 55. rascaldom, 272. rascally, 330, rat, 107. rate, 107. rathe, 322, 419, rather, 418, 419, rathe-ripe, 507. ratify, 257. raught, 142, 247. raven, 55, 267. ravener, 55. ravenous, 55. reach, 127, 247. readiness, 269. ready, 327. realm, 42. reason, 279. reasonable, 336. reasons (Shaksp.), 153. rebel, 136. receive, 155. reck, 142. reckless, 142. recklessness, 142. record, 136, 262. records, 67. -red, 268, 272. reed, 21. reedy, 327. reek, 237. referee, 289. reflective, 348. reft, 247. refusal, 300. region, 80, 298. rehearse, 80. remarkable, 336. remedy, 80. rend, 254. renown, 80. rent, 80, 254. rental, 300, reparative, 348, 349. representative, 349. reprieve, 155, repulsive, 348. reputable, 336. request, 80, requiem, 302. residual, 339. residuum, 302. resources, 525. respectable, 336. respiratory, 350. responsible, 336, 337. responsive, 337, 348. rest, 266. restore, 80, retentive, 348. reticence, 296. revel, 56. revellers, 56. revelling, 56. revelry, 56. revere, revered, 255. reverence, 80. revenues, 523. rhetorical, 341. rhizopodous, 346. rhyme, 119. Bhyme, 553, 558. rhyme and reason, 534. Bhythm, 500, 553, 555- ribald, 55. ribaldry, 55. riches, 295. rick, 128, 266. -rick, 268, 275. rick-yard, 505. rid, 230, 234, ridden, 230. ride, 230. ridge, 128. right, 109, 267. righteous, 346. rind, 266. ring, 230, 266, INDEX. 591 ring-leader, 505. ringlet, -283. riotise, 291. riotous, 346. ripe, 322. rise, 230, risen, 230. ritch (Spenser), 128. ritualist, 307. river, 289. road, 129. roadster, 320, robby (infinitive), 61. robe, 80. Robert of Glouces- ter, 61. Robinsonian, 352, rock-thwarted, 510. rode, 230. roe, 109, 129. Roman, 326. Boman Numerals, 197. Rome, 148. roof, 43, 266. rookery, 277. roomy, 324. root, 21. rope, 109, 266. rose, 230, 235. rosette, 283. rote, 80. rough, 126'. roune, loi. row, 237. rown, 102. royally, 80. royal-towered, 511. royalty, 42, 297. rubbishy, 328. rude, 80. rue, 237. Rugby, 240. rule, 109. run, 230. rung, 230. Runic, 340. Bunic characters, loi. runner, 288. Runes, 103. Russian, 326, 352. rustic, 340. rusty, 327. -ry, 277. rye, 2r, 43. -s (possessive), 474. sacrament, 280. sacrifice, 2. saddle, 128. sail, 262, 265, 266. sailyard, 505. sainthed, 274. sake, 129, 443. salad, 303. sallow = willow, 21, 128. salutation, 298. salve, 266. Sam, 312, same, 330, 321, 409. sang, 231. sanguine, 80, 349. sanitary, 350. sank, 231. Sanskrit, 13, 488, 559- sap, 266. sardonic, 340. sat, 107, 231. sate, 231. satisfy, 2 5 7. sauce, 80. saucy, 327, 329. saugh ( = willow), 21. savation, 298. save, 80, 178, 442, savement, 280, 282. Savoyard, 290. saw, 476. . sawest, 476. Saxon Chronicles, 120, 274, 329, 379, 437' 506. Saxonforms,i7, 277, 283, 299, 301, 315, 320, 364, 369, 380, 383, 394, 400, 408, 411, 421, 424. sayen, 480. Scandinavian lan- guages, 7, 381, 495- scarify, 257. scene, 1 40. scent, 140. sceptre, 42, 140. scholar, 80. school, 80. science, 80, 140, 296. scion, 140, scite, 140. scituation, 140, score, 382. scot-ale, 300. Scotch, 28. Scotticism, 305, Scottish, 326. Scottish speech, 90, 187, 408, 410, 538. scoundreldom, 272. scymitar, 140. Scythea, 154. sea, 151, 153, 266. seal (phoca), 266, seam, 266. season, 80, 154, 279. seasonable, 336. seasonal, 339. sechestu, 222. secondary, 350. secret, loi. security, 297. see, 476. seed, 266. seeing, 454, 476. seek, 247. seely, 327. seest, seeth, seen, 476. seethe, 230. seizure, 290. seld, 366. seldom, 366. self, 396. self-involved, 511. sell, 248. Semitic family, 473, 592 sempstress, 319, 320. send, 253, 254. sense, 296. sensitive, 348. sensual, 339. sent, 253, 254. sentement, 280, 28 2. sentence, 80. Sepherus, 120. sequence, 296. serfdom, 272, serpent- throated, 511. servant, 80. service, 80, 292. session, 80. settle (a bench), 266. Severn, 20. -sh, 323, 326. shaft, 48, ia8. shake, 128, 230. shaked, 255. shaken, 230. Shakspeare, 2, 106, 122, 148, 153, 183, 216, 233, 257, 288, 294, 316, 337, 348, 436, 439, 443, 521, 554- shalbe, 221. shall, 47, 48, 128, 202, 249, 250, 492. shaltu, 221, shame, 48, 128. shank, 128. shape, shapen, 230, .237- share, 266. sharp, 48, 129. shave, shaven, 231. Shaxper = Shakspeare, 540. she, 108, 396. sheaf, 128, 266. shear, 48, 231. sheath, 48. sheep. 44, 128, 266, 317- Shenstone, the poet 228. shew, shewn, 231. INDEX. shield, 48, 265. shilly-shally, 336. shine, 231. -shion, 279. -ship, 268, 275. ship, 48, 62, 266. ship-mate, 505. ship-shape, 336. shire, 62. shirifdome (Camden), 272. shod, 248. shoe, 109, 128, 248, 266. shof, 238. shone, 48, 231. shooen, 317, shook, 230, 235. shoon, 316,. 317. shoons, 317. shoot, 231. shope, 230. shore, 48, 231. shorn, 231. short, 48, 128, 256, 322. shorten, 256. shot, 48, 231. shotten, •231, 235. should, 62, 144, 202, 249, 492. shoulders, 48. shove, 58, 130, 237. shoved, 238. shovel, 266. shrank, 231. shriek, 248. shrievalty, 297, shrighi, 248. shrink, 231. shrive, 62. shroud, 58. shrubbery, 277. shrunk, 231. shrunken, 231, 324. shunned, 48. Sibbes, Bichard, . 467- sick, 322. sickle, 43. sic-like (Scottish,) 409 siege, 80, sight, 112, 267. sighie, 248. siht, 112. sign, 80. signatary, 350. sike, 248. silky, 327. silly, 327. silvern, 325. simple, 80. simplifying, 482. sin, 266. siNC, 120. sincerity, 297. sinew-corded, 51 1. sing, 231. singe, 231. sink, 231. sire, 80. Sir-John, 147. sister, 267. sisterhood, 274. sisteryn, 317. sistren, 317. sit, 108, 231. sith, 453. sithence, 441. sitten (part.), 231. sixpence, sixpences, 503- sixt-thou, 112. skill, 36. skipper, 268. skirmish, 80. slacken, 257. slain, 231, slang (vb.), 231, 235. Slang diction, 309, 313- slat, 23T, slaughter, 126. slay, 231. sleep, 237, 248. slepestcw, 222. slept, 248. slew, 231. slid, 231. slidden, 231. 1 Q. ■ INDEX. 593 slide, ?3l. sling, 231. slink, 231. slipper, 326. slippery, 326. slit, 231. dod, ^31. sloe, 109. slope, 109. slow, 361, 364. sluggard, 290. slumbrous, 347. slung, 231. slunk, 231. small, 322. smite, 231. smith, 33, 36, 266. smitten, 231. smoke, 237. smote, 231. snail, 265, 266. so, 190, 404, 408, 409, 420, 446. so . , . as, 447. sober, 80. soccage, 284. sod. 230, 235. sodden, 230. soft, 227, soil, 88, 129. solace, 80, sold, 248. solemn, 80, 362. solicitude, 301. solid, 420. soliloquize, 258. solvent, 350, 351. -som, 279. some, 206, 231. -some, 323, 331, 332 somebody, 35, 406. some folk, 406. somnolent, 352, some people, 406. something, 408. somewhen, 430. somewhere or other, 432. son, 266. -son, 279. sonderlypes, 369. song, 266. songs, 67. songster, 320. sooth, 322. sooth to say, 534. sorcery, 277. so . . . that, 448. sough, 266. sought, 247. soul, 266. sound, III. sounding, 80. south, 266. souverainety, 298. soveraintess, 320. soverainty, 297. sovereign, 42. sow, 318. space, 80, spacious, 346. spade, 43, 194. spake, 231. span, 231. Spaniard, 290. Spanish, 326. Spanish language, 342, 398, 492. spasm, 308. spate, 248. speak, 231. spec, 309. special, 80. specific, 340. speciosity, 297. spectacle-bestrid, 507. Spectator, The, 447, 495» 497- speculative, 348, 349. sped, 254. speech, 128. speed, 254, 266. speedy, 327. spend, 80, 254. Spenser, 135, 274, 338, 343. 466, 522. spent, 254. spet, 248. spicery, 277. spill, 254. Qq spilt, 254. spin, 231. spindlewhorl, 505. spinner, 320. spinster, 320. spirit, 195. spit, 248. spittle, 266. splotch, 311. spoke, 231, 236. spoken, 231. sprang, 231. spring, 231. sprung, 231. spun, 231. spurn, 237. . spytt, 248. squire, 80. squirrel, 547. stable, 80. staff, 266. stair, 267. stairs, 265. stall, 266. Stamboul, 223, Stanchio, 223. stand, 128, 24S. standard, 290. standers, 288, standing, 240. Standish, 540. stank, 231. staple, 12S. star, 266. stare, 128. starvation, 298. starve, 237. state, 107. stationary, 350. statute, 80. steady, 327. steal, 231. steedes and palfreys, 81. steelly, 330. steer, 44, 266. step, 129. -ster, 320, stercoraceous, 347. stern, 324. Steven (Chaucer), 267., 594 INDEX. sticcem.5:lum, 367. stick, 231. stickle, 323. stickle-back, 323. Sticklepath, 323. stigma, 302. still, 207, 364, 4r8. stimulus, 302. sting, 231. stink, 231. Stoicism, 306. stole, 231. stolen, 231. stone, 266, 356. Stonehouse, 540. stone- wall, 357. Stonewall Jackson, 357. stood, 248. story, 80, 310. stoundemele, 367. stow, 266, STRAC, 231. strait, 80. strange, 81. stranger, 289. stream, 266. street, 18. strength, 256, 267. strengthen, 256. Stress, 530. STRICAN, 231. stricken, 231, 236. stride, stridden, 231. strike, striken, 231. string, 231. strive, striven, 231. strode, 231. strong, 322, 362. strove, 231. struck, 231. strung, 231. stuck, 231. study, 80. stultify, 257. stung, 231. stunk, 231. sturdy, 327. subsannation, 299. subsidize, 258. substance, 80, 296. Substantive verb, 239, 487. subtle - cadenced, 504, 511. succeed, -ed, 255. succulent, 352. such, 403, 404, 408, 409, 410. such ... as, 409. such-like, 409. such . . . which, 409. such . . . who, 409. suggestive, 348. suicidal, 339. sulky, 327. sulphuric, 340. summer. 267. sun, 266. sundry, 410. sung, 231. sung = singe-d, 231, 235- sunk, sunken, 231. superfluity, 80. superlative, 348. supper, 80. suppleness, 269. supplicatory, 350. sure, 362. surefootedness, 270. surety, 297. Stirrey, the poet, 126, 151, 326. suspense, 296. Sussex, 27. susteini, 61. suture, 290, swal, 231. swallow, 237. swam, 231. swannery, 277. sware, 231. swear, 231. Swedish, 326. Swedish language, 7, 128. sweep, 248. sweet, 322. sweetish, 327. swell, 231. swept, 248. swift, 322. swim, 231. swine, 44, 266, 317, 318. swing, 231. swollen, 231. swore, 231. sworn, 231. swum, 231. swung, 231. Symbolic words, 195, 210, 217. 487. symbolize, 258. symmetrical, 341. Symphytism, 220. synonomy, 304. systematize, 258. tabelment, 280. table, 43, 80. tackle, 10. tail, 10. take, 231. taken, 231. take off, 439. tale, 10, 107. talented, 33^. tilk, 107. talker, 288. talk of, 454. tall, 107. Tamar, 20. tame, 10, 128. tankard, 290. tar-barrel, 505. tardy, 328. tare (vb.), 231. tares, 21. tarnish, 255. tart, 107. taught, 248. tavern, 80. tea, 150. teach, 127, 248. teacher, 36. team, 10. tear (subst.), 4, 9, 10, 154, 266. tear (verb), 231. INDEX. 595 tedious, 346. teem, 9. teems (Shaksp.), 190. teeth, 317. telegraphic, 353. tell, 10, 248. tell him, 475. tell me true, 362. teirn(Devonshire),22l. tempest, 80. ten, 4, 9, 10. tenement, 280. tent, 10, 80. term, 80. termini, 318. terminus, 302. terrific, 340. terrour, 129. tertiary, 350. testament, 280. testimonial, 300. Thames, 20. than, 448, thane, 267. thank, 9. thankful, 336. thankless, 336. thanklesse (Spenser), 138. that, 9, 104, 399, 401, 402, 411, 412, 413, 416, 429, 430, 457. thatch, 127. that . . . that, 401. that time, 376. that way, 433. that . . . which, 401. the, 414,415, 416,430. the one and the other, 406. the right way, 376. the . . . the, 401. the which, 401, 403. the while, 376. the wrong way, 376. theatre, 80, thee, 9, 108. theech, 221. their, 413. them, 9, 104, 413. themselves, 396, 397. then, 9, 429, 449. theoretic, 353. there, 190, 429. thereby, 430. therefor (American) 138. therefore, 136, 194, 430. these, 412. they, 35,194, 398,399, 405, 406, 413. they say, 406. thick, 104. thick-leaved, 511. thief, 266. thimble, 266. thine, 104, 393. thing, 33, 36, 104, 199, 317,408. things, 201, 318. think, 9, 248. thinker, 288. third, 544. thirst, 9. this, 2, 104, 411, 412, 413- this-e, 412. thistle, 21. thole, 9. thorn, 21. thorough, 186. those, 412. thou, 9, 398. though, 9, 112, 113, 126. thought, 248. thoughtless, 336. thraldom, 272. thread, 104. threaden, 324. three, 9, 100. threnody, 305. thresh, 237, threw, 231. thrice, 383. thrive, 104, 231, thriven, 231, throne, 42. throng, 237. Q q 2 through, 9, 126. throve, 231. throw, thrown, 231. thumb, 266. thunder, 267. thunder-struck, 507, thy, 415. tick (slang), 309. tickle, 323, 324. tide, 324. tide, 10, 257, 266. tile, 10, 18, 265, 266. till, 9, 10, 138, 439, 445- till then, 439. timber, 9, 10, 267. time, 262. time-piece, 505. timidity, 297. tinder, 9. tinnen, 324, -tion, 298. to, 10, 37, 109, 391, 395, 440, 495. to-do (Devonshire), 38 1 . toe, 109, 129. token, 9, 10, 267. told, 248. tolerable, 336. to live on (adv.), 380. toll, 10. Tom, 312. tone, 109. tongue, 4, 9, 88, 266. tonnage, 283. too, 420. took, 231, 236. tooth, 9, 10, 227, 366. too ... to, 446. top, 109, Tor, 3, 109. tore, 231. torment, 280. torn, 231. tornement, 280. Tothill, 10. tow, 237. toward, 33^!- towards, 368. tower, 80. 596 INDEX. town-clerk, 505. toy, 9. Translations, 12, 27, 205, 207, 218, 363, 450. 559- transcendentalize, 259. tray, 154. tread, 231. treason, 80, 154, 279. treasure, 152, 390. treasurer, 42. tree, 4, 7, 21, 266. treen, 324. Trent, 20. irey, 56. trod, 231. trodden, 231. troop, 36. tropical, 34I. troth, 82. trough, 88. trouthe, 82. truant, 277. truculent, 352. true, 322,363. trueth (A.V. 161 1), 124. truism, 306. trumpery, 277. trustee, 289. trusteeship, 275. trusty, 327. truth, 109. Tucker, 287. -tude, 301. Tuesday, lo. Turkish, 326. turpitude, 301. Tweed, ?o. twice, 383. twinkling, 268. two, 4, 9, 100. tyrannize, 258. tyranny, 80, 304. tyrant, 80, 1 19. U, the vow^l, 105. un-, the prefix, 257, 424. unapproachable, 337. unbeliever, 257- unborrowed, 424. unbuxom, 332. unbuxomness, 332. unchurch, 425. uncle, 190. UIKO, 5.:^8. unconscionable, 337. uncouth, 538. uncouthe and strange, 81. undead, 424. undescribed, 424. undo, 50'->. unequall (Spenser), 139. unfrock, 257. ungodly, 370. UNGRENE, 424. uniformitarianism, 306. unify, 257. unjust, 257. unlink, 257. unlock, 257. unmannerly, 330. unmeet, 257. unset-down, 424. unset Steven (Chaucer), 424. unsmotherable, 337. untie, 257. until, 62, 445. untoward, 334. up, 364, 417,418. upas tree, 505. upheaval, 300. upon, 440. upright, 135. uprootal, 300. upside down, 432. up so down, 432. up to a thing, 418. up with a person, 418. upward, 334. upwards, 368, 369. urbane, 136. urbanity, 297. -ure, 290. usage, 80. use, 262. usefulness, 269. usher, 262. Usk, 20. usquebaugh, 20. -ustic, 353, utilize, 258. utter, uttered, 255. uze (Spenser), 293.; V, the letter, 115. vacillate, 255. vaine, 115. vale, 108. valuable, 336, 337. value, 337. valueless, 337. valuing, 337. vanity, 297. varicose, 348. vast, 190. vastly, 370, vat, 107. vaunt, 262. veal, 44, 94. velocity, 297. venerate, 2 5 8. venerie, 115. venerye, 8 1, venison, 44, 279. ventriloquism, 305, 306. veray, 115, verbiage, 284. verdure, 290, verier, veriest, 411. verily, 34, 190, 370, 371- vermeil-tinctured, 511. Versification, G-o- thic, and Roman- esque, 535. versing, 485. vesselment, 280. vestement, 280. very, 80, 330, 410. vicarage, 283. vicissitude, 301. victual, 80. villain, 43, 55, 56. villainous, 361. vine disease, 469. vineyard, 505. vintner, 287. violent, 352. virtue, 80, 115. virulent, 352. visage, J 15. visionary, 350' visit, 80. vixen, 319. volcanic, 340. vortex, 302. voyage, 283. vulnerable, 336. W, the character, 115. wa ! 164. wade, 237. vi^ain, 266. wake, 128, 231. wakefull (Spenser), 139, wala ! 165. Wales, 23. walk, 107. walker, 288. walk fast, 362. walk slow, 362. wall, 18, 107. Wallachia, 24. "Wallachian lan- guage, 495. wallinger, 285. Wallis, the Canton, 24. Walloons, 24. wan, 128. wane, 107. want, 107. ward, 78. -ward, 323, 334, 335. warden, 78, 277. ware, 77- ivarentment, 280. warfare, 508. war-horse, 505. warish, 77. warlock, 274. warm, 324, 362. warrior, 36. wary, 77. was, 232, 478. Wash, The, 20. INDEX. wash (verb), 231, washen, 231. wash off, 439. wastel, 78. Wat = Walter, 312. water, 10, 20, 107, 267. water-course, 522. water-hole (Australia), 505- ■Watling- Street, 17. wave after wave, 376. wax, 231. waxen, 232, 236. way, 266. waybread, 21. wayward, 334, we, 35, 108, 405,406. weal and woe, 534. weapon, 267. weaponed, 332. wear, 232. vi'EAR'S, 243. weariness, 269. weather-wise, 507. weave, 232, Webber, '268. Webster, 320, wedge, 128, wedlock, 273, 508. weed, 2 r . weedy, 327. weep, 248. weeping, 67. welkin, 267. well, 364. welladay ! 165. wellaway ! 165. Welsh, 23, 326. "Welsh, 2, 17, 22. wend, 253, 254. wenestii, 221, 222. went, 253, 254. WEORDAN, 243. wepely, 331. wept, 248. were, 478. WEsAN, 232, 242. Wessex, 27. west, 266. "West-Welsh, 555. 597 wether, 266. wex, 232, whale, 141, 266. wharf, 141. wharfinger, 285. what, 141, 401, 403, 449. whatever, 432. whatso, 404, 530. what time as, 453. wheat, 21, 43, 141. wheel, 141, 266. whelp, 266, when, 141, 429. whence, 429, 431, 449. whenever, 432. whensoever, 432. where, 141, 194, 429, 448. whereas, 448. wherefore, 457. wherethrough, 429. whether, 448. which, 141, 401, 402, 403, 410, 449. 450. which way, that way, 433- whight (Spenser), 126. while, 91, 92. 188. whilome, 366. whilst, 92. whimsical, 341. whin, 21. whiskey, 20. whisper, loi. whit, 408, 428. Whitby, 240, white, 10. Whitechapel-bred, 522. white-handed, 511. whither, 141, 429. who, 141, 401, 403, 449. 450. whole, 141, 322. wholesome, 331. whom, 401, 403, 449. whome = home, 141. whose, 401, 449. whoso, 404, 530. whote = hot, 141, 142. 598 INDEX. why, 429. wicked, 332. wickedness, 85. wicker, 326. wicket, 20. "Wiclif, 227, 405,421, 432. Wicliffists, 302. Wiclifite, 302, wide, 256. widen, 257. widowhood, 274. width, 267. wield, 237. WIF, 318. wife, 266. wight, 267, 408. wilderness, 269. wilding, 329. Will, 312. will (symbol-verb), 202, 249, 250, 492. willeth, 237. will-o'-the-wisp, 514. willow, 21. wiltu, 222. wilyness, 85, win, 232. Winchester, 20. wind, 232, 266. wine, 109. wine-glass, 515. wing, 262. winsome, 331. winter, 267. wire, 182. wis (? verb), 248. -wis, 346. Wisbech, 20. wisdom, 272. wise, 83. wise and wary, 534. wishy-washy, 336, wist, 248. WISTE, 248. wit, 108. wit and wisdom, 534. witchery, 277. wite - word ( = testa- ment), 283. with, 38. with a good will, 374. withal, 432. with one accord, 374. without, 440. without ceasing, 374. without distraction, 374- without effort, 377. without thought, 377. withstand, 38, 509. wittol, 324. wives, 318. wizard, 290, 293. wize (Spenser), 293. wo, 81, 164. woe, 129. woke, 231. wold, 266. wolf, 266. woman, 539. womb, 266, won, 232. wonder, 255, 267. wondered, 255. wonderfully, 366. wonnes (Spenser), 1 38. wood, 7, 2T, 266. wooden, 324, 325. woodhouse, 520. woollen, 324. word, 33, 35, 318. word of command, 514. "Word-painting, 560. words, 318. wore, 232. work, 248. workmanship, 275. world, 266. worm, 266, wormwood, 21. worn, 232. worship, 275. wort, 2 r . worth (adj.), 322. worth (subst.),244. worth (verb), 243, 489. worthily and to great purpose, 373. worthy, 185.. worthyness, 85. wot, 248. would, 146, 202, 249, 492. wound, 232. wove, 232. woven, 232. WRiEc, 236. wrat = wrote, 232, 2 3 'S, wrath, 141. wreak, 141, 232, 236. wreath, 141. WRECE, 236. WRECEN, 236. wrestle, 141. wretch, 127, 142. wretched, 332. wretchlessness, 141. Wright, 141, wriht (Chaucer), 81. wring, 232. wrist, 141. write, 141, 232. write off, 439, write slow, 361. writing, 485. written, 232. wrote, 232, 236, wrote = root, 141. wrought, 142, 248. wrung, 232. wultu, 221. wush (Scottish), 231. Wykehamists, 30 2 , 30 7 . X, the letter, 116. Y, the letter, 117, -y (terminal), 304,323, 327, 328. yable (Dorset), 118, yachen (Dorset), 1 18. yacre (Dorset), 118. yakker (Dorset), 118. yale (Dorset), 118. yarbs (Dorset), 118. yard, 117, 266. yare, in, 117. yarm (Dorset), 118. yarn (Dorset), 118. INDEX, 599 yamest (Dorset), Ii8, yarrow, 21. ychain'd, 479. yclept, 479. ye, III, 117. ye ( = the), 104. yea. 149. yean, 118. yeaning- time, 505. year, iii, 117, r54, 266. yearling, 330. yearn, 117. yeaze (Dorset), 1 18. yell, 262. yellow, 149, yellow-girted, 511. yelp, 117. 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