A Book About Words

CHAPTER XIV.

GENERAL REMARKS ON WORDS, ETC.

In old English spelling, we frequently meet with y initial, where we now use th; as in ‘ye manners and ye customs,’ &c. This error probably arose from the blundering of the copyists, who mistook one letter for another. Down to the close of the reign of Edward III., two characters of the Saxon alphabet were in common use, which we have now rejected; tha (þ) (th hard), and edh (ð) (th soft). The first of these, (þ), somewhat resembled a y in shape; and hence the mistake. This is, probably, the true explanation of the case, as y was, in all these instances, used where we now have th.

Y initial, as indicating a participle or an intensive meaning, has now become obsolete in English. But it lingered in the language till the seventeenth century, as may be seen in Milton. ‘In heaven yclept Euphrosyne.’ This is the ge initial of the modern German, as in ‘gekannt,’ ‘gebrochen,’ &c. Our word ‘guess,’ is supposed to be connected with the German ‘gewiss;’ where the initial ge may be referred to the same source. In comparing certain German with English words, we may see that this prefix (g or y) has, in most cases, fallen off, though in some few words it still retains its place. The German ‘Glück,’ is in English ‘luck,’ and the German ‘gleich’ has become with us ‘like.’ Again,’to glow’ was, in Saxon, ‘hlowian.’ We retain the g in ‘gleam,’ and ‘glimpse,’ though we lose it in ‘light.’ The same connection may be observed between the German ‘gern,’ and the English ‘yearn.’

Many are puzzled when to use ei and when ie in the spelling of certain English words, when these combinations are pronounced as a long e. The rule is, that when a sibilant (c or s) precedes, ei is the right spelling; but that when any other consonant comes before, ie should be written. Thus, ‘seize, conceive, ceiling, deceit,’ &c., must have ei; whilst ‘believe, priest, chief, retrieve,’ &c., must be spelled ie. The word ‘siege’ is an exception; we here adopt the French spelling.

It is generally well known that the prefixes ante and anti have, in English, each a distinct meaning. ‘Ante’ is the Latin preposition for ‘before.’ It is found in ‘antedate’ (to date before); ‘antechamber’ (a waiting-room before another); ‘antecedent’ (going before), &c. ‘Anti’ is originally Greek, and means ‘against.’ It is found in ‘antipathy’ (a feeling against); ‘antidote’ (a medicine given against); i.e. as a preventive. But there is one exception to this explanation; viz. ‘anticipate.’ ‘Anti,’ in this case, does not mean ‘against,’ but beforehand. To ‘anticipate’ is to enjoy or suffer prospectively. The Latin i always becomes an e in French; and vice versâ. This is considered as an organic law of transformation. The Latin mihi, tibi, sibi, in, inter, &c., are in French me, te, se, en, entre. On the other hand, the Latin ‘implēre,’ ‘fallĕre,’ ‘legĕre,’ ‘quaerĕre,’ and ‘florĕre,’ are in French, remplir, ‘faillir,’ ‘lire,’ ‘quérir,’ and ‘fleurir.’ This may be seen in ‘antichambre,’ ‘antidater,’ &c.; and the English has, in this one case, ‘anticipate,’ adopted the French form of spelling.

The difference in pronunciation between such words as ‘hōme,’ and ‘sŏme;’ ‘bōne’ and ‘dŏne;’ ‘alōne’ and ‘gŏne,’ depends on their derivation. In these cases, the long ō corresponds with the modern German ‘ei.’ The German ‘Heim’ is the English ‘hōme.’ ‘Bein’ is in English bōne; ‘allein,’ ‘alōne,’ &c., whereas the closer sound of ŏ approaches to a closer sound of a or o in German. Hence, the root sam (as in sammeln), gives the English ‘sŏme.’ ‘Dŏne’ is from ‘gethăn,’ ‘cŏme,’ from ‘kŏmmen,’ &c. From the same cause, the adverb ‘so’ in English has the same long sound as in German; whereas ‘tŏ’ and ‘dŏ,’ being from ‘zu’ and ‘thun,’ have a closer pronunciation.

It is natural to expect that as the genius of a people powerfully influences the spelling of their common terms, the same cause should operate in that of their proper names, both of persons and places. With respect to names of places, there is now and then some difficulty. The inhabitants of a town or country do not always give it the name by which it is known to foreigners. An English tourist who is a novice in continental travel, arrives at a town he has been accustomed to call ‘Aix,’ or ‘Aix-la-Chapelle;’ and he is not a little puzzled to hear it named ‘Aachen.’ It is doubtful whether many English would recognise the German word; and yet it is certainly the one used by the Prussians from time immemorial. There are many other continental towns with whose names we English are, in general, not familiar; for example, Lüttich (Liège), Regensburg (Ratisbon), Bruxelles (Brussels), Kiobenhavn (Copenhagen), Vliessingen (Flushing), Genf (Geneva), &c., &c.

That these differences should exist was but natural in bygone times when there was so scanty a communication between one country and another. But nowadays, when one touch of the telegraph ‘should make the whole world akin,’ and when steamboats and railroads seem to be literally annihilating both time and space, it is to be regretted that some one standard form for the spelling of names of places should not be agreed on, which all should adopt, and which would be intelligible to the whole civilised world. There appears to be some probability of the continental states adopting a standard coin which shall have a universal currency. Why should they not also determine on one standard form of spelling for the names of all their towns and districts? The one change would not be more difficult than the other.

One very striking peculiarity of the English language is the extraordinary variety of senses in which many of our words, especially those of Saxon origin, may be used. A curious instance of this variety may be seen in the case of the verb ‘to get.’ For example: ‘After I got (received) your letter; I immediately got (mounted) on horseback; and when I got to (reached) Canterbury, I got (procured) a chaise, and proceeded to town. But, the rain coming on, I got (caught) such a severe cold, that I could not get rid of it for some days. When I got home, I got up-stairs, and got to bed immediately; but the next morning I found I could neither get down stairs, get my breakfast, nor get out of doors. I was afraid I should never get over this attack.’ It may be reasonably doubted whether any English word of Latin or French origin has half so many and such various significations.

‘To put’ is a verb of unsettled derivation; but it has an endless variety of meanings: and is compounded with almost every preposition in the language. Latham’s edition of Johnson’s Dictionary gives about seventy different senses of this one verb, some of which are as follows: ‘A man puts by money when he saves it up; or he puts away his wife when he divorces her. An insurrection may be put down; or a man may put down his name as a subscriber. A tree puts forth leaves, or a man puts into a lottery. He puts off his clothes, or he puts off a disagreeable task; he puts out his money at interest; or he puts out the light when he goes to bed; and he is terribly put out when things do not go well with him. He can put together his thoughts; but he cannot put up with an insult. It is unpleasant to be put upon; and sometimes very hard to put things to rights.’

The French adverb très (very), is the Latin ‘trans’ (over, or across.) The prefix ‘trans’ is of frequent use in English as in ‘transfer,’ ‘transfix,’ ‘transform,’ &c. We have adopted the French ‘très’ in only one word; viz. ‘trespass.’ This signifies either in a physical or moral sense, ‘to pass a boundary.’ It is still used in English, chiefly as a term of law.

Some writers on language have objected to the order of words generally adopted in certain colloquial expressions. They say that in such phrases as ‘bred and born,’ ‘shoes and stockings,’ ‘coat and waistcoat,’ &c., we put the cart before the horse. They would have us say ‘born and bred,’ ‘stockings and shoes,’ &c. Their argument is, that we should put these words in their natural order, as to time—that as a man must be born before he is bred, the proper order is ‘born and bred,’ and so on, in all other cases of this sort. This, however, does not seem to be the right view of the matter. In these expressions it should be remembered that whatever comes first to our knowledge, or makes the deepest impression on the mind, is naturally first uttered. True, a man must be born before he is bred; but the idea conveyed in ‘bred’ is first impressed on the mind, and therefore ‘bred and born’ is the right order. Again, we see the shoes; we can but partially see the stockings; and this is why the usual order is adopted.

Again: we never say ‘the sciences and arts;’ but always ‘the arts and sciences.’ There is here, also, a very good reason for the general practice. It must be remembered that the arts were practised long before the sciences on which they are built were discovered. Practice always precedes theory. Language was spoken before grammars were written; music was played and sung before the laws of harmony were understood; and therefore, it is but reasonable that we should put the ‘arts before the sciences.’

It may seem strange that in addressing an audience, the English always say ‘Ladies and Gentlemen!’ whereas in France we hear, ‘Messieurs et Mesdames,’ and in Germany, ‘Meine Herren und Damen.’ This order may have been adopted at a time when ladies had not the influence in society which they now possess. We have not the reputation for gallantry which our continental neighbours enjoy; and yet, in this instance, we may perhaps set them a lesson of politeness.

Connected with this subject may be mentioned that doubling of terms which occurs in our Liturgy so frequently, that it may be regarded as a characteristic of its style. The compilers of our Church Service, probably in their anxiety to make the text intelligible even to the commonest understanding, continually put two nouns or two verbs together, the second generally explaining the first. In these cases we shall find one of the terms of French, or Latin, and the other of Saxon derivation. This seems to have been done purposely, in order that, if any of the congregation, especially the less educated, should not understand the one term, he should catch the meaning of the other. In the early prayers of the ‘Morning Service,’ we have: ‘We pray and beseech thee.’ We also find ‘We acknowledge and confess,’ ‘sins and wickedness;’ ‘goodness and mercy;’ ‘dissemble nor cloak;’ ‘assemble and meet together;’ ‘requisite and necessary;’ ‘erred and strayed;’ ‘pardoneth and absolveth,’ and many others.

Certain writers on the English language have strongly objected to the lately-introduced practice of forming participial adjectives from nouns; especially in the case of the two words ‘talented’ and ‘gifted.’ As well, say they, might we call a man ‘wisdomed,’ ‘geniused,’ or ‘knowledged.’ Coleridge, arguing against the admission of the word ‘talented’ into English, says: ‘only imagine other participles so formed, and conceive a man being said to be ‘pennied,’ ‘shillinged,’ and ‘pounded!’ But though we do not yet use these latter terms, Coleridge seems to have forgotten that we very commonly speak of a ‘moneyed’ man; and there is very little doubt that these adjectives have struck too deep root in the language to be easily eradicated.

The word ‘reliable,’ a comparatively late introduction, is another of those against which the purists have raised a loud outcry. They argue that as we do not rely a man, but rely on a man, therefore the word, if used at all, should be ‘relionable,’ and not ‘reliable.’ But here is one of the many cases in which philosophy must give way to custom; and, in spite of the above objection, this word is too firmly fixed in the language to be easily driven out. The real difference between ‘reliable’ and ‘trustworthy’ is, that the former applies more property to things, such as news, information, &c., and the latter to persons. A ‘trustworthy’ messenger would probably bring us ‘reliable’ information. But, whatever concession we may make in the case of ‘reliable,’ we should resist, with all our might, the introduction of ‘reliability.’

Certain laws of transformation are found to operate in the Romance languages. One of these is, that Latin or Italian words beginning with f appear in Spanish with an h initial. Thus ‘filius,’ ‘figlio’ (a son), is, in Spanish, ‘hijo.’ By the same law the Latin ‘femina’ (a woman) becomes, in Spanish ‘hembra,’ ‘formosus’ (beautiful) is ‘hermoso,’ ‘Fabulari,’ Italian ‘favellare’ (to talk) is, in Spanish, ‘hablar.’ ‘Faba’ (a bean) is, in Spanish, ‘haba.’ The Latin ‘Facere,’ Italian ‘fare’ (to do), becomes ‘hacer,’ filum (thread) is ‘hilo,’ and folium (a leaf) ‘hoja,’ &c.

The Spanish word ‘hidalgo’ (a nobleman) is a contraction of ‘hijo d’algo’ (filius alicujus), literally ‘the son of somebody,’ i.e., of importance.

It may also be observed that the combination ct in Latin is found in Italian tt (or t), and in Spanish ch. This may be seen in the following cases:—

Again, pl in Latin becomes pi in Italian and ll in Spanish, as in the following:—

Affinities also exist between certain letters of the alphabet; and this relationship may be often seen in words transferred from one language to another. For example, the labials, or lip-letters, are frequently interchanged. Many English words beginning with an F are derived from Latin (or French) words having a P initial. This is exemplified in the following list:—

Another affinity may be observed between G and W. Many French words beginning with a G guttural represent that letter in English by a W. This may be seen in the following cases:—

This connection between the G and W may be also seen at the end of many English compared with German words.

A relationship is also to be seen between C guttural and H aspirate. The C hard initial in the Romance languages is represented in the Teutonic by an H. For example:—

This connection between c (or k) and h appears in other cases. A primitive English word ending in a guttural (g or k) often produces derivatives in which the guttural is softened into tch, as in:—

Some of our English pronouns have this ending (ch), where it is a contraction of the word ‘like.’ Thus:—

Another phenomenon of a certain class of words is the use of an initial s, to give them an intensive meaning. This may be observed in the following cases:—

A large class of English words beginning with s followed by a consonant are derived from French, where they are spelled with an e or es initial; as:—

According to some French philologists, when the s in any of these French words is pronounced, it is a sign that the word is of later introduction.

It may be observed of the letter h (initial) that it is never mute in Germanic words, and that whenever it is mute in English, the word is of French derivation.

Thus we have:—

The h initial was prefixed to many Saxon words where it has now disappeared from the English. This was chiefly before the liquids l, n, and r.

The German z initial often corresponds with the English t; as:—

The German t initial corresponds with the English d; as:—

Some are puzzled when to spell the ending ‘ledge’ and when ‘lege.’ The following rule may be easily remembered:—Monosyllables and the word ‘acknowledge’ are spelled with a d; therefore ‘ledge,’ ‘fledge,’ ‘pledge,’ ‘sedge,’ ‘sledge,’ and ‘acknowledge’ retain that letter; whereas ‘sacrilege,’ ‘privilege,’ ‘allege,’ and ‘college’ must reject it.

Some years ago, there was a sharp controversy concerning the spelling of the word—whether it should be ‘rein-deer’ or ‘rain-deer.’ The dictionaries differed, many even giving both forms. It was found in Johnson ‘rain-deer,’ which of course settled the dispute. In spite of this decision, there is no doubt that the word is generally spelled ‘rein-deer.’ The Saxon form was ‘hrana-deor,’ i.e. ‘the running animal.’

Some lament that we have adopted the French form of the word ‘programme.’ They say that by analogy it ought to be written ‘program.’ We have ‘anagram,’ ‘diagram,’ ‘epigram,’ &c.; and why not ‘program?’ But the former is now the established spelling; and, till some daring innovator adopt the new form, and his example be generally followed, we must be content to use the old one.

A few years ago, a new word was wanted to express ‘a message sent by the telegraph;’ various forms were suggested, but at last the word ‘telegram’ was adopted. This was another argument in favour of ‘program.’

The verb ‘to repair,’ in the sense of ‘to make better’ or ‘to improve,’ is from the Latin ‘reparare,’ through the French ‘réparer;’ but when it means ‘to go back home’ it is from the Latin ‘repatriare,’ to return to your country.

The second syllable in ‘impair’ is in no way connected with the above. ‘Impair’ is from the French ‘empirer,’ ‘to make worse.’