Thus, for instance, the words tooth, foot, and man form their plural teeth, feet, and men by umlaut, and by umlaut alone. This modification of the vowel is, then, here expressive of plurality. Originally, however, it was not so. In Anglo-Saxon the declension was— Singular Nom. and Acc. fót tóð mann Gen. fótes tóðes mannes Dat. fét téð menn Plur. Nom. and Acc. fét teð menn fóta tóða manna fótum tóðum mannum When once the combined force of nominative, accusative, and genitive had ousted the modified vowel from the dative singular, the whole singular exhibited ó (a) in contrast to the nominative and accusative plural with é (e). This caused the transference of the latter to the genitive and dative plural also, and thus invested the modification with a force originally quite foreign to it.
In English, no doubt owing to the mixed influence upon that language of two very different grammatical systems (the Teutonic of Anglo-Saxon, and the Romance of Norman-French), unification has proceeded to a far greater length than in most other Teutonic dialects. In German, e.g., the history of the umlaut and the origin of plurals in er—of which English has no trace but the provincialism childer, or the “correct” form children—furnish examples of what we have said; and students of German will find a careful investigation of that history both interesting and instructive.
CHAPTER XI.
THE FORMATION OF NEW GROUPS.
The effect of sound-change is to produce differences in language where none previously existed; but it likewise tends to cancel existing differences, and to cause forms originally distinct to resemble each other or actually to coincide. Now, symmetry and uniformity are clearly an aid to the memory, when attained by the abolition of useless and purposeless differences. It is, for instance, in English, far simpler to state, and far more easy to remember the statement, that all plurals are formed by adding s to the singular, than that some are formed in -n, or -en, or by such modifications as man, men; foot, feet; etc.: and it is therefore a gain to language when such forms as shoon, eyen, etc., disappear in favour of such forms as shoes, eyes, etc. On the other hand, the cancelling of such differences when they serve to mark different functions is naturally disadvantageous and tends to obscurity. When a sound which marked such a functional difference disappears, or when of two words or forms which had different meanings one becomes obsolete, and the other is employed to do service for both, it is clear that language cannot but be the loser by dispensing with an important aid to clearness and distinction. Thus, of the two forms mot and moste, the former has now disappeared, and the latter, in the form must, serves to indicate both the present and the past tense. The effect of this ambiguity is that where we wish to clearly indicate the past of must, we have to employ some idiom in which must has no place; as ‘was obliged to,’ ‘had to,’ ‘was constrained to,’ etc. Similarly, the loss of the plural s in very many French nouns (which s, though still written, is seldom sounded) would create ambiguity were it not that the difference of the article attached to the noun marks the difference, and to a large extent remedies the evil; cf. l’ami, les amis.
The remedy, however, for such obscurity is not always to be found in the context. Sometimes, indeed, the evil brings its own cure; changes arise which enable the necessary distinctions to be once more felt and maintained, creating new forms by analogy with other forms (see Chapter V.): but, on the other hand, it frequently occurs that the evil remains, and a confusion follows in the grouping of the words; which grouping, as we have seen, is all-important in the life history of the members of the group.
We must in this chapter endeavour to study some of the results of this confusion, and consequent re-arrangement in the groups; and to distinguish the cases where similarity caused by phonetic development affects the matter-groups from those where the modal-groups are influenced.
I. i. There are many cases where words connected neither by etymology nor by signification fall into the same form.
Still, in spite of this similarity in form, the words remain perfectly distinct in the linguistic consciousness of a speaker of ordinary intelligence. Such are, e.g.,—
1. a. Hale, in such a phrase as hale and hearty. This word is of Scandinavian94 origin (cf. Icelandic heill), and represents the Anglo-Saxon hál, to which word we owe the misspelt word whole. b. Hale, ‘to drag,’ found in Middle-English as halien.
2. a. Whole = A.S. hál; see above. b. Hole = A.S. hol, ‘a cave.’95
3. a. Grave (A.S. gráfan). b. Grave (Fr. grave, Lat. gravem).96
4. a. Cope (O.Fr. cape). b. Cope (Dutch koopen = to bargain, to chaffer, to buy, to vie with).
5. a. Stile (A.S. stigel). b. Stile (commonly misspelt style, Lat. stilum).
6. a. Well, adverb (A.S. wel). b. Well, noun (A.S. wella).
7. a. Arm (Lat. arma). b. Arm, the limb, cognate with Ger. arm.
8. a. Lay (A.S. lecgan). b. Lay (O.Fr. lais, ‘song’).
9. a. Pale (Fr. pal, Lat. pāum). b. Pale (Fr. pâle, Lat. pallidum).
10. a. Elder, the tree (A.S. ellarn). b. Elder, ‘older.’
It would, of course, be possible to extend this list to almost any length; but this would be useless for our purpose, which is to investigate solely those cases in which similarity causes confusion. This happens where the difference in origin and meaning is lost sight of. It is naturally impossible to draw a hard and fast line of demarcation between the case just discussed and that which we are about to exemplify, as one speaker may keep distinct what another may confuse or treat as identical. Still, no one, we may fairly say, unless he be a student of language, or unless he has been expressly informed, is aware that in a phrase like The ship is bound for London, the word bound employed by him has absolutely no connection with the past participle of the verb to bind. In the first case, bound is of Scandinavian origin, and meant originally ready, prepared; cf. the Icelandic verb búa, perf. part, búinn, ‘to prepare.’ Similarly, few ordinary speakers can explain, or indeed realise, the existence of the distinction in meaning between shed, ‘a hut’ (a doublet of shade), and shed in water-shed, when derived from the A.S. scéadan; or that between sheer, allied to Icelandic skærr, ‘bright,’ and sheer, akin to Dutch scheren, ‘to shave.’ Thus, again, many might suppose that some etymological connection existed between hide, ‘a skin’ (A.S. hýd, akin to Ger. haut), and hide, ‘to conceal’ (A.S. hídan); while others, when told that hide also served as the name for a certain measure of land, might naturally even suspect some allusion to the famous legend of the foundation of Byrsa or Carthage. The A.S. noun setl (a seat) and the verb settan survive both in the word settle and in to settle. In employing, however, the word in ‘to settle a dispute,’ we have a word of very different origin: the A.S. sacu, ‘a quarrel,’ ‘dispute,’ ‘lawsuit’ (surviving in ‘for my sake’, etc.), existed side by side with a verb sacan, ‘to strive,’ or ‘dispute:’ akin to this, we find saht, a substantive which owes its meaning, ‘reconciliation,’ to the development lawsuit, adjustment by lawsuit, etc. Again, derived from this we have the verb sahtlian, ‘to reconcile,’ which, at a later period, occurs in the forms saztlen and sattle.97 When this verb ceased to be understood, confusion with the other verb to settle = to fix, to arrange, arose, and the two forms ‘flowed together, just as two drops of rain running down a window-pane are very likely to run into one.’98 Another instance of this nature is discussed by Professor Skeat, s.v.; viz., sound = A.S. sund, akin to the Ger. (ge)sund; sound, ‘a strait of the sea,’ and sound’ M.E. soun, Anglo-Fr. soun or sun, Lat. sonum.
ii. Such forms, where phonetic development brought about merely a close resemblance without producing perfect similarity, and where, as a next step, one or other of the set of words underwent some change more or less violent in consequence of its supposed connection with the rest, are peculiarly instructive, proving as they do the confusion which arose in the minds of the speakers who thus combined what was distinct and unconnected. In these cases we have entered upon the domain of ‘popular etymology,’ to which we have already incidentally alluded.
It does not, however, always follow that the supposed connection in meaning—in other words, the coalescence of elements of different origin into a single material group, brings about the further change in form; at this period nothing but the linguistic consciousness of the speaker can decide whether the ‘popular etymology’ is or has been at work. Of course, as long as the etymology of the different words in the set is clearly understood by the speaker, there can be no question as to the connection, but when one or more of the members of the set is no longer understood in its historical bearings, it is possible for a new grouping to arise.
Let us take, as an instance, the word carousal. This bore originally the sense which it bears in the Parisian name of the Place du Carrousel, viz. a tournament or festival. It was confused with the word carouse (Ger. gar-aus = properly ‘quite out,’ i.e. ‘empty your glasses’); and at present our word carousal represents both. The Anglo-Saxon word bonda meant a boor, or householder. His tenure appears expressed in Low Latin by the word bondagium, and it is only to a supposed, but wholly erroneous connection with bond and the verb to bind, that our present word bondage owes its sense of servitude.
The Fr. sursis gave us, before its final s had ceased to be pronounced, our verb surcease, which most speakers now look on as a compound of cease (Fr. cesser).99 Wiseacre, really derived through the Dutch from the Ger. wízago (A.S. witega, ‘a prophet’), was already, while on its way to England, misunderstood in Holland, and taken to be a compound of wise. In Dutch, a verb wys-seggen and a noun wys-segger (‘to speak wisely’ and ‘a wise sayer’) were formed, and modern German as well possesses the word weissagen, ‘to prophesy.’ This wys-segger, when it reached England, could no longer be understood as a derivative from the verb secgan, which in English had already lost its guttural and had become (to) say; and thus popular etymology altered the second part of the supposed compound into the meaningless acre. The Fr. surlonge, the piece of meat ‘upon the loin’ (Lat. super, Fr. sur, and Lat. *lumbea, from lumbus, Fr. longe), became in English the surloyn in the time of Henry VI. This was no longer understood; the word was accepted as a compound with the word sir, and thus the fable was invented of the ‘merry monarch’ knighting the loin.100 The berfroit or belefreit of Old French is of German origin, and signifies a watchtower. The word had ceased to be understood, and its origin was forgotten; but, as many towers contained a bell or a peal of bells, a supposed connection with these bells caused the word to be changed into belfry. The spelling is affected in sovereign, where the g is due to a supposed connection with to reign (régner, regnare); the real derivation being from soverain (superaneum), and the word being correctly spelt sovran by Milton. Further instances are lance-knight (= lanz-knecht = landes knecht = ‘the knight, i.e. the man-of the land,’ ‘the servant of his country’); cray-fish (= écrévisse); shamefaced (really shamefast, like steadfast), etc.
In other cases of rarer occurrence than those which we have discussed, a significant part of a compound assumes the form of a mere derivative. This has occurred in the case of the word righteous, taken to be a derivative from some French adjective in -eux, Lat. -osus, though really due to right-wise, a compound like otherwise. It is natural that Proper nouns, where there is no connection or only a fanciful one between the word and its meaning, should be more liable to such transformations than others; so the Rose des quatre saisons appears as the quarter-sessions rose, the asparagus appears as sparrow grass, the ship Bellerophon becomes the Billy ruffan,101 the Pteroessa, the tearing hisser. We may perhaps add here a word like liquorice, which, though the name, rightly understood, is descriptive, has become a mere proper noun. Originally from liquiritia, itself a corrupt form of glykyrrhiza = ‘a sweet root,’ it has, as its spelling shows, become connected with liquor,102 while those who deemed this impossible preferred to explain the word as connected with to lick.103
II. Important, then, as the part played by phonetic development is in bringing about the formation of new material-groups, it has made its influence felt more widely still in the modal grouping of the various systems of inflection.
Here, again, two cases should be distinguished: (1) when forms which have had identical functions come to coincide: (2) when such coincidence occurs in the case of forms that have had different functions.
1. The cancelling of diversities in form or in inflection when such inflection indicated no difference in function must obviously on the whole be set down as a gain to language: simplicity is gained thereby without any loss in clearness. This gain, however, is only effected when the abolition is complete; should the abolition be partial only, simplification may be gained at the expense of a new confusion.
We have an example of such a complete process of cancelling in the terminations er and est in the comparative and superlative of adjectives. In Gothic the comparative was formed either with the suffix iz or ôz, the superlative with ist or with ōst; and, except, indeed, that the forms in iz and ist were more common than those in ôz and ôst, and that the latter are found only with stems in a, no rule can be given for their occurrence. Thus mānags (an a stem) has in its comparative managiz-a, superlative managists; alðeis (ja stem) alðiza, alðists; hardus (u stem), hardiza, hardists; but frôðs, frôdôza, frôdôsts; arms, armôza, armôsts.104 In Old High German there was a similar uncertainty. Here the z of Gothic appeared as r in the comparatives,105 and while salîg has for its comparative salîgôro and its superlative salîgôsto, we find (h)reini, (h)reiniro, (h)reinisto.106 In Anglo-Saxon we find already but a single termination for the comparative, viz. ra; but the two forms of superlative are still extant in ost and est; earm, earmra, earmost; heard, heardra, heardost; but eald, ieldra (with umlaut or modified vowel),107 ieldest. Our forms hard, harder, hardest; old, older, oldest; silly, sillier, silliest, etc., are clearly a further step in the right direction of simplicity in system.
The convergence is, however, not always complete: sometimes it happens that two systems coincide; and this coincidence may be (1) in ALL FORMS but only in SOME WORDS belonging to each system; or, again, (2) it may manifest itself in ALL WORDS but only in SOME FORMS; and, lastly, this coincidence may affect (3) only SOME WORDS in SOME FORMS of two converging systems.
In the case of (1) the convergence is complete and irrevocable, and words which formerly belonged to one system have simply parted company with it, and have definitely joined the other to which they were assimilated. In the cases, however, of (2) and (3), confusion must arise, and further development must be looked for. We find a good illustration of this confusion and of its development in the history of the Teutonic declensions. In the case of these, as of other Indo-European languages, the declensions differed as the stems of the words terminated in a consonant or a vowel; and amongst the latter, again, we must draw distinctions between the declension of stems in a, (o), i, and u. In the a declension, again, a subdivision arose for pure a, ja, wa, and long ā stems. These different terminations of the stems are, for instance, clearly preserved in Gothic dat. and acc. plur. dags, dagam, dagans; gasts, gastim, gastins; sunus, sunum, sununs; and (with Gothic ō instead of ā) gibā, gibōm, gibōs. In the oldest forms of Scandinavian, the so-called Ur-Norse, also, we find the vowels preserved in the nominative singular, holingar, erilar, etc., gastir, staldir, etc., haukoður, warur:108 but even in these, the oldest forms of the Teutonic dialects accessible to us, the various systems were confused; and it is the study of Comparative Grammar that we have to thank for the distinction between the different classes; and, again, it is only owing to the light shed on the subject by the comparison with Latin, Greek, and Sanskrit cognates, that we are enabled in some instances to decide to which of these classes any given word belongs. The ‘wearing down’ of the various terminations produced here identity, elsewhere close resemblance of many cases in many words, while in other cases the influence of the preceding letter made itself felt, and a difference in declension arose for the a stems: this difference depending on whether the a was preceded by a consonant i (j) or w. Where phonetic development had caused some of the cases to agree, other cases soon followed suit, and thus we find, for instance, that even in Gothic the entire singular of i declension has already become identical with that of the a stems:—
a stem. i stem. Sing. Nom. dags balgs Gen. dagis balgis Dat. daga balga Acc. dag balg Voc. dag balg Plur. Nom. dagôs balgeis Gen. dagê balgê Dat. dagam balgim Acc. dagans balgins.
As a consequence of this, numerous words which cognate languages prove to belong to the i declension are nevertheless entirely declined like a stems in Gothic; and even in the very few Gothic texts which we possess, and though these are derived from one source only, we meet with words evidencing the fact that Ulfilas himself (or, it may be, his copyist) was sometimes confused as to the declension usually followed by some word in his own language. Thus, in case of wêgs (a wave), we find norm plur. wêgôs, but dat. plur. wêgim; so too, the dat. plur. of aiws is aiwam, while the accus. is aiwins. In Old High German the coincidence in termination between these two schemes goes further, and extends over all cases; but since—in such words as had a, o, or u, in the preceding syllable—umlaut had been produced in the plural by the i of the stem, only those words whose stem vowel would not admit of umlaut or modification became throughout identical with the a declension. Where the reverse was the case, the words naturally remained distinct in the plural, and a further development arose; viz. that this umlaut in the plural began to be regarded as a sign of that number, and to be used for the purpose of marking it even in words whose etymology afforded no justification for the change, e.g. in hand, hände, which word originally belonged to the u declension. See also our remarks in Chapter V. pp. 87 and foll.
2. So far, in every case which we have discussed, we have had to do with similarity arising from phonetic development of forms with identical functions: one or more cases of one system converged with the same cases in another system. Often, however, this same phonetic development creates a similarity between forms which were originally distinct and served distinct purposes; and we have a good instance of this in our personal pronouns, and one which is instructive as to the consequences of this phenomenon:— The Gothic ik meina mis mik ðu ðeina ðus ðuk weis unsara uns uns jus izwara izwis izwis already shows no difference in the forms of accusative and dative plural; but in Anglo-Saxon we find that a further stage has been reached:— In ic mín mé mé ðú ðín ðé ðé wé úser ús ús gé eówer eów eów we see (though separate forms for accusative still occur) that dative and accusative have become identical throughout, and so it is in the modern language with— I mine me thou thine thee we our us ye (you) your you The double form of the nominative ye (you), and more especially the history of the pronoun for the third person, illustrate one of the consequences of such coincidence, viz. that the language-producing community becomes accustomed to use the same form for certain sets of functions, and transfers this similarity to cases which it would not reach—or, at least, has not yet reached—by the aid of phonetic development alone. Let us consider first the pronoun of the third person. In Anglo-Saxon we find— Sing. Masc. Fem. Neuter. Nom. hé heó hit Gen. his hire his Dat. him hire him Acc. hine hí hit. The forms which we now use for the plural are derived from a different stem,109 which in Anglo-Saxon gave us the following plural for all three genders:— Nom. ðá Gen. ðára, or ðǽra Dat. ðǽm Acc. ðá and here we find distinct forms for dative and accusative, the latter of which has now disappeared, so that here, too (as in the case of the other personal pronouns), we use one form only (the original dative form) for both dative and accusative. But we have only reached this stage after a period of confusion and uncertainty, during which the historically correct form of the accusative and the new form (that of the old dative) strove for permanence.
It is the very marked difference between ic (I) and me (accus.), ðu (thou) and ðe, we and us, which has protected the members of these pairs from becoming identical in form, notwithstanding the important fact that such a process had long since identified the nominative and accusative of all nouns and adjectives. To this influence, indeed, ye and you (both of which, when unemphatic, become ye, where e is pronounced as in the before a consonant) have succumbed.
Not only in this way, moreover, does such convergence of forms with different functions show its effect: it also causes the ordinary speaker to lose sight of such difference in function altogether. As students of Latin, and especially teachers of that language, know by sad experience, it is extremely hard for the untrained English mind to realise the function of the accusative case; and the difference between this case and the dative may be fairly described as non-existent for the Englishman who has not learnt it from the study of other languages. This, again, influences syntax, so that a phrase like I showed him the room can be turned in the passive into The room was shown (to) him, etc., or He was shown the room, etc.
CHAPTER XII.
ON THE INFLUENCE OF CHANGE IN FUNCTION ON
ANALOGICAL FORMATION.
The careful consideration of such a form as I breakfasted will lead us to understand another phase in the life history of our words, and in the development of their syntactical combinations. It is well known that the word (to) breakfast is really a compound of the verb to break and the noun fast (ieiunium). Accordingly, we find, about the year 1400 A.D., ‘Ete and be merry, why breke yee nowt your fast;’ in 1653, Izaak Walton wrote, ‘My purpose is to be at Hodsden before I break my fast;’ and as late as 1808, Scott writes in his Marmion, ‘and knight and squire had broke their fast.’110 In these and similar cases, the words have retained their full and original meaning of ‘to put an end to fasting by eating;’ and the natural apprehension of this compound when employed as a noun was in the sense of the meal whereby this process is effected after the night’s fasting, i.e. the first meal taken in the day. When once the verb had thus acquired the meaning of ‘to take the first meal in the day,’ and was next applied even in cases where so little food had been taken before that meal as to be hardly worth considering a ‘meal,’ the meaning of ‘breaking the fast’ had been effaced by the new sense of eating the first IMPORTANT meal of the day. The change of meaning, coupled with the change in function, disconnected the compound from the linguistic groups to which it had hitherto belonged, and so it came about that, after the analogy of other verbs formed from nouns, to breakfast was conjugated as a weak verb. Thus, in 1679, Everard writes, After breakfasting peaceably; and about a century later, the word is used transitively in the sense of ‘to entertain at breakfast,’ e.g., They will breakfast you, or I was breakfasted.111
This and all the following examples to be discussed in this chapter illustrate the point that, in the unconscious grouping of our words into material and modal groups, it is mainly the function of the word which causes such grouping; and that a change of function, entailing, as it does, a change in the grouping, will often expose the word which has thus altered its meaning to the influence of analogy with other groups, though as long as it preserved its original meaning it stood quite apart from them. No doubt, however, similarity of form conduces also sometimes to this end. The group to which the word once belonged will then follow its own path of development, while the detached member will go on its new way.
We have a similar instance in vouchsafe: The king vouches it SAUE (Robert of Brunne, early in fourteenth century), where we should now say: The king vouchsafes. The verb to backbite is most probably a derivative from the compound nouns back-biting (of which the earliest instance dates from 1175) and backbitter (which is found as early as 1230); while in the Early English Psalter (A.D. 1300) the past tense is still formed bac-bate. Gower (1393) already formed the past participle back bited.112 Again, the noun browbeating (from ‘to beat one’s brows,’ i.e. ‘to lower the brows,’ ‘to frown’), found as early as 1581,113 became, from a compound noun, a simple one with the meaning of scolding or teasing; and gave rise to a verb to browbeat, of which the earliest known instance dates from 1603. It is, however, doubtful whether this verb has hitherto been definitely separated from the group to which etymologically speaking it belongs. The past participle brow-beat (1803; Jane Porter, Thaddeus) occurs, it is true, but the more usual form is as yet browbeaten.
The most ordinary results of this process are, of course, all the numerous formations from nouns that have been pressed into the service of verbs; as, I box, He boxed; (to) dust, (to) soap, (to) dog, etc., etc.: in the case of all which, the change of function must have preceded all forms due to analogy with the groups into which the word entered solely in consequence of that change. So, again, as long as a word has an adjectival function, and even when it is used substantively, but retains its original attributive meaning, it is, in English, not declined: as the POOR men; the POOR ye have with you always; the BLUE hats. When, then, only certain individuals belonging to the class designated by the adjective have to be indicated—and not, as in the case of the poor,—all the individuals possessing the quality of poverty,—we resort to the addition of the word ones: as, I do not like those green hats; I prefer the blue ONES. As soon, however, as the word loses its real signification, and passes into a proper noun, it is at once declined: as, the Grays, the Pettys, the Quicklys; the Blues, the Liberals, the Conservatives, etc.114
It may happen that the position of the accent aids to produce change of function, as in the case of prófecto (pró facto), and in the very interesting case of igitur, which has been shown to be the enclitic form of agitur, originating in the common Plautine phrase (Quḯd agitur) Quíd igitur.115
The case is similar with the adverbial termination -ment in French and -mente in Italian, from the Latin mente. Cruellement (crudeli mente) and fièrement are intelligible formations; but solidement, lourdement, etc., are formed upon their analogy. At first applied only to adverbs of manner, the termination was transferred to adverbs of time and space; as, anciennement, largement. Our English termination -ly (from like) is a familiar instance of the same degradation of the final syllable: cf. godlike, by the side of godly.
The word self was originally an adjective meaning in Anglo-Saxon and Middle-English ‘the same,’ and declined in apposition with the noun or personal pronoun to which it was attached to mark emphasis. It then stood in the same case, number, and gender, he selfe, his selfes, him selfum, hine selfne, etc., gen. and dat. sing. fem. hyre selfre, etc. The history of the development from this usage to our present one is not quite clear; but we should remember that the terminations of the adjective were among the first to wear off completely, or at least to become confused and indistinct; and, further, that the accusative of the personal pronouns, was at an early date merged into the dative. We thus obtain the following schematic declension:—
Singular.
Nom.
I self
thou self
he, she, it self
Gen.
my self
thy self
his, her, his self
Acc. }
Dat. }
me self
thee self
him, her, him self
Plural.
Nom.
they selve
Gen.
their selve
Acc. }
Dat. }
them selve
Now, if we bear in mind that in these combinations the accent fell upon the word self (or selve), and that consequently the proclitic forms my, me, and thy, thee, in the genitive and dative had the same sound respectively,—and, further, that in the feminine of the third person singular (herself), these two cases were also alike,—it does not seem strange (1) that these two cases (genitive and dative) became confused, and (2) that the word self became a noun, as exemplified in such phrases as I said it to herself. Once having changed its function, the word assumed the flection of the new group to which its new function had attached it, and a plural form, as of a noun, arose—themselves, ourselves, theirselves.116 When once a single form served in three (genitive, dative, accusative) of the four cases, it not unnaturally succeeded in ousting the last, and succeeded all the more easily as I self was, of course, wrong, if self was a noun.
It is not, however, an invariable rule that the new associations into which a word enters in consequence of its change of function entail a change of form in the word. In Latin the word frugi was originally the dative case of a word frux, gen. frugis, meaning fruit, profit, advantage; and is actually employed by Plautus, with the full consciousness of its origin, in the phrase bonæ frugi esse (Asin., III. iii. 12). In fact, this use is exactly parallel to the use of usui in bono usui estis nulli, in Plautus, Curculio, l. 499; but in this case, usui, owing to its frequent occurrence, preserved the memory of its origin fresh. Cicero, however, treats frugi simply as an indeclinable adjective: Homines et satis fortes et satis plane frugi et sobrii (In Verrem, v. 27). Instances are also frequent where a change in meaning brings about a change in syntactical construction. Thus, for instance, in Latin we find that the nominative quisque is coupled with the reflective pronoun in the plural almost in the signification of singulatim.117 In Plautus we find præsente testibus (Amphitruo, II. ii. 203), and, in Afranius and Terence, absente nobis (Eunuchus, IV. iii. 7); in these cases the participles approach the characteristics of prepositions. A similar development gave to the present participle considering its present prepositional force. Macte is used similarly. Age! in Latin is used as generally as Come! in English, irrespective of the number of persons addressed; cave is used in the same way. Paucis is used for ‘a little’ in ausculta paucis (Terence, Andria, 536). Hélas is used in French by women equally as by men; φέρε, ἰδού, in Old Greek, are addressed to either one or many persons indifferently. In the same way, in late Greek, ὤφελον and ὤφελε were employed simply as conjunctions, without any consideration of number or person, the original construction having been Ὀλέσθαι ὤφελον τῇδ’ ἡμέρᾳ = ‘Would that I had perished on that day!’ In English albeit is used simply as a conjunction, and may be, in the sense of perhaps, is showing a tendency to fuse into one word, as it is actually written in American conversational language mebbe.
In German we find expressions like Heb hinten über sich das glas, ‘Raise your glass high’ (Uhland, Volkslieder) instead of über dich. In the same way we find in Latin suo loco, etc.; and in Latin law formulæ, Si sui juris sumus, where we should expect Si nostri juris sumus (i.e. ‘If we stand in our own rights’). In Old Norse a middle and passive is formed by the aid of a reflective -sik (sese), which is, of course, properly applicable to the third person only: it appears later as -st; thus, at kalla, ‘to call;’ at kallast, ‘to be called.’ In the same way, we have in English the words (to) bask and (to) busk,118 where the proper meaning of the termination has so completely died out that it is possible to write busk ye. The passive is similarly formed in the Slavonic languages.
Again, change of meaning influences the construction in the case of numerous verbs in Latin, which are properly intransitive, but are used as transitives. Such are perire,119 deperire; demori, used in the sense of ‘to be mortally enamoured of;’ stupere, ‘to marvel at;’ ardere, ‘to love with fire:’ the last-mentioned two words approximate in sense to mirari and amare respectively, and hence the instinct of language employs them in the same government.
The verb to doubt, in the etymological signification
of hesitating between two beliefs, was, and is still
constructed with whether. If, however, Spenser (Faëry
Queene) says—
‘That makes them doubt their wits be not their aine,’
it is because the word is employed in this case, as
indeed it frequently is in Shakespeare, in the sense of
‘to fear.’
The verb to babble, originally used intransitively, means to prattle or to chatter. When, however, it is employed in the sense of ‘to speak foolish words.’ or of ‘to reveal by talking,’ it is used with an object in the accusative case, and a passive is formed of it; e.g., Griefs too sacred to be babbled to the world. Again, compound words, as long as they are felt as such by the speakers, are naturally treated as such; cf. the Latin word respublica, which, though we write it as a single word, was declined in both its parts, respublica, reipublicæ, etc. But, when it had once become an indivisible unit—when the form république in French, or the English word republic, was formed with its various meanings, all closely resembling, but not identical with, that of the original compound, the word came to be treated after the analogy of other nouns, and the same derivatives are formed from it as from a simple form; cf. republican, etc. This fact is, again, instanced by such forms as high-spirited (high-spirit + ed, and not high + spirited), gentleman-like (gentleman + like, not gentle + manlike), good-natured (goodnature + ed, not good + natured).
Similarly, the Latin compound i (a demonstrative pronoun) + pse was at first declined as eumpse (e.g., Plautus, Truc., I. ii. 64), eampse, eopse, eapse, etc., all which forms are found in Plautus.120 When, however, the word came to be looked on as a simple word, it was declined as such: ipsum, ipsam, ipso, ipsa, etc.
In German there are many instances of words compounded with adverbs of place which are specially instructive as to the way in which a word may become detached from its previous use by a change of meaning. For instance, in modern German the usage is to say wirken AUF etwas, and not IN etwas, which was the usage even in the last century. In the same way, we speak of influence over as much as of influence on, showing that we have forgotten the significance of in.121
The word welcome in such phrases as I made them welcome is employed as an adjective, as, indeed, it is commonly apprehended to be. It was originally a substantive, and was derived from the infinitive mood of the verb, its meaning being pleasure-comer. The word is popularly supposed to derive from well and come; but the first element in the compound is really related to will—the true sense being the will-comer, i.e. he who comes to please another’s will. (Cf. Ger. willkommen.) The change in meaning seems due to Scandinavian influence, for in the Scandinavian languages the word is really composed of the adjective well and the past participle come; cf. Danish velkommen (welcome).122
The expression Quin conscendimus equos (Livy, i. 57) is properly Why do we not mount our horses? but is understood as Let us mount our horses; and in accordance with such usage quin may take after it an imperative, as quin age; or a hortative subjunctive, as quin experiamur? The sense of cur in some cases approximates to that of quod; and hence we find the word followed by a similar construction, in Horace, Ep. I. 8. 9;—irascar amicis, Cur me funesto properent arcere veterno. The O.Fr. car underwent a similar change. Derived from quare it meant, in the first instance, then; as, Cumpainz Rolond, l’oliphant KAR sunez (Chanson de Roland), i.e. Compagnon Roland sonnez DONC l’oliphant;123 it next came to be used like que or parceque after phrases like la raison est; and it then comes to be used with the conditional and imperative in the sense of utinam (cf. Diez, iii. 214).
In O.Fr. the word par (Latin per) was used for much. It took this sense from its use in combinations like perficere, perraro, etc., but it was detached from the verb, and was habitually used in O.Fr. in such combinations as par fut proz = il fut très preux; and in some cases coupled with other adverbs, like moult and tant; as, tant par fut bels = il était si beau, literally tant beaucoup (Chanson de Roland). The phrase survives in par trop.124
The Greek οὐκ οῦν, originally not therefore, like the Latin nonne, serves to introduce a question expecting an affirmative answer. It then comes to be used to introduce direct positive assertions; thus, οὐκοῦν ἐλευθερία ἡμᾶς μένει; from meaning ‘Does not, then, freedom await us?’ comes to mean simply ‘Therefore freedom awaits us.’ The word nanu in Sanskrit has gone through a similar development. Ne in Latin, properly the interrogative particle, comes to be used as the correlative of an:—faciatne an non faciat; or even faciat, necne. Similarly, in Russian, the interrogative particle li comes to be used as the correlative of ili (or); as ugodno-li vam eto? (‘Is this agreeable to you?’); but we then get combinations like dyélaet-li, ili ne dyélaet (‘whether he does it or no’).
The accusative with an infinitive could originally only stand in connection with a transitive verb as long as the accusative of the subject was regarded as the object of the finite verb, as audio te venire; but the accusative and infinitive came to be regarded as a dependent sentence with the accusative as its subject, and then we find the construction after words like gaudeo, horreo (Livy, xxxiv. 4. 3), doleo (Horace, Odes, iv. 4. 62), etc., which can properly speaking take no accusative of the object connected with them; as gaudere, dolere, infitias ire; nay, we find it after combinations such as spem habeo, etc. The accusative and infinitive construction then passes into sentences which depend on another accusative and infinitive, as (1) into relative sentences loosely connected; e.g. mundum censent regi numine Deorum—ex quo illud natura consequi (Cic. de Fin., iii. 19, § 64): (2) into sentences of comparison; e.g. ut feras quasdam nulla mitescere arte sic immitem ejus viri animum esse (Livy, xxxiii. 45): (3) into indirect questions; e.g. quid sese inter pacatos facere, cur in Italiam non revehi (Livy, xxviii. 24);125 (4) into temporal and causal sentences; e.g. crimina vitanda esse, quia vitari metus non posse (Seneca, Epist., 97. 13). A similar extension of the use is found in Greek.
The possessive cases mine, thine, his, her, its, our, your, their have passed into the category of adjectives, as in the case of Shall I not take mine ease in mine inn? (1 Henry IV., III. iii. 93). The instinct of language regarded mine, thine, etc., as the equivalents of of me, of thee, etc.; and marked the function by the addition of the possessive preposition of, as in this inn of mine. Thus, again, a gerund like killing,126 from having the same form as the participle, can be used in expressions like the killing a man, instead of the killing of a man.
We not only find that the word which changes its function undergoes the consequent changes in form or in syntax, but it also often happens that, owing to functional changes participated in by a certain group of words, such a group becomes detached, and thereby gains independence enough to influence other words that have cognate meanings. There are in Old English, as in German, many adverbs which are in their origin the genitives singular of strong masculine and neuter substantives, such as dæges (by day); but the origin of the termination has been forgotten, and the s has come to be looked upon as a merely adverbial termination. Consequently we find the adverb nihtes (by night), though niht is really feminine, and its genitive case is properly nihte. Similar formations are hereabouts, inwards, othergates (Shakespeare, Twelfth Night, V. i. 198), towards, whereabouts, etc. In the same way, the genitive plural of Anglo-Saxon substantives in -ung (later -ing) could be used adverbially; as,—án-ung-a, án-ing-a, (altogether), genitive plural of ân-ung, a substantive formed from án (one): after this analogy others were formed: as, hedling, afterwards altered to headlong; darkling, etc.
CHAPTER XIII.
DISPLACEMENT IN ETYMOLOGICAL GROUPING.
We have already more than once had occasion to point out that, in our individual vocabularies, two classes of words are inextricably confused. In the first place, we employ such words and derivatives of words as we REPRODUCE by the aid of MEMORY, which recalls to us what we have frequently heard from those with whom we have intercourse. In the second place, another part of our stock of words and verbal derivatives is FORMED by us on the MODEL OF OTHER FORMATIONS of the first class.
Only in a very few cases is it possible for any speaker to decide, with absolute certainty, whether any particular form which he may employ with perfect familiarity belongs to the former or the latter group. If, for instance, we hear the simple sentence, ‘He is walking,’ there is nothing which can help us to determine whether the speaker is merely reproducing the word walking just as he has learnt it from others, or whether he is forming the present participle of and from the word ‘(to) walk’ after the model of other similar derivatives. In the chapter on Analogy, we considered principally cases falling under the second class, in which the result of such a process as we have described proved at variance with other forms already existing in the language, i.e. where Analogy brought about certain changes. The cases in which the result was the mere production of what we should have reproduced by the simple aid of memory, we considered as of very small importance for the purpose of illustrating the operations of Analogy.
But it is far from true that they have no significance. Every time that we consciously or unconsciously form words ‘by analogy,’ our habit of doing so is strengthened, and our confidence in the results is increased; and the more we enter upon domains of thought where we are comparative strangers, the more confidently and the more consciously do we proceed ‘to make our own words.’ In this process of word-making, we follow certain models; in fact, we derive one form from others which exist in our own vocabulary.
In words and forms reproduced by memory (though only in the case of such as these) it is, strictly speaking, correct to say of each form—tense, person, singular or plural, or of each case—that it is derived, not from what our grammars call the standard forms (such as infinitives or nominative-singulars), but from the corresponding older form of that tense, person, etc., in the language as it existed before.
In words and forms produced, not from memory, but by analogy, i.e. by derivation according to a certain model, and from words which already exist in our own vocabulary, even where our result does not differ from what we might have produced by memory, it does not at all follow that our process of derivation has been the same as that by which former speakers reached their results.
For instance, suppose that there exists a class of adjectives really derived from verbs. In the course of development of the language, these verbs approach in form to the cognate nouns, or—for whatever reason—some of the verbs become obsolete. The effect will be that, in the consciousness of the ordinary speaker, the adjective appears as derived from the noun.
It is our object in this chapter to study the phenomenon of such displacements in the etymological connections and the consequences which follow therefrom.
A good instance may be found in the history of the suffixes ble, able, and their application.127 Both these suffixes we owe to the French language, which, in turn, derived them from Latin.
In this latter language we find the suffix bili-s, bilem, forming verbal adjectives. Where the stem of the verb ended in a consonant, the connecting vowel i was inserted: vend-e-re, vend-i-bilis. Where the stem ended in a vowel this insertion was of course unnecessary: honora-re, honora-bilis, dele-re, delebilis, (g)no-scere no-bilis, etc. By far the greater number of these words in ble were derived from verbs in are, of which the present participle ends in ans, antem. Hence, though the words in ble were in reality not immediately derived from this participle, a feeling arose that such a connection existed. Among ‘the matter-groups’ in French their existed numerous pairs, such as aimant, aimable, etc. In time, all present participles in French came to end in this termination ant, after which an adjective in able, derived from such participles, nearly always supplanted the older and correcter forms in ible, etc. Hence came forms like vendable, croyable, etc.
The suffix able, introduced into English in enormously preponderating numbers, was there at first confined to words of French origin, but soon, by analysis of such instances as pass-able, agree-able, commend-able, was treated as an indivisible living suffix, and freely employed to form analogous adjectives, being attached not only to verbs taken from French, but finally to native verbs as well, e.g., bearable, speakable, breakable. These verbs have often a substantive of the same form, as in debat(e)-able, rat(e)-able, etc. Owing to this, a new displacement such as we are here studying occurred, and such words, treated as if derived FROM THE NOUN, became the models for others where able is added to nouns, such as marketable, clubbable, carriageable,128 salable.
Another suffix, the history of which affords an instance of similar displacement is ate as verbal formative.129
We find in French several past participles, some due to regular historical development of the popular language, others to deliberate adoption by the learned classes, all of which differ only from their Latin prototypes in having lost the termination us: e.g., confusus, Fr. confus; contentus, content; diversus, divers. This analogy was widely followed in later French in introducing new words from Latin, and, both classes of French words (i.e. the popular survivals and the later accessions) being adopted in English provided English in its turn with analogies for adapting similar words directly from Latin by dropping the termination. This process began about 1400 A.D., and the Latin termination atus gave English at, subsequently ate, e.g. desolatus, desolat, desolate. The transition of these words from adjectives and participles to verbs is explained by Dr. Murray by a reference to the fact—
(a) That in Old English verbs had been regularly formed from adjectives: as, hwit, hwitian (‘white,’ ‘to whiten’); wearm, wearmian (‘warm,’ ‘to warm,’); etc.
(b) That with the loss of the inflections, these verbs became by the fifteenth century identical in form with the adjectives, e.g., to white, to warm.
(c) That, as in Latin, so in French, many verbs were formed on adjectives; whence, again, English received many verbs identical in form with their adjectives, e.g., to clear, to humble, to manifest.
These verbs, though formed immediately from participial adjectives already existing in English, answered in form to the past participles of Latin verbs of the same meaning. It was thus natural to associate them directly with these Latin verbs, and to view them as their regular English representatives. This once done, it became the recognised method of Englishing a Latin verb, to take the past participle stem of the Latin as the present stem of the English, so that English verbs were now formed on Latin past participles by mere analogy and without intervention of a participial adjective; e.g., fascinate, concatenate, etc. These English verbs in ate correspond generally to French verbs in er,—e.g., separate, Fr. séparer; this, in turn, gave a pattern for the formation of English verbs from French,—e.g., isoler (Ital. isolare, Lat. insulare), Eng. isolate, etc.
To this lucid and apparently adequate explanation we must, however, add another fact, which has demonstrably aided in the formation of the enormous number of English verbs in ate. From the fourteenth century onward, we find again and again such pairs as action (1330), to act (1384);130 affliction (1303), to afflict (1393); adjection (1374), to adject (1432); abjection (1410), to abject (1430), etc.131
Such pairs led to the supposition that the verbs were derivable from the nouns in tion by merely omitting the ion, and this was done with many nouns in ation even where another verb (itself the ground-word for that form in ation) existed by the side of it. Thus we find, e.g., aspiration (1398), to aspire (1460), the verb aspirate (1700); attestation (1547), to attest (1596), to attestate (1625); application (1493), to apply (1374), to applicate (1531).132
The suffix full forms adjectives from nouns: baleful, A.S. bealofull from bealu (woe, harm, mischief); shameful, A.S. sceamfull from sceam (shame). This ending was also added to nouns of Romance origin; e.g., powerful, fruitful. In both classes, however, the word might, in very many cases, be just as well derived from a verb as from a noun, so that, e.g., thankful, which originally undoubtedly was = full of thanks, could equally well be apprehended as he who thanks; respectful, as he who respects; etc. It is similar with such words as harmful, delightful, etc. That such a grouping has actually been made, is proved by the occurrence of such forms as wakeful, forgetful, and the dialectical urgeful; so also the form weariful seems more likely to be interpreted as that which wearies, than as a derivative from the adjective weary as Mätzner seems to take it.133 So, again, the form maisterful, found in Lydgate and Chaucer,134 seems more likely to be taken as ‘he who is always mastering,’ than ‘as he who is full of master,’ which gives no sense. The suffix less, originally and still as a rule only added to nouns, could not have been used with the verb to daunt (—O.Fr. danter, Modern French, dompter, Lat. domitare, ‘to tame,’) if in such compounds as restless, sleepless, hopeless, useless, the noun had not been identical in form with the verb.
The history of the suffix ness, is also especially instructive for our purpose. If we go back to the oldest records of the Teutonic languages, Gothic, we find a noun, ufarassus, literally ‘overness,’ used in the sense of ‘abundance,’ ‘superfluity,’ from ufar, ‘over:’ similarly formed was ibnassus, ‘equality,’ from ibns—‘even,’ ‘equal.’ This suffix assus was very frequently added to the stem of verbs which, in their turn, were derived from nouns. Thus, for instance, besides the noun—
lekeis (leach), we find lekinon (to cure), lekinassus (leachdom). shalks (servant), ” shalkinon (to serve), shalkinassus (service). gudja (priest), ” gudjinon (to be priest), gudjinassus (priesthood). frauja (Lord), ” fraujinon (to rule), fraujinassus (dominion). ðiudans (king), ” ðiudanon (to be king), ðiudinassus (kingdom).
In all these and similar cases, however, etymological consciousness might equally well operate otherwise. It might, for instance, derive a noun meaning kingdom from another noun denoting king, or one meaning priesthood from one denoting priest. That this has been done is proved by the fact that the n has coalesced completely with the suffix assus, forming nassus, or, in its more modern form, ness. Even in Gothic, this coalescence has already been powerful enough to produce vaninassus (want) from vans (adjective = ‘wanting,’ ‘less;’ found, e.g., in wanhope = ‘lack of hope,’ ‘despair:’ wanton, = ‘uneducated,’ ‘untrained,’ ‘unrestricted,’ ‘licentious:’ and wane = ‘to grow less’).
In Anglo-Saxon, adverbs were formed from adjectives by means of the termination e: for instance, heard, hearde, (‘hard’) ; sóð, sóðe, (‘true,’ cf. soothsayer and forsooth); wíd, wíde, (wide). Adjectives in lic were formed first from nouns: eorð, eorðlic, (‘earth,’ ‘earthy’); gást, gastlic, (‘ghost,’ ‘ghostly’), etc.; and then, also, from other adjectives, as heard-heardlic, æðele-æðelic, (for æðel-lic), etc.