CHAPTER VI
ARCHAIC MEANINGS AND FORMS IN THE DIALECTS
So far we have considered only those words which, whether recently or long ago, have left the ranks of standard modern English and become ‘dialect’. But another wide field for study opens up when we come to look at common standard English words as they are used in the dialects. We shall find that the dialects have frequently preserved a well-authenticated old meaning which we have let slip, and now express by some quite different word or phrase. What may now sound to us like a perverted sense is often historically correct, for whereas learned influences, the introduction of foreign words—which makes for further specialization and differentiation of meaning—and the general march of civilization affecting manners, customs, and habits of thought, all tend to divert the normal course of language, the dialects have meanwhile kept the noiseless tenor of their way unmolested. Thus it may often happen that it is we of the literary speech who use a word in a perverted or specialized sense, while the unlearned rustic is keeping to one which has been handed down steadily from father to son since the days of Wyclif or Shakespeare, or to go still further back, since the days of Alfred or Chaucer. A few examples of these words used with their older meanings are: able (n.Cy. Nhb. Dur. Cum. Wm. Yks. Lan. War. Hrf.), well-to-do, rich, e.g. Bob’s a yabble chap, he can live wi’oot wahkin’, cp. ‘Able (wealthy), opulentis,’ Coles, Dict., 1679; admire (Irel. Wm. Yks. Chs. Lei. Nhp. War. Oxf. Som.), to wonder at, notice with astonishment: e.g. Yan wad admire how yau gits sec cauds [such colds], or used with at: Ah caan’t bud admire at t’waay he did it. Cp. ‘Admire not in thy mind, why I do call thee so,’ Twelfth Night, III. iv. 165. The word is frequently used in this sense in Jervas’ Translation of Don Quixote (1742), e.g. ‘The duchess could not forbear laughing to hear the simplicity of her duenna, nor admiring to hear the reasonings and proverbs of Sancho’; ‘he admired at the length of his horse,’ vol. ii, p. 272, l. 6; p. 120, l. 15, World’s Classics edit. Cp. ‘I wondered with great admiration,’ A.V. Rev. xvii. 6. Anatomy (in gen. use throughout dials. except in se. counties), a skeleton, a very thin emaciated person, e.g. She’s dwinnel’t away til a atomy, ’Er little un’s nuth’n but a natomy, cp. ‘They brought one Pinch, a hungry lean-faced villain, A mere anatomy,’ Com. Err. V. i. 238; baby (Dur. Wm. Lan. Lin.), a doll, cp. ‘The baby of a girl,’ Macb. III. iv. 106, and:
Bachelor (Irel.), an admirer, a suitor, cp. ‘broom-groves, Whose shadow the dismissed bachelor loves,’ Temp. IV. i. 67; bid (Sc. Nhb. Dur. Cum. Wm. Yks. Lan. Stf. Der.), to invite, especially to a wedding or funeral, hence: bidden-wedding, one to which a large number of guests are invited, and as at a penny-wedding, expected to contribute, cp. ‘As many as ye finde, byd them to the mariage,’ Tindale, 1534, Matt. xxii. 9; bravery (War. Brks.), splendour, fine clothes, cp. ‘With scarfs and fans and double change of bravery,’ T. of Shrew, IV. iii. 57; bride-ale (n.Cy. Som.), a wedding feast, O.E. brȳd-ealo; budget (Sc. Nhb. Yks. Lan. Stf. Not. Shr. Wil. Dor.), a workman’s bag, generally made of leather, especially a tinker’s wallet, Fr. bougette, sac de cuir que l’on portait en voyage. There is an old saying in Nottinghamshire: Yer mun wait while [till] yer get it, like the tinker an’ ’is budget, alluding to the frequent pawning of the budget, to pay for the tinker’s board and lodging, cp.:
In a treatise on English Dogs translated from Latin in 1570, we read: ‘This kind of dog is called, in like manner, Canis Sarcinarius; in Latin, and may aptly be Englished, a Tinker’s Cur. Because with marvellous patience, they bear big budgets fraught with tinker’s tools and metal meet to mend kettles, porridge-pots, skillets, and chafers.’ Burrow (Nhp. War. Wor. Shr. Hrf. Glo. Oxf. Bck. Wil.), shelter from the sun or wind, cp. ‘A burrow (covert), latibulum,’ Coles, Dict., 1679; child (Lan. Shr. Glo. Oxf.), a female child, a girl, cp. ‘Mercy on’s, a barne; a very pretty barne! A boy or a child, I wonder?’ Wint. T. III. iii. 71; dizzy (Sc. Nhb. Yks. Chs. War. Shr. e.An.), foolish, stupid, half-witted, O.E. dysig, M.E. dysy, foolish; enough (Yks. Lan. Lin.), used elliptically for enough cooked, e.g. T’beef’s enough, cp. ‘He took his simples, and made a compound of them, mixing them together, and boiling them a good while, until he thought they were enough,’ Don Quix. i. 134, Jervas; fond (Sc. Irel. Nhb. Dur. Cum. Wm. Yks. Lan. Not. Lin. e.An.), foolish, silly, daft; a very common simile is: as fond as a besom. There is an old English proverb: He’s a fond chapman that comes the day after the fair. The substantive fondness, foolishness, nonsense, occurs in Wyclif’s Bible: ‘And in the profetis of Samarie Y siȝ fonnednesse,’ Jer. xxiii. 13. Foul (Yks. Lan. Chs. Der. Not. Lin. War. Wor. Shr.), ugly, e.g. There never wur a fou’ face but there wur a fou’ fancy to match it; Fawn-freckles han made a vow They’ll noan come on a face that’s feaw, cp. ‘Fairing the foul with art’s false borrow’d face,’ Shaks. Sonnet cxxvii. 6. Frame (n. country dials.), to set about doing anything, to prepare, &c. Cp. Milton:
Garret in the sense of watch-tower, is obsolete now, but remained in Newcastle-on-Tyne into last century, cp. ‘garyteȝ ful gaye gered bi-twene,’Sir Gaw., l. 791, O.Fr. garite, a tower on the walls of a town; gossip (Sc. Irel. Yks. Lan. Lin. Lei. War. Shr. Hrf. Suf. Som. Dev. Cor.), a godparent, a sponsor at baptism, O.E. godsibb, a sponsor; haunt (Sc. Nhb. Dur. Yks. Chs. Som.), a custom, practice, e.g. at your oud hants, at your old habits, cp. ‘Of cloth-makyng she hadde such an haunt,’ Chaucer, Prol. l. 447; hind (n. dials. also Sus. Dev. Cor.), a farm-labourer, servant, or bailiff. The final d is excrescent, and the word is formed from O.E. hī(g)na, gen. pl. of hīwa, hīga, member of a family, servant, M.E. hine, cp.:
In hugger-mugger (Sh.I. Nhb. Yks. Der. Suf. Dev.), clandestinely, privately, in a sneaking way, cp. ‘that his body should be honourably buried, and not in hugger-mugger, et non point à cachettes,’ North’s Plutarch, 1579, cp. Hamlet, IV. v. 67; imp (Sc. Dur. Cum. Yks. Hrf. Rdn. Dev.), a shoot from a tree or fence, a sucker, an ingrafted slip, O.E. impa, a sucker, scion; lead (Sh.I. Sc. Nhb. Dur. Cum. Yks. Lan. Chs. Der. Not. Lin. Rut. War. Shr.), to carry, cart, convey goods by cart, used especially of corn or hay, O.E. lǣdan, M.E. leden, to lead, to carry, cp.:
Learn (gen. dials.), to teach, e.g. ’E nivver larnt me nowt, he never taught me anything. In O.E. the two verbs lǣran, to teach, and leornian, to learn, were kept quite separate in meaning, but already in M.E. lernen sometimes took over the sense of leren. Chaucer has: ‘To lerne a lewed [ignorant] man this subtilte,’ Chanounes Yemannes Tale, l. 844, cp. ‘Lead me forth in thy truth and learn me,’ Prayer Book Ps., XXV. 4. In a Northamptonshire churchyard, there is an epitaph on a village singing-master, dated 1729, which runs as follows:
Like (Sc. n.Cy. Yks.), to please, be agreeable to, e.g. If it likes them to do it, let them do it. In O.E. this verb was always used impersonally in this sense, but during the M.E. period it came to be used personally as well. Lodge (Sc. Irel. Yks. Chs. War. Shr. Oxf. Brks. Ken. Sur. Sus. Wil.), of corn or grass: to lie flat, to be beaten down by wind and rain, generally used in the past participle, cp. ‘Like to the summer’s corn by tempest lodged,’ 2 Hen. VI, III. ii. 176; loft (n. counties and midl.), the upper floor of a house of two stories, an upper room, cp. ‘Eutychus ... fell down from the third loft, and was taken up dead,’ A.V. Acts xx. 9; meat (in gen. dial. use in Sc. Irel. Eng.), food in general, victuals, also used as a verb, e.g. Well, ya see, ma’am, he meats hissen, an’ ah weshes him, i.e. he finds his own food, and I wash for him, O.E. mete, food. We are all familiar with the word in this sense in the proverb: One man’s meat is another man’s poison, and in the Bible, cp. ‘And if thou bring an oblation of a meat offering baken in the oven, it shall be unleavened cakes of fine flour mingled with oil, or unleavened wafers anointed with oil,’ A.V. Lev. ii. 4. Nephew (Ken.), a grandson. This meaning occurs in Shakespeare, and several times in the Bible, cp. ‘And he had forty sons, and thirty nephews,’ with the marginal note: ‘Heb. sons’ sons,’ A.V. Judges xii. 14. Dr. Johnson gives it, but as an archaism: ‘The grandson. Out of use.’ Similarly niece (Ken.) is used to signify a granddaughter, cp. Rich. III, IV i. 1. Owe (Sh.I. Irel. n.Cy. Cum. Yks. e.An. w.Cy.), to own, possess, e.g. Let ta awe ta, an’ ta tither, let the one person possess the one, and the other person the remaining one, O.E. āgan, cp. ‘the noblest grace she owed,’ Temp. III. i. 45; painful (Yks. Chs.), painstaking, hardworking, active, cp. ‘ Such servants are oftenest painfull and good,’ Tusser, Husb., 1580. An inscription on a memorial brass dated 1639 begins thus:
Pity (Sc. Cum. e.Yks.), impers. it fills one with pity, e.g. It fair pitied me to see t’poor auld galloway so sairly failed, cp. ‘It pitieth them to see her in the dust,’ Prayer Book, Ps. cii. 14; proper (Sc. Nhb. Glo. e.An. Ken. Hmp. Wil. Dor. Dev. Cor.), handsome, fine, well-grown, cp. ‘This Ludovico is a proper man,’ Othello, IV. iii. 36, ‘they saw he was a proper child,’ A.V. Heb. xi. 23; quick (n. and midl. counties), alive, e.g. I thoht thaay was dead last back-end, bud thaay’re wick eniff noo, cp. ‘I had rather be set quick i’ the earth,’ Mer. Wives, III. iv. 90. We are of course familiar with the word in this sense in the Bible and Prayer Book, and in phrases such as: a quickset hedge, the quick of the nail, quicksilver, &c. A quickset hedge is a living hedge, as distinct from a dead fence or stockade, and the young thorn-plants for forming such a hedge are known in the dialects as quick, or quicks. The following is an advertisement which appeared in the Oxford Chronicle: ‘Quick! Quick!! QUICK!!! for hedgerows. 1,000,000 for sale,’ February 1, 1901. Sad (many dials.), solid, firm, compact; of bread, pastry, &c.: heavy, close; also: grave, discreet. The original meaning of O.E. sæd was satiated, the word being cognate with German satt, e.g. wīnsæd, satiated with wine, but already in Middle English it came to mean quiet, discreet, solid, cp.:
Wyclif has: ‘And whanne greet flood was maad, the flood was hurtlid to that hous, and it miȝte not moue it, for it was foundid on a sad stoon,’ St. Luke vi. 48. Similarly, sadness (Yks. Lan. Chs. Lei. War.), solidity, seriousness; in good sadness means in earnest. Shakespeare plays upon the two meanings of the word in a well-known passage beginning: ‘Tell me in sadness, who is that you love,’ Rom. & Jul. I. i. 205. Connected with these words is the verb sade (n.Cy. Chs. Stf. War. Wor. Shr. Hrf. Glo. w.Cy.), to satiate, also to become weary or tired, especially used in the phrase sick and saded, O.E. sadian, to become satiated or weary. Serve (Nhb. Cum. Yks. Lan. Chs. Der. Not. Lin. War. Wor. Shr. Oxf. Hmp. Wil.), to supply an animal with food, e.g. Ah’ll gan an’ sarve t’pigs, cp. ‘See cattle well serued, without and within, and all thing at quiet ere supper begin,’ Tusser, Husb.; shed (Sc. and n. counties), to part, separate, O.E. scādan, scēadan, to divide, separate, a meaning which is retained in the standard language in the compound watershed; silly (Ess. Som.), simple, rustic, (Nhb.) pure, innocent, e.g. The bit bairn’s asleep, silly thing, cp.:
Another dialect form of the word is seely, O.E. gesǣlig, happy, blessed. Speed (Sc. Yks. Lan. Lin. Glo. Cor.), success, is familiar to us in certain phrases and sayings, such as: More haste worse speed. An old Lincolnshire parish clerk affirmed that in his young days it was customary for men, before they began work in the morning, to say: May God speed us well. Another of the fraternity used to call out in church: God speed ’em weel, in a high monotone immediately after the publication of banns of marriage. Godspeed (Lakel.) is the name for a wooden screen or barrier against the wind within the door, apparently so called because leave-takings or good-byes were said there. Spill (Sc. Midl. Ken. Sur. Sus.), to spoil, ruin, destroy, O.E. spillan, to destroy; stickler (Glo. Som. Dev. Cor.), an umpire, especially an umpire at a wrestling-match or bout of singlestick, cp.:
Tell (many dials.), to count, reckon up, e.g. Tell them ther ship [sheep], ’ooll ’e, an let I knaw how many ther be on ’em, O.E. tellan, to count, cp.:
Whether (Yks. Lan.), which of two, e.g. Wether will ta ’ev, this er that? O.E. hwæþer, which of two, cp. ‘Whether of them twain did the will of his father?’ A.V. Matt. xxi. 31; witty (Sc. Yks. Chs. Not. Lin. Ken. Dev.), wise, knowing, sensible, shrewd, e.g. He’s a witty mon, is yander, there’s noo bestin’ him at a bargain, O.E. wittig, wise, cp.:
Wretch (War. Wor. Glo. Bck.), used as a term of endearment, sympathy, or compassion, e.g. I set a deal o’ store by Lucy, poor wratch! cp.:
Side by side with these historical meanings preserved in the dialects, are the historical forms. Many a word which we meet in the dialects in some unfamiliar shape, can be shown to be no mere vulgar mispronunciation or misspelling, but a genuine old form, once under distinguished patronage in our earlier literature. Or again, formations which appear to be ignorant errors in grammar can be shown to be grammatically regular, the divergence of the standard form being due to analogy, or some other influence. It is surprising to find what a number of cases there are where a word in literary English has become corrupt, whilst in the dialects it has followed its normal development. To take some examples of these justifiable dialect forms: alablaster (n. and midl. counties) for alabaster, e.g. It’s a straange nist bairn, it’s skin’s that clear it’s like alablaster, cp.:
This was the general spelling of alabaster in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. Apricock (n.Cy. Lan. Lin. Lei. Nhp. War. Shr. Hrf.) for apricot, cp. ‘Yond dangling apricocks,’ Rich. II, III. iv. 29. The word came originally from the Portuguese albricoque, and the change from the final ck to t was due to the French cognate abricot. Crowner (in gen. dial. use in Irel. and Eng.) for coroner, e.g. I do lot as they’l ’ave a crowner’s quest on he, cp. ‘Crowner’s quest law,’ Ham. V. i. 24. Laylock (in gen. dial. use in Eng.) for lilac, cp. ‘The Lelacke Tree,’ Bacon, Essays, ed. 1625. Our pronunciation lilac is borrowed from those dialects where byby is the normal pronunciation of baby. We have erred in the same direction in discarding the older obleege (now confined to the dialects) in favour of the modern oblige. The correct pronunciation of the French ī is that in machine. Newelty (Nhp. Oxf. Bdf. Hnt. e.An. Som.) for novelty, e.g. Well! there idn very much newelty in thick there contraption like, cp. ‘Novella, a tale, a parable, or a neweltee,’ Thomas, Italian Grammar, 1562. Shool or showl (in gen. dial. use in Sc. Irel. Eng.) for shovel, cp. ‘Item, j. dressyng knyfe, j. fyre showle,’ Paston Letters, 1459. This must have been the proper pronunciation when the nursery rhyme Cock Robin was composed:
Similarly, comparison with the dialects restores correct rhyme to the water: after in Jack and Jill, and correct metre to: ‘Mary, Mary, quite contrary.’ Abear for bear, endure, is widely diffused through the dialects. It is O.E. āberan, to endure, suffer, a form which apparently dropped out of the literary language in the thirteenth century, but which has lived on ever since in the spoken dialects. Affodil or affrodile (Chs.) for daffodil is found in Cotgrave: ‘Affrodille, th’ Affodille or Asphodill flower.’ It is, in fact, etymologically the correct form, from a M.Lat. affodillus, Lat. asphodilus, and the prefixed d of the standard form has yet to be satisfactorily explained. Disgest (in gen. dial. use in Sc. Irel. and Eng.) for digest was the common form in literary English in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. Haviour (Sc. Yks. Chs.) for behaviour occurs in Spenser; ‘Her heavenly haveour, her princely grace,’ Shepherd’s Cal., 1579. Overlive (Lan. Der. Rut. Lei. Nhp.) for outlive occurs in Shakespeare and in the Bible: ‘And Israel served the Lord all the days of Joshua, and all the days of the elders that overlived Joshua,’ A.V. Josh. xxiv. 31. Ballet (Cum. Yks. Lan. Chs. Der. Nhp. War. Shr. Hrf. Brks. Ess. Ken. Sus. Wil. Som. Dev.) for ballad is a corruption common in the literary language in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, cp. ‘The Ballet of Ballets of Solomon,’ Bishops’ Bible, 1568; ‘I occasioned much mirth by a ballet I brought with me made from the seamen at sea to their ladies in town,’ Pepys’ Diary, Jan. 2, 1665. In like manner the form sallet for salad remains in the dialects. Brinded (Der. Not. Wil. Som.) for brindled recalls the well-known line: ‘Thrice the brinded cat hath mew’d,’ Macb. IV. i. 1. Darkling (Sc. Yks. Lin.) for in the dark is used by Shakespeare and by Milton, cp. ‘The wakeful bird sings darkling,’ Par. Lost, iii. 39. Flannen (in gen. dial. use in Sc. Irel. and Eng.) is the correct form for flannel, from Welsh gwlanen, woollen material, cp. ‘She found Dorus, apparelled in flanen,’ Sydney, Arcadia, c. 1585. Lovier (e.An. Dor. Som.) for lover carries us back to Chaucer’s ‘yong Squyer’ who was: ‘A lovyere, and a lusty bacheler,’ Prol. l. 80. Margent (Sc. Yks. e.An.) for margin, with excrescent t, is a Shakespearian form. Jeremy Taylor has: ‘She was arrested with a sorrow so great as brought her to the margent of her grave,’ Holy Living, 1650. Neglection (Glo. Suf.) for neglect, and robustious (Sc. n.Cy. I.Ma. War.) for robust, are both to be found in Shakespeare’s Plays; cp. also Milton:
Ruinate for ruin is now so common that it is a colloquialism rather than dialect. Johnson gives quotations for it from Shakespeare and other authors, but says: ‘This word is now obsolete.’
Sometimes a dialect form which sounds like a corruption, is in reality a different word from the standard form with which we associate it, for example: meese (Glo. Wil. Dor. Som. Dev. Cor.), moss, is not a corruption of moss, but the regular descendant of O.E. mēos, the literary form being probably a Scandinavian import. Rivel (War. Wor. Shr. Hrf. Glo. Dor.), to shrivel, is from M.E. rivelen, to wrinkle, whilst shrivel is of different origin. Shakespeare uses both words. Shill (Sc. Dur. Yks. Nhp. Dor.), shrill, is from O.E. scill, sonorous, etymologically quite distinct from shrill. Quite distinct too is the dialect lew-warm (in gen. dial. use in Sc. Irel. and Eng.), from the standard lukewarm, tepid, cp. ‘Thou art lew, and nether cold, nether hot,’ Wyclif, Rev. iii. 16.
Or again, the difference between the dialect and the standard word may be traced back to a grammatical or phonological variation in the O.E. period, resulting in the development of two distinct types side by side, one of which came to be preserved in the literary language and the other in the spoken dialects. Among such are: ax (in gen. dial. use in Sc. Irel. and Eng.), beside ask, O.E. ācsian, āxian, beside the non-metathesized form āscian. The common dialect form cowslop for our cowslip goes back to O.E. cū-sloppe beside cū-slyppe. Yat or yet is more usual in the dialects than gate, and is perfectly regular. The form in O.E. was geat in the singular, whence correctly yat or yet; and gatu in the plural, whence our gate with the hard g. A farm I knew well near my Herefordshire home was known as ‘The Three Hats’, apparently a corruption of ‘The Three Yats’, so called from its situation at the junction of three farm-roads, each shut off by a gate. Gate meaning road is, as we have already noticed (p. 75), a Norse loan-word, and not to be confused with gate, an opening. Lat (n.Cy. Yks. Lan. Chs. Der. Lei. War. Wor. Shr.) beside late is the normal descendant of the adjective O.E. læt, beside the adverb O.E. late which has given the standard form. Neist (Sc. Nhb. Lakel. Yks. Lan. Der. Nhp. Shr. Hmp. Wil. Som. Dev. Cor.), nearest, nighest, beside next goes back to an O.E. contracted form nēst, beside the uncontracted nēhst, which became next. Quid, which in many dialects is used for our cud, is from O.E. cwidu, beside which was the by-form cudu, which gave cud. Rew (Wor. Sur. Sus. Hmp. I.W. Som. Dev.) beside our row goes back to O.E. rǣw beside rāw, a row, a line. Sealch (Sc. Irel.) for seal is from the O.E. nominative seolh, whereas seal is from the oblique cases where there was no h. Shilder (Lan.) for shoulder is derived from the plural form O.E. gescyldru, shoulders. The Scotch and North-country weel for the adverb well is from an O.E. wēl which existed beside the form with e, whence our well.
Grammatical distinctions are frequently kept up in the dialects, where they have become obliterated in the literary language, for example: kemb (Sc. Nhb. Yks. Lan. Cor.) vb. to comb, beside comb subs., in O.E. cemban vb., and camb, comb subs. Keel is the common dialect verb meaning to make cool, in O.E. cēlan vb. beside cōl adj. Wyclif has: ‘Sende Lazarus, that he dippe the ende of his fyngur in watir, to kele my tunge,’ Luke xvi. 24. Snew (Irel. Yks. Lan. Glo. Nrf. Dev.), to snow, to abound, beside snow subs. is from O.E. snīwan vb. beside snāw subs., cp. ‘It snewede in his hous of mete and drinke,’ Chaucer, Prol. l. 345. Smeeth (Nhb. Chs.), to smooth, beside the adj. smooth is from O.E. smēðian vb. The correct form of the adjective is found in a few North-country dialects as smeeth, from O.E. smēðe adj.; our smooth is from the O.E. adverb smōðe. A difference of pronunciation of work, verb and noun, is found in nearly all dialects; in O.E. wyrcan vb. and weorc subs. In mean (Sc. Nhb. Lakel. Yks. Lan.), moan vb. and subs., the verbal form O.E. mǣnan has predominated, whilst in the standard language we have formed our verb from the noun. In kuss (n.Cy. Yks. Lan.) vb. and subs., the dialects have taken the noun form, O.E. coss, for both uses, whilst the standard language has retained only the verbal one, O.E. cyssan, to kiss.
In the conjugation of verbs, the dialects have also often retained an old formation which has become obsolete in standard English, for example: afrore (sw. counties), frozen, O.E. gefroren. Our frozen has taken its medial consonant from the stem of the Present. In the form frore this word has maintained a fitful existence in poetry ever since Milton wrote: ‘the parching air Burns frore,’ Par. Lost, ii. 594, but this is merely an archaism. Forboden (Yks.), O.E. forboden, is strictly correct; our forbidden has been influenced by the vowel of the Infinitive. Getten, the dialect past participle of to get, is, in the same way, the true form grammatically, and got is due to analogy. Raught (Sc. Lan. Chs. Stf. Der. War. Shr. Glo. Brks. Hmp. I.W. Som.) is from O.E. rǣhte, and might have remained like taught, but the standard language has selected the new preterite reached, made from the Infinitive, cp. ‘He smiled me in the face, raught me his hand,’ Hen. V, IV. vi. 21. Weared (Sc. n.Yks. Nhp. Wor. Som. Dev. Cor.) is from O.E. werede. Chaucer has: ‘A whit cote and a blew hood werede he,’ Prol. l. 564. We have since made a new strong preterite wore on the analogy of bore. Wrought (Sc. Irel. Nhb. Dur. Cum. Wm. Yks. Lan. Der. Suf.), as a preterite and participle, is familiar to us in the Bible, cp. ‘He abode with them and wrought,’ Acts xviii. 3, M.E. wrohte, wroht; but the standard language has adopted the newer form worked, retaining wrought only as an adjective. The common dialect adjective afeared or feared for afraid is originally a past participle, O.E. āfǣred, cp. ‘I am afeard you make a wanton of me,’ Ham. V. ii. 310. To illustrate the use of the word in modern times, a Dialect Glossary gives the following anecdote: Two ladies, alarmed at some cows that obstructed their path, called a boy to drive them away, when having been rewarded for his trouble, he said, Would you please to be feared of the sheep too?
The basis of the standard language is the sound-system of what is called the Mercian Dialect of the O.E. period, and the East Midland Dialect of the M.E. period, but occasionally we meet with words which have been borrowed from some district outside the East Midland area, and incorporated into literary English with the characteristic pronunciation of the district whence they came. For instance, our pronunciation of among is irregular; we ought to make it rhyme with hang or long, as it does in various dialects. Our among rhyming with hung is a West Midland form, specially common in Lancashire. Again, our vat, vane, vixen with initial v are south-western dialect forms; the regular standard pronunciation should be fat, &c., cp. ‘The fats shall overflow with wine and oil,’ A.V. Joel ii. 24; ‘pressfat,’ A.V. Hag ii. 16, from O.E. fæt. The forms brize (Sc. Nhb. Yks.), from O.E. brȳsan, and kidgel (Nhb. Yks.), from O.E. cycgel, have been ousted from the literary speech by the south-western bruise and cudgel. The common dialect pronunciation bile for boil subs., from O.E. bȳl, would be correct in literary English; our form boil is irregular and corrupt.
The name of the irregularities in the standard speech is legion, and it is an enticing pursuit to hunt for the regular forms in the dialects and compare them with their literary cognates. Bread (Sc. Dur. Cum. Yks. Lan. Chs. Der. Not. Lin. Shr. Pem.), breadth, is the normal development of O.E. brǣdu; the form breadth has taken over a final -th from other abstract nouns such as length. Lin (Sc. Irel. and n. and w. counties), flax, linen, is the correct representative of the O.E. substantive līn, M.E. lin, as we have it in linseed; our linen is properly an adjective, meaning made of flax. Mirk (Sc. and n. counties), dark, gloomy, also sb. darkness, gloom, from M.E. mirk(e, may be used in modern poetry, but the ordinary form is mirky, murky, with the addition of -y from other adjectives where it was regular. Similarly, red(d (Sc. Irel.) for ready, and slipper (Som. Dev. Cor.) for slippery, cp. O.E. ge-rǣde, slipor. Sloum (Sc. Irel. and n. counties) for slumber is O.E. slūma, without the later additions of the frequentative suffix, and intrusive b. Peel (Glo. Wil. Som. Dev. Cor.) for pillow is from the O.E. nominative pylu, whereas from the oblique cases came M.E. pilwe, whence our pillow. Graff (Sc. Yks. Hrf.) for graft, and hoise (Sc. Irel. Cum. Yks. Lan.) for hoist, are both correct forms without the additional t, which is probably due to confusion with verbal forms in the Past tense, cp. ‘We’ll quickly hoise Duke Humphrey from his seat,’2 Hen. VI, I. i. 169. Hose (Rut. Som. Dev.) and haiss (Sc.) for hoarse from O.E. hās are correctly without the intrusive r. Hollin (n. and n. midl. counties) for holly, and miln (Sc. Yks. Lan. Der. Not. Lin.) for mill have not acquired a final n, but they retain one which has been lost in the standard forms. The O.E. originals were hole(g)n and myln. The latter remains intact in the surnames Milne and Milner. Ridless (Wor. Shr.) for riddle, a conundrum, from O.E. rǣdels, preserves the final s which has been discarded from the literary form, or rather, the s being taken as the sign of the plural, a new singular has been formed without it. The same process has given us our pea, burial, Sherry, and Bret Harte’s Chinee. With these literary examples before us we cannot find fault with the dialect form shimmy (in gen. dial. use in Sc. and Eng.), the supposed singular of chemise; or with apse (Som. Dev. Cor.), from a plural-sounding abscess.
Nearly all the dialects have lat for lath, regularly developed from O.E. lætt, and latta, the th in our lath being the irregular element. Lynse-pin (War. Sus. Wil. Som. Cor.), from M.E. linse, an axle, is correct, and our linch-pin is corrupt. Popple (Wor. Pem. Hmp. I.W. Wil. Dor. Som. Dev. Cor.) represents O.E. papol, and leaves our pebble to be explained. Penny-winkle (Nhb. Yks. Der. War. Brks. Suf. Dev.), the mollusc, from O.E. pinewincla is the correct form beside our corrupt periwinkle. The common dialect pronunciation kindom regularly represents O.E. cynedōm, M.E. kinedom, whereas in our kingdom popular etymology has substituted the well-known word king for the forgotten cyne, royal.
Amongst these dialect words which differ in form and pronunciation from their equivalents in the standard language are many French words, borrowed several centuries ago either from Old French, or through the medium of Anglo-Norman French. Meanwhile, we of the standard speech have perhaps re-borrowed the word in a more modern shape, or re-modelled it after the pattern of its Latin cognate, or, where in older times the standard vocabulary included two forms side by side, we have since discarded one of them, and left it to drop into obscurity. Regarded thus, the dialect form can take its legitimate place as the second half of a doublet, with as good a title to name and fame as the half that remained in the ranks of the literary vocabulary. There are quantities of doublets of this nature still in everyday standard use, but because we are familiar with each half of the pair, we are not tempted to regard one of them as vulgar or corrupt because it differs from the other. Examples of these literary doublets are: caitiff and captive; mayor and major; parson and person; royal and regal; &c., &c. In all these cases a divergence of meaning has taken place, so that each member of the pair maintains a separate existence, but in the following examples from the dialects, I have for the most part selected those words where the meaning is the same as that of the literary form: Aunter (Cum. Wm. Yks. Lan.), an adventure, a story of adventure, an unlikely story, was the common form in M.E. for adventure, cp. M.E. antur, aunter, from Anglo-French aventure. The form aunters (Nhb. Cum. Wm. Yks.), with the addition of an adverbial s, means perhaps, lest, in case that, cp. ‘Aunters, peradventure,’ Coles, 1677. Callenge (Glo. I.W. Dor. Som.) for challenge is from A.Fr. calenge. Causey (in gen. dial. use in Sc. Irel. and Eng.) is from A.Fr. caucè, the standard form causeway is a compound of causey and way. Chat (Dor. Dev. Cor.), a kitten, is not a dialect pronunciation of cat, but from Fr. chat. Chieve (Nhb. Yks. Lan. Lin. Nhp.) is an aphetic form of achieve common in M.E. writings. Corrosy (Dev. Cor.), an annoyance, a grudge, is a popular form of the learned corrosive, something that corrodes or causes annoyance. It occurs as far back as Tusser, cp. ‘So lose ye your cost, to your corosie and smart,’ Husb., 1580. Descrive (Sc.) is from O.Fr. descrivre, whilst our describe is from the Latin form. Gilliver (Sc. Cum. Yks. Lan. Chs. Stf. Der. Not. Lin. Lei. War.) for gillyflower represents M.E. gilofre, for O.Fr. girofre, girofle, cp. ‘Then make your garden rich in gillyvors,’ Wint. Tale, IV. iv. 98. The form gillyflower is due to a confusion with flower. Hamel (n.Cy. Nhb. Lan. Chs. Sus.) for hamlet is from O.Fr. hamel, whilst the standard form goes back to the double diminutive O.Fr. hamelet. Inobedient (Sc. n.Cy. Som.) beside disobedient is from O.Fr. inobedient, cp. ‘Adam inobedyent,’ Cleanness, l. 237, c. 1360. Kiver (in gen. dial. use in Sc. Irel. and Eng.) for cover is from the stressed stem-form cuev- of O.Fr. covrir, cp. ‘If oure gospel is kyuerid, in these that perischen it is kyuerid,’ Wyclif, 2 Cor. iv. 3. Liver (Nhb. Dur. Cum. Wm. Yks. Lan. Der. Lin.) for deliver is from Fr. livrer beside délivrer, cp.:
Marriable (Yks. Lan.) for marriageable is from O.Fr. mariable. Noy (Sc. n.Cy. Yks.) for annoy is an aphetic form common in M.E. literature. Paise (Sc. n. and sw. counties), to weigh, is from O.Fr. Norman dialect peiser beside O.Fr. poiser, M.E. peisen and poisen. The common dialect forms perfit, parfit are from O.Fr. parfit, through M.E. perfit, parfit, whilst our perfect has been remodelled to conform with Lat. perfectus. Parsil (Sc. n.Cy. Wm. Yks. Lan.) beside parsley is from Fr. persil, M.E. percel, beside perceli, which owes its ending to O.E. petersilie. Pearch (Cum. Yks. Lan. Lin.) for pierce is from O.Fr. Norman dialect percher beside O.Fr. percer. Perceivance (Yks. e.An.) for perception is used by Milton, cp. ‘The senses and common perceivance might carry this message to the soul within,’ Church Government, 1641, cp. O.Fr. percevance. Planch (Gmg. Suf. Dor. Som. Dev. Cor.) is from Fr. planche, whilst our plank is from O.N.Fr. planke. Plat (Shet. and Ork. I. n.Cy. also sw. counties) for flat is from O.Fr. plat, whilst our word is of Scandinavian origin. Portmantle (in gen. dial. use in Sc. and Eng.), compounded from O.Fr. mantel, is the old form common from the sixteenth to the eighteenth century; our portmanteau is a later borrowing, when the French form was manteau. Provand (Sc. Yks. Lan. Chs.) for provender is from O.Fr. provende beside provendre, cp. ‘Than camels in the war, who have their provand Only for bearing burdens,’ Coriol. II. i. 267, 268. Queer (Sc. n.Cy. Dur. Yks. Chs. Lin.) for choir represents the M.E. quer, quere, from O.Fr. cuer. The standard form should be spelt quire, as it is pronounced, but the orthography has been influenced by the word chorus. Ratten (Sc. Nhb. Dur. Cum. Wm. Yks. Lan. Chs. Der. Shr.) is from O.Fr. raton, cp. ‘Wiþ þat ran þere a route of ratones at ones,’ Piers Plow. B, Prol. l. 146. Our rat is probably from the O.E. ræt. Remeid (Sc. n.Cy. Nhb.) for remedy is from O.Fr. remede, M.E. remede, beside remedie from Anglo-Fr. remedie. Scry (Sc. Nhb. Cum. Yks. Lan. Cor.), to cry, proclaim, is from O.Fr. escrier beside crier. Skelet (Lin. Cor.) for skeleton is from Fr. scelete (Cotgrave), our form is from the Greek word. Vage (Sc. Nhb. Dur. Yks. Lin. w.Cy.) for voyage is from O.Fr. veiage, M.E. viage, veage, cp. ‘For he was late ycome from his viage,’ Chaucer, Prol. l. 77.
Further, there are the dialect words in which the apparent irregularity is due to their Scandinavian origin. For example: boun (Sc. Irel. Nhb. Dur. Cum. Wm. Yks. Lan. Chs. Der. Lin.), e.g. Awm beawn to Stopport, I am bound for Stockport, is from O.N. būinn, prepared, the past part, of būa, to get ready, M.E. boun. Our bound has acquired an excrescent d, in common with sound sb., and other words. Dead (Sc. Irel. Nhb. Dur. Cum. Wm. Yks. Not. Lin. e.An.) for death is from the Norwegian dialect form død; the standard English death is native, O.E. dēað. Drucken (Sc. Nhb. Cum. Wm. Yks. Lan.) for drunken is from the O.N. adjective and past participle drukkin, drunk. Garn (Nhb. Dur. Cum. Wm. Lan. Stf.) beside yarn is again the O.N. form beside the English. Gavel (Sc. Irel. Nhb. Dur. Cum. Yks.) for gable is from O.N. gafl, Norwegian dialect gavl. Ice-shackle, ice-shockle (Cum. Wm. Yks. Lan. Chs. Nhp.) for icicle represent O.N. jökull, Norw. dialect isjøkul, whilst our word is from the O.E. compound īs-gicel. The simple word remains in the dialect ickle (n. and midl. counties), e.g. It’s bin a snirpin’ fros’ sence it lef’ off rainin’, theer’s iccles at the aisins [eaves] a yard lung. Loup, lope (n.Cy. n.midl. and e.An.) for leap is from O.N. hlaupa, Norw. dialect laupa and lope, to run, cognate with O.E. hlēapan, whence our form leap. Similarly the Sc. and northern forms rin and ren, both common in M.E., are Norse words, whilst our run is of native extraction. Sniggle (Lei. Nhp.) for snail is from O.N. snigill, beside the native snail from O.E. snægl. Stam (Rut. Nhp. Wor. Glo. Oxf. Bdf. s.Cy. Sur. Sus. Hmp.) for stem, stalk, is from Danish stamme. Stang (Sc. Nhb. Cum. Yks. Lan. Lin.), to sting, is from O.N. stanga, to prick. Starn (Sc. n.Cy. Nhb.) beside star is from O.N. stjarna, beside O.E. steorra, whence our star. Teind (Sc. n.Cy. Cum. Yks.), a tithe, a tenth part, is from O.N. tīund. War (Sc. Irel. n. and n. midl. counties) for worse is from O.N. verr adv., verri adj., worse; our form is native English. Nearly all these words, and numbers more of the same type, can be traced in early literary works written in those districts where the Norse influence was strong; and on the other hand, if evidence is wanted for localizing such writings, it is supplied by the existence of these old forms in the spoken dialects of to-day.