English Past and Present Part 9

(=prosperous), 'flaysome' (=fearful), 'auntersome' (=adventurous), 'clamorsome' (all these still surviving in the North), 'playsome'

(employed by the historian Hume), 'lissome'{158}, have nearly or quite disappeared from our English speech. They seem to have held their ground in Scotland in considerably larger numbers than in the south of the Island{159}.

{Sidenote: _Words in '-ard'_}

Neither can I esteem it a mere accident that of a group of depreciatory and contemptuous words ending in 'ard', at least one half should have dropped out of use; I refer to that group of which 'dotard', 'laggard', 'braggard', now spelt 'braggart', 'sluggard', 'buzzard', 'b.a.s.t.a.r.d', 'wizard', may be taken as surviving specimens; 'blinkard' (_Homilies_), 'dizzard' (Burton), 'dullard' (Udal), 'musard' (Chaucer), 'trichard'

(_Political Songs_), 'shreward' (Robert of Gloucester), 'ballard' (a bald-headed man, Wiclif); 'puggard', 'stinkard' (Ben Jonson), 'haggard', a worthless hawk, as extinct.

Thus too there is a very curious province of our language, in which we were once so rich, that extensive losses here have failed to make us poor; so many of its words still surviving, even after as many or more have disappeared. I refer to those double words which either contain within themselves a strong rhyming modulation, such for example as 'w.i.l.l.y-nilly', 'hocus-pocus', 'helter-skelter', 'tag-rag', 'namby-pamby', 'pell-mell', 'hodge-podge'; or with a slight difference from this, though belonging to the same group, those of which the characteristic feature is not this internal likeness with initial unlikeness, but initial likeness with internal unlikeness; not rhyming, but strongly alliterative, and in every case with a change of the interior vowel from a weak into a strong, generally from _i_ into _a_ or _o_; as 's.h.i.+lly-shally', 'mingle-mangle', 't.i.ttle-tattle', 'prittle-prattle', 'riff-raff', 'see-saw', 'slip-slop'. No one who is not quite out of love with the homelier yet more vigorous portions of the language, but will acknowledge the life and strength which there is often in these and in others still current among us. But of the same sort what vast numbers have fallen out of use, some so fallen out of all remembrance that it may be difficult almost to find credence for them.

Thus take of rhyming the following: 'hugger-mugger', 'hurly-burly', 'kicksy-wicksy' (all in Shakespeare); 'hibber-gibber', 'rusty-dusty', 'horrel-lorrel', 'slaump paump' (all in Gabriel Harvey), 'royster-doyster'

(Old Play), 'hoddy-doddy' (Ben Jonson); while of alliterative might be instanced these: 'skimble-skamble', 'bibble-babble' (both in Shakespeare), 'twittle-t.w.a.ttle', 'kim-kam' (both in Holland), 'hab-nab'

(Lilly), 'trim-tram', 'trish-trash', 'swish-swash' (all in Gabriel Harvey), 'whim-wham' (Beaumont and Fletcher), 'mizz-mazz' (Locke), 'snip-snap' (Pope), 'flim-flam' (Swift), 'tric-trac', and others{160}.

{Sidenote: _Words under Ban_}

Again, there was once a whole family of words whereof the greater number are now under ban; which seemed at one time to have been formed almost at pleasure, the only condition being that the combination should be a happy one--I mean all those singularly expressive words formed by a combination of verb and substantive, the former governing the latter; as 'telltale', 'scapegrace', 'turncoat', 'turntail', 'skinflint', 'spendthrift', 'spitfire', 'lickspittle', 'daredevil' (=wagehals), 'makebate' (=storenfried), 'marplot', 'killjoy'. These with a certain number of others, have held their ground, and may be said to be still more or less in use; but what a number more are forgotten; and yet, though not always elegant, they const.i.tuted a very vigorous portion of our language, and preserved some of its most genuine idioms{161}. It could not well be otherwise; they are almost all words of abuse, and the abusive words of a language are always among the most picturesque and vigorous and imaginative which it possesses. The whole man speaks out in them, and often the man under the influence of pa.s.sion and excitement, which always lend force and fire to his speech. Let me remind you of a few of them; 'smellfeast', if not a better, is yet a more graphic, word than our foreign parasite; as graphic indeed for us as t?e??de?p??? to Greek ears; 'clawback' (Hackett) is a stronger, if not a more graceful, word than flatterer or sycophant; 'tosspot' (Fuller), or less frequently 'reel-pot' (Middleton), tells its own tale as well as drunkard; and 'pinchpenny' (Holland), or 'nipfarthing' (Drant), as well as or better than miser. And then what a mult.i.tude more there are in like kind; 'spintext', 'lacklatin', 'mumblematins', all applied to ignorant clerics; 'bitesheep' (a favourite word with Foxe) to such of these as were rather wolves tearing, than shepherds feeding, the flock; 'slip-string' = pendard (Beaumont and Fletcher), 'slip-gibbet', 'scapegallows'; all names given to those who, however they might have escaped, were justly owed to the gallows, and might still "go upstairs to bed".

{Sidenote: _Obsolete Compounds_}

How many of these words occur in Shakespeare. The following list makes no pretence to completeness; 'martext', 'carrytale', 'pleaseman', 'sneakcup', 'mumblenews', 'wantwit', 'lackbrain', 'lackbeard', 'lacklove', 'ticklebrain', 'cutpurse', 'cutthroat', 'crackhemp', 'breedbate', 'swinge-buckler', 'pickpurse', 'pickthank', 'picklock', 'scarecrow', 'breakvow', 'breakpromise', 'makepeace'--this last and 'telltruth' (Fuller) being the only ones in the whole collection wherein reprobation or contempt is not implied. Nor is the list exhausted yet; there are further 'dingthrift' = prodigal (Herrick), 'wastegood'

(Cotgrave), 'stroygood' (Golding), 'wastethrift' (Beaumont and Fletcher), 'scapethrift', 'swashbuckler' (both in Holinshed), 'shakebuckler', 'rinsepitcher' (both in Bacon), 'crackrope' (Howell), 'waghalter', 'wagfeather' (both in Cotgrave), 'blabtale' (Racket), 'getnothing' (Adams), 'findfault' (Florio), 'tearthroat' (Gayton), 'marprelate', 'spitvenom', 'nipcheese', 'nipscreed', 'killman'

(Chapman), 'lackland', 'pickquarrel', 'pickfaults', 'pickpenny' (Henry More), 'makefray' (Bishop Hall), 'make-debate' (Richardson's _Letters_), 'kindlecoal' (attise feu), 'kindlefire' (both in Gurnall), 'turntippet'

(Cranmer), 'swillbowl' (Stubbs), 'smell-smock', 'c.u.mberwold' (Drayton), 'curryfavor', 'pinchfist', 'suckfist', 'hatepeace' (Sylvester), 'hategood' (Bunyan), 'clutchfist', 'sharkgull' (both in Middleton), 'makesport' (Fuller), 'hangdog' ("Herod's _hangdogs_ in the tapestry", Pope), 'catchpoll', 'makes.h.i.+ft' (used not impersonally as now), 'pickgoose' ("the bookworm was never but a _pickgoose_"){162}, 'killcow'

(these three last in Gabriel Harvey), 'rakeshame' (Milton, prose), with others which it will be convenient to omit. 'Rakeh.e.l.l', which used to be spelt 'rakel' or 'rakle' (Chaucer), a good English word, would be only through an error included in this list, although Cowper, when he writes 'rakeh.e.l.l' ("_rake-h.e.l.l_ baronet") evidently regarded it as belonging to this group{163}.

{Sidenote: _Words become Vulgar_}

Perhaps one of the most frequent causes which leads to the disuse of words is this: in some inexplicable way there comes to be attached something of ludicrous, or coa.r.s.e, or vulgar to them, out of a feeling of which they are no longer used in earnest serious writing, and at the same time fall out of the discourse of those who desire to speak elegantly. Not indeed that this degradation which overtakes words is in all cases inexplicable. The unheroic character of most men's minds, with their consequent intolerance of that heroic which they cannot understand, is constantly at work, too often with success, in taking down words of n.o.bleness from their high pitch; and, as the most effectual way of doing this, in casting an air of mock-heroic about them. Thus 'to dub', a word resting on one of the n.o.blest usages of chivalry, has now something of ludicrous about it; so too has 'doughty'; they belong to that serio-comic, mock-heroic diction, the multiplication of which, as of all parodies on greatness, and the favour with which it is received, is always a sign of evil augury for a nation, is at present a sign of evil augury for our own.

'Pate' in the sense of head is now comic or ign.o.ble; it was not so once; as is plain from its occurrence in the Prayer Book Version of the Psalms (Ps. vii. 17); as little was 'noddle', which occurs in one of the few poetical pa.s.sages in Hawes. The same may be said of 'sconce', in this sense at least; of 'nowl' or 'noll', which Wiclif uses; of 'slops' for trousers (Marlowe's _Lucan_); of 'c.o.c.ksure' (Rogers), of 'smug', which once meant no more than adorned ("the _smug_ bridegroom", Shakespeare).

'To nap' is now a word without dignity; while yet in Wiclif's Bible it is said, "Lo he schall not _nappe_, nether slepe that kepeth Israel"

(Ps. cxxi. 4). 'To punch', 'to thump', both of which, and in serious writing, occur in Spenser, could not now obtain the same use, nor yet 'to wag', or 'to buss'. Neither would any one now say that at Lystra Barnabas and Paul "rent their clothes and _skipped out_ among the people" (Acts xiv. 14), which is the language that Wiclif employs; nor yet that "the Lord _trounced_ Sisera and all his host" as it stands in the Bible of 1551. "A _sight_ of angels", for which phrase see Cranmer's Bible (Heb. xii. 22), would be felt as a vulgarism now. We should scarcely call now a delusion of Satan a "_flam_ of the devil" (Henry More). It is not otherwise in regard of phrases. "Through thick and thin", occurring in Spenser, "cheek by jowl" in Dubartas{164}, do not now belong to serious poetry. In the glorious ballad of _Chevy Chase_, a n.o.ble warrior whose legs are hewn off, is described as being "in doleful dumps"; just as, in Holland's _Livy_, the Romans are set forth as being "in the dumps" as a consequence of their disastrous defeat at Cannae. In Golding's _Ovid_, one fears that he will "go to pot". In one of the beautiful letters of John Careless, preserved in Foxe's _Martyrs_, a persecutor, who expects a recantation from him, is described as "in the wrong box". And in the sermons of Barrow, who certainly intended to write an elevated style, and did not seek familiar, still less vulgar, expressions, we constantly meet such terms as 'to rate', 'to snub', 'to gull', 'to pudder', 'dumpish', and the like; which we may confidently affirm were not vulgar when he used them.

Then too the advance of refinement causes words to be forgone, which are felt to speak too plainly. It is not here merely that one age has more delicate ears than another; and that matters are freely spoken of at one time which at another are withdrawn from conversation. This is something; but besides this, and even if this delicacy were at a standstill, there would still be a continual process going on, by which the words, which for a certain while have been employed to designate coa.r.s.e or disagreeable facts or things, would be disallowed, or at all events relinquished to the lower cla.s.s of society, and others adopted in their place. The former by long use being felt to have come into too direct and close relation with that which they designate, to summon it up too distinctly before the mind's eye, they are thereupon exchanged for others, which, at first at least, indicate more lightly and allusively the offensive thing, rather hint and suggest than paint and describe it: although by and by these new will also in their turn be discarded, and for exactly the same reasons which brought about the dismissal of those which they themselves superseded. It lies in the necessity of things that I must leave this part of my subject, very curious as it is, without ill.u.s.tration{165}. But no one, even moderately acquainted with the early literature of the Reformation, can be ignorant of words freely used in it, which now are not merely coa.r.s.e and as such under ban, but which no one would employ who did not mean to speak impurely and vilely.

{Sidenote: _Lost Powers of a Language_}

Thus much in respect of the words, and the character of the words, which we have lost or let go. Of these, indeed, if a language, as it travels onwards, loses some, it also acquires others, and probably many more than it loses; they are leaves on the tree of language, of which if some fall away, a new succession takes their place. But it is not so, as I already observed, with the _forms_ or _powers_ of a language, that is, with the various inflections, moods, duplicate or triplicate formation of tenses; which the speakers of a language come gradually to perceive that they can do without, and therefore cease to employ; seeking to suppress grammatical intricacies, and to obtain grammatical simplicity and so far as possible a pervading uniformity, sometimes even at the hazard of letting go what had real worth, and contributed to the more lively, if not to the clearer, setting forth of the inner thought or feeling of the mind. Here there is only loss, with no compensating gain; or, at all events, diminution only, and never addition. In regard of these inner forces and potencies of a language, there is no creative energy at work in its later periods, in any, indeed, but quite the earliest. They are not as the leaves, but may be likened to the stem and leading branches of a tree, whose shape, mould and direction are determined at a very early stage of its growth; and which age, or accident, or violence may diminish, but which can never be multiplied. I have already slightly referred to a notable example of this, namely, to the dropping of the dual number in the Greek language. Thus in all the New Testament it does not once occur, having quite fallen out of the common dialect in which that is composed. Elsewhere too it has been felt that the dual was not worth preserving, or at any rate, that no serious inconvenience would follow on its loss. There is no such number in the modern German, Danish or Swedish; in the old German and Norse there was.

{Sidenote: _Extinction of Powers_}

How many niceties, delicacies, subtleties of language, _we_, speakers of the English tongue, in the course of centuries have got rid of; how bare (whether too bare is another question) we have stripped ourselves; what simplicity for better or for worse reigns in the present English, as compared with the old Anglo-Saxon. That had six declensions, our present English but one; that had three genders, English, if we except one or two words, has none; that formed the genitive in a variety of ways, we only in one; and the same fact meets us, wherever we compare the grammars of the two languages. At the same time, it can scarcely be repeated too often, that in the estimate of the gain or loss thereupon ensuing, we must by no means put certainly to loss everything which the language has dismissed, any more than everything to gain which it has acquired. It is no real wealth in a language to have needless and superfluous forms. They are often an embarra.s.sment and an enc.u.mbrance to it rather than a help. The Finnish language has fourteen cases. Without pretending to know exactly what it is able to effect, I yet feel confident that it cannot effect more, nor indeed so much, with its fourteen as the Greek is able to do with its five. It therefore seems to me that some words of Otfried Muller, in many ways admirable, do yet exaggerate the losses consequent on the reduction of the forms of a language. "It may be observed", he says, "that in the lapse of ages, from the time that the progress of language can be observed, grammatical forms, such as the signs of cases, moods and tenses have never been increased in number, but have been constantly diminis.h.i.+ng. The history of the Romance, as well as of the Germanic, languages shows in the clearest manner how a grammar, once powerful and copious, has been gradually weakened and impoverished, until at last it preserves only a few fragments of its ancient inflections. Now there is no doubt that this luxuriance of grammatical forms is not an essential part of a language, considered merely as a vehicle of thought. It is well known that the Chinese language, which is merely a collection of radical words dest.i.tute of grammatical forms, can express even philosophical ideas with tolerable precision; and the English, which, from the mode of its formation by a mixture of different tongues, has been stripped of its grammatical inflections more completely than any other European language, seems, nevertheless, even to a foreigner, to be distinguished by its energetic eloquence. All this must be admitted by every unprejudiced inquirer; but yet it cannot be overlooked, that this copiousness of grammatical forms, and the fine shades of meaning which they express, evince a nicety of observation, and a faculty of distinguis.h.i.+ng, which unquestionably prove that the race of mankind among whom these languages arose was characterized by a remarkable correctness and subtlety of thought. Nor can any modern European, who forms in his mind a lively image of the cla.s.sical languages in their ancient grammatical luxuriance, and compares them with his mother tongue, conceal from himself that in the ancient languages the words, with their inflections, clothed as it were with muscles and sinews, come forward like living bodies, full of expression and character, while in the modern tongues the words seem shrunk up into mere skeletons"{166}.

{Sidenote: _Words in '-ess'_}

Whether languages are as much impoverished by this process as is here a.s.sumed, may, I think, be a question. I will endeavour to give you some materials which shall a.s.sist you in forming your own judgment in the matter. And here I am sure that I shall do best in considering not forms which the language has relinquished long ago, but mainly such as it is relinquis.h.i.+ng now; which, touching us more nearly, will have a far more lively interest for us all. For example, the female termination which we employ in certain words, such as from 'heir' 'heiress', from 'prophet' 'prophetess', from 'sorcerer' 'sorceress', was once far more widely extended than at present; the words which retain it are daily becoming fewer. It has already fallen away in so many, and is evidently becoming of less frequent use in so many others, that, if we may augur of the future from the a.n.a.logy of the past, it will one day altogether vanish from our tongue. Thus all these occur in Wiclif's Bible; 'techeress' as the female teacher (2 Chron. x.x.xv. 25); 'friendess'

(Prov. vii. 4); 'servantess' (Gen. xvi. 2); 'leperess' (=saltatrix, Ecclus. ix. 4); 'daunceress' (Ecclus. ix. 4); 'neighbouress' (Exod. iii.

22); 'sinneress' (Luke vii. 37); 'purpuress' (Acts xvi. 14); 'cousiness'

(Luke i. 36); 'slayeress' (Tob. iii. 9); 'devouress' (Ezek. x.x.xvi. 13); 'spousess' (Prov. v. 19); 'thralless' (Jer. x.x.xiv. 16); 'dwelleress'

(Jer. xxi. 13); 'waileress' (Jer. ix. 17); 'cheseress' (=electrix, Wisd.

viii. 4); 'singeress', 'breakeress', 'waiteress', this last indeed having recently come up again. Add to these 'chideress', the female chider, 'herdess', 'constabless', 'moveress', 'jangleress', 'soudaness'

(=sultana), 'guideress', 'charmeress' (all in Chaucer); and others, which however we may have now let them fall, reached to far later periods of the language; thus 'vanqueress' (Fabyan); 'poisoneress'

(Greneway); 'knightess' (Udal); 'pedleress', 'championess', 'va.s.saless', 'avengeress', 'warriouress', 'victoress', 'creatress' (all in Spenser); 'fornicatress', 'cloistress', 'jointress' (all in Shakespeare); 'vowess' (Holinshed); 'ministress', 'flatteress' (both in Holland); 'captainess' (Sidney); 'saintess' (Sir T. Urquhart); 'heroess', 'dragoness', 'butleress', 'contendress', 'waggoness', 'rectress' (all in Chapman); 'shootress' (Fairfax); 'archeress' (Fanshawe); 'clientess', 'pandress' (both in Middleton); 'papess', 'Jesuitess' (Bishop Hall); 'incitress' (Gayton); 'soldieress', 'guardianess', 'votaress' (all in Beaumont and Fletcher); 'comfortress', 'fosteress' (Ben Jonson); 'soveraintess' (Sylvester); 'preserveress' (Daniel); 'solicitress', 'impostress', 'buildress', 'intrudress' (all in Fuller); 'favouress'

(Hakewell); 'commandress' (Burton); 'monarchess', 'discipless' (Speed); 'auditress', 'cateress', 'chantress', 'tyranness' (all in Milton); 'citess', 'divineress' (both in Dryden); 'deaness' (Sterne); 'detractress' (Addison); 'hucksteress' (Howell); 'tutoress'

(Shaftesbury); 'farmeress' (Lord Peterborough, _Letter to Pope_); 'laddess', which however still survives in the contracted form of 'la.s.s'{167}; with more which, I doubt not, it would not be very hard to bring together{168}.

{Sidenote: _Words in '-ster'_}

Exactly the same thing has happened with another feminine affix. I refer to 'ster', taking the place of 'er' where a feminine doer is intended{169}. 'Spinner' and 'spinster' are the only pair of such words, which still survive. There were formerly many such; thus 'baker'

had 'bakester', being the female who baked: 'brewer' 'brewster'; 'sewer'

'sewster'; 'reader' 'readster'; 'seamer' 'seamster'; 'fruiterer'

'fruitester'; 'tumbler' 'tumblester'; 'hopper' 'hoppester' (these last three in Chaucer; "the s.h.i.+ppes _hoppesteres_", about which so much difficulty has been made, are the s.h.i.+ps _dancing_, i.e., on the waves){170}, 'knitter' 'knitster' (a word, I am told, still alive in Devon). Add to these 'whitster' (female bleacher, Shakespeare), 'kempster' (pectrix), 'dryster' (siccatrix), 'brawdster', (I suppose embroideress){171}, and 'salster' (salinaria){172}. It is a singular example of the richness of a language in forms at the earlier stages of its existence, that not a few of the words which had, as we have just seen, a feminine termination in 'ess', had also a second in 'ster'. Thus 'daunser', beside 'daunseress', had also 'daunster' (Ecclus. ix. 4); 'wailer', beside 'waileress', had 'wailster' (Jer. ix. 17); 'dweller'

'dwelster' (Jer. xxi. 13); and 'singer' 'singster' (2 Kin. xix. 35); so too, 'chider' had 'chidester' (Chaucer), as well as 'chideress', 'slayer' 'slayster' (Tob. iii. 9), as well as 'slayeress', 'chooser'

'chesister', (Wisd. viii. 4), as well as 'cheseress', with others that might be named.

{Sidenote: _Deceptive a.n.a.logies_}

It is difficult to understand how Marsh, with these examples before him should affirm, "I find no positive evidence to show that the termination 'ster' was ever regarded as a feminine termination in English". It may be, and indeed has been, urged that the existence of such words as 'seamstr_ess_', 'songstr_ess_', is decisive proof that the ending 'ster'

of itself was not counted sufficient to designate persons as female; for if, it has been said, 'seam_ster_' and 'song_ster_' had been felt to be already feminine, no one would have ever thought of doubling on this, and adding a second female termination; 'seam_stress_', 'song_stress_'.

But all which can justly be concluded from hence is, that when this final 'ess' was added to these already feminine forms, and examples of it will not, I think, be found till a comparatively late period of the language, the true principle and law of the words had been lost sight of and forgotten{173}. The same may be affirmed of such other of these feminine forms as are now applied to men, such as 'gamester', 'youngster', 'oldster', 'drugster' (South), 'huckster', 'hackster', (=swordsman, Milton, prose), 'teamster', 'throwster', 'rhymester', 'punster' (_Spectator_), 'tapster', 'whipster' (Shakespeare), 'trickster'. Either, like 'teamster', and 'punster', the words first came into being, when the true significance of this form was altogether lost{174}; or like 'tapster', which was female in Chaucer ("the gay _tapstere_"), as it is still in Dutch and Frisian, and distinguished from 'tapper', the _man_ who keeps the inn, or has charge of the tap, or as 'bakester', at this day used in Scotland for 'baker', as 'dyester'

for 'dyer', the word did originally belong of right and exclusively to women; but with the gradual transfer of the occupation to men, and an increasing forgetfulness of what this termination implied, there went also a transfer of the name{175}, just as in other words, and out of the same causes, the exact converse has found place; and 'baker' or 'brewer', not 'bakester' or 'brewster'{176}, would be now in England applied to the woman baking or brewing. So entirely has this power of the language died out, that it survives more apparently than really even in 'spinner' and 'spinster'; seeing that 'spinster' has obtained now quite another meaning than that of a woman spinning, whom, as well as the man, we should call not a 'spinster', but a 'spinner'{177}. It would indeed be hard to believe, if we had not constant experience of the fact, how soon and how easily the true law and significance of some form, which has never ceased to be in everybody's mouth, may yet be lost sight of by all. No more curious chapter in the history of language could be written than one which should trace the violations of a.n.a.logy, the transgressions of the most primary laws of a language, which follow hereupon; the plurals like 'welkin' (=wolken, the clouds){178}, 'chicken'{179}, which are dealt with as singulars, the singulars, like 'riches' (richesse){180}, 'pease' (pisum, pois){181}, 'alms', 'eaves'{182}, which are a.s.sumed to be plurals.

{Sidenote: _The Genitival Inflexion '-s'_}

There is one example of this, familiar to us all; probably so familiar that it would not be worth while adverting to it, if it did not ill.u.s.trate, as no other word could, this forgetfulness which may overtake a whole people, of the true meaning of a grammatical form which they have never ceased to employ. I refer to the mistaken a.s.sumption that the 's' of the genitive, as 'the king's countenance', was merely a more rapid way of p.r.o.nouncing 'the king _his_ countenance', and that the final 's' in 'king's' was in fact an elided 'his'. This explanation for a long time prevailed almost universally; I believe there are many who accept it still. It was in vain that here and there a deeper knower of our tongue protested against this "monstrous syntax", as Ben Jonson in his _Grammar_ justly calls it{183}. It was in vain that Wallis, another English scholar of the seventeenth century, pointed out in _his_ Grammar that the slightest examination of the facts revealed the untenable character of this explanation, seeing that we do not merely say "the _king's_ countenance", but "the _queen's_ countenance"; and in this case the final 's' cannot stand for 'his', for "the queen _his_ countenance"

cannot be intended{184}; we do not say merely "the _child's_ bread", but "the _children's_ bread", where it is no less impossible to resolve the phrase into "the children _his_ bread"{185}. Despite of these protests the error held its ground. This much indeed of a plea it could make for itself, that such an actual employment of 'his' _had_ found its way into the language, as early as the fourteenth century, and had been in occasional, though rare use, from that time downward{186}. Yet this, which has only been elicited by the researches of recent scholars, does not in the least justify those who a.s.sumed that in the habitual 's' of the genitive were to be found the remains of 'his'--an error from which the books of scholars in the seventeenth, and in the early decades of the eighteenth, century are not a whit clearer than those of others.

Spenser, Donne, Fuller, Jeremy Taylor, all fall into it; I cannot say confidently whether Milton does. Dryden more than once helps out his verse with an additional syllable gained by its aid. It has even forced its way into our Prayer Book itself, where in the "Prayer for all sorts and conditions of men", added by Bishop Sanderson at the last revision of the Liturgy in 1661, we are bidden to say, "And this we beg for Jesus Christ _his_ sake"{187}. I need hardly tell you that this 's' is in fact the one remnant of flexion surviving in the singular number of our English noun substantives; it is in all the Indo-Germanic languages the original sign of the genitive, or at any rate the earliest of which we can take cognizance; and just as in Latin 'lapis' makes 'lapidis' in the genitive, so 'king', 'queen', 'child', make severally 'kings', 'queens', 'childs', the comma, an apparent note of elision, being a mere modern expedient, "a late refinement", as Ash calls it{188}, to distinguish the genitive singular from the plural cases{189}.

{Sidenote: _Adjectives in '-en'_}

Notice another example of this willingness to dispense with inflection, of this endeavour on the part of the speakers of a language to reduce its forms to the fewest possible, consistent with the accurate communication of thought. Of our adjectives in 'en', formed on substantives, and expressing the material or substance of a thing, some have gone, others are going, out of use; while we content ourselves with the bare juxtaposition of the substantive itself, as sufficiently expressing our meaning. Thus instead of "_golden_ pin" we say "_gold_ pin"; instead of "_earthen_ works" we say "_earth_ works". 'Golden' and 'earthen', it is true, still belong to our living speech, though mainly as part of our poetic diction, or of the solemn and thus stereotyped language of Scripture; but a whole company of such words have nearly or quite disappeared; some lately, some long ago. 'Steelen' and 'flowren'

belong only to the earliest period of the language; 'rosen' also went early. Chaucer is my latest authority for it ("_rosen_ chapelet").

'Hairen' is in Wiclif and in Chaucer; 'stonen' in the former (John iii.

6){190}. 'Silvern' stood originally in Wiclif's Bible ("_silverne_ housis to Diane", Acts xix. 24); but already in the second recension of this was exchanged for 'silver'; 'hornen', still in provincial use, he also employs, and 'clayen' (Job iv. 19) no less. 'Tinnen' occurs in Sylvester's _Du Bartas_; where also we meet with "Jove's _milken_ alley", as a name for the _Via Lactea_, in Bacon also not "the _Milky_", but "the _Milken_ Way". In the coa.r.s.e polemics of the Reformation the phrase, "_breaden_ G.o.d", provoked by the Romish doctrine of transubstantiation, was of frequent employment, and occurs as late as in Oldham. "_Mothen_ parchments" is in Fulke; "_twiggen_ bottle" in Shakespeare; '_yewen_', or, according to earlier spelling, "_ewghen_ bow", in Spenser; "_cedarn_ alley", and "_azurn_ sheen" are both in Milton; "_boxen_ leaves" in Dryden; "a _treen_ cup" in Jeremy Taylor; "_eldern_ popguns" in Sir Thomas Overbury; "a _gla.s.sen_ breast", in Whitlock; "a _reeden_ hat" in Coryat; 'yarnen' occurs in Turberville; 'furzen' in Holland; 'threaden' in Shakespeare; and 'bricken', 'papern'

appear in our provincial glossaries as still in use.

It is true that many of these adjectives still hold their ground; but it is curious to note how the roots which sustain even these are being gradually cut away from beneath them. Thus 'brazen' might at first sight seem as strongly established in the language as ever; it is far from so being; its supports are being cut from beneath it. Even now it only lives in a tropical and secondary sense, as 'a _brazen_ face'; or if in a literal, in poetic diction or in the consecrated language of Scripture, as 'the _brazen_ serpent'; otherwise we say 'a _bra.s.s_ farthing', 'a _bra.s.s_ candlestick'. It is the same with 'oaten', 'birchen', 'beechen', 'strawen', and many more, whereof some are obsolescent, some obsolete, the language manifestly tending now, as it has tended for a long time past, to the getting quit of these, and to the satisfying of itself with an adjectival apposition of the substantive in their stead.

{Sidenote: _Weak and Strong Praeterites_}

Let me ill.u.s.trate by another example the way in which a language, as it travels onward, simplifies itself, approaches more and more to a grammatical and logical uniformity, seeks to do the same thing always in the same manner; where it has two or three ways of conducting a single operation, lets all of them go but one; and thus becomes, no doubt, easier to be mastered, more handy, more manageable; for its very riches were to many an embarra.s.sment and a perplexity; but at the same time imposes limits and restraints on its own freedom of action, and is in danger of forfeiting elements of strength, variety and beauty, which it once possessed. I refer to the tendency of our verbs to let go their strong praeterites, and to subst.i.tute weak ones in their room; or, where they have two or three praeterites, to retain only one of them, and that invariably the weak one. Though many of us no doubt are familiar with the terms 'strong' and 'weak' praeterites, which in all our better grammars have put out of use the wholly misleading terms, 'irregular'

and 'regular', I may perhaps as well remind you of the exact meaning of the terms. A strong praeterite is one formed by an internal vowel change; for instance the verb 'to _drive_' forms the praeterite '_drove_' by an internal change of the vowel 'i' into 'o'. But why, it may be asked, called 'strong'? In respect of the vigour and indwelling energy in the word, enabling it to form its past tense from its own resources, and with no calling in of help from without. On the other hand 'lift' forms its praeterite 'lift_ed_', not by any internal change, but by the addition of 'ed'; 'grieve' in like manner has 'griev_ed_'. Here are weak tenses; as strength was ascribed to the other verbs, so weakness to these, which can form their praeterites only by external aid and addition. You will see at once that these strong praeterites, while they witness to a vital energy in the words which are able to put them forth, do also, as must be allowed by all, contribute much to the variety and charm of a language{191}.

The point, however, which I am urging now is this,--that these are becoming fewer every day; mult.i.tudes of them having disappeared, while others are in the act of disappearing. Nor is the balance redressed and compensation found in any new creations of the kind. The power of forming strong praeterites is long ago extinct; probably no verb which has come into the language since the Conquest has a.s.serted this power, while a whole legion have let it go. For example, 'shape' has now a weak praeterite, 'shaped', it had once a strong one, 'shope'; 'bake' has now a weak praeterite, 'baked', it had once a strong one, 'boke'; the praeterite of 'glide' is now 'glided', it was once 'glode' or 'glid'; 'help' makes now 'helped', it made once 'halp' and 'holp'. 'Creep' made 'crope', still current in the north of England; 'weep' 'wope'; 'yell' 'yoll'

(both in Chaucer); 'seethe' 'soth' or 'sod' (Gen. xxv. 29); 'sheer' in like manner once made 'sh.o.r.e'; as 'leap' made 'lope'; 'wash' 'wishe'

(Chaucer); 'snow' 'snew'; 'sow' 'sew'; 'delve' 'dalf' and 'dolve'; 'sweat' 'swat'; 'yield' 'yold' (both in Spenser); 'mete' 'mat' (Wiclif); 'stretch' 'straught'; 'melt' 'molt'; 'wax' 'wex' and 'wox'; 'laugh'

'leugh'; with others more than can be enumerated here{192}.