The same caveat lies against the work of the later makers of

TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE:

Original spelling and grammar has mostly been retained. Many

inconsistencies in the use of hyphens and character accents have been

retained; some of these were probably intentional. Footnotes were

moved to the ends of chapters. The original pagination of this 1919

edition is shown in square brackets, e.g. [Pg009]. There are an awful

lot of italics in this book. In this simple text version, /italics are

marked with the solidus/. Text that was originally small caps is

shown in uppercase.

Further details are provided in the TRANSCRIBER ENDNOTE.

THE AMERICAN LANGUAGE

[Illustration]

OF THE FIRST EDITION OF

THIS BOOK FIFTEEN HUNDRED

COPIES HAVE BEEN PRINTED

AND THE TYPE DISTRIBUTED

THIS IS NUMBER 1434

THE AMERICAN LANGUAGE

/A Preliminary Inquiry into the Development

of English in the United States/

BY

H. L. MENCKEN

[Illustration]

NEW YORK

ALFRED · A · KNOPF

MCMXIX

COPYRIGHT, 1919, BY

ALFRED A. KNOPF, INC.

PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

PREFACE

The aim of this book is best exhibited by describing its origin. I am,

and have been since early manhood, an editor of newspapers, magazines

and books, and a critic of the last named. These occupations have

forced me into a pretty wide familiarity with current literature, both

periodical and within covers, and in particular into a familiarity

with the current literature of England and America. It was part of my

daily work, for a good many years, to read the principal English

newspapers and reviews; it has been part of my work, all the time, to

read the more important English novels, essays, poetry and criticism.

An American born and bred, I early noted, as everyone else in like

case must note, certain salient differences between the English of

England and the English of America as practically spoken and

written--differences in vocabulary, in syntax, in the shades and

habits of idiom, and even, coming to the common speech, in grammar.

And I noted too, of course, partly during visits to England but more

largely by a somewhat wide and intimate intercourse with English

people in the United States, the obvious differences between English

and American pronunciation and intonation.

Greatly interested in these differences--some of them so great that

they led me to seek exchanges of light with Englishmen--I looked for

some work that would describe and account for them with a show of

completeness, and perhaps depict the process of their origin. I soon

found that no such work existed, either in England or in America--that

the whole literature of the subject was astonishingly meagre and

unsatisfactory. There were several dictionaries of Americanisms, true

enough, but only one of them made any pretension to scientific method,

and even that one was woefully narrow and incomplete. The one more

general treatise, the work of a man foreign to both England and

America in race and education, was more than 40 years old, and full of

palpable errors. For the rest, there was only a fugitive and

inconsequential literature--an almost useless mass of notes and

essays, chiefly by the minor sort of pedagogues, seldom illuminating,

save in small details, and often incredibly ignorant and inaccurate.

On the large and important subject of American pronunciation, for

example, I could find nothing save a few casual essays. On American

spelling, with its wide and constantly visible divergences from

English usages, there was little more. On American grammar there was

nothing whatever. Worse, an important part of the poor literature that

I unearthed was devoted to absurd efforts to prove that no such thing

as an American variety of English existed--that the differences I

constantly encountered in English and that my English friends

encountered in American were chiefly imaginary, and to be explained

away by denying them.

Still intrigued by the subject, and in despair of getting any

illumination from such theoretical masters of it, I began a collection

of materials for my own information, and gradually it took on a rather

formidable bulk. My interest in it being made known by various

articles in the newspapers and magazines, I began also to receive

contributions from other persons of the same fancy, both English and

American, and gradually my collection fell into a certain order, and I

saw the workings of general laws in what, at first, had appeared to be

mere chaos. The present book then began to take form--its preparation

a sort of recreation from other and far different labor. It is

anything but an exhaustive treatise upon the subject; it is not even

an exhaustive examination of the materials. All it pretends to do is

to articulate some of those materials--to get some approach to order

and coherence into them, and so pave the way for a better work by some

more competent man. That work calls for the equipment of a first-rate

philologist, which I am surely not. All I have done here is to stake

out the field, sometimes borrowing suggestions from other inquirers

and sometimes, as in the case of American grammar, attempting to run

the lines myself.

That it should be regarded as an anti-social act to examine and

exhibit the constantly growing differences between English and

American, as certain American pedants argue sharply--this doctrine is

quite beyond my understanding. All it indicates, stripped of

sophistry, is a somewhat childish effort to gain the approval of

Englishmen--a belated efflorescence of the colonial spirit, often

commingled with fashionable aspiration. The plain fact is that the

English themselves are not deceived, nor do they grant the approval so

ardently sought for. On the contrary, they are keenly aware of the

differences between the two dialects, and often discuss them, as the

following pages show. Perhaps one dialect, in the long run, will

defeat and absorb the other; if the two nations continue to be

partners in great adventures it may very well happen. But even in that

case, something may be accomplished by examining the differences which

exist today. In some ways, as in intonation, English usage is plainly

better than American. In others, as in spelling, American usage is as

plainly better than English. But in order to develop usages that the

people of both nations will accept it is obviously necessary to study

the differences now visible. This study thus shows a certain utility.

But its chief excuse is its human interest, for it prods deeply into

national idiosyncrasies and ways of mind, and that sort of prodding is

always entertaining.

I am thus neither teacher, nor prophet, nor reformer, but merely

inquirer. The exigencies of my vocation make me almost completely

bilingual; I can write English, as in this clause, quite as readily as

American, as in this here one. Moreover, I have a hand for a

compromise dialect which embodies the common materials of both, and is

thus free from offense on both sides of the water--as befits the

editor of a magazine published in both countries. But that compromise

dialect is the living speech of neither. What I have tried to do here

is to make a first sketch of the living speech of These States. The

work is confessedly incomplete, and in places very painfully so, but

in such enterprises a man must put an arbitrary term to his labors,

lest some mischance, after years of diligence, take him from them too

suddenly for them to be closed, and his laborious accumulations, as

Ernest Walker says in his book on English surnames, be "doomed to the

waste-basket by harassed executors."

If the opportunity offers in future I shall undoubtedly return to the

subject. For one thing, I am eager to attempt a more scientific

examination of the grammar of the American vulgar speech, here

discussed briefly in Chapter VI. For another thing, I hope to make

further inquiries into the subject of American surnames of non-English

origin. Various other fields invite. No historical study of American

pronunciation exists; the influence of German, Irish-English, Yiddish

and other such immigrant dialects upon American has never been

investigated; there is no adequate treatise on American geographical

names. Contributions of materials and suggestions for a possible

revised edition of the present book will reach me if addressed to me

in care of the publisher at 220 West Forty-second Street, New York. I

shall also be very grateful for the correction of errors, some perhaps

typographical but others due to faulty information or mistaken

judgment.

In conclusion I borrow a plea in confession and avoidance from Ben

Jonson's pioneer grammar of English, published in incomplete form

after his death. "We have set down," he said, "that that in our

judgment agreeth best with reason and good order. Which

notwithstanding, if it seem to any to be too rough hewed, let him

plane it out more smoothly, and I shall not only not envy it, but in

the behalf of my country most heartily thank him for so great a

benefit; hoping that I shall be thought sufficiently to have done my

part if in tolling this bell I may draw others to a deeper

consideration of the matter; for, touching myself, I must needs

confess that after much painful churning this only would come which

here we have devised."

MENCKEN.

Baltimore, January 1, 1919.

CONTENTS

I. BY WAY OF INTRODUCTION, 1

1. The Diverging Streams, 1

2. The Academic Attitude, 4

3. The View of Writing Men, 12

4. Foreign Observers, 18

5. The Characters of American, 19

6. The Materials of American, 29

II. THE BEGINNINGS OF AMERICAN, 36

1. In Colonial Days, 36

2. Sources of Early Americanisms, 40

3. New Words of English Material, 44

4. Changed Meanings, 51

5. Archaic English Words, 54

6. Colonial Pronunciation, 58

III. THE PERIOD OF GROWTH, 63

1. The New Nation, 63

2. The Language in the Making, 72

3. The Expanding Vocabulary, 76

4. Loan-Words, 86

5. Pronunciation, 94

IV. AMERICAN AND ENGLISH TODAY, 97

1. The Two Vocabularies, 97

2. Differences in Usage, 102

3. Honorifics, 117

4. Euphemisms and Forbidden Words, 124

V. TENDENCIES IN AMERICAN, 131

1. International Exchanges, 131

2. Points of Difference, 138

3. Lost Distinctions, 143

4. Foreign Influences Today, 149

5. Processes of Word Formation, 159

6. Pronunciation, 166

VI. THE COMMON SPEECH, 177

1. Grammarians and Their Ways, 177

2. Spoken American As It Is, 184

3. The Verb, 192

4. The Pronoun, 212

5. The Adverb, 226

6. The Noun and Adjective, 229

7. The Double Negative, 231

8. Pronunciation, 234

VII. DIFFERENCES IN SPELLING, 242

1. Typical Forms, 242

2. General Tendencies, 245

3. The Influence of Webster, 247

4. Exchanges, 255

5. Simplified Spelling, 261

6. Minor Differences, 264

VIII. PROPER NAMES IN AMERICA, 268

1. Surnames, 268

2. Given Names, 283

3. Geographical Names, 286

4. Street Names, 298

IX. MISCELLANEA, 301

1. Proverb and Platitude, 301

2. American Slang, 304

3. The Future of the Language, 312

BIBLIOGRAPHY, 323

LIST OF WORDS AND PHRASES, 340

GENERAL INDEX, 368

[Pg001]

I

By Way of Introduction

§ 1

/The Diverging Streams/--Thomas Jefferson, with his usual prevision,

saw clearly more than a century ago that the American people, as they

increased in numbers and in the diversity of their national interests

and racial strains, would make changes in their mother tongue, as they

had already made changes in the political institutions of their

inheritance. "The new circumstances under which we are placed," he

wrote to John Waldo from Monticello on August 16, 1813, "call for new

words, new phrases, and for the transfer of old words to new objects.

An American dialect will therefore be formed."

Nearly a quarter of a century before this, another great American, and

one with an expertness in the matter that the too versatile Jefferson

could not muster, had ventured upon a prophecy even more bold and

specific. He was Noah Webster, then at the beginning of his stormy

career as a lexicographer. In his little volume of "Dissertations on

the English Language," printed in 1789 and dedicated to "His

Excellency, Benjamin Franklin, Esq., LL.D., F.R.S., late President of

the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania," Webster argued that the time for

regarding English usage and submitting to English authority had

already passed, and that "a future separation of the American tongue

from the English" was "necessary and unavoidable." "Numerous local

causes," he continued, "such as a new country, new associations of

people, new combinations of ideas in arts and sciences, and some

intercourse with tribes wholly unknown in Europe, will introduce new

words into the American tongue. These causes will produce, in a course

of time, a language in [Pg002] North America as different from the

future language of England as the modern Dutch, Danish and Swedish are

from the German, or from one another."[1]

Neither Jefferson nor Webster put a term upon his prophecy. They may

have been thinking, one or both, of a remote era, not yet come to

dawn, or they may have been thinking, with the facile imagination of

those days, of a period even earlier than our own. In the latter case,

they allowed far too little (and particularly Webster) for factors

that have worked powerfully against the influences they saw so clearly

in operation about them. One of these factors, obviously, has been the

vast improvement in communications across the ocean, a change scarcely

in vision a century ago. It has brought New York relatively nearer to

London today than it was to Boston, or even to Philadelphia, during

Jefferson's presidency, and that greater proximity has produced a

steady interchange of ideas, opinions, news and mere gossip. We

latter-day Americans know a great deal more about the everyday affairs

of England than the early Americans, for we read more English books,

and have more about the English in our newspapers, and meet more

Englishmen, and go to England much oftener. The effects of this

ceaseless traffic in ideas and impressions, so plainly visible in

politics, in ethics and aesthetics, and even in the minutae of social

intercourse, are also to be seen in the language. On the one hand

there is a swift exchange of new inventions on both sides, so that

much of our American slang quickly passes to London and the latest

English fashions in pronunciation are almost instantaneously imitated,

at least by a minority, in New York; and on the other hand the

English, by so constantly having the floor, force upon us, out of

their firmer resolution and certitude, a somewhat sneaking respect for

their own greater conservatism of speech, so that our professors of

the language, in the overwhelming main, combat all signs of

differentiation with the utmost diligence, and safeguard the doctrine

that the standards of English are the only reputable standards of

American.

This doctrine, of course, is not supported by the known laws of

[Pg003] language, nor has it prevented the large divergences that we

shall presently examine, but all the same it has worked steadily

toward a highly artificial formalism, and as steadily against the

investigation of the actual national speech. Such grammar, so-called,

as is taught in our schools and colleges, is a grammar standing

four-legged upon the theorizings and false inferences of English

Latinists, eager only to break the wild tongue of Shakespeare to a

rule; and its frank aim is to create in us a high respect for a book

language which few of us ever actually speak and not many of us even

learn to write. That language, heavily artificial though it may be,

undoubtedly has notable merits. It shows a sonority and a stateliness

that you must go to the Latin of the Golden Age to match; its "highly

charged and heavy-shotted" periods, in Matthew Arnold's phrase, serve

admirably the obscurantist purposes of American pedagogy and of

English parliamentary oratory and leader-writing; it is something for

the literary artists of both countries to prove their skill upon by

flouting it. But to the average American, bent upon expressing his

ideas, not stupendously but merely clearly, it must always remain

something vague and remote, like Greek history or the properties of

the parabola, for he never speaks it or hears it spoken, and seldom

encounters it in his everyday reading. If he learns to write it, which

is not often, it is with a rather depressing sense of its

artificiality. He may master it as a Korean, bred in the colloquial

Onmun, may master the literary Korean-Chinese, but he never thinks in

it or quite feels it.

This fact, I daresay, is largely responsible for the notorious failure

of our schools to turn out students who can put their ideas into words

with simplicity and intelligibility. What their professors try to

teach is not their mother-tongue at all, but a dialect that stands

quite outside their common experience, and into which they have to

translate their thoughts, consciously and painfully. Bad writing

consists in making the attempt, and failing through lack of practise.

Good writing consists, as in the case of Howells, in deliberately

throwing overboard the principles so elaborately inculcated, or, as in

the case of Lincoln, in standing unaware of them. Thus the study of

the language he is [Pg004] supposed to use, to the average American,

takes on a sort of bilingual character. On the one hand, he is

grounded abominably in a grammar and syntax that have always been

largely artificial, even in the country where they are supposed to

prevail, and on the other hand he has to pick up the essentials of his

actual speech as best he may. "Literary English," says Van Wyck

Brooks,[2] "with us is a tradition, just as Anglo-Saxon law with us is

a tradition. They persist, not as the normal expressions of a race,

... but through prestige and precedent and the will and habit of a

dominating class largely out of touch with a national fabric

unconsciously taking form out of school." What thus goes on out of

school does not interest the guardians of our linguistic morals. No

attempt to deduce the principles of American grammar, or even of

American syntax, from the everyday speech of decently spoken Americans

has ever been made. There is no scientific study, general and

comprehensive in scope, of the American vocabulary, or of the

influences lying at the root of American word-formation. No American

philologist, so far as I know, has ever deigned to give the same sober

attention to the /sermo plebeius/ of his country that he habitually

gives to the mythical objective case in theoretical English, or to the

pronunciation of Latin, or to the irregular verbs in French.

§ 2

/The Academic Attitude/--This neglect of the vulgate by those

professionally trained to investigate it, and its disdainful dismissal

when it is considered at all, are among the strangest phenomena of

American scholarship. In all other countries the everyday speech of

the people, and even the speech of the illiterate, have the constant

attention of philologists, and the laws of their growth and variation

are elaborately studied. In France, to name but one agency, there is

the Société des Parlers de France, with its diligent inquiries into

changing forms; moreover, the Académie itself is endlessly concerned

with the [Pg005] subject, and is at great pains to observe and note

every fluctuation in usage.[3] In Germany, amid many other such works,

there are the admirable grammars of the spoken speech by Dr. Otto

Bremer. In Sweden there are several journals devoted to the study of

the vulgate, and the government has recently granted a subvention of

7500 /kronen/ a year to an organization of scholars called the

Undersökningen av Svenska Folkmaal, formed to investigate it

systematically.[4] In Norway there is a widespread movement to

overthrow the official Dano-Norwegian, and substitute a national

language based upon the speech of the peasants.[5] In Spain the

Academia is constantly at work upon its great Diccionario, Ortografía

and Gramática, and revises them at frequent intervals (the last time

in 1914), taking in all new words as they appear and all new forms of

old ones. And in Latin-America, to come nearer to our own case, the

native philologists have produced a copious literature on the matter

closest at hand, [Pg006] and one finds in it very excellent works

upon the Portuguese dialect of Brazil, and the variations of Spanish

in Mexico, the Argentine, Chili, Peru, Ecuador, Uraguay and even

Honduras and Costa Rica.[6] But in the United States the business has

attracted little attention, and less talent. The only existing formal

treatise upon the subject[7] was written by a Swede trained in Germany

and is heavy with errors and omissions. And the only usable dictionary

of Americanisms[8] was written in England, and is the work of an

expatriated lawyer. Not a single volume by a native philologist,

familiar with the language by daily contact and professionally

equipped for the business, is to be found in the meagre bibliography.

I am not forgetting, of course, the early explorations of Noah

Webster, of which much more anon, nor the labors of our later

dictionary makers, nor the inquiries of the American Dialect

Society,[9] nor even the occasional illuminations of such writers as

Richard Grant White, Thomas S. Lounsbury and Brander Matthews. But all

this preliminary work has left the main field almost uncharted.

Webster, as we shall see, was far more a reformer of the American

dialect than a student of it. He introduced radical changes into its

spelling and pronunciation, but he showed little understanding of its

direction and genius. One always sees in him, indeed, the teacher

rather than the scientific inquirer; the ardor of his desire to

expound and instruct was only matched by his infinite capacity for

observing inaccurately, and his profound ignorance of elementary

philological principles. In the preface to the first edition of his

American Dictionary, published in 1828--the first in which he added

the qualifying adjective to the title--he argued eloquently for the

right of Americans to shape their own speech without regard to

English [Pg007] precedents, but only a year before this he had told

Captain Basil Hall[10] that he knew of but fifty genuine

Americanisms--a truly staggering proof of his defective observation.

Webster was the first American professional scholar, and despite his

frequent engrossment in public concerns and his endless public

controversies, there was always something sequestered and almost

medieval about him. The American language that he described and argued

for was seldom the actual tongue of the folks about him, but often a

sort of Volapük made up of one part faulty reporting and nine parts

academic theorizing. In only one department did he exert any lasting

influence, and that was in the department of orthography. The fact

that our spelling is simpler and usually more logical than the English

we chiefly owe to him. But it is not to be forgotten that the majority

of his innovations, even here, were not adopted, but rejected, nor is

it to be forgotten that spelling is the least of all the factors that

shape and condition a language.

The same caveat lies against the work of the later makers of

dictionaries; they have gone ahead of common usage in the matter of

orthography, but they have hung back in the far more important matter

of vocabulary, and have neglected the most important matter of idiom

altogether. The defect in the work of the Dialect Society lies in a

somewhat similar circumscription of activity. Its constitution,

adopted in 1889, says that "its object is the investigation of the

spoken English of the United States and Canada," but that

investigation, so far, has got little beyond the accumulation of

vocabularies of local dialects, such as they are. Even in this

department its work is very far from finished, and the Dialect

Dictionary announced years ago has not yet appeared. Until its

collections are completed and synchronized, it will be impossible for

its members to make any profitable inquiry into the general laws

underlying the development of American, or even to attempt a

classification of the materials common to the whole speech. The

meagreness of the materials accumulated in the five slow-moving

volumes of /Dialect Notes/ shows clearly, indeed, how little the

American philologist is [Pg008] interested in the language that falls

upon his ears every hour of the day. And in /Modern Language Notes/

that impression is reinforced, for its bulky volumes contain

exhaustive studies of all the other living languages and dialects, but

only an occasional essay upon American.

Now add to this general indifference a persistent and often violent

effort to oppose any formal differentiation of English and American,

initiated by English purists but heartily supported by various

Americans, and you come, perhaps, to some understanding of the

unsatisfactory state of the literature of the subject. The pioneer

dictionary of Americanisms, published in 1816 by John Pickering, a

Massachusetts lawyer,[11] was not only criticized unkindly; it was

roundly denounced as something subtly impertinent and corrupting, and

even Noah Webster took a formidable fling at it.[12] Most of the

American philologists of the early days--Witherspoon, Worcester,

Fowler, Cobb and their like--were uncompromising advocates of

conformity, and combatted every indication of a national independence

in speech with the utmost vigilance. One of their company, true

enough, stood out against the rest. He was George Perkins Marsh, and

in his "Lectures on the English Language"[13] he argued that "in point

of naked syntactical accuracy, the English of America is not at all

inferior to that of England." But even Marsh expressed the hope that

Americans would not, "with malice prepense, go about to republicanize

our orthography and our syntax, our grammars and our dictionaries, our

nursery hymns (/sic/) and our Bibles" to the point of actual

separation.[14] Moreover, he was a philologist only by courtesy; the

regularly ordained school-masters were all against him. The fear

voiced by William C. Fowler, professor of rhetoric at Amherst, that

Americans might "break loose from the laws of the English

language"[15] altogether, was [Pg009] echoed by the whole fraternity,

and so the corrective bastinado was laid on.

It remained, however, for two professors of a later day to launch the

doctrine that the independent growth of American was not only immoral,

but a sheer illusion. They were Richard Grant White, for long the

leading American writer upon language questions, at least in popular

esteem, and Thomas S. Lounsbury, for thirty-five years professor of

the English language and literature in the Sheffield Scientific School

at Yale, and an indefatigable controversialist. Both men were of the

utmost industry in research, and both had wide audiences. White's

"Words and Their Uses," published in 1872, was a mine of erudition,

and his "Everyday English," following eight years later, was another.

True enough, Fitzedward Hall, the Anglo-Indian-American philologist,

disposed of many of his etymologies and otherwise did execution upon

him,[16] but in the main his contentions held water. Lounsbury was

also an adept and favorite expositor. His attacks upon certain

familiar pedantries of the grammarians were penetrating and effective,

and his two books, "The Standard of Usage in English" and "The

Standard of Pronunciation in English," not to mention his excellent

"History of the English Language" and his numerous magazine articles,

showed a profound knowledge of the early development of the language,

and an admirable spirit of free inquiry. But both of these laborious

scholars, when they turned from English proper to American English,

displayed an unaccountable desire to deny its existence altogether,

and to the support of that denial they brought a critical method that

was anything but unprejudiced. White devoted not less than eight long

articles in the /Atlantic Monthly/[17] to a review of the fourth

edition of John [Pg010] Russell Bartlett's American Glossary,[18] and

when he came to the end he had disposed of nine-tenths of Bartlett's

specimens and called into question the authenticity of at least half

of what remained. And no wonder, for his method was simply that of

erecting tests so difficult and so arbitrary that only the exceptional

word or phrase could pass them, and then only by a sort of chance. "To

stamp a word or a phrase as an Americanism," he said, "it is necessary

to show that (1) it is of so-called 'American' origin--that is, that

it first came into use in the United States of North America, or that

(2) it has been adopted in those States from some language other than

English, or has been kept in use there while it has /wholly/ passed

out of use in England." Going further, he argued that unless "the

simple words in compound names" were used in America "in a sense

different from that in which they are used in England" the compound

itself could not be regarded as an Americanism. The absurdity of all

this is apparent when it is remembered that one of his rules would bar

out such obvious Americanisms as the use of /sick/ in place of /ill/,

of /molasses/ for /treacle/, and of /fall/ for /autumn/, for all of

these words, while archaic in England, are by no means wholly extinct;

and that another would dispose of that vast category of compounds

which includes such unmistakably characteristic Americanisms as

/joy-ride/, /rake-off/, /show-down/, /up-lift/, /out-house/,

/rubber-neck/, /chair-warmer/, /fire-eater/ and /back-talk/.

Lounsbury went even further. In the course of a series of articles in

/Harper's Magazine/, in 1913,[19] he laid down the dogma that

"cultivated speech ... affords the only legitimate basis of comparison

between the language as used in England and in America," and then went

on:

In the only really proper sense of the term, an Americanism is a word

or phrase naturally used by an educated American which under similar

conditions would not be used by an educated Englishman. The emphasis,

it will be seen, lies in the word "educated."

This curious criterion, fantastic as it must have seemed to [Pg011]

European philologists, was presently reinforced, for in his fourth

article Lounsbury announced that his discussion was "restricted to the

/written/ speech of educated men." The result, of course, was a

wholesale slaughter of Americanisms. If it was not impossible to

reject a word, like White, on the ground that some stray English poet

or other had once used it, it was almost always possible to reject it

on the ground that it was not admitted into the vocabulary of a

college professor when he sat down to compose formal book-English.

What remained was a small company, indeed--and almost the whole field

of American idiom and American grammar, so full of interest for the

less austere explorer, was closed without even a peek into it.

White and Lounsbury dominated the arena and fixed the fashion. The

later national experts upon the national language, with a few somewhat

timorous exceptions, pass over its peculiarities without noticing

them. So far as I can discover, there is not a single treatise in type

upon one of its most salient characters--the wide departure of some of

its vowel sounds from those of orthodox English. Marsh, C. H.

Grandgent and Robert J. Menner have printed a number of valuable

essays upon the subject, but there is no work that co-ordinates their

inquiries or that attempts otherwise to cover the field. When, in

preparing materials for the following chapters, I sought to determine

the history of the /a/-sound in America, I found it necessary to plow

through scores of ancient spelling-books, and to make deductions,

perhaps sometimes rather rash, from the works of Franklin, Webster and

Cobb. Of late the National Council of Teachers of English has

appointed a Committee on American Speech and sought to let some light

into the matter, but as yet its labors are barely begun and the

publications of its members get little beyond preliminaries. Such an

inquiry involves a laboriousness which should have intrigued

Lounsbury: he once counted the number of times the word /female/

appears in "Vanity Fair." But you will find only a feeble dealing with

the question in his book on pronunciation. Nor is there any adequate

work (for Schele de Vere's is full of errors and omissions) upon the

influences felt by American through contact with the languages of our

millions [Pg012] of immigrants, nor upon our peculiarly rich and

characteristic slang. There are several excellent dictionaries of

English slang, and many more of French slang, but I have been able to

find but one devoted exclusively to American slang, and that one is a

very bad one.

§ 3

/The View of Writing Men/--But though the native /Gelehrten/ thus

neglect the vernacular, or even oppose its study, it has been the

object of earnest lay attention since an early day, and that attention

has borne fruit in a considerable accumulation of materials, if not in

any very accurate working out of its origins and principles. The

English, too, have given attention to it--often, alas, satirically, or

even indignantly. For a long while, as we shall see, they sought to

stem its differentiation by heavy denunciations of its vagaries, and

so late as the period of the Civil War they attached to it that

quality of abhorrent barbarism which they saw as the chief mark of the

American people. But in later years they have viewed it with a greater

showing of scientific calm, and its definite separation from correct

English, at least as a spoken tongue, is now quite frankly admitted.

The Cambridge History of English Literature, for example, says that

English and American are now "notably dissimilar" in vocabulary, and

that the latter is splitting off into a distinct dialect.[20] The

Eleventh Edition of the Encyclopaedia Britannica, going further, says

that the two languages are already so far apart that "it is not

uncommon to meet with [American] newspaper articles of which an

untravelled Englishman would hardly be able to understand a

sentence."[21] A great many other academic authorities, including A.

H. Sayce and H. W. and F. G. Fowler, bear testimony to the same

effect.

On turning to the men actually engaged in writing English, and

particularly to those aspiring to an American audience, one finds

nearly all of them adverting, at some time or other, to the growing

difficulties of intercommunication. William Archer, [Pg013] Arnold

Bennett, H. G. Wells, Sidney Low, the Chestertons and Kipling are some

of those who have dealt with the matter at length. Low, in an article

in the /Westminster Gazette/[22] ironically headed "Ought American to

be Taught in our Schools?" has described how the latter-day British

business man is "puzzled by his ignorance of colloquial American" and

"painfully hampered" thereby in his handling of American trade. He

continues:

In the United States of North America the study of the English tongue

forms part of the educational scheme. I gather this because I find

that they have professors of the English language and literature in

the Universities there, and I note that in the schools there are

certain hours alloted for "English" under instructors who specialize

in that subject. This is quite right. English is still far from being

a dead language, and our American kinsfolk are good enough to

appreciate the fact.

But I think we should return the compliment. We ought to learn the

American language in our schools and colleges. At present it is

strangely neglected by the educational authorities. They pay

attention to linguistic attainments of many other kinds, but not to

this. How many thousands of youths are at this moment engaged in

puzzling their brains over Latin and Greek grammar only Whitehall

knows. Every well-conducted seminary has some instructor who is under

the delusion that he is teaching English boys and girls to speak

French with a good Parisian accent. We teach German, Italian, even

Spanish, Russian, modern Greek, Arabic, Hindustani. For a moderate

fee you can acquire a passing acquaintance with any of these tongues

at the Berlitz Institute and the Gouin Schools. But even in these

polyglot establishments there is nobody to teach you American. I have

never seen a grammar of it or a dictionary. I have searched in vain

at the book-sellers for "How to Learn American in Three Weeks" or

some similar compendium. Nothing of the sort exists. The native

speech of one hundred millions of civilized people is as grossly

neglected by the publishers as it is by the schoolmasters. You can

find means to learn Hausa or Swahili or Cape Dutch in London more

easily than the expressive, if difficult, tongue which is spoken in

the office, the bar-room, the tram-car, from the snows of Alaska to

the mouths of the Mississippi, and is enshrined in a literature that

is growing in volume and favor every day.

Low then quotes an extract from an American novel appearing [Pg014]

serially in an English magazine--an extract including such

Americanisms as /side-stepper/, /saltwater-taffy/, /Prince-Albert/

(coat), /boob/, /bartender/ and /kidding/, and many characteristically

American extravagances of metaphor. It might be well argued, he goes

on, that this strange dialect is as near to "the tongue that

Shakespeare spoke" as "the dialect of Bayswater or Brixton," but that

philological fact does not help to its understanding. "You might

almost as well expect him [the British business man] to converse

freely with a Portuguese railway porter because he tried to stumble

through Caesar when he was in the Upper Fourth at school."

In the /London Daily Mail/, W. G. Faulkner lately launched this

proposed campaign of education by undertaking to explain various terms

appearing in American moving-pictures to English spectators. Mr.

Faulkner assumed that most of his readers would understand /sombrero/,

/sidewalk/, /candy-store/, /freight-car/, /boost/, /elevator/, /boss/,

/crook/ and /fall/ (for /autumn/) without help, but he found it

necessary to define such commonplace Americanisms as /hoodlum/,

/hobo/, /bunco-steerer/, /rubber-neck/, /drummer/, /sucker/, /dive/

(in the sense of a thieves' resort), /clean-up/, /graft/ and /to

feature/. Curiously enough, he proved the reality of the difficulties

he essayed to level by falling into error as to the meanings of some

of the terms he listed, among them /dead-beat/, /flume/, /dub/ and

/stag/. Another English expositor, apparently following him, thought

it necessary to add definitions of /hold-up/, /quitter/, /rube/,

/shack/, /road-agent/, /cinch/, /live-wire/ and /scab/,[23] but he,

too, mistook the meaning of /dead-beat/, and in addition he misdefined

/band-wagon/ and substituted /get-out/, seemingly an invention of his

own, for /get-away/. Faulkner, somewhat belated in his animosity,

seized the opportunity to read a homily upon the vulgarity and

extravagance of the American language, and argued that the

introduction of its coinages through the moving-picture theatre

(/Anglais, cinema/) "cannot be regarded without serious [Pg015]

misgivings, if only because it generates and encourages mental

indiscipline so far as the choice of expressions is concerned." In

other words, the greater pliability and resourcefulness of American is

a fault to be corrected by the English tendency to hold to that which

is established.

Cecil Chesterton, in the /New Witness/, recently called attention to

the increasing difficulty of intercommunication, not only verbally,

but in writing. The American newspapers, he said, even the best of

them, admit more and more locutions that puzzle and dismay an English

reader. After quoting a characteristic headline he went on:

I defy any ordinary Englishman to say that that is the English

language or that he can find any intelligible meaning in it. Even a

dictionary will be of no use to him. He must know the language

colloquially or not at all.... No doubt it is easier for an

Englishman to understand American than it would be for a Frenchman to

do the same, just as it is easier for a German to understand Dutch

than it would be for a Spaniard. But it does not make the American

language identical with the English.[24]

Chesterton, however, refrained from denouncing this lack of identity;

on the contrary, he allowed certain merits to American. "I do not want

anybody to suppose," he said, "that the American language is in any

way inferior to ours. In some ways it has improved upon it in vigor

and raciness. In other ways it adheres more closely to the English of

the best period." Testimony to the same end was furnished before this

by William Archer. "New words," he said, "are begotten by new

conditions of life; and as American life is far more fertile of new

conditions than ours, the tendency toward neologism cannot but be

stronger in America than in England. America has enormously enriched

the language, not only with new words, but (since the American mind

is, on the whole, quicker and wittier than the English) with apt and

luminous colloquial metaphors."[25]

The list of such quotations might be indefinitely prolonged. [Pg016]

There is scarcely an English book upon the United States which does

not offer some discussion, more or less profound, of American

peculiarities of speech, both as they are revealed in spoken discourse

(particularly pronunciation and intonation) and as they show

themselves in popular literature and in the newspapers, and to this

discussion protest is often added, as it very often is by the reviews

and newspapers. "The Americans," says a typical critic, "have so far

progressed with their self-appointed task of creating an American

language that much of their conversation is now incomprehensible to

English people."[26] On our own side there is almost equal evidence of

a sense of difference, despite the fact that the educated American is

presumably trained in orthodox English, and can at least read it

without much feeling of strangeness. "The American," says George Ade,

in his book of travel, "In Pastures New," "must go to England in order

to learn for a dead certainty that he does not speak the English

language.... This pitiful fact comes home to every American when he

arrives in London--that there are two languages, the English and the

American. One is correct; the other is incorrect. One is a pure and

limpid stream; the other is a stagnant pool, swarming with

bacilli."[27] This was written in 1906. Twenty-five years earlier Mark

Twain had made the same observation. "When I speak my native tongue in

its utmost purity in England," he said, "an Englishman can't

understand me at all."[28] The languages, continued Mark, "were

identical several generations ago, but our changed conditions and the

spread of our people far to the south and far to the west have made

many alterations in our pronunciation, and have introduced new words

among us and changed the meanings of old ones." Even before this the

great humorist had marked and hailed these differences. Already in

"Roughing It" he was celebrating "the vigorous new vernacular of the

[Pg017] occidental plains and mountains,"[29] and in all his writings,

even the most serious, he deliberately engrafted its greater liberty

and more fluent idiom upon the stem of English, and so lent the

dignity of his high achievement to a dialect that was as unmistakably

American as the point of view underlying it.

The same tendency is plainly visible in William Dean Howells. His

novels are mines of American idiom, and his style shows an undeniable

revolt against the trammels of English grammarians. In 1886 he made a

plea in /Harper's/ for a concerted effort to put American on its own

legs. "If we bother ourselves," he said, "to write what the critics

imagine to be 'English,' we shall be priggish and artificial, and

still more so if we make our Americans talk 'English.' ... On our lips

our continental English will differ more and more from the insular

English, and we believe that this is not deplorable but

desirable."[30] Howells then proceeded to discuss the nature of the

difference, and described it accurately as determined by the greater

rigidity and formality of the English of modern England. In American,

he said, there was to be seen that easy looseness of phrase and gait

which characterized the English of the Elizabethan era, and

particularly the Elizabethan hospitality to changed meanings and bold

metaphors. American, he argued, made new words much faster than

English, and they were, in the main, words of much greater daring and

savor.

The difference between the two tongues, thus noted by the writers of

both, was made disconcertingly apparent to the American troops when

they first got to France and came into contact with the English.

Fraternizing was made difficult by the wide divergence in vocabulary

and pronunciation--a divergence interpreted by each side as a sign of

uncouthness. The Y. M. C. A. made a characteristic effort to turn the

resultant feeling of strangeness and homesickness among the Americans

to account. In the /Chicago Tribune's/ Paris edition of July 7, 1917,

I find a large advertisement inviting them to make use of the Y. M. C.

A. [Pg018] clubhouse in the Avenue Montaigue, "where /American/ is

spoken." Earlier in the war the /Illinoiser Staats Zeitung/, no doubt

seeking to keep the sense of difference alive, advertised that it

would "publish articles daily in the /American/ language."

§ 4

/Foreign Observers/--What English and American laymen have thus

observed has not escaped the notice of continental philologists. The

first edition of Bartlett, published in 1848, brought forth a long and

critical review in the /Archiv für das Studium der neueren Sprachen

und Literaturen/ by Prof. Felix Flügel,[31] and in the successive

volumes of the /Archiv/, down to our own day, there have been many

valuable essays upon Americanisms, by such men as Herrig, Koehler and

Koeppel. Various Dutch philologists, among them Barentz, Keijzer and

Van der Voort, have also discussed the subject, and a work in French

has been published by G. A. Barringer.[32] That, even to the lay

Continental, American and English now differ considerably, is

demonstrated by the fact that many of the popular German

/Sprachführer/ appear in separate editions, /Amerikanisch/ and

/Englisch/. This is true of the "Metoula Sprachführer" published by

Prof. F. Lanenscheidt[33] and of the "Polyglott Kuntz" books.[34] The

American edition of the latter starts off with the doctrine that

"/Jeder, der nach Nord-Amerika oder Australien will, muss Englisch

können/," but a great many of the words and phrases that appear in its

examples would be unintelligible to many Englishmen--/e.g./,

/free-lunch/, /real-estate agent/, /buckwheat/, /corn/ (for /maize/),

/conductor/, /pop-corn/ and /drug-store/--and a number of others would

suggest false meanings or otherwise puzzle--/e. g./, /napkin/,

/saloon/, /wash-stand/, /water-pitcher/ and /apple-pie/.[35] To

[Pg019] these pedagogical examples must be added that of Baedeker, of

guide-book celebrity. In his guide-book to the United States, prepared

for Englishmen, he is at pains to explain the meaning of various

American words and phrases.

A philologist of Scandinavian extraction, Elias Molee, has gone so far

as to argue that the acquisition of correct English, to a people grown

so mongrel in blood as the Americans, has become a useless burden. In

place of it he proposes a mixed tongue, based on English, but

admitting various elements from the other Germanic languages. His

grammar, however, is so much more complex than that of English that

most Americans would probably find his artificial "American" very

difficult of acquirement. At all events it has made no progress.[36]

§ 5

The American Language A Preliminary Inquiry into the Development of English in the United States · 第 1 / 36 段