has given rise to so much popular misconception and error that it
seems worth while, at this juncture, to indicate the true relation
explicitly. When the Normans conquered England, as the philologists
tell us, they did not seek to impose their language upon the English
people. Such a policy would have been very unwise for obvious reasons,
and would have produced untold trouble and conflict between the two
races. The Normans did not despise the English tongue. They were
content to let the natives speak their several English dialects just as
before the Conquest. Of course, the Normans retained their own French
_patois_ and had no expectation of abandoning it in favor of English,
as they had once before given up their Scandinavian vernacular for
French. Yet in consequence of the overwhelming preponderance of the
English natives over their Norman invaders it was inevitable, in the
event of a struggle for supremacy between the two tongues, that the
French should be forced to the wall. Fortunately, no such conflict was
designed by either race, and it is quite reasonable to suppose that
neither people ever seriously contemplated such a possibility.
It is evident, then, that the Norman Conquest did not tend to destroy
the English tongue in Britain, as it was once the fashion to teach. The
Norman Conquest did, however, interrupt the normal literary tradition
of the English speech. For at the time of the Battle of Hastings, as
has been intimated, the West-Saxon dialect was easily the foremost
of the English provincial dialects and seemed destined to establish
its claim as being the national speech. But the Conquest interrupted
this natural process and drove West-Saxon from its coign of vantage,
reducing it to the level of the rival provincial dialects. French
being, of course, the language of the court and the official tongue
generally, the West-Saxon dialect no longer offered any special
inducement to intending authors to employ it, as had been the case
ever since the days of King Alfred. Hence writers simply used their
respective local dialects, there being no recognized standard speech.
Norman French and the several English dialects were now spoken side
by side, and continued so for quite a long while. What more natural,
therefore, than that each tongue should exercise some influence upon
the other, however slight? It is usually stated that French influence
hastened the decay of English inflections. But the English had begun
to lose its inflections even before the coming of the Normans and to
rely more largely upon position and prepositions to indicate case
relations. No doubt, French influence accelerated this tendency. French
influence was also a factor in modifying the idiom and vocabulary of
the English tongue. But each language, as Anglo-Norman students assure
us, reacted upon the other mutually; and the speech of the invaders was
influenced by the English of the natives just as much as English was
influenced by French.
The truth is, the influence of Norman French upon English was not so
important in itself, as far as any immediate effect was concerned; but
it paved the way for the subsequent influence of Parisian French which
swept like a mighty tidal wave over England, leaving a considerable
residuum and deposit in our speech alike in idiom and in vocabulary.
Norman influence upon our tongue was, therefore, chiefly indirect,
not direct. When Anjou was subdued by Philip Augustus of France in
1204, Normandy was forfeited by the English crown and from that day
Norman French influence on English was practically at an end. But the
Parisian dialect soon extended its sphere into Britain and began to
exert a decided influence upon the English speech. In the fourteenth
century English scholars industriously turned their attention to
French literature, either adapting or closely translating many
specimens. Norman French now gave place to the Parisian dialect which
had established itself as the standard speech for all the provinces
of France. English scholars who crossed the Channel, as many now
did, learned the French of Paris; and when they returned to their
native shores of Albion, they brought with them the best French of
Paris. Having lost caste, the Norman dialect was no longer esteemed
fashionable in polite society and consequently it fell to the lot of
Parisian French to honor the heavy drafts which the English tongue
made during the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries upon the French
language, for the enrichment and augmentation of its vocabulary. Nor,
indeed, did the French importations into our speech cease even then.
They continued, only with slightly diminished activity, during the
Elizabethan and succeeding ages, down to the present time. However,
during the last few centuries our vernacular has not borrowed so
copiously from that source, although we still draw heavily on French in
our art parlance.
Yet despite the French invasion, English held its own as the
vernacular of the people, yielding but very little ground, except in
its vocabulary, to the foreign tongue. So far from retreating before
the vigorous onslaught of French influence, our sturdy English speech
actually advanced its position and succeeded in driving French from its
former stronghold of the court and high society. For the descendants of
the Normans who were overwhelmingly in the minority, seeing that they
were compelled by sheer force of circumstances to speak English also,
gradually abandoned French as their mother-tongue and were finally
content to use the language which was understood by everybody in the
kingdom. Thus the English vernacular at last triumphed over French as
the language even of the governing class in England; and French fell
into disuse and survived as a spoken tongue only in polite society and
among scholars, as an accomplishment.
So much for the true relation of French to English in the history of
our speech. But to return to the question of the rise of the standard
literary language in England. As has been pointed out, from 1066
to 1300 there was no recognized standard of English speech. In the
existing confusion of provincial dialects there was felt an urgent need
for a uniform speech throughout the entire country. The perplexity
resulting from the babel of unfamiliar English dialects in use at the
time of the introduction of printing was keenly felt by the people
themselves, but by none more than by Caxton, who set up the first
printing press in England. Now, Caxton himself used London English, as
a rule. But he experienced no little embarrassment when he began to
print books, because he was uncertain as to which dialect he should
employ. In the prologue to his version of Vergil’s Aeneid he freely
confesses his inability to determine which of the varying dialects he
should adopt. Commenting on the dialectal differences he complainingly
remarks: “And that common English that is spoken in one shire varyeth
from another. Insomuch that in my days happened that certain merchants
were in a ship in Thames, for to have sailed over the sea into Zeeland,
and for lack of wind they tarried at the foreland and went to land for
to refresh them. And one of them named Sheffield, a mercer, came into
an house and axed for meat and specially he axed after eggs; and the
good wife answered that she could speak no French. And the merchant
was angry, for he could speak no French, but would have had eggs and
she understood him not. And then at last another said that he would
have eiren; then the good wife said that she understood him well. Lo,
what should a man in these days now write, _eggs_ or _eiren_? Certainly
it is hard to please every man because of diversity and change of
language.”
This incident related by Caxton serves to illustrate how almost
unintelligible the southern dialect had become to the inhabitants
of the northern part of England in the early fifteenth century. The
several dialects spoken in England had diverged so much as to result
in a serious handicap on trade and a practical embargo on letters.
The Northern, the Southern and the Mercian (the last now split into
two minor dialects distinguished as east and west) had each risen to
the dignity of a literary language. But no one of them was recognized
as the triumphant dialect, destined to vanquish all its rivals and
to establish its sway over the entire country. At this juncture
circumstances, somehow, conspired to raise the East Midland dialect to
the primacy, enabling it to extend itself over the whole country as
the received language, the national speech. This dialect had much to
commend it to favor. To begin with, this dialect occupied a somewhat
central position geographically and so offered a compromise to the
inhabitants of the extreme northern and southern portions of England,
whose dialects were so far apart. In the second place, East Midland was
the dialect of London, the great commercial center--the emporium--of
Great Britain. It was also the dialect of the famous university towns
where the flower of the English nobility was trained. Furthermore,
it was the dialect of the Court and Parliament whenever they spoke
English. Finally, it was the dialect of Wycklif’s version of the Bible
and of Chaucer, “that well of English undefiled” whose refreshing
stream of song carried joy and gladness to every part of the island.
It is sometimes said that Chaucer’s poetic genius moulded the literary
language of England. This is a pleasant illusion, but not quite in
accord with the facts. Chaucer, in conformity to the custom of the
times, simply wrote in his native dialect. That dialect, it is true,
happened to be the dialect of the chief city of the realm and of
the most powerful elements in the state, the ruling class. It was a
mere accident that Chaucer spoke and wrote this same dialect as his
vernacular. In no sense did Chaucer create the London dialect. Nor
did he make it the received literary language, the standard speech of
the English people. This dictum was once accepted, but needless to
add it is now discredited by scholars. Yet Chaucer’s influence as the
foremost English author of his age was assuredly not without weight in
establishing the dialect of London as the standard literary language
of the kingdom. It is a significant fact that this dialect (which
was the dialect of the Court) had attained the distinction of being
the literary language of England, by the first half of the fifteenth
century, though perhaps it was a mere coincidence that this was only a
short time after Chaucer’s death. It is quite possible, yea probable,
that the East Midland dialect would have established its supremacy
as the standard language of England even if Chaucer had written his
works in French, or Latin, or Scotch. But it is not unreasonable to
suppose that an author of such rare and commanding genius as Chaucer
contributed not a little to hasten the process of the spread of his
native dialect and its acceptance as the standard language of the
realm. The acknowledged excellence of his poetic works tended, no
doubt, to stamp the dialect in which they were written as literary
English and furnished a sufficient guaranty, in after years, that his
language was classic English.
The effect of the establishment of the East Midland dialect as the
standard language of England was soon observed in the rapid declension
and ultimate disuse of all the rival dialects. For as soon as the
dialect of London was recognized as supreme, no author could be
expected to court oblivion by employing any of the decadent provincial
dialects as his medium of expression. Hence all the provincial dialects
hitherto employed now either fell into disuse, or survived only as a
mere local _patois_ without any literary pretensions--a rustic lingo
heard only on the lips of the illiterate and uncultured. Such was the
fate of the various Middle English dialects, Scotch only excepted.
The Northern dialect, or Scottish, seems to have maintained itself
for quite a considerable time. Indeed, Scottish was recognized as
the standard language of Scotland as long as that northern kingdom
preserved its independence. Down to the time of James the First,
therefore, there was a dual standard in the language of Great Britain,
the English of London which was the vernacular of England and the
Scottish of Edinburgh, which was the vernacular of Scotland. In 1603,
upon the accession of James the First, the Scottish as a literary
tongue was abandoned in favor of standard English, as a result of the
political organic union of Scotland with England. From that time to the
present there has been only one standard English language for Great
Britain. Yet the language spoken in Scotland preserves not a few traces
of the old Scotch dialect mingled with standard English, which imparts
to it its Scotch characteristics. This is more particularly noticeable
in the speech of the common people and occasionally in the works of
a popular poet like Burns, although his language contains very few
strictly Scotch words.
It has been shown how standard English was enriched in vocabulary and
idiom by contact with the French language. It is to the Norman Conquest
that our speech is largely indebted for its double vocabulary which
gives English a unique place among modern languages. The skeleton of
our English tongue has always remained Teutonic, despite the unusually
large number of words it has assimilated from French and other foreign
sources. In our vocabulary, which has been so vastly swollen by our
French borrowings, the native English words, if one may venture to
make a rough distinction, are employed to signify objects of domestic
association, homespun ideas and thoughts, while the words of Romance
origin are reserved to express objects that are associated with luxury
and delicate culture and to convey subtle shades of thought. When two
or more words are used to signify very much the same thing, the genius
of the English speech tends to differentiate and to restrict the words
to separate and special senses. This, of course, makes the language
more flexible and more facile as a medium of expression.
Just as English was enriched by contact with French, so it has been
improved, though to a less extent, by attrition and contact with
its sister dialects. By elbowing its way to the front through the
various dialects which jostled it, the dialect which developed into
standard English naturally lost by attrition most of the grammatical
peculiarities that hampered it. It was, of course, a decided advantage
to the London dialect, in its struggle for the distinction of the
standard speech, to throw off such inflections as proved a hindrance
to its complete development. Most philologists used to regard the loss
of superfluous inflections a symptom of decadence in a language. Now,
however, such a process is regarded a sign of virility and progress.
“The fewer and shorter the forms, the better,” affirms the eminent
Danish philologist Jespersen. “The analytical structure of modern
European languages is so far from being a drawback to them that it
gives them an unimpeachable superiority over the earlier stages of the
same language.” This high authority even goes so far as to declare that
“the so-called full and rich forms of the ancient languages are not a
beauty, but a deformity.”
Thus in the process of its development standard English was gradually
freed of many of its pristine grammatical encumbrances, to take its
place in the front rank of living tongues as the best equipped for a
universal language. And the end is not yet. For the work of simplifying
is still in progress. The history of our speech from the fifteenth
century down to the present day proves nothing more conclusively than
that English tends ever to become more and more simple in inflection
and syntax. Witness the dwindling use of the subjunctive mood, which
has been almost driven from the field of modern English syntax by the
constantly encroaching indicative. Another example in point is the
transfer of the function of the absolute case from the dative, an
oblique case, to the nominative. This shifting has been accomplished
since the time of Milton, who represents the transitional period. It is
evident then that the tendency of standard English is in the direction
of simplicity, and its future growth will, no doubt, be along the line
of least resistance. Certainly its _vis inertiae_ seems destined,
unless acted upon by some violent external force, to move in that
direction.
It need hardly be added that standard English, like every spoken
language, has undergone change, from age to age. Some words become
obsolete and drop out of the vocabulary. New words are coined to
take their places, and if, after a period of probation, they prove
acceptable, they are received into good usage and are recognized as
standard. In this manner the waste that necessarily occurs in living
English, as in every living language, is repaired. Thus the English
speech grows, adapting itself to the many and varied conditions which
are exacted of it as the medium for the communication of thought for
the millions of people in every quarter of the globe who use it. Here
and there slight variations from the normal, slight departures from
the standard, are made. But unless the locutions which constitute
these departures possess extraordinary vitality and force, unless they
persist with dogged tenacity and supply a real need in the language,
they are doomed to perish without leaving any appreciable effect upon
the standard speech.
What, then, determines standard English? The reply, in a nutshell,
is the usage of the best writers and speakers. Standard English is
determined by the habitual manner the learned and cultured employ to
express their thoughts and feelings in words. The customary mode of
expression now in vogue among the most careful users of English has
been inherited from the generations of writers and speakers who have
employed our speech in the centuries past as their vernacular. The
leading English authors from Chaucer, Spenser, Shakespeare, Milton,
Dryden, Swift, Johnson and a host of others, down to the living
writers, have each in his way contributed to make our standard literary
language. Each of these, it is true, has influenced standard English in
some degree. No one can fail to see the impress which such an eccentric
writer as Doctor Johnson, the literary dictator of the eighteenth
century, stamped upon the standard English of his age. Our speech
shows no less distinctly marked traces of the influence of Addison. For
Addison’s admirable style, with its characteristic grace, crispness and
lightness of touch, even Johnson himself warmly commended, although
the great Cham’s innate tendency to the stilted, the turgid and the
ponderous prevented him from approximating in his practice what in
his preaching he so ardently held up for the imitation and emulation
of others. To mention another concrete example, in more recent times
standard English has been swayed somewhat by Macaulay’s passionate love
of antithesis and of the periodic structure of the sentence. Attention
might be called, likewise, to the influence of Gibbon’s chaste and
classic style (albeit a trifle heavy and wearisome at times) upon our
standard literary language, or to the influence of another prominent
author whose style is still more unique and distinctive--Thomas
Carlyle. Away back in the early history of English one may observe
in the style of the West-Saxon translator of Bede’s “Ecclesiastical
History” a trick of repetition which has made a lasting impression
on our standard speech; and it still survives in such familiar
tautological phrases as “really and truly,” “bright and shining,” “pure
and simple,” “without let or hindrance,” “toil and delve,” “confirm
and strengthen,” and “lord and master.” All of these locutions, as
Professor Kittredge informs us, in his suggestive book, “Words and
Their Ways in English Speech,” are in high favor, and are recognized as
standard English. Euphuism is a movement that swept over Elizabethan
English in the wake of the tidal wave of ink-horn terms, materially
affecting the standard speech. Even Shakespeare could not quite resist
the fashion of Euphuism, and his English is indeed slightly colored
thereby. Another trick of style which has cropped out here and there,
from the days of Spenser down to the present age, is that of employing
archaic terms with the intent to revive them. On the score of this
affectation the most flagrant sinner among modern authors is William
Morris, whose writings furnish a veritable treasure-trove of curious
and amusing archaisms. But it is not worth while to multiply examples.
Let those already given suffice to illustrate how standard English has
been swayed, from time to time, even by the devices and attractions of
dame fashion.
It is to be noted, in conclusion, that standard English is no longer
confined to the usage of any given locality, as was the case in
the early history of the language. The English language spoken in
London does not now enjoy the distinction of determining the standard
universally accepted. A special mode of utterance or a special idiom is
not now regarded proper simply and solely because it is sanctioned by
London usage. Indeed, that British metropolis appears rather to have
broken with its enviable past and worthy traditions in the matter of
its English, for London is now recognized as the home of the “cockney”
dialect. Nowhere more than on the lips of the native Londoner is the
purity of our noble tongue in jeopardy. Strange to say, the English
vernacular of the native Londoner has, of late years, fallen into
disrepute by reason of its abounding improprieties, its teeming
provincialisms and its solecisms. No educated man who professes English
as his mother-tongue would, to-day, think of making his speech conform
to the usage of London as reflected in the local dialect. It used to be
the custom to take London English as a model; but not so now, since the
local speech has become so corrupt as to prove a constant menace to the
purity of the living tongue. Perhaps it should be added, in order to
forestall adverse criticism, that standard English is, of course, heard
in London, as elsewhere, upon the lips of the educated and cultured.
But it is worth while to emphasize this fact, even at the risk of
repetition, that standard English is no longer confined to any given
locality or to any one country, for the matter of that, but is written
and spoken in America, in far-off India, and in other remote parts of
the world as well as in the British Isles. For wherever the English
language is employed, whether written or spoken, in accordance with
the best traditions of that rich, flexible and copious tongue, there
standard English is found, in whatever quarter of the globe it may be.
Transcriber’s Notes
Page 10: “linguistc ideal” changed to “linguistic ideal”
Page 14: A missing footnote anchor was added.
Page 29: “St. James Gazettte” changed to “St. James Gazette”
Page 73: “early pronunication” changed to “early pronunciation”
Page 85: “in consequenec” changed to “in consequence”
Page 90: “mode of pronuncing” changed to “mode of pronouncing”
Page 102: “the quailty” changed to “the quality”
Page 105: “not owning allegiance” changed to “not owing allegiance”
Page 108: “very seriiously” changed to “very seriously”
Page 113: “English lierature” changed to “English literature”
Page 115: “cvil war” changed to “civil war”
Page 123: “the senes of very” changed to “the sense of very”
Page 129: “let is be distinctly” changed to “let it be distinctly”
Page 130: “what constiutes” changed to “what constitutes”
Page 149: “Danish philologist Jesperen” changed to “Danish philologist
Jespersen”
Page 150: “constantly encoraching” changed to “constantly encroaching”
Page 152: “no less distainctly” changed to “no less distinctly”