A Book About Words. G. F. Graham
which is brought in by the conquerors. If the victors be as superior to the vanquished in civilisation and improvement as they have proved themselves in physical power, they will impose their language on the conquered people. If, on the other hand, that of the vanquished be the more cultivated, the reverse will take place; the dialect of the conquerors will be absorbed into that of the conquered.
When the Visigoths settled in Spain in the fifth century, their dialect made but little impression on the language afterwards known as Spanish. The Latin element in the Peninsula, though at that time falling into decay, was far more refined and polished than the barbarous dialect then introduced; and it consequently remained, with some slight modifications, the language of the country. The same happened when the Northmen settled in France in the tenth century. It is astonishing how rapidly the language of Rollo and his followers was absorbed into French! This may have been assisted by the intermarriage of the conquerors with the women of the country; but it was produced chiefly by the different conditions of the two languages.
On the other hand, when the Normans, under William the Conqueror, invaded England in the eleventh century, a different effect was produced. The Norman French after a time, though not immediately, enriched the English language with many words, but it did not, in the slightest degree, either then or afterwards, affect its grammatical forms or idioms. The cause of this was that the Saxon language was, at that epoch, already fixed, and fit for literary purposes. It was, indeed, much further advanced as a literary language than the invading Norman-French. It therefore resisted this external pressure; and though it afterwards admitted numerous French terms, the English language remains to this day Saxon, and not French, in its tone, character, and grammar.
The climate of a country, or the temperament of a people, may also strongly influence the character of the language. Given an indolent and luxurious race, and we must expect that softness and effeminacy will appear in their spoken and written expression. No acute observer can fail to perceive a close connection between the national character of the Italians and the softness and beauty of their harmonious tongue. Again: the simplicity and somewhat homely and rough vigour of the Teutonic race, are clearly shadowed forth in the sounds and forms of the German language.
The climate, too, in both cases, may have contributed towards these results. A hot, enervating atmosphere produces languor of mind as well as body; whilst a bracing cold air, though it may assist in producing a phlegmatic temperament, at the same time infuses vigour, energy, and power into those who are subjected to its influence.
There are also, no doubt, many hidden causes of gradual changes in language. These are difficult to ascertain; and some of them escape the sagacity of even the most acute observers. Political struggles, foreign wars, domestic habits, literary studies, &c., may all contribute to alter the character of a people, and so far to affect their language.
But whatever may be these mysterious laws of change, they must be left to Nature herself, and no one must attempt to interfere with them. There are no more miserable failures recorded in history than the attempt by rulers to interfere with the laws of Nature. We are told (though not on very good authority) that William the Conqueror ordered the Saxons to speak Norman-French. He might as well have ordered his new subjects to walk on their heads—the one was quite as easy as the other. But no writer tells us with what success this decree was executed. Ordericus Vitalis, indeed, states that William endeavoured to learn Saxon, though he does not say how far he succeeded. Now it is not very likely that he should have studied a language which he was, at the same time, bent on exterminating. Indeed, there is an air of extreme improbability about the whole story.
In more recent times, it is well known that Joseph II., of Germany, issued an edict that all his subjects, Slavonic, Magyar, or German, should adopt one uniform language—German. But it was soon found impossible to execute this decree, for the people would as soon have parted with their lives as with their language; the whole empire was, therefore, immediately thrown into confusion. Many of the provinces broke out into open rebellion, and it at length became necessary to abandon the project.
It is then clear that no one has the power, of his own will or caprice, to add a single word to a language, or to cast one out of it. These changes must be left to Nature, and all we can do is to watch her operations, to observe and record facts. But we may speculate on the origin of words, and may sometimes discover the causes of their birth. We may also inquire into the circumstances of their career, and the laws which regulate their forms, changes, meanings, &c. These inquiries are particularly comprehensive and interesting, because they naturally lead us to some knowledge of what words represent, and also because they are closely connected with the study of the human mind both as regards intellect and passion.
A BOOK
ABOUT
WORDS.
CHAPTER I. ORIGIN OF WORDS—FAMILIES OF WORDS.
Most Philologists have hitherto held the opinion that, in general, no satisfactory account can be given of the origin of language. They can trace a word from one language to another, and can account for its various forms and changes by laws now generally understood; but they confess their inability to explain what determined the original form of its root. They take that original form for granted, as a sort of intuitive truth which must be admitted as a necessity. They can explain the circumstances of its career; but of its first cause or nature they profess to understand little or nothing.
But though this is the general opinion, all linguists admit that in every language certain words, more especially those that convey ideas of sound, are formed on the principle of onomatopœia; i.e. an attempt to make the pronunciation conform to the sound. Such English words as ‘hiss,’ ‘roar,’ ‘bang,’ ‘buzz,’ ‘crash,’ &c., are of this class. One can hardly pronounce these words without, in some sense, performing the acts which they represent.
One school of linguists have lately expressed a belief that all words were formed on this principle. A very curious illustration of this view is given in Mr. Wedgwood’s ‘Origin of Language.’ Explaining the interjection Hem, he says, it was originally an attempt to stop some one. We are supposed to be walking behind some person; we wish to stop him, and we exclaim, ‘Hem!’ This is given as the primary meaning of the word. ‘The sound is here an echo to the sense.’ But hem is used in other ways; either as a noun, or a verb; always, however, retaining its original idea of restricting, or keeping back. The hem of a garment is what prevents the thread from ravelling. Again, soldiers are sometimes hemmed in by the enemy; that is, prevented from using their free will to go where they choose. This illustration is intended to prove that the principle of onomatopœia applies not only to words that represent sound, but, by analogy, to other meanings derived from that principle. There is sound implied in the interjection hem; though in the noun and the verb, both derived from that interjection, no idea of sound is conveyed.
This connection between sound and sense is certainly a natural principle; and however scornfully it may have been ridiculed by some philosophers, it has undoubtedly produced many very fine passages in the poetry of both ancient and modern times.
1. The chorus of frogs in Aristophanes, where their croaking is represented by words invented for the occasion:
Βρεκεκεξ, κοαξ, κοαξ.
This is, to say the least of it, very ingenious, and, in its way, beautiful, because true.
2. The same principle seems to apply in the πολυφλοίσβοιο θαλάσσης (poluphloisboio thalassēs) of Homer, where the first word was probably intended to represent the roaring of the wave mounting on the sea-shore; and the second, the hissing sound which accompanies a receding billow.
3. Another example of onomatopœia, in Virgil’s Æneid, viii. 452, has been often quoted: