Variation and Change in English Grammar and Lexicon - Contemporary Approaches (Eds. R.a.cloutier&a M Hamilton-Brehm&W.a.kretzschmar, JR)

Studies in the History of the English Language V
Topics in English Linguistics

68
Editors
Elizabeth Closs Traugott
Bernd Kortmann
De Gruyter Mouton
Studies in the History
of the English Language V
Variation and Change in English Grammar
and Lexicon: Contemporary Approaches
Edited by
Robert A. Cloutier
Anne Marie Hamilton-Brehm
William A. Kretzschmar, Jr.
De Gruyter Mouton
ISBN 978-3-11-022032-2
e-ISBN 978-3-11-022033-9
ISSN 1434-3452
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Studies in the history of the English language V : variation and change
in English grammar and lexicon : contemporary approaches / edited
by Robert A. Cloutier, Anne Marie Hamilton-Brehm, William A. Kretz-
schmar.
p. cm. (Topics in English linguistics ; 68)
Includes bibliographical references and index.
ISBN 978-3-11-022032-2 (hardcover : alk. paper)
1. English language History. 2. English language Grammar,
Historical. I. Cloutier, Robert A., 1979 II. Hamilton-Brehm,
Anne Marie, 1970 III. Kretzschmar, William A. IV. Title: Stud-
ies in the history of the English language 5. V. Title: Studies in the
history of the English language five. VI. Title: Variation and change
in English grammar and lexicon : contemporary approaches.
PE1075.S885 2010
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2010020072
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The Deutsche Nationalbibliothek lists this publication in the Deutsche Nationalbibliografie;
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Table of Contents
Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1
English Grammar
Dialogic Contexts as Motivations for Syntactic Change . . . . . . . . . 11
Elizabeth Traugott
Commentary. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 28
Akiko Nagano
Response . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 34
Whatever Happened to English Sluicing . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 37
Joanna Nykiel
Commentary. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 60
Response . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 65
Joanna Nykiel
Notion of Direction and Old English Prepositional Phrases. . . . . . . 67
Olga Thomason
Commentary. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 81
Joanna Nykiel
Response . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 85
Olga Thomason
Survival of the Strongest: Strong Verb Inection from Old to
Modern English . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 87
Sherrylyn Branchaw
Commentary. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 105
Markku Filppula and Juhani Klemola
Response . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 107
Sherrylyn Branchaw
Subject Compounding and a Functional Change of the Derivational
Sux -ing in the History of English . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 111
Akiko Nagano
Commentary . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 132
Olga Thomason
Response . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 136
Akiko Nagano
Bad Ideas in the History of English Usage . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 141
Don Chapman
Commentary . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 156
Stefanie Kuzmack
Response . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 158
Don Chapman
English Lexicon
The State of English Etymology (A Few Personal Observations) . . . 161
Anatoly Liberman
Commentary . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 183
Ann-Marie Svensson
Response . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 186
Anatoly Liberman
From Germanic fence to urban settlement: On the Semantic
Development of English town. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 187
Ann-Marie Svensson and Jurgen Hering
Commentary . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 202
Don Chapman
Response . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 206
Ann-Marie Svensson
Celtic Inuence on English: A Re-Evaluation. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 207
Commentary . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 226
Elisabeth Tacho
Response . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 229
When ar # ven Came to England: Tracing Lexical Re-Structuring by
Borrowing in Middle and Early Modern English. A Case Study. . . 231
Elizabeth Tacho
vi Table of Contents
Commentary. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 257
Emily Runde
Response . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 261
Elisabeth Tacho
Reexamining Orthographic Practice in the Auchinleck Manuscript
Through Study of Complete Scribal Corpora . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 265
Emily Runde
Commentary. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 288
Sherrylyn Branchaw
Response . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 291
Emily Runde
How Medium Shapes Language Development: The Emergence of
Quotative Re Online . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 293
Stefanie Kuzmack
Commentary. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 311
Anatoly Liberman
Response . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 314
Stefanie Kuzmack
Author Index . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 317
Subject Index . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 322
Table of Contents vii
Introduction
The conversation these days about the history of the English language
(HEL) has changed from what it used to be. The historical linguistics
(viz. internal history) and cultural studies (viz. external history) that have
marked traditional research on HEL are alive and well, but they have
been improved now by methods from corpus linguistics and sociolinguis-
tics. This collection shows how historical studies of English are increas-
ingly engaged with these contemporary trends in linguistics, and the vol-
ume demonstrates how empirical and other methods can bring classical
philology fully into the sphere of contemporary linguistics without aban-
doning its traditional concerns. This volume has two sections, the rst on
grammar and syntax and the following section on word-based studies. Of
course grammar and lexicon cannot be entirely segregated. Both sections
highlight the contributions that strong empirical research can make to our
knowledge of the development of English grammar, especially as realized
in lexical development. And both sections pay serious attention to the fre-
quencies and discourse characteristics with which particular words have
been used at dierent times. Each essay will be followed immediately by
commentary from another of the authors in the cluster of papers, and
then the author will have the opportunity for a response to the commen-
tary. In this way the collection will show the kind of discussion currently
obtaining in the eld, and more specically in the section of the eld in
which the pairs of authors nd themselves. The essays in this volume thus
portray current research in HEL in the sort of conversations that in fact
actually characterize the eld today. As Anatoly Liberman, known for
his classic work on historical etymology, writes in a commentary in this
volume on Kuzmacks essay about development of the word re on the
Internet in the last two decades, regarding such new additions to the house
we have known as HEL,Welcome to the housewarming party.
English Grammar
The rst section challenges researchers to examine and re-examine histori-
cal developments in English syntax from new perspectives and multiple
methods, including quantitative studies. Traditional analyses of historical
developments in English have focused on phonological, morphological,
and syntactic motivations for change. The authors here expand the
approach to include consideration of pragmatic and semantic motivations
in qualitative and quantitative studies, complementing theoretical ap-
proaches rather than competing with them. The evident benets shown
here encourage viewing the historical development of English with a
multidisciplinary perspective.
In the lead article for the rst section, Elizabeth Traugott demonstrates
the potential for new syntactic constructions to arise in dialogic contexts
by examining diachronic changes in the use of all- and wh- pseudo-clefts.
In a review of approaches to motivations for language change, Traugott
explains that invited inferencing motivates speakers to exploit language-
internal implicatures, which may become conventionalized. Traugott iden-
ties several linguistic expressions that function dialogically, such as the
concessives although and however, which convey dissonance or incom-
patibility between two eventualities. Tracing the history of all- and wh-
pseudo-clefts, Traugott provides textual evidence that they were initially
shaped in English by their use in argument refutation, progressing to
non-dialogic contexts after about fty years in the historical record. Based
on the evolution of all- and wh- pseudo-clefts in dialogic contexts, Trau-
gott argues for an interactional approach to the study of language change,
and challenges scholars to reconsider oversimplied monologic perspectives
and generalized notions of motivation in diachronic syntactic research. In
her commentary on Traugott, Akiko Nagano suggests three constructions
that would benet from the interactional approach because they involve
speaker evaluation of an utterance or its context, including conversion in
retorts, superlative adjectives, and speech-act conditionals. Responding to
Naganos discussion of conversions, Traugott agrees that some may have
arisen in dialogic and dialogual contexts of the type Nagano suggests, and
explains that because the histories of individual constructions dier, it is
important to consider the full range of interactional contexts in which
they arose and distinguish dialogic from dialogual contexts.
Joanna Nykiel addresses the problem of syntactic, semantic, and prag-
matic involvement in English sluicing by examining the evolution of this
structure in the languages history. Sluicing is dened as a surface anaphor
with a full underlying structure that goes unpronounced, which Nykiel
exemplies in the title of her article, Whatever happened to English sluic-
ing. This structure was initially associated with a full underlying repre-
sentation, an analysis that has persisted in later work. Through her dia-
chronic approach, Nykiel shows that sluicing is not such a purely
syntactic operation. In fact, despite drastic changes in the syntax and
2 Introduction
morphology of English, her data indicate stability in this structure over
time, with syntax being statistically much less of a factor than has been
assumed, a fact that in turn speaks against an internal divide between sur-
face and deep anaphora. In its place, Nykiel proposes that an anaphors
features fall out from the number of syntactic and semantic clues it con-
tains that lead to successful resolution. Elizabeth Traugott then comments
on two points, what she calls the Recency Illusion and the stability of
constructions over a millennium, and raises the further research question
of whether the discovery of stable variation requires the investigator to
posit a prior stage without such variation. Nykiel responds by suggesting
the necessity to go beyond individual languages under investigation, when
stability or change in the history of a given construction seems surprising,
to consider typological similarities and dierences.
Olga Thomason examines Old English prepositional phrases that de-
note the general notion of direction, namely to, toward, to gain greater
insight into the factors that contribute to the representation of this mean-
ing. This particular group of prepositions is peculiar because of the num-
ber of prepositions designating this concept (four of which are examined
in this study: to#, wi, toge# an, and onge# an) and because of the variety of
cases most of these prepositions can govern while maintaining a direc-
tional reading (up to three). This contrasts with the other, more specic
directional notions of into, onto, and up to, which generally have
fewer prepositions designating the concept, and which are generally limited
to governing accusative case. Thomason explores each of the four preposi-
tions individually and demonstrates just how complicated their semantics
can be. She nds that a combination of the original semantics of the pre-
position, the semantics of the dierent cases, and the specic verbs with
which these prepositional phrases combine contributes to the variation in
this group. Joanna Nykiels commentary focuses on the puzzling variation
in distribution of cases. Thomason agrees with Nykiels suggestion to pre-
sent a chronological organization and statistical analysis of the data,
which anticipated the next step of research, to add a diachronic spin to
the primarily synchronic study.
Sherrylyn Branchaw examines seventy-eight Modern English verbs that
to some extent retain strong verbal inection to see which factors already
evident in Old English may have inuenced such an outcome. She focuses
on four factors: the number of verbs with the same ablaut pattern (type
frequency), the number of occurrences of a particular verb in Old English
(token frequency), the shape of the root, and the eciency of the ablaut
pattern. She assumes a correlation between a verbs being fully attested
Introduction 3
(the vocalism of each of its four principal parts is attested) and its fre-
quency and hypothesizes that strong verbs that are not fully attested in
Old English, if they survive, will be weak in Modern English. Her results
suggest that to varying degrees, all four of the factors investigated inu-
ence the outcome of strong verbs. A verbs ablaut pattern seems to be a
very important factor in determining whether it will remain strong or
become weak: in almost all cases in Branchaws study, verbs with ablaut
patterns where the vowels are less distinct mostly shift to the weak cate-
gory or more rarely select very distinct vowels for the present and pre-
terite. Token frequency also has an eect: more frequent verbs are more
likely to remain strong. Type frequency, on the other hand, does not
seem to play as great a role only if the number of verbs with a particular
ablaut pattern is extremely high or low is there any sort of predictive
power because the organization into classes changed dramatically in early
Middle English. Even at these extremes, however, type frequencies are
easily overridden by token frequency and ablaut pattern eects. Commen-
tary on Branchaw by Markku Filppula and Juhani Klemola oers the
caveats that the nature of the surviving OE textual evidence suggests cau-
tion regarding any quantitative generalizations based on the corpus, and
that non-standard varieties need to be considered as well as the standard.
Branchaw responds especially to the second point, on which she had written
elsewhere, and suggests that her practice helps to explain the origin of
standard forms.
Akiko Nagano challenges the view that modern synthetic compounds,
such as city planning and housekeeping, can embody only the verb-object
relationship. Nagano traces the diachronic development of -ing compound
nouns, showing that Old and Middle English -ing compound nouns
allowed a subject-verb relationship, and that some types of modern -ing
compound nouns still do. An example from Naganos corpus-based re-
search is the compound noun artery hardening, which has the subject-
verb interpretation arteries harden. Further, Nagano provides evidence
that the main function of the derivational sux -ing has shifted from nam-
ing in Old and Middle English to recategorization, where -ing nominals
are event nominals and inherit the argument structure of the base verb,
while the naming function has remained the same since Old English and
has invariably produced result nominals. Nagano establishes a connection
between historical changes in the possibility of subject compounding in
-ing and the function of -ing nominalization, asserting that the possibility
of subject compounding depends on the function of the nominalization. In
her commentary on Nagano, Olga Thomason questions the constitution
4 Introduction
of compounds of the subject-compounding type, the validity of the dis-
tinction between event and result nominals, and the morphological status
of the sux -ing. Thus, rather than accept the subject-verb interpretation
of fruit-ripening as fruit ripens, Thomason explains the construction
along nominal lines such as the ripening of fruit, where attributive, rather
than verbal, semantics apply. Nagano responds by clarifying that her
research addresses the derivational sux -ing rather than the participial
or gerundive -ing, which derives from a dierent inectional sux in Old
English, arguing that the functional properties cited by Thomason do not
impair her claim.
In the nal paper of this section, Don Chapman considers prescriptive
language rules that appear in usage books only once, which he terms
one-os. Collecting one-os from a number of popular usage guides
dating from 1770 to 2007, he shows that one-os constitute a very high
percentage of the total number of prescriptions. Chapman categorizes
one-os, according to the probable reason for their failure, such as rare
constructions which go unnoticed, rules lacking sucient justication,
and rules having arbitrary justication. He considers why rules with justi-
cation that appears to be less arbitrary, such as logic, may also fail. In
her commentary on Chapman, Stefanie Kuzmack supports the treatment
of usage rules as a form of etiquette for the purpose of explaining them to
the public in terms other than truth and falsity. She suggests that a factor
worth considering in future research is that the eectiveness of a type
of justication may vary with the audience in terms of era and region.
Kuzmack notes that while prescriptivism is viewed as a conservative prac-
tice, the high percentage of one-os in guides suggests that prescriptivists
are actually not conservative. Chapman responds favorably to Kuzmacks
suggestions regarding the quantied aspects of his study, and agrees that
the prescriptive tradition will continue to refresh its content in response
to new developments, noting that two recent usage manuals not included
in his study also have high percentages of one-os. He observes that usage
manual editors, rather than being mere conservators of tradition, propose
new prescriptions on their own.
English Lexicon
The section on word-based studies invites readers to consider alternate ap-
proaches to diachronic study of lexical variants based on new discoveries
in linguistics and elsewhere and newly available technology. The research
Introduction 5
presented here encourages consultation of research written in languages
other than English and draws from both linguistic and non-linguistic
elds, such as socioeconomic and geographic history, archaeology, and
language-contact theory. In particular, the authors demonstrate the power
of computers and the Internet to enhance research and inuence the de-
velopment of English. At the same time, the essays in the section do not
abandon traditional lexical research, such as the study of etymology in
the lead essay by Anatoly Liberman.
In his signature style that combines sharp wit with meticulous scholar-
ship, Liberman raises awareness of both historical problems in etymo-
logical science and modern diculties in obtaining funding. Tracing the
evolution of English etymology from Minsheus 1617 dictionary, he illu-
minates the technological challenges which have limited accuracy and
comprehensive investigation of word histories. Pointing out the limitations
of etymological works, including the canonical Oxford English Dictionary,
and lauding the benets of computerized storage, Liberman argues strongly
for more rigorous research of word histories that have been ignored or
inaccurately derived from assumptions passed along from dictionary to
dictionary. Crucially, he points out the usefulness of etymological studies
printed in languages other than English, which are often missed. Ann-
Marie Svensson draws attention to the importance of Libermans dis-
tinction between present-day etymological lexicology and the science of
English etymology, noting Libermans characterization of the OED as
a historical rather than an etymological dictionary. In his response,
Liberman notes the disparity between the etymological information found
in dictionaries and the rich material in the accumulating corpus of articles
and books on Indo-European, Germanic, and English etymology and
looks forward to the establishment of an international center for English
etymology.
Ann Marie Svensson and Ju rgen Hering examine the evolution of the
word town in English throughout the Middle English period, tracing its
development from the meaning fence to urban settlement in ninety texts
between 1100 and 1500. By considering the size, importance, and location
(British or non-British) of the localities receiving the designation town,
they are able to pinpoint the meaning of the word at various points in
time. They attribute the shift in meaning to various social, economic, and
political changes evident during the Middle English period, namely the
growth in population and importance of places originally designated as
town and the restriction of the designation borough, which was previously
used for urban settlements, to places with representatives summoned to
6 Introduction
Parliament. In his commentary, Don Chapman aptly observes, Who
would have suspected that town would be such an interesting word?
Chapman then focuses on context, and suggests that its importance sug-
gests a core mechanism of semantic change: not only do words mean as
they are used, they change meaning as they are used in dierent contexts.
Chapman hopes that study of interesting words like town can help us to
better understand the mechanisms of semantic change. Svensson responds
in agreement, that only context can guide the modern reader to under-
stand the developing shades of meaning in the semantic eld.
Markku Filppula and Juhani Klemola challenge the traditional claim
of Germanic genocide upon the British population, with the consequence
that Celtic had little inuence on English. As a case study, they apply
archaeological, demographic and historical evidence, language-contact
theory, and areal evidence from modern dialect research to argue for a
Celtic origin for periphrastic do. Archeological and genetic evidence sup-
ports a process of acculturation lasting two centuries after the arrival of
Germanic tribes, during which linguistic contact inuences were highly
likely. Filppula and Klemola suggest that during a period of extensive
bilingualism, the Britons shifted to English and were assimilated culturally
and linguistically into the Anglo-Saxon population. They point out that
the dearth of Celtic loanwords in English should not be viewed as evi-
dence against Celtic inuence, because it is predicted by language-contact
theory. They also list a number of non-Germanic features shared by
English and Celtic that are dicult to dismiss as coincidental, including
periphrastic do, which is characterized by properties which sets English
apart from other Germanic languages. Tacho commends Filppula and
Klemola on their interdisciplinary approach to the debate on Celtic inu-
ence. She raises the possibility that Anglo Norman and French loanwords
may have contributed to the increased number of periphrastic do construc-
tions in Middle English. On the other hand, Filppula and Klemola provide
evidence that the earliest examples of periphrastic do found in thirteenth
century southwestern verse show it was used with native verbs rather than
French loans. They further suggest a simple quantitative study calculating
the percentage of French loans associated with periphrastic do.
Elizabeth Tacho examines the process of the borrowing of the Anglo-
Norman loan word ar # ven to come ashore. By approaching this word
and meaning from both an onomasiological and a semasiological perspec-
tive, she traces the lexical and semantic changes during the verbs transi-
tion period from Middle English to Early Modern English, examining a
number of written and speech-based text types from the mid-twelfth to
Introduction 7
the fteenth centuries. Ar # ven was borrowed in the course of the thirteenth
century, eventually rivaling and replacing synonymous ME le# nden to
land. After spreading rapidly and extending its meaning beyond to
come ashore in the rst half of the fteenth century, ME ar # ven has re-
mained largely stable henceforth. Emily Rundes commentary generally
approves of what she calls a meticulous semasiological study. Runde
points out, however, that the paucity of early speech-based documents
may call into question Tachos assertion that ar # ven was used rst in
more literary texts, and that the views of one contemporary writer,
Mannyng, may contradict some of her ndings. Tacho responds that, as
regards the scarcity of early speech-based texts, we are indeed limited by
what survives (the bad data problem), and that the Mannyng issue is
one that deserves further study.
Focusing on the Auchinleck Manuscript, Emily Runde tackles the
problem of scribal intervention in the transmission of medieval manu-
scripts. She narrows her study on the complete bodies of work of the two
most prolic Auchinleck scribes, commonly known as Scribes 1 and 3. She
traces the orthography of a number of words in the work of each of these
two scribes in order to determine their internal linguistic consistency as
well as the extent to which their practices throughout their complete cor-
pora reect their linguistic proles in LALME. She examines the consis-
tency with which initial <h-> is written, the spelling of words usually
used to distinguish Types II and III (Samuels 1989), and the spelling of
words that usually used to distinguish various Middle English dialects.
Her study shows greater consistency of spelling than is generally attributed
to Middle English scribes and uctuation between Type II and Type III
spelling (challenging Samuels classication of these scribes as Type II) and
suggests a possible northern origin of two texts, namely Sir Tristem and
Horn Childe & Maiden Rimnild, due to the prevalence of northern spell-
ings of certain words not present in the Scribe 1s other texts. Sherrylyn
Branchaws commentary approves of Rundes innovation that, instead of
looking at dierent scribes for the same text, she looks at dierent texts
prepared by the same scribe. This practice permits her to estimate the
overall consistency of a single scribes habits so that, for instance, it is pos-
sible to say that Scribe 1 was unlikely to introduce northern forms in one
text when he had not introduced them in twenty-eight other texts. Runde
suggests in reply that she intends to extend her practice of using complete
scribal corpora to additional sets of manuscripts.
Stefanie Kuzmack considers the potential of the Internet as an environ-
ment for language change using the example of the quotative complemen-
8 Introduction
tizer re, which evolved c. 1990 in threaded discussions to set up response
to earlier discourse. The use of quotative re derives from and is semanti-
cally related to the English preposition re about, regarding, from Latin
in re (<res), used in the subject lines of memoranda and electronic mes-
sages, but diers syntactically and pragmatically. Kuzmack notes, how-
ever, that quotative res meaning is not always salient and evidences
semantic bleaching. She argues that the unusual characteristics of re reect
the inuence of the online medium on its development, showing how the
online medium promoted such distinguishing characteristics as adjoint
complementation and noun phrase complementation, neither of which
are used with other English quotatives. Kuzmack concludes that quotative
complementizer re complements other English quotatives in both structure
and function, rather than competing with them. Reecting on Kuzmacks
research, Anatoly Liberman notes that Kuzmack reminds us that study of
the history of English need not be relegated to study of the distant past.
He points out the importance of writing in literate societies and notes
that the Internet and chatroom have dissipated dierences between speech
and writing. Liberman observes that because the public nature of Internet
texts makes them readily available for research, e-mail and chat can be
studied using methods comparable to those used to study recorded and
overheard conversations. Liberman expresses amusement that the folk
etymology of re reects modern dierences in education. Responding to
Libermans observation that the Internet has brought written language
closer to spoken language, Kuzmack emphasizes that asynchronous com-
munication, an element of written register, was important to the develop-
ment of re. The fact that re is used in asynchronous writing caused it to
develop as a way to refresh memory of what had been said previously.
Kuzmack agrees that folk etymologies of re may reect changes in edu-
cation, but suggests that even speakers who know Latin might conclude
that re is a new abbreviation since its use in subject lines is dierent from
previous uses.
These twelve conversations about aspects of HEL demonstrate the state
of the art. They involve increasing use of technology and quantitative
methods from corpus linguistics. They incorporate insights from modern
sociolinguistics and anthropology. And still they maintain the rigor and
scholarship that have long distinguished the tradition of study in HEL.
There are indeed new additions to the house that we celebrate in these
essays, while they also concern themselves with the regular maintenance
of HEL study.
Introduction 9
Dialogic Contexts as Motivations for
Syntactic Change
1. Introduction
In recent years there has been considerable interest in accounting for moti-
vations for change: the why of change.
1
Attention has been paid to vari-
ous aspects of diagrammatic iconicity within the framework of synchronic
cognitive linguistics (e.g., Radden and Panther 2004) and historical mor-
phosyntax (Fischer 2007), and also to interactional motivations such as
turn-taking and stance-taking (Waltereit and Detges 2007). In this paper
I will focus on the emergence of new syntactic constructions in the context
of interactional contesting or dialogic language use (Schwenter 2000),
using the rise of ALL- and WH- pseudo-clefts as my case study.
The outline is as follows. I will briey review dierent approaches to
motivation (section 2) and then discuss dialogicity (section 3). Section 4
focuses on the linguistic contexts in which pseudo-clefts arose, and section
5 suggests questions for further research.
2. Approaches to motivations
There have been two main approaches to motivations, one focusing on
internal factors, the other on external as well as internal ones. Space per-
mits only the sketchiest of comments about theoretical stances that have
wide-reaching implications for both theoretical explanation and practice.
1. Various aspects of the development of ALL- and WH-pseudo-clefts were pre-
sented at IPra 10 (Traugott 2007) and in Traugott (2008). Many thanks to
audiences at IPra and at SHEL5 for comments. Most especially, thanks to
Scott A. Schwenter for drawing by attention to dialogicity, to Ruth Kempson
for discussion of my analysis of WH-clefts, and to two anonymous reviewers
of the present version. Needless to say, they are not responsible for any errors
that remain or for points of view expressed here.
Internal approaches include synchronic work on various types of
iconicity (e.g., Haiman 1980), and pattern match (e.g., Cuyckens, Berg,
Dirven, and Panther 2003, Radden and Panther 2004).
2
Motivations may
be cognitive, experiential, perceptual, etc. and therefore, strictly speaking,
language-independent. But the approach is internal in the sense that they
are construed as arising from factors inherent in, and arising out of,
any given synchronic state of the language system (Gerritsen and Stein
1992: 7).
Diachronic work in which change is construed as grammar change
(Kiparsky 1968) also involves an internal approach. For the most part,
it is assumed that language change results from language acquisition, and
that acquisition is passive: Language learning is not really something that
the child does; it is something that happens to the child placed in an
appropriate environment (Chomsky 1988: 134), A grammar grows in a
child from some initial state (UG), when she is exposed to primary lin-
guistic data (Lightfoot 2003: 107). Early proposals concerning competing
motivations (be clear vs. be quick/easy) by Langacker (1977) and
Slobin (1977) assume an internal perspective. In particular, Slobin pro-
posed a disembodied set of ground rules, charges, or imperatives
to the semi-mythical being whom Ill refer to simply as Language
(p. 186; italics original). Speakers are guided by maxims based in logic
and language-internal Gricean implicatures.
External approaches, by contrast, appeal to factors arising out of
human acts and actions, including language use in a community, contact,
and speaker-hearer negotiation of meaning. We may think here of inter-
locutors building common ground (Clark 1996), and resolving the compet-
ing motivations (be clear vs. be quick/easy) as construed by Du Bois
(e.g., 1985). Speakers and hearers are actively engaged in interaction
guided by maxims such as Kellers (1994 [1990]), which are grounded in
the communicative dyads actions and purposes, e.g., Talk in such a
way that you are not misunderstood (p. 94), Talk in such a way that
you are noticed, Talk in an amusing, funny way (p. 101), Talk like
the others talk (p. 100).
3
2. Taylor (2006) provides a good summary of the cognitive linguistic approach
to motivation, with a critique of possible circularity.
3. The rst two types enable change, the third inhibits it. Grices (1989 [1975])
Maxims also appeal to the communicative dyad, but focus on internal logic
and implicatures.
12 Elizabeth Closs Traugott
In historical linguistics, language change is construed as change in use,
and speakers are envisaged as active, life-long learners (Milroy 1992,
Croft 2000). The hypotheses that grammaticalization is motivated by ex-
pressiveness (Lehmann 1995 [1982], Hopper and Traugott 2003 [1993])
or extravagance (Haspelmath 1998) arise out of perspectives that are
at least partially externally-oriented.
While internal and external approaches are dierent in orientation,
they are ideally integrated (Du Bois 1985, Joseph 1992, and more recently
Butler 2006, McMahon 2006):
To understand language change as well as we can, we have to deal with two
dierent levels all the time, that of the speaker, and that of the linguistic sys-
tem. (McMahon 2006: 148)
Work on invited inferencing as a motivation for change combines both
external and internal perspectives. It is assumed that speakers act (invite
addressees to interpret) exploiting language-internal implicatures (Traugott
and Ko nig 1991, Traugott and Dasher 2002). After becoming salient in
a community (a social factor), such implicatures may become conven-
tionalized (coded or semanticized) via semantic reanalysis (an internal
mechanism). For example, speaker-based, subjective meanings may be-
come salient in certain types of communication as a result of certain inter-
actional practices, but the process of subjectication is the reanalysis
or semanticization of speaker-based meanings, such as are expressed by
epistemic modality or discourse markers. It is an internal mechanism that
operates on outcomes of externally motivated interaction.
Most hypothesized motivations are very general: conditions, not spe-
cic whys for change. Recently Detges, Schwenter, and Waltereit in
a number of papers separately and together have explored more specic
motivations by correlating particular rhetorical strategies and stances
with the rise of particular usages. For example, Detges (2006) discusses
turn-taking and self-topicalization as motivations that were precursors of
the development of subject-markers out of pronouns in French and other
languages. The obligatorication of the pronouns resulted, he argues,
from the overuse of optional rst and second person pronouns, hence
devaluation of their pragmatic eect, and eventual reanalysis as subject
markers. Also appealing to turn-taking, Waltereit (2006) discusses the
development of discourse markers out of imperatives, e.g., Italian Guarda!
look > see/self-selection marker, Diciamo (lets) say. He argues that
speakers self-select by using attention-getters in illegitimate ways, e.g.,
Guarda! when there is nothing to look at, or Diciamo when interlocutors
Dialogic Contexts as Motivations for Syntactic Change 13
are not engaged in simultaneous talk. Waltereit and Detges (2007: 79) pro-
pose that the kinds of interaction that precede subjectication, pragma-
ticalization (of discourse markers), and grammaticalization, can be speci-
ed in more detailed ways than has been usual in the past by appealing to
argumentation to a conclusion, and negotiation of viewpoints. They pro-
pose that the development of modal particles like French bien indeed
as in (1a) out of the manner adverb bien well derives from stereotypical
argumentational moves negotiating common ground (What do I believe
that you believe concerning the felicity of my speech act?). On the other
hand, discourse markers such as Spanish bien well as in (1b) arise out of
the negotiating strategy of further[ing] verbal interaction (What are we
going to do next) (Waltereit and Detges 2007: 79).
(1) a. Vous avez bien recu mon message?
You did receive my message, didnt you? (Ibid.: 63)
b. A. . . . todo ciudadano . . . tiene derecho a eas leg tima defensa
. . . every citizen . . . has the right to this self-defense
B. Bien. Eh . . . creo que. . .
Well. Eh . . . I think there. . . (Ibid.: 62)
A dierent motivation, that of presupposition accommodation, is pro-
posed by Schwenter and Waltereit (forthcoming) to account for such
developments as use of additive too as a refutation marker. An early
example is:
(2) Surely you cant be thinking of marrying a man who wasnt in
the army, who jeered at men who did enlist?
He was, too, in the army. He was in the army eight months.
(1936 Mitchell, Gone with the Wind [Schwenter and Waltereit,
forthcoming])
As Waltereit and Detges show, in the case of Spanish bien the interaction
is often one of disagreement (see (1b)). The same is true of the use of too in
(2). In other words, the context for their use is one in which multiple view-
points are expressed using a strategy that is contesting and refutational,
oriented toward an alternative conclusion. In other words it is dialogic.
3. Dialogic interactions
For over twenty years there has been considerable discussion, especially in
Europe, of the distinction between the number of speakers and the num-
ber of points of view invoked (see Roulet 1984, Ducrot 1984, 1996; more
recently Schwenter 2000, 2007, Nlke 2006).
4
A distinction is made
between monologual dialogual interaction and monologic
dialogic interaction.
5
The rst, monologual dialogual, refers to
the number of speakers (simplistically, one or two) and concerns absence
or presence of turn-taking. The second, monologic dialogic, refers
to number of view points invoked (simplistically, one or two). Monologic
orientation concerns the extent to which speakers share common ground
and build their argument toward the same or similar conclusions (e.g.,
and, which signals agreement or addition). Dialogic orientation concerns
the extent to which speakers contest, refute, or build an argument toward
alternative or dierent conclusions (e.g., but, modal in fact). Monologicity
and dialogicity are on a continuum (Schwenter 2000) very little language
use is purely monologic (Taavitsainen, Harma, and Korhonen 2006: 1).
There are many linguistic expressions that index some degree of dialo-
gicity. Among them are:
a) Adversatives: these [signal] a confrontation of incompatible view-
points (Schwenter 2000: 261), e.g., but, Spanish si.
b) Concessives: these convey the implicature that there is a dissonance
or incompatibility between two eventualities (Ko nig 1991: 134), e.g.,
although, however.
c) Negation: this has been conceptualized as denying or correcting the
truth of a prior proposition or utterance (Givo n 1978), or of a pre-
supposition, implicature, etc. (Geurts 1998). While the extent to which
canonical negation is used this way has been challenged (e.g., Tottie
1991, Thompson 1998), non-canonical negatives target a salient ar-
mative proposition in the ongoing discourse record, e.g., not . . . either,
OE na . . . wiht no . . . thing (> not), Fr. ne . . . pas no . . . step
(Schwenter 2007) and are refutational.
d) Epistemic modal adverbs: these invoke alternative worlds (Lyons
1977) and therefore doubt, e.g., surely, possibly.
e) Focus particles: these exclude alternatives and carry an implication
of dissonance or incompatibility (Ko nig 1991: 131; also Traugott
2006), e.g., even, only.
f ) Scalars in general since they invoke alternatives (Ko nig 1991).
4. Much of this work originates with Bakhtin (see Holquist 1981). Similar issues
are also central to much work on stylistics and types of indirect speech (e.g.,
Leech and Short 1981).
5. Note, however, that dialogic is sometimes used to refer to dyadic inter-
action, i.e. what is here called dialogual (e.g., Taavitsainen, Harma, and
Korhonen 2006).
While synchronic studies of dialogicity have focused not only on expres-
sions of dialogicity but also on interactional stance, largely in conversa-
tion (e.g., Mann and Thompson 1992, Ford 1994, Couper-Kuhlen and
Kortmann 2000), most diachronic work has been devoted to the develop-
ment of expressions indexing dialogicity as instances of grammaticaliza-
tion or of subjectication. Dialogic expressions typically derive from non-
dialogic ones, e.g.: but < except < butan on the outside (Nevalainen
1991), only adversative conjunction (denotes the opposite of the conse-
quence or conclusion expected from the rst, Poutsma 190405: 385,
cited in Brinton 1998) < focus marker < anlic singly, instead < in stede
in place of (Schwenter and Traugott 1995) to name only a few.
Relatively little attention has been paid to dialogic contexts for changes.
There is, however, some mention in Detges and Waltereits work, and
Schwenter and Traugott argue that the dialogicity of adverbials like epis-
temic in fact arises out of the semanticization of dialogic contexts such as
are illustrated by (3):
(3) You were pleased before to make some reexions on this custom,
and laugh at the irresolution of our free-thinkers: but I can aver for
matter of fact, that they have often recommended it by their example
as well as arguments . . . In whatever light you may consider it, this
is in fact a solid benet. But the best eect of our principles is that
light and truth so visibly spread abroad in the world. (1732 Berkeley,
Alciphron ii. sect. 24, p. 105 [Schwenter and Traugott 2000: 16])
Note here the prior context of alternative points of view ( you were
pleased . . . but I can aver. . . , in whatever light you may consider it), as
well as the following one (But the best eect. . .).
Here I argue in greater detail for the importance of paying attention
to evidence in texts for interactional goals involving contesting of prior
claims or introduction of alternative points of view, i.e. of dialogic con-
texts, in coming to grips with micro-changes with the example of the
development of pseudo-clefts. In earlier work (Traugott, 2008) I tested
two hypotheses: i) that they might have arisen in primarily dialogual inter-
action, given that analyses of WH-clefts based on constructed data suggest
they are responses to questions (e.g., Higgins 1979 and many studies
building on his work), ii) that they might have arisen at turns, given that
other studies based on spontaneous conversation suggest they are used to
delay an assertion at a turn (e.g., Hopper 2001). I found that the textual
evidence gave little support for turn-taking as a motivation for the devel-
opment of pseudo-clefts. Rather, dialogic contexts appear to have played
an important role, most especially in the case of ALL-clefts. This is con-
sistent with Kims (1995) nding that WH-clefts are used in conversa-
tion mainly to signal a counter-active, i.e. dialogic, stance in spontaneous
conversation.
4. Contexts for the development of pseudo-clefts
Pseudo-clefts are constructions like:
(4) a. What Bruce ate was the crab. (WH-cleft)
b. What Bruce did was (to) peel the potatoes. (WH-cleft)
c. All/*Everything Bruce ate was the crab. (ALL-cleft)
d. All/*Everything that you have to do is (to) close the window.
(ALL-cleft)
They involve a string of the type WHAT/ALL NP V BE X (see
Prince 1978, Higgins 1979, Collins 1991, Lambrecht 2001, Delin and
Oberlander 2006, among many others) and:
a) Two clauses, one of which is a relative,
6
one of which involves a
copula.
b) Givenness: some part of the construction (typically the relative) must
be given or at least recoverable.
c) Uniqueness and contrastiveness: the focus constituent is construed
as an exhaustive, exclusive listing (Bruce ate only the crab, not the
shrimp, squid, etc.).
d) Specicational/identifying focus: the complement of the copula is
specic and referential (not ascriptive or non-referential) (see Patten
2007 for detailed discussion of specicationality).
Ball (1994) analyzed the history of IT-clefts, and showed that antecedents
of what Prince (1978) called stressed focus IT-clefts (but without it)
are attested in Old English; these require X to be given or at least in-
ferrable and salient in the discourse. What Prince called informative-
6. However, den Dikken (2006) argues that they are interrogative. Carlson
(1983) argues that in terms of use in dialogue, they serve the purpose of arti-
culating a sentence as an answer to a particular question (p. 222) but are
structurally free relatives (thanks to Markku Filppula for this reference).
presupposition IT-clefts arose around 1400; in this type X may be new.
7
ALL-pseudo-clefts arose around 1600, and WH-pseudo-cleft around 1660.
All three clefts are examples of grammaticalization without lexical bleach-
ing (Lehmann, 2008), and of constructionalization (Traugott, 2008).
4.1. Early examples of ALL-pseudo-clefts
Early examples in the data base
8
with the string ALL NP V BE X
are ascriptive (5a; everything I said was tricky/designed to trick) or pur-
posive (5b). Here all means everything:
(5) a. I haue made him happie by training you forth: In a word, all I
said was but a traine to draw you from your vow: Nay, theres
no going backe.
I have made him happy by drawing you forth: in a word,
everything I said was only a trick to draw you from your vow.
No, there is no going back. (1606 Chapman, Monsieur DOliue
[LION: EEBO]
b. I loue thee dearer then I doe my life,
And all I did, was to aduance thy state,
To sunne bright beames of shining happinesse.
(1601 Yarrington, Two Lamentable Tragedies [Ibid.])
In (5a) the prior context is not obviously dialogic, but the following
context is contesting (Nay, theres no going back). In (5b) one might infer
that the speaker is making such a strong claim because he fears he has
been misunderstood. Indeed, everything one person says or does may not
be enough for some other person or may be interpreted as mistaken or
at best inadequate (due to the quanticational meaning of all ), as is
poignantly expressed by Henry V in (6):
7. Interestingly, in Present Day English ALL-pseudo-clefts and WH-clefts in
some contexts can be of either type. The pseudo-clefts suggest that at rst X
was given, but that as the constructions became conventionalized this restric-
tion was relaxed.
8. I searched the Middle English Dictionary, LION: EEBO, LION: Early
English Drama (Jacobean and Caroline (16031660), and Restoration
(16601700) periods), and trials as represented by the Old Bailey Proceedings
Online from 1678 to 1743, and the Old Bailey Speech Set from 17321743.
Each le was searched for all / what (that) I/ you/ he/ she/ it/ we/ they and said/
did was (the latter to determine what subjects were selected in the early
period).
(6) More will I do;
Though all that I can do is nothing worth,
Since that my penitence comes after all,
Imploring pardon. (1599 Shakespeare, Henry V IV.i.319 [UVa])
Ca.1600, strings of type ALL NP V BE X appear with the pseudo-
cleft meaning: all can be interpreted as only, not everything, and the
focus may be understood as exhaustive and specicational.
9
Since the
focus is a clause in all early ALL-cleft examples, with a verb of speaking,
usually say (7a), or do plus innitive marker (7b), the criterion used for
contemporary English that the focused NP should be denite does not
apply. There are, however, examples like (7a) in which the focus of an
ALL-cleft with say is this, followed by a clause.
(7) a. [A confutation between a Jesuit (S.R.) and Bell]
Our slanderous and rayling Iesuite, reporteth my wordes in this
manner; for saith Bell ) (sic), it is a thinge proper to God, to
make something of nothing in al cases, and at al times. So then,
all that I said was this; (viz) That though man can at sometime in
some cases, make one thing of another; yet to make of nothing
something, is proper to GOD alone, neither is man able to per-
forme the same. (1608 Bell, The Jesuits Antepast [LION: EEBO])
b. I was desird to put a stop to the Sedition of the People. I
answered, That all that I could do, was to give no Encouragement
to it, but God only could appease it. (1693 Du Pin, History of
Ecclesiastical Writers [Ibid.])
Both examples are highly dialogic. In (7a) Bell draws attention to what he
actually said (though a man can at sometime. . .), as opposed to what others
construed him as saying (saith Bell: it is a thinge proper to God. . .). In (7b)
Naylor foresees the impossibility of his addressee having any political suc-
cess, and proposes that he simply do good. Note that whereas the pur-
posive construction (5b) (all I did was for the purpose of Xing in the future)
is future-oriented, the ALL-cleft with do is present-oriented (or, more spe-
cically, is oriented to the event time). This is presumably what allowed
for the loss of to after do as in (8a) and the verbal gerund in (8b):
9. An anonymous reviewer asked whether there might have been inuence of
French or Latin texts. Some of the earlier examples of ALL-clefts are in trans-
lations from French, but whether or not there was direct inuence remains to
be studied. Examples (7b) and (8b) are translations from French, but rela-
tively late in the development of ALL-clefts.
(8) a. When any bowd to me with Congees ( ceremonious bow) trim,
All I could do, was stand and laugh at him. (1681 Baxter, Poetical
fragments [LION: EEBO])
b. These words so resolute and kind, pierced my very heart, and
turned me into a Statue, leaving me without sense or motion. All
I could do, was embracing my dear Sultaness for a nal Adieu.
(1686 Bremond, The Happy Slave, Part III [Ibid.])
(8) unequivocally shows that a new construction had come into being. Not
only does do not require to, but the context is no longer dialogic. The con-
struction in itself signals dialogicity. It puts the focus on a scale and
signals that it is the only alternative; it also signals that the speaker/writer
regards the focus as less than adequate (all is downward inferential
in Horns (1996: 18) analysis), a meaning derived from interaction of the
quantier all with exclusivity and negation (see also albeit, all the same,
after all ). We may say that dialogicity has been semanticized into the con-
struction. This means it is understood as dialogic in non-dialogic contexts,
though such contexts tend to continue to be used.
4.2. Early examples of WH-clefts
As in the case of the ALL-constructions, prior to about 1660 the only
examples in data base with the structure WHAT NP V BE X are
ascriptive (9a), or purposive (9b):
(9) a. Then Sostratus taking the occasion to speake, said: what I did
was of no great valour, and therfore not worthy the rehearsal
(1597 Tatius, Clitiphon [LION: EEBO])
b. Mistake mee not faire Knight, . . . what I did, was to deceiue the
Pagans, who are waking Dragons that neuer sleepe about mee
(1612 Markham, Meruine [Ibid.])
These examples have dialogic contexts, but not the specicational struc-
ture of WH-pseudo-clefts, i.e. X is not a denite description. It was only
a short step to the pseudo-cleft construction, in which the dialogic contexts
were retained. As in the case of ALL-clefts, WH-clefts with do are
oriented to event-time, not future (10b).
(10) a. I write not out of a designe to advance the repute of our West-
Indy Commodities in the making Chocolata. What I say is the
Assertion of others, who did not intend by their Writings to
serve the English Interest in Iamaica. (1662 Stubbe, Indian
Nectar [LION: EEBO])
b. If it be objected that I preached to separate Congregations; my
Answer is, That I preachd only to some of many Thousands
that cannot come into the Temples, many of which never heard
a Sermon of many years. And what I did, was only to preach
to such as could not come to our Churches. (1697 Baxter,
Mr. Richard Baxters Last Legacy [LION: EEBO])
Like ALL-clefts, WH-clefts came within about fty years to be used in
non-dialogic contexts. Here again we can say that the dialogic context
has been semanticized in the new construction. However, in the case of
WH-clefts there is no downward entailment:
10
(11) I heard a Noise, and came down Stairs, but all the Things were
gone: I wash Linnen, and what I lost was the Property of Mr. Gold.
(May 1736, Trial of Christopher Freeman and Samuel Ellard
[BAILEY: s17360505-463173605050])
5. Conclusion and further work
I have added to arguments that by bringing an interactional approach to
the study of change, and attempting to go beyond very general ideas about
motivations, we can reach a better understanding of how specic micro-
changes come about. In particular I have suggested that dialogic contexts
deserve special attention.
Among future research questions is whether all expressions that inher-
ently code dialogic meaning, such as those cited in section 3, arise in dia-
logic contexts. Other questions that deserve attention include how best to
rene the continuum from monologic to dialogic contexts and meanings
(Schwenter 2000), and further, how best to dene the continuum within
dialogicity (e.g., from quotation and scalarity to refutation). Since seman-
ticizing dialogicity involves semanticizing stance, a further question is how
degrees of subjectication intersect with these continua. And since contest-
ing strategies are partly governed by conventions of interaction in specic
discourse contexts, we need also to understand how these factors relate to
register and genre and how there may be dierences over time due to shifts
in cultural norms (Biber 2004).
10. Carlson (1983: 223) points out that What David wants is his wallet implies
that his wallet is all David wants. This . . . is due to the fact . . . that the char-
acter of free relatives is left open between existential and universal force.
Here we must understand Carlson to be thinking of the exclusivity rather
than downward entailment of all.
Sources
BAILEY The Proceedings of the Old Bailey, London 1674 to 1834. Edited by
Tim Hitchcock and Robert Shoemaker. Used by permission of Tim
Hitchcock and Magnus Huber. www.oldbaileyonline.org (accessed
MarchSeptember 2007).
LION Chadwyck Healey website, http://lion.chadwyck.com.
UVa University of Virginia, Electronic Text Center, Modern English Collec-
tion, http://etext.lib.virginia.edu/modeng/modeng0.browse.html.
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Commentary on Traugott, Dialogic Contexts as
Motivations for Syntactic Change
11
Akiko Nagano
Traugotts paper shows how the shift of viewpoint and the existence of
dierent viewpoints expressed by a dialogic context can be semantically
incorporated into a specic linguistic expression, and how the expression
is constructionized as a dialogic expression. The contribution of this
paper for the study of linguistic change lies not only in proving the signi-
cance of interactional factors as vital motivations for change, but also in
providing a general format for locating a contextual source of a specic
construction. Thus, in addition to the pseudo-cleft construction examined
in her paper, several other constructions are likely to benet from her
interactional approach; a detailed examination of texts in terms of how
a particular interactional goal is expressed linguistically will help to
delineate the process of a diachronic development and to account for
why such a development has occurred. I would like to point out three
constructions that deserve study along this line.
The rst case comes from the domain of word-formation. It is well known
that conversion (or zero-derivation) has been productive since Old English
(Biese 1941: 1849, Marchand 1969: 359378, Pennanen 1971) and in
Present-day English it enjoys particularly high productivity (Bauer 1983:
226227, Plag 1999: 93118). Unlike V-deriving suxes (e.g., -ate, -ify,
-ize), whose base is restricted to N or A of certain phonological patterns
(Plag 1999: 119218), V-forming conversion accepts categorially, morpho-
phonologically, and semantically various types of base, and the following
data show that even utterances can be the input to V-forming conversion:
(1) a. I was explaining the Golden Bull to his Royal Highness.
Ill Golden Bull you, you rascal! roared the Majesty of Prussia.
(Jespersen 1942: 106)
11. In writing this commentary, I have greatly beneted from discussion of the
material with Professor Masaharu Shimada. Of course, responsibility for any
inadequacies is my own.
b. Honey
Dont honey me, she said.
(Raymond Carver, Vitamins)
c. Nell: Ling!
Ling: Dont Ling me. Im tired of being Linged around here.
(TV show, Ally McBeal)
Jespersen (1942: 105107) calls this usage of conversion retort, because
in these instances in anger one simply seizes one word or phrase in what
was said by the other party, and repeats it as a verb in a scornful tone of
voice (Jespersen 1942: 105).
The retort usage of conversion is possible only in a dialogue, and the
meaning of the converted verb is not simply to say base utterance but
includes the strong connotation of contesting such as How can you use
such a word? or How dare you use such a word to me? This means
that retort is not a mere categorial change for word formation but a form
of refutation or interactional contesting (Traugott, this volume). There-
fore, it can be seen as a dialogic construction in a broad sense. Since con-
verted verbs in general do not have any dialogic function, the conjecture is
possible that this construction should have developed in a dialogic con-
text; a converted verb used in a dialogic context has semantically incor-
porated the dialogicity. To put it dierently, the usage of conversion has
changed (or extended) in such a way to deal with a shift of viewpoint.
If this conjecture is on the right track, Traugotts paper suggests that
there could be a stage in the history of English where the dialogicity of
converted verbs such as those in (1) had a separate expression in a neigh-
boring context and the verbs themselves expressed only the non-dialogic,
transparent meaning to say base utterance, as in Though you honey me,
I dont like it, or You have just Golden Bulled me, but it is inappropriate.
In fact, some converted verbs based on an utterance do seem to be free
from any tone of anger or contestation and simply denote the act of
making that utterance, as follows:
(2) a. Poor Robin.
What are you two girls poor Robining about?
(Jespersen 1942: 107)
b. We dont Mr. each other here.
(ibid.)
The second candidate for a dialogic construction also involves mor-
phology: the superlative form of an adjective. Absolute superlatives are
Commentary on Traugott 29
often concerned with possible maximum or minimum degree (Huddleston
and Pullum 2002: 1167) and can be used as a construction semantically in-
corporating the focus particle even, as the following instances show:
(3) a. The ground was so soft that the lightest step made a deep
imprint.
(Huddleston and Pullum 2002: 1167)
b. The slightest touch will break a soap bubble.
c. The best musician is liable to make a mistake when he is tired.
Traugotts paper provides a new perspective on this type of grammaticali-
zation and opens up a new research possibility for its motivation; this
usage of superlative could be preceded by the use of a superlative form
in a dialogic context that includes the focus particle even (e.g., Even the
slightest touch will break a soap bubble) or a concessive adverbial clause.
Lastly, Traugotts research format could be applied to the development
of the (so-called) speech-act conditional sentences (Rutherford 1970: 109
110, Sweetser 1990: 113144). The adverbial clauses of the following sen-
tences modify an unexpressed speech-act verb underlying the main clause
(see the underlined part of the parenthesized paraphrase):
(4) a. If youre interested, Dicks coming to the party too.
[If youre interested, it is worth telling you that Dicks coming to
the party too.]
b. Where did your parents go, if you know?
(Quirk et al. 1985: 1097)
[If you know, tell me where your parents go.]
c. While were on the subject, why didnt you send your children to
a public school?
(Quirk et al. 1985: 1073)
[While were on the subject, tell me why you didnt send your
children to a public school.]
The italicized adverbial clauses express the condition under which the
speaker makes the utterance, so they relate not to the proposition of the
main clause itself but to the speech act performed in uttering the clause.
As a closely-related usage, the italicized if-clause in the following sentence
relates to an unexpressed epistemic modality:
30 Akiko Nagano
(5) If the key is not in my pocket, I have left it in the door.
[If the key is not in my pocket, it must be the case that I have left it in
the door.]
This usage of an adverbial clause in the speech-act domain and the
epistemic domain (Sweetser 1990: 113121) is exhibited also by an
adverbial clause of reasoning (ibid.: 7686), as shown below.
(6) a. What are you doing tonight, because theres a good movie on.
(Sweetser 1990: 77)
[ I ask you what you are doing tonight, because theres a good
movie on.]
b. Hes not coming to class, because he just called from San Diego.
(Rutherford 1970: 97)
[It must be the case that hes not coming to class, because he just
called from San Diego.]
c. Since you dont seem to know, all further negotiations have been
suspended.
(Quirk et al. 1985: 1073)
[Since you dont seem to know, it is worth telling you that all
further negotiations have been suspended.]
d. Since John isnt here, he has (evidently) gone home.
(Sweetser 1990: 78)
[Since John isnt here, it must be the case that he has gone home.]
To the extent that expressions of speech-act and epistemic modality con-
cern the dialogicity, it must be worthwhile entertaining the possibility
that dialogic contexts played a role for the development of the usage of
adverbial clauses discussed above.
12
In fact, the speech-act and epistemic-modality expressions covert in
English adverbial clauses (e.g., the underlined parts of the parenthesized
paraphrases in (4), (5), and (6)) have to be realized overtly in Japanese
(Sakahara 1985: 154, Nakau 1994: 103106, Shizawa 2008). This cross-
linguistic dierence cannot be ignored in delineating the diachronic pro-
cess of grammaticalization of speech-act and epistemic modality, and
12. According to Traugott and Ko nig (1991) and Hopper and Traugott (1993:
7577), the causal meaning of since is developed from its temporal meaning.
oers an interesting question of how such a parametric variation can be
accounted for by the interactional approach.
References
Bauer, Laurie
1983 English Word-Formation. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Biese, Y. M.
1941 Origin and Development of Conversions in English. Annales Aca-
demiae Scientiarum Fennicae, B XLV, Helsinki.
Hopper, J. Paul and Elizabeth Closs Traugott
1993 Grammaticalization. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Huddleston, Rodney and Georey K. Pullum
2002 The Cambridge Grammar of the English Language. Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press.
Jespersen, Otto
1942 A Modern English Grammar on Historical Principles, Part 6:
Morphology. Copenhagen: Ejnar Munksgaard.
Marchand, Hans
1969 The Categories and Types of Present-Day English Word-Formation:
A Synchronic-Diachronic Approach. 2nd ed. Munich: C. H. Beck.
Nakau, Minoru
1994 Ninchi Imiron no Genri (Principles of Cognitive Semantics).
Tokyo: Taishukan.
Pennanen, Esko V.
1971 Conversion and Zero-Derivation in English. Tampere: Tampereen
Yliopisto.
Plag, Ingo
1999 Morphological Productivity: Structural Constraints on English
Derivation. Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter.
Quirk, Randolph, Sidney Greenbaum, Georey Leech, and Jan Svartvik
1985 A Comprehensive Grammar of the English Language. London:
Longman.
Rutherford, William E.
1970 Some Observations Concerning Subordinate Clauses in English.
Language 46: 97115.
Sakahara, Shigeru
1985 Nichijo Gengo no Suiron (Inferences in Everyday Speech).
Tokyo: Tokyo University Press.
Shizawa, Takashi
2008 Conditionals Giving Reasons for Utterances: A Contrastive Study
of Japanese and English from the Viewpoint of Addressee-
Orientedness. A paper read at the 26th Conference of the
English Linguistic Society of Japan.
32 Akiko Nagano
Sweetser, Eve E.
1990 From Etymology to Pragmatics: Metaphorical and Cultural Aspects
of Semantic Structure. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Traugott, Elizabeth C. and Ekkehard Ko nig
1991 The Semantics-Pragmatics of Grammaticalization Revisited. In
Approaches to Grammaticalization, edited by Elizabeth C. Trau-
gott and Bernd Heine, 189218. Amsterdam: John Benjamins
Publishing Company.
Response to Commentary by Nagano
Akiko Nagano presents three constructions that might fruitfully be inves-
tigated to determine whether they arose in dialogic contexts: conversion in
retorts, use of [Denite Article Adjective-superlative N] constructions, and
speech act conditionals. All three involve speaker evaluation of some ele-
ment in the utterance or its context: the rst evaluates the validity of what
someone else has said, the second situates the complement on the extreme
end of a scale, and the third evaluates the upcoming utterance with respect
to its relevance to the addressee or the speech situation. Here I will con-
sider only the rst type, conversions.
The conversions Nagano cites exemplify metalinguistic negation in
the sense of Ducrot (1972) and Horn (1985), as they are devices for
objecting to a previous utterance on any grounds whatever including
its conventional or conversational implicata, its morphology, its style or
register, or its phonetic realization (Horn 1985: 121). Most conversions
appear to be on-the-y nonce uses that are not conventionalized as part
of a communitys linguistic system (i.e. they are innovations, not changes).
However, it is clear that in some cases conversions do become con-
ventionalized, e.g. V-forming conversions of T/V pronoun distinctions
such as French tutoyer to use/say T, French vouvoyer to use/say V,
English to thou, as in:
(1) None of hyghnesse schal thou another in spekynge, but eche schal
speke reuenrently to other none of high position shall thou another
in speaking, but each shall speak reverently to the other (c1450
Aungier, Syon Monastery 287 [MED thouen, OED thou, v.])
(1) is dialogic, but not dialogual, as it does not involve turn-taking. Indeed
most citations in the MED and OED appear not to be dialogual retorts,
but regulatory, like (1), or invectives. Other conversions that quote utter-
ances include delocutive verbs such as Latin negare to say nec no ,
English hail to say Hail! , French (re)mercier to say merci thanks
(Benveniste 1971 [1958]). Some may well have arisen in dialogic and dia-
logual contexts of the type Nagano suggests, e.g. negare. However, as she
notes, not all V-forming conversions contest. By hypothesis, hail, (re)mer-
cier did not. The histories of individual micro-constructions within the
same set may be very dierent, e.g. a shred of is likely to occur in negative
polarity contexts, a bit (of) considerably less likely. While a shred of
favors positive complements (honor, truth), there is no such semantic
prosody (Stubbs 2001) for a bit (of). Therefore, to the extent that macro-
(parametric) changes may be said to be involved, the micro-changes and
micro-contexts that lead up to them may be very varied, as may also the
structure of any individual construction selected in a particular language.
In investigating the construction-types Nagano discusses, it will be impor-
tant to consider the full range of interactional contexts in which they
arose, and to distinguish dialogic from dialogual contexts.
References
Benveniste, Emile
1971 [1958] Delocutive Verbs. In Problems in General Linguistics, 239246.
Trans. by Mary Elizabeth Meek. Coral Gables, FL: University
of Miami Press. (Les verbes delocutifs, Proble`mes de Linguisti-
que Generale, 277285. Paris: Gallimard 1966; orig. publ. in
A. G. Hatcher and K. L. Selig, eds., Studia Philologica et
Litteraria in Honorem L. Spitzer, 5763. Bern, 1958.)
Ducrot, Oswald
1972 Dire et ne pas dire. Paris: Hermann.
Horn, Laurence R.
1985 Metalinguistic Negation and Pragmatic Ambiguity. Language
61: 121174.
Stubbs, Michael
2001 Words and Phrases: Corpus Studies of Lexical Semantics.
Oxford/Malden, MA: Blackwell.
Response to Commentary by Nagano 35
Whatever Happened to English Sluicing
*
Joanna Nykiel
1. Introduction
We know from experience that an anaphoric construction usually allows
more than one kind of licensing context. Because we refer to entities in
the surrounding discourse, we expect to be able to do so whether the
selected entity is discourse- and hearer-old (linguistic antecedents) or
discourse-initial and hearer-old (situational antecedents). Hankamer and
Sag (1976), however, propose a distinction between surface and deep ana-
phors. They dene surface anaphors as derived via deletion under identity
with the antecedent surface structure; surface anaphors are thus opposed
to deep ones, which arise directly in the base. While this view necessitates
that surface anaphors accept only linguistic antecedents, it places no such
restrictions on deep ones. The distinction has been inuential ever since it
was proposed, but it is now well established that surface anaphors are
freer in their choice of antecedent than Hankamer and Sag originally
assumed (cf. Webber 1978, Hardt 1993, 2005, Ginzburg and Sag 2000,
Kehler 2002, Culicover and Jackendo 2005, Sag 2006, Stainton 2006).
In this paper I oer insight about the history of sluicing. Since the time-
honored denition of sluicing classies it as a surface anaphor with a full
underlying structure that goes unpronounced (Ross 1967, Hankamer and
Sag 1976, Sag and Hankamer 1984), it makes sense to verify whether this
elliptical construction has ever required structurally identical antecedents.
A fact of Present-day English (PDE) is that it does not place this con-
straint on sluicing. This fact is evaluated against the data coming from
four periods: Old English (OE), Middle English (ME), Early Modern
English (ENE) and Late Modern English (LNE). When so cast into an
empirical mode, sluicing proves to accept at least two dierent rela-
* I wish to thank Elizabeth Traugott, Ivan A. Sag, and two anonymous re-
viewers for comments on earlier drafts of this paper. The research was made
possible by a grant from the Kosciuszko Foundation and by Stanford Univer-
sity, which was the host institution.
tionships with its antecedents at any given point in time, with completely
or partially unidentical syntactic structure having a more pronounced
presence in the majority of the corpora than any other relationship. The
intuitive idea is, therefore, that sluicing is a case of apparent stability.
How much stability there really is in languages remains an open ques-
tion. Some linguists have argued for immediate change (cf. Lightfoot
1979); others support an initial reanalysis whose actualization is gradual
and thus gives an impression of stability (cf. Timberlake 1977, Langacker
1977). Whether the use of sluicing in fact is a stable feature or the rst
small steps on the way of an on-going, and indeed very gradual, change
is yet to be determined. At this point, I show records that reveal hardly
any drift. Further, I demonstrate that because the relaxation of structural
identity found in modern sluicing has persisted ever since OE, sluicing
cannot be so far removed from deep anaphors or subject to a purely deri-
vational strategy. Instead, such data seem to reduce sluices, along with
other anaphors, to directly generated fragments. To take these ideas a
step further, I propose that for any sluice, it is only required that the link
with its antecedent be based on coherence and that to tease apart surface
and deep anaphors was misleading because dierences between them have
independent motivation.
2. Basics
The story begins with Ross (1967), who oers a strategy for the resolution
of sluicing a stranded wh-phrase illustrated in (1)(3).
(1) I was afraid of something that day, but I didnt know of what.
(2) A: You want a massage?
B: By who?
(3) Pssst. Wanna copy contacts over to yahoo!? Heres how.
(www.yahoo.com)
Following the convention established in the (linguistic) literature, I will
henceforth refer to a stranded wh-phrase as a sluice and the preceding
material that supports its interpretation as an antecedent.
Ross shows that clear syntactic eects cluster around sluicing, pointing
to a pre-deletion structure beyond what is visible. For one thing, a case-
marking language like German or Old English will require that the case
of a wh-phrase be in correspondence with its counterpart in the ante-
cedent, as illustrated in (4) and (5).
38 Joanna Nykiel
(4) Er will jemandem schmeicheln, aber sie wissen nicht,
he wants someone.DAT atter but they know not
*wer / *wen / wem
who.NOM who.ACC who.DAT
He wants to atter someone, but they dont know who.
(5) Er will jemandem loben, aber sie wissen nicht,
he wants someone.ACC praise but they know not
*wer / wen / *wem
who.NOM who.ACC who.DAT
He wants to praise someone, but they dont know who.
(Lasnik 2007: 144)
OE records an analogous eect, as seen in (6). Here the case of the wh-
phrase (hwilcum deae) corresponds to that of an implied adjunct in the
antecedent.
1
(6) a befran Iohannes frlice, and cw: Hu ys he la dead oe
then asked John quickly and said: How, is he dead and
hwilcum deae?
what death.INSTR?
Then John asked quickly: What! Is he dead and (by) what kind of
death?
2
(c1000 lfric: Letter to Sigeweard [On the Old and New Testament])
To this, Merchant (2004, 2006, 2007) adds another observation. Pre-
positions can apparently be omitted under sluicing only if preposition
stranding produced by wh-movement is a feature of the language, e.g.,
English but not German.
(7) Peter was talking with someone, but I dont know (with) who.
Who was he talking with?
(8) Anna hat mit jemanden gesprochen, aber ich weiss nicht
Anna has with someone spoken but I know not
*(mit) wem.
with whom.
*Wem hat sie mit gesprochen?
(Merchant 2006: 666667)
1. This example is the only illustration of case dependencies in the OE corpus.
2. The interpretation of Hu as a pragmatic marker was suggested to me as the
more plausible by Matti Kilpio . If taken to be a question word, Hu would be
the explicit referent of hwilcum deae.
Whatever Happened to English Sluicing 39
This correlation, if correct, provides strong support for pre-deletion
structures.
Early generative grammar has a straightforward means of handling
these eects: phonological deletion under identity with the antecedent.
3
A
sluice thus represents a full syntactic structure whose interpretation is
recoverable from the antecedent. The idea carries over into later work,
notably that by Hankamer and Sag (1976) and Sag and Hankamer (1984).
Both additionally note a ne line between what surface anaphors, like sluic-
ing, can do as opposed to deep anaphors, like do it or Null Complement
Anaphora (NCA). In short, the approach makes a strong commitment to
the fact that only linguistic antecedents may license surface anaphors while
deep anaphors accept linguistic and non-linguistic ones alike.
This initial solution has long since been questioned most recently by
Ginzburg and Sag (2000), Culicover and Jackendo (2005) and Stainton
(2006) not least because modern sluicing seems to be growing less and
less like a surface anaphor, if it has ever been one. Consider the naturally
occurring examples in (9)(13).
(9) A: Id like to take Katie on weekends.
B: Why?
(10) My rst impulse was to run away, up or down stairs, I wasnt quite
sure which.
(11) [Cab driver to passenger on their way to the airport:]
Which airline?
(12) [Someone stands before the scene of some awful event and
exclaims:] Why, oh why? I dunno.
(Ivan Sag, personal communication)
(13) A: Tell me!
B: What?
Because in each case the relationship between the sluice and the ante-
cedent is partially or entirely non-syntactic, additional factors have been
posited beyond structural identity (structural identity will henceforth be
referred to as merger, a term due to Chung et al. 1995). Specically, the
recent literature (cf. Ginzburg and Sag 2000, Merchant 2001, Kehler
2002, Culicover and Jackendo 2005) lists a semantic relationship that
allows syntactic mismatches of two kinds:
3. This view has been rivaled by an alternative in which pre-deletion structures
are made available at the level of LF; see Williams (1977), Kitagawa (1991),
Fiengo and May (1994).
40 Joanna Nykiel
sprouting, in which a sluice builds on the argument structure of the
predicate embedded in the antecedent, pointing to an implied argu-
ment (13). Beyond implied arguments, implied adjuncts may be pointed
to as well (2, 9).
how-mismatch, where an antecedent does not provide the to required
by the structure how to-innitive understood at ellipsis site (3).
Further, sluicing is licensed when a pragmatic relationship is operative
based on inference (10). Here the pragmatic status of a sluice is attributed
to the fact that no element of the structure of the antecedent, whether
overt or implied, motivates its use.
Along pragmatic lines again, a sluice may be used discourse-initially
and so may be situationally-controlled (11, 12).
Now the questions are: Are the above passages due to changes in
English sluicing, or have they always been around? Is a sluice a directly
generated fragment (cf. Ginzburg and Sag 2000, Culicover and Jackendo
2005, Stainton 2006) or a product of derivation (cf. Merchant 2004, 2006,
2007)? I turn to these questions in the next section.
3. What the history has to say
One negative aspect of a historical analysis is that, although its frequency
data may reect processing costs associated with particular structures,
it often suers from incompleteness or reduced reliability. Historical
records by denition written have yet another disadvantage when it
comes to ellipsis. It can reasonably be expected that spoken language will
bear more characteristics of elliptical expression or, at a minimum, that
it will host a greater variety of antecedents. Therefore, even the most
detailed results are best treated as (strong) tendencies though, of course,
the more diverse the records, the closer we come to the ideal.
I now oer statistical data from OE, ME, ENE and LNE, with text
types addressed as required. For clarity of presentation, I reiterate that
sluicing can accommodate the following relationships with apparently
varying degrees of felicity:
merger, as in (1)
syntactic mismatch (sprouting, as in (2), (9) and (13) above, and how-
mismatch, as in (3))
pragmatic control/situational context, as in (11) and (12)
inference, as in (10)
For each of the relationships, if present in the data, I give its number of
occurrences relative to the total number of sluices in each corpus ex-
amined. These gures then serve as a basis for identifying diachronic
developments in sluicing, if any. An initial answer to this question may
be fashioned from the material in Tables 13.
In Table 1, the OE data signal a heavy reliance on syntax in terms of
merger (14). Sprouting (1517), with its availability of simultaneous syn-
tactic and semantic eects, could be equated with evidence against pre-
deletion structures. However, 18% throughout the period is not much
to build on yet. (16) and (6), repeated as (17) below, illustrate syntactic
eects, that is, case and preposition choice, next to implied referents that
sprouting always picks up. Such syntactic eects are discernible in each
corpus I have analyzed, and I return to them later in this section.
(14) Canst u nig ing? nne crft ic cann. Hwylcne?
Can you anything? one thing.ACC I can. What?
Can you do anything? I can do one thing. What?
(lfric, Colloquy: Garmonsway 1939, 1849)
(15) Gea, butan nettum huntian ic mg. Hu?
Yeah, without net hunt I can. How?
Yeah, I can hunt without a net. How?
(lfric, Colloquy: Garmonsway 1939, 1849)
(16) Stranguilio cw: Hwa fordemde e?
Stranguilio said: Who condemned you?
Apollonius cw: Antiochus se cyngc.
Apollonius said: Antiochus the king.
Stranguilio cw: For hwilcum intingum?
Stranguilio said: For what reasons?
(Vision of Leofric: Napier 190710, 1826)
Table 1. Timeframe: Distribution of sluicing in the Dictionary of Old English
(DOE) based on relationship between sluice and antecedent
Period Merger Sprouting Total
Early OE 27 (81.82%) 6 (18.18%) 33 (100%)
Late OE 107 (81.06%) 25 (18.94%) 132 (100%)
Total 134 (81.21%) 31 (18.79%) 165 (100%)
42 Joanna Nykiel
(17) a befran Iohannes frlice, and cw: Hu ys he la dead
then asked John quickly and said: How, is he dead
oe hwilcum deae?
and what death.INSTR?
Then John asked quickly: What! Is he dead and (by) what kind of
death?
(lfric: Letter to Sigeweard [On the Old and New Testament])
Cumulatively, these facts are perhaps not totally unexpected and seem to
point in the direction of a change along the way insofar as we are missing
three further licensers.
4
At the same time, the strength of this conclusion is
limited by a bias toward an exclusively written style, though, as Allen
(1980) argues, this style is not quite out of touch with patterns found in
speech. It is possible to minimize the potential incompleteness of these
data if they are addressed together with the results for ME because ME
contributes rich resources of formal and informal varieties, including per-
sonal correspondence. For its temporal adjacency to OE, early ME (1150
1350) in particular provides a ne insight about sluicing.
Table 2 gives the gures for sluicing in early and late ME, and in the
transition between the two periods (third row). Sprouting in early ME
(and later on) shows a dramatic rise in frequency over merger (69% vs.
21%), which suggests that in OE, syntactic relationships too may have
played a less important role than indicated by the data in Table 1. Fur-
ther, the sprouting column includes nine mismatches. These are simply
4. For a full review of OE sluicing, see Nykiel (2007).
Table 2. Timeframe: Distribution of sluicing in the Middle English Compendium
(MEC) based on relationship between sluice and antecedent
Period Merger Sprouting
including
9 (Late ME)
mismatches
Merger/
sprouting
Total
Early ME 34 (21.8%) 108 (69.23%) 14 (9.00%) 156 (100%)
Early/late ME 8 (17.02%) 35 (74.5%) 4 (8.51%) 47 (100%)
Late ME 50 (11.82%) 326 (77.06%) 46 (10.9%) 423 (100%)
Total 92 (14.7%) 469 (74.9%) 64 (10.22%) 626 (100%)
how-mismatches that always co-occur with sprouting in late ME; hence, I
collapsed both categories. Since these mismatches do not have any eect
on the statistics at this point, I discuss them later in this section where
they may be treated as an independent category.
That ME sluicing tolerates non-syntactic relationships other than
sprouting is suggested by one instance of inference given in (18).
(18) And he shal han Custaunce in mariage
And he shall have Custanuce in marriage
And certeyn gold. I noot what quantitee
And certain gold. I know not what quantity.
And he shall have Custaunce in marriage, and certain gold. I do
not know what quantity
(14c. Hengwrt Manuscript of Chaucers Canterbury Tales)
This single occurrence is statistically insignicant although it allows us to
hypothesize that the conditions on sluicing are, and always have been, tied
to the participation of the various relationships in it rather than to their
presence or absence. As we saw in section 1, inference, unlike sprouting,
only indirectly relies on linguistically overt antecedents for resolution.
Therefore, it is a relationship relatively dicult to interpret, thus some-
what less frequent than sprouting.
Note that there is another new, unique to ME, relationship between
antecedent and ellipsis here, which I dubbed merger/sprouting. The rela-
tionship is partly semantic and partly syntactic in that an ellipsis has a cor-
relate in its antecedent, of which it is a semantic paraphrase. A paraphrase
is usually richer in information content than the correlate, as illustrated
by (19).
(19) Of whens y am and what men clepe me
of whence I am and what men call me
And where y was borne and in what cuntre.
and where I was born and in what country
Where I am from and what I am called, and where I was born and
in what country
(15c. The Romance of Guy of Warwick)
Merger/sprouting does not occur outside of the ME corpus and correlates
with verse more often than it does with prose (4% dierence, see Table 3).
If the purpose of merger/sprouting was only to satisfy metrical considera-
tions, however, we might expect more of a bias toward verse. With the
44 Joanna Nykiel
actual distribution, the purpose could be tied to discourse instead. For
example, forty-seven out of sixty-four instances appear in foregrounded
clauses, that is, in dialogue and narrative. I leave open the question of
what exactly supports this relationship.
The interest in Table 3 for this discussion is that it points to an almost
even distribution of the relationships under sluicing in both prose and
verse. The latter genre is poorly represented in OE while in ME it hosts
the majority of sluices. This fact together with the distribution predicts
that the results in Table 3 impart reliability to the OE data. Whether text
types inuence sluicing in the later periods of English will be addressed
again as more data are investigated.
If, as we move on, we could nd some marked departure from the OE
and ME distribution, we would stand a good chance of strengthening our
assumptions about what development there has been. This is not the case,
however. Consider the ENE data in Tables 47. Table 4 gives a general
Table 4. Text types: Distribution of sluicing in the ENE part of the Helsinki Cor-
pus based on relationship between sluice and antecedent
Genre Merger Sprouting
including
1 (Prose)
mismatch
How-
mismatch
Inference Total
Prose 27 (38.02%) 42 (59.15%) 0 2 (2.81%) 71 (100%)
Drama 3 (37.5%) 4 (50%) 1 (12.5%) 0 8 (100%)
Table 3. Text types: Distribution of sluicing in the Middle English Compendium
(MEC) based on relationship between sluice and antecedent
including
2 (Prose),
6 (Verse),
1 (Drama)
mismatches
Merger/
sprouting
Inference Total
Prose 35 (13.4%) 206 (78.6%) 21 (8.01%) 0 262 (100%)
Verse 56 (15.9%) 253 (71.7%) 43 (12.2%) 1 (0.3%) 353 (100%)
Drama 1 (9.1%) 10 (90.9%) 0 0 11 (100%)
statement of the data, with only a distinction between prose and drama.
Clearly, sprouting remains the dominant relationship in both genres.
Tables 57 separate out very specic text types, ranging from drama
(Table 5) to correspondence (Table 6). This is to ensure a fair assessment
of the phenomenon under discussion. Among the available records,
Shakespeares drama (Table 5), under the standard assumptions, is fairly
close to speech and richest in dialogue, with an economy of expression
specic to it. So, as predicted, the varying frequency of sluicing in the cor-
pora is due to text type and corpus size because the Shakespeare corpus is
the largest and four times the size of the CEECS (Table 6). Interestingly,
the participation of the dierent antecedents in sluicing varies somewhat
unexpectedly between the tables. Note that sprouting remains constant
at about 50% in Shakespeares (Table 5) and other drama (Table 4). In
written correspondence (Table 6), however, it reaches 56% and in prose
59% (Table 4). The percentage of merger only exceeds 40% in Shake-
speares drama, otherwise remaining at about 30%. Thus compared to
drama, the percentage of sprouting rises at the expense of merger in prose.
Within this genre, ction reaches a high of 80%, a signicant dierence if
we remember that ction is also speech-related (Table 7). In the same
table, there is another representative record of speech the State-Trials.
5
Table 5. Distribution of sluicing in the corpus of William Shakespeares plays
based on relationship between sluice and antecedent
Merger Sprouting
including 6
mismatches
How-
mismatch
Inference Total
148 (44.18%) 180 (53.73%) 2 (0.6%) 5 (1.49%) 335 (100%)
Table 6. Distribution of sluicing in the Corpus of Early English Correspondence
Sampler (CEECS) based on relationship between sluice and antecedent
Merger Sprouting How-mismatch Inference Total
8 (34.78%) 13 (56.52%) 1 (4.35%) 1 (4.35%) 23 (100%)
5. This is A Complete Collection of State-Trials and Proceedings for High-
treason, and Other Crimes and Misdemeanors; From the Reign of King Richard
II to the End of the Reign of King George I.
46 Joanna Nykiel
Here we have a reversal of frequencies: sprouting covers 35% of the total
and merger 58%, which seems highly inconsistent compared to the results
we obtained for ction. Hence, a clear development is doubtful. Thus far,
the only safe conclusion is that sluicing minimally admitted merger and
sprouting early on, as indicated by the temporal factor included in Table
1.
6
On a theoretical note, even in the absence of other non-syntactic rela-
tionships sprouting still shows that syntax and semantics are both involved
because only part of the antecedent structure is visible to and made use of
by the hearer. This in turn suggests the possibility that no pre-deletion
structure underlies a sluice.
Another candidate for signaling a potential change is how-mismatch
and inference. If lack of the former in OE and early ME is no surprise
because the how innitive structure was non-existent until the twelfth
century (cf. Oxford English Dictionary), in late ME we nd a single
instance of inference.
7
I leave the detailed discussion of these two relation-
ships until later. At this point, just notice that their numbers are con-
spicuously low and that how-mismatch sometimes overlaps with sprouting
(indicated as required in the tables).
Next I turn to the ARCHER corpus, which brings data from LNE with
some PDE attestations, all supplemented with yet more evidence from
Table 7. Prose: Distribution of sluicing in the ENE part of the Helsinki Corpus
based on relationship between sluice and antecedent
including
1 (Prose)
mismatch
How-
mismatch
Inference Total
Fiction 1 (16.66%) 5 (83.33%) 0 0 6 (100%)
Trials 10 (58.82%) 6 (35.29%) 0 1 (5.88%) 17 (100%)
Other Prose 16 (33.33%) 31 (64.58%) 0 1 (2.08%) 48 (100%)
6. The introduction of sluicing into English is very much unclear inasmuch as we
cannot rule out that Latin played a part in it. OE texts translated from Latin
do not in fact reveal much of a departure from genuine ones and thus stop
short of enabling valid conclusions (cf. Nykiel 2007).
7. An interesting consequence of the rise of the how innitive structure is
that syntax itself introduced a new problematic for syntactic accounts
relationship into sluicing.
ENE. The results come in Tables 89 addressing the relevant criteria of
timeframe and text type. For ease of interpretation, I separate the ENE
data out from that of LNE and the twentieth century in Table 9.
First, English seems to have shifted in a surprising direction. Prose
shows a drop in the percentage of sprouting from the previous 5659%
(Table 8) as does drama, remaining now at 46%. Fiction, separated out
from the rest, drops to 50% while merger remains stable in both prose
and drama. It is sprouting, then, that gives way to how-mismatch, infer-
ence, and a new antecedent pragmatic control.
The application of pragmatic control seems somewhat limited, even
to speakers of PDE. This fact straightforwardly falls into place if we
remember that the former surface anaphors typically accommodate few
discourse-initial positions. Thus both Verb Phrase Ellipsis (VPE) (They
might) and sluicing (Guess who!) would be less felicitous in response
or reaction to non-linguistic antecedents than to linguistic ones (cf.
Hankamer 1978, Pullum 2000, Stainton 2006). The low frequency of
pragmatic control is expected although it is dicult to explain its apparent
non-appearance until ENE.
8
Pragmatically controlled sluices could have
existed in speech without being preserved in written records though this
Table 8. Text types: Distribution of sluicing in the ARCHER corpus based on
relationship between sluice and antecedent
including
4 (Prose),
2 (Fiction),
2 (Drama)
mismatches
How-
mismatch
Inference Pragmatic
control
Total
Prose 25 (37.88%) 36 (54.54%) 1 (1.52%) 4 (6.06%) 0 66 (100%)
Fiction 41 (39.05%) 53 (50.48%) 1 (0.95%) 7 (6.66%) 3 (2.86%) 105 (100%)
Drama 129 (44.33%) 135 (46.39%) 1 (0.34%) 23 (7.90%) 1 (0.34%) 291 (100%)
8. This prediction is consistent with the absence of pragmatically controlled
sluices in the Dictionary of Old English and Middle English Compendium. A
cautionary note is in order, however. There are phrases in ME that look like
sluices, e.g., What chere?, spoken discourse-initially. Given their meaning of
How do you feel?/ How are you? (cf. Middle English Dictionary), they should
be viewed as formulas instead.
48 Joanna Nykiel
seems unlikely, given the variety of the available data. Alternatively, they
could have evolved as an option secondary to linguistically controlled
sluices. The latter prediction is supported by a similarly late arrival onto
the scene that aects pragmatically controlled VPE (cf. Gergel 2004,
Nykiel 2006) despite syntactic dierences between the two constructions.
I return to the problem of pragmatic control and a possible explanation
for it in the next section.
From Table 8, it emerges that inference comes to license more sluices
than either how-mismatch or pragmatic control. However, sprouting and
how-mismatch can go together, and so, where it is the case, mismatch is
included in the Sprouting column in the tables. Consider the examples
below:
(20) In all instances he knows what is best to decree, and what is best to
command, and what is best to do; and in all instances he decrees, he
commands, and he conducts, as well as he knows how.
(1762. Bellamy, Joseph. An Election Sermon. In B. Kuklick (ed.),
the Works of Joseph Bellamy, vol. I)
(21) and therfore, whan they be drye, they muste be sore brused and
broken, the wiues knowe howe, and than winowed and kepte drye,
tyll yere-tyme come
(Fitzherbert. The Book of Husbandry (1534). English Dialect
Society, 37. Ed. W. W. Skeat. Vaduz: Kraus Reprint LTD.,
1965 (1882))
Upon closer inspection, therefore, how-mismatch and inference have com-
parable incidences. Is there any movement, though? ENE gives the highest
numbers for inference in correspondence and the State Trials (Tables 6
and 7); later on drama becomes dominant (Table 8), but ction and other
prose are not far behind. Table 9 in fact gives a neat statement of how the
rate of inference-based sluices rises by about 1% over the period of some
400 years. How-mismatch, if we include the cases listed in the Sprouting
column, is strongest in Period II (3.3%) and then drops to 1.35%, a rather
non-directional change. There is a dierence of less than 1% across text
types except for prose (Table 8).
9
Checked against the ENE tables, how-
mismatch suers a considerable blow in LNE and the twentieth century.
(Recall that the rate of how-mismatch reaches 12% in ENE drama).
9. Including the four instances listed in the Sprouting column.
For lack of space, I have not included more detailed tables showing
the distribution of sluicing in the ARCHER corpus, but even from Tables
89, it is evident that the previously identied preference for sprouting
weakens with time, even in ction, which seemed to favor it most. In
sum, sprouting has an initial rising tendency only to eventually fall to
4050%; merger has an initial falling tendency but then continues at
a stable rate of about 40%. Of the minor relationships, only inference
gradually rises uniformly in all the genres considered, as already noted.
Upon closer inspection then, applying text type and temporal criteria
points to little directional movement within the range of the antecedents
or to consistent variety between written and speech-related genres. Per-
haps this in turn indicates that we should not worry too much about the
diminished accuracy of the extant texts with respect to the genres and
time periods they represent.
3.1. Syntactic eects in sprouting
Syntactic and semantic involvement in sprouting was emphasized in the
previous section. I reiterate that syntactic eects connect a sluice to its
antecedent via identity of preposition, case, or both. Such eects are also
operative under merger, but the more interesting of the two, and poten-
tially problematic, is sprouting.
(22) Thanks, Si.
{ m SIMON} What for?
{ m STEPHEN} Sharing my triumph with me.
(Gray, Simon. 1975, Otherwise engaged: A play)
Table 9. Timeframe: Distribution of sluicing in the ARCHER corpus based on
relationship between sluice and antecedent
Period Merger Sprouting
including
1 (Period I),
5 (Period II),
2 (Period III)
mismatches
How-
mismatch
Inference Pragmatic
control
Total
I 1600
1700
9 (27.27%) 21 (63.63%) 0 2 (6.06%) 1 (3.03 %) 33 (100%)
II 1701
1900
84 (40.57%) 103 (49.75%) 2 (0.97%) 15 (7.24%) 2 (0.97%) 207 (100%)
III 1901 102 (45.94%) 100 (45.04%) 1 (0.45%) 17 (7.65%) 1 (0.45%) 222 (100%)
50 Joanna Nykiel
There is nothing in the antecedent structure that licenses the use of the
preposition. Therefore, an ellipsist account like Rosss runs into trouble.
And yet, among the corpora, inclusion of unlicensed prepositions covers
4% of the OE data, 42% of the ME data, 25% of the ENE data, and 12%
of the LNE data. Viewed as a directly generated fragment instead, a sluice
that needs to point to a salient, though implied, argument PP, cannot do
so without sucient content. In (22), the preposition is thus licensed by
virtue of being part of the predicates (thank) argument structure. I take
these sprouting facts to be a compensation strategy, a necessity that
follows from prior manipulation of antecedent structure, as discussed in
the next section.
4. Where to go next
Much more remains to be said about the history of sluicing, not because
it seems uneventful so far while a linguists ambition is to look for
action. If there were big changes, there would also be explanations for
them; if there are few changes but a problem exists, it is even more tempt-
ing to nd out why.
Below, I sketch a potential solution that draws upon the proposals
by Ginzburg and Sag (2000), Kehler et al. (2006, 2007), Culicover and
Jackendo (2005), and Stainton (2006a, b). The data point to a diachroni-
cally stable link that ties sluices to their antecedents. While the link can be
anything from syntactic to pragmatic, it obviously needs to remain based
on coherence. Imagine now that the only requirement we place on a sluice
is that it be coherently related to some salient antecedent without having a
pre-deletion structure.
10
This is where my analysis meets Kehler et als
coherence-driven approach to pronoun resolution in which use of referring
expressions is dictated by expectations about what can coherently come
next in a given speech situation. In fact, Merchant (2004) too talks about
anaphors and antecedents being appropriately related if somewhat
vaguely. Once coherence has been established between sluice and ante-
cedent, the former will undergo integration into the proposition carried
by the antecedent. It will have access to such corresponding syntactic fea-
tures of the antecedent as case and preposition, together with any argu-
ments or adjuncts implied by the antecedent, that is, it will be indirectly
licensed by the antecedent (cf. Ginzburg and Sag 2000, Culicover and
10. What I mean by salient here is recently brought into focus (cf. Ward et al.
1991, Ginzburg and Sag 2000).
Jackendo 2005). This now reduces to the issue of why the various links
have the distribution that we saw in the corpora. A principle that is likely
to be operative is one of ease of integration. The more clues a sluice oers,
the faster and more eciently it nds its place in the antecedent proposi-
tion. What kind of clues are they? They are necessarily semantic but even
more importantly syntactic. It is no big surprise that a sluice preserving
the antecedent structure, or at least part of it, is more frequent. But the
antecedent structure can be manipulated just as long as coherence is
maintained. This move comes at a cost, though, in that fewer clues will
be available and so lower frequencies of use follow for mismatches and
inferences. Sprouting seems to suer less from loss of clues. It has a way
of repairing the loss, however. Consider how speakers compensate for
manipulating the antecedent structure in (2) repeated as (23).
B: By who?
B: Who?
For lack of the preposition, the sluice in (24) can only refer to the subject
while that in (23) refers to whoever does the massage. Thus, speakers have
to add the relevant preposition as an extra clue that helps trigger the
intended interpretation. Of course, ambiguities may result where no pre-
position is available as in (25), which is potentially ambiguous between
subject and implied object interpretation.
(25) A: She called.
B: Who?
In this approach, deep anaphora, like do it or NCA, are by denition
richer in clues, so however we manipulate an antecedent structure, inter-
pretation will still be relatively easy. There is, therefore, no surface/deep
dichotomy. Rather, the apparent dierence straightforwardly falls out
from how much actual semantic and syntactic information an anaphor
contains. Certainly, this solution should also explain why sluicing and
VPE are taken to mostly resist discourse-initial use. Merchant (2004)
notices this ever-problematic eect and so does Stainton (2006). But the
answer may be simpler than expected. VPE stands out as a recalcitrant
anaphor and with good reason. If the modals began to lose their indepen-
dent predicate status already in late OE (cf. Nagle 1989, Harris and
52 Joanna Nykiel
Campbell 1995), speakers could not freely use them discourse-initially for
their degraded semantic content. As the modals progress into replacing the
OE morphological subjunctive, some remnants of their former meanings
linger on. It is no accident that among the primary auxiliaries marked
just for tense and aspect only do is attested discourse-initially (cf. Pullum
2000). Modal use is conceivably more informative if not sucient in itself.
It is only after the auxiliaries become associated with precise meanings
that they can refer to situational contexts. Note also that for an anaphor
to so refer, we need appropriate clues. This process could well have taken
some time, delaying the appearance of pragmatic control as a legitimate
relationship in VPE and xing its formulaic status.
Now, is sluicing like VPE? Not quite. Other eects that Merchant and
Stainton point to in connection with sluicing are considerably less con-
strained use of stripping, Bare Argument Ellipsis, or simply fragments.
We naturally evoke them discourse-initially to identify, explain, or request
things, or to indicate location, destination, and manner.
(26) [(From The Hudsucker Proxy.) Barnes gets o an elevator, looking
for Mr. Musburgers oce. He addresses Al, who is working in the
hallway:]
Barnes: Mr. Musburgers oce?
Al: [Points]
Al: Not that way. Through the door.
(Stainton 2006a: 109)
Predictably, there is a preference for PPs and NPs over bare nouns if
only because they oer more clues. Sluices can be viewed as interrogative
counterparts of such fragments. If so, we would expect more informa-
tive wh-phrases, i.e., a pattern along the lines of (P) wh-phrase N.
11
Indeed, of the four instances I identied in the ARCHER corpus, three
follow this pattern; the fourth uses where.
11. Here and throughout, I adopt the terminology used in Hofmeister et al.
(2007), Arnon et al. (in press) and Sag et al. (2008) in place of D-linked
phrases (Pesetsky 1987). It has been demonstrated that D-linking is irrele-
vant to processing diculty (Hofmeister et al. 2007). The distinction between
D-linked and non-D-linked phrases is just as irrelevant to sluicing in that
discourse-initial use admits more informative sluices, which are clearly not
D-linked; see example (28).
(27) I left her with a porter on the Pennsylvania side.
[Good-by, sid, dear,] she said, and though I was startled when she
called me dear, I felt that I had known her for a long, long time.
[Where to now, sir?] Williams asked me.
It was ten minutes before twelve but Dottie Peale had asked me to
meet her at the oce early. It was always a part of Dotties stage
eect to show o that oce of hers at Peale House.
(1951. Marquand, John Phillips Melville Goodwin, U.S.A.)
(28) There was a sense of Christmas about the travellers and the people
who were at the terminus to meet them. The porter who came to the
carriage door reminded Trefusis by his manner and voice that the
season was one at which it becomes a gentleman to be festive and
liberal.
[What luggage, sir? Hansom or fourwheel, sir?]
(1887. Shaw, George Bernard. An Unsocial Socialist. 7/3/91.)
Far from being a troublesome exception to my view, where, and possibly
why, have solid enough meanings of destination/location and explanation,
respectively, that we can use them unambiguously. You might now ask
why the number of discourse-initial sluices is so low if they are reasonably
productive. The productivity of sluicing and Bare Argument Ellipsis
should be checked against that of do it and NCA. The former are produc-
tive for as few clues as they make available.
The approach suggested is well supported by the data in that at least
60% of the relationships are totally or partially non-syntactic in all the
periods except for OE. This fact leaves little reason to insist on any more
structure in a sluice than is visible. Instead, what seems promising is an
inquiry into both the distribution of bare wh-phrases versus the (P) wh-
phrase N patterns and the relationships that support their use in order
to better evaluate the claims made here.
5. Conclusion
I have reported on a phenomenon that may turn out to show a distinct
stability throughout its history. So far it has. Such evidence requires a revi-
sion of the prior notions of anaphora and the dichotomies therein. To the
extent that anaphors vary in the amount of information that they make
available, they cannot be expected to show the exact same patterns of
54 Joanna Nykiel
behavior across the set. Nothing more is needed by way of explanation; a
forced distinction would indeed cloud the picture.
The second argument presented in this paper is more challenging. The
derivational/non-sentential debate has a long history. Both Ross and Mer-
chant oer compelling counter-evidence to my analysis, but wherever a
sluice copies the case that the corresponding argument in the antecedent
carries, it does not necessarily pick it up from its pre-deletion structure. It
is even dicult to imagine that, in coherent discourse, speakers would
alter the case when referring back to an argument embedded in a certain
proposition unless they wish to introduce another proposition. But that
would not be sluicing. My solution correctly captures this, and as long as
an antecedent can license the case of a sluice, there is no diachronically
justied need for positing a full syntactic structure.
There remains one problem to be solved. Recall Merchants insistence
on a connection between omission of prepositions in sluicing and avail-
ability of preposition stranding. By my rough estimates, these eects do
not go together. Rather, presence of a preposition is a conscious move to
reduce confusion; its absence denitely also possible in non-preposition-
stranding languages removes redundant clues.
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Commentary on Nykiel, Whatever Happened to
English Sluicing
My comments will focus on two issues raised in the introduction to
Joanna Nykiels very rich paper on the history of sluicing since they frame
her interpretation of the ndings. The rst, which I touch on only briey,
is the Recency Illusion; the second is stability over a millennium.
It appears that the title Whatever happened to English sluicing and
some of the assumptions in the introduction arise out of a conation of
two things. One is that in the history of research on sluicing in contem-
porary English and other languages, there has been a shift away from
viewing it as a strictly syntactic phenomenon to viewing it as a partially
pragmatic one. This is the kind of development that often occurs as re-
searchers elaborate on the larger picture. The other is that this history of
research results is projected onto the history of the linguistic structure
itself so that there is an assumption that a relaxation of structural iden-
tity will be found in the historical data. The outcomes of research should
without question guide hypotheses about the history of the construction
under consideration. Assuming that they will be parallel is, however,
what Zwicky (2005) has called the Recency Illusion, whereby people
believe that things YOU have noticed only recently are in fact recent.
This assumption is often mistaken, e.g., the claim that adverbial all as in
She was all sad is recent (Waksler 2001) as discussed in Buchstaller and
Traugott (2006). Any such assumption should be converted into a hypo-
thesis to be tested, and test the hypothesis is what Nykiels paper essen-
tially does in the rest of the paper.
Nykiels prime objective is to show that the choice of antecedents under
sluicing is not, and has never been, as constrained as has been assumed by
generative grammarians and that sluicing has more parallels with other
kinds of anaphors than has usually be recognized. She demonstrates that
there is corpus evidence from Old English that sluicing has had both syn-
tactic and pragmatic characteristics, specically merger and sprout-
ing. The ratio of merger to sprouting is very dierent in Old English
and later periods. In Old English, over 80% of the examples are of merger,
the rest of sprouting, whereas the ratio is almost reversed in Middle
English, and somewhat leveled out in the Early Modern period. It ap-
pears therefore that merger and sprouting have always been available in
English, and, from the perspective of English as a whole, there has been
relative stability from Middle English on. Nykiel raises the question how
much stability there is in language. It appears that there is in fact quite a
lot if one cares to look for it (for early investigations beyond Timberlake
and Langacker, which she cites, see Romaine 1982, Milroy 1992). Of
stable sociolinguistic variation Labov has said:
Stable, long-term variation that persists over many centuries in much the
same form is perhaps even more common than changes which go to comple-
tion . . . [F]rom the sociolinguistic point of view . . . the absence of change
has the most important consequences for our understanding of linguistic
structure. (Labov 2001: 75, 85)
The stability that Nykiel has uncovered in the history of sluicing is a
case of persistence (Milroy 1992). She did not investigate age, social class,
or style (nor indeed would the data allow this), so we do not have a case of
stable variation in the traditional sociolinguistic sense. In the latter the
expectation is that:
each age cohort of the same class, gender, ethnic background, and other
social characteristics, will be similar to older and younger groups in the use
of variants and the amount of style-shifting. (Chambers 1995: 107, cited in
Raumolin-Brunberg 2002: 102)
Raumolin-Brunberg (2002) tests claims like these, which are based on age-
grading, against evidence from real time provided by historical data, and
nds that they can be supported, despite the many problems attendant on
historical corpora (written rather than spoken, often only partially repre-
sentative of language-users of the time, etc.).
Studies of sociolinguistic variables have tended to highlight regular
stratication (see Labov 2001). By contrast, Nykiels study of sluicing sug-
gests that variation is much less regular when measured against genre.
This is no doubt in part because very dierent conventions arise at dif-
ferent times with respect to genres (see e.g., Culpeper and Kyto 2000,
Fitzmaurice and Taavitsainen 2007). In Nykiels data, ction favors
merger least (Tables 7 and 8). This seems hardly surprising considering
that ction often includes dialogue and is generally considered closer to
spoken language and, therefore, more likely to evidence pragmatic factors
than many other genres (e.g., Biber 1988, discussing twentieth century
Commentary on Nykiel 61
ction). However, Culpeper and Kyto (2000) found that ction tended to
have fewer oral characteristics than trials in their data (which is limited to
the period 16001720). They speculated that this might be because ction,
at least at that period, tends to require a signicant amount of information
about character and plot to be conveyed (p. 195). In future work it would
be worthwhile to develop diagnostics for, and characterizations of, the
kinds of stable variation that can be correlated with genres where expres-
sions like sluicing that operate at the interface of syntax and pragmatics
are concerned.
What seems striking to me is the fact that there is so little sluicing in the
ction represented in the Early Modern English part of the Helsinki
corpus (in Table 7 16.66% merger and 83.33% sprouting disguise the raw
gures of 1 and 5 respectively). Possibly sluicing was simply not regarded
as a feature to be exploited as Culpeper and Kyto point out (2000: 195),
authors select dierent features to convey spokenness in dierent genres.
A further research question is whether the discovery of stable variation
requires the investigator to posit a prior stage without such variation.
Absent data prior to Old English, it does not appear necessary in the case
of sluicing to posit a stage in which merger alone can be identied, even
though over 80% of the examples show this use in Old English. Likewise,
although object-clause zero complementizer (that-deletion) is very rare
in Old English, its presence in texts nevertheless suggests it was always in
variation with that. Its dramatic increase in frequency in later Middle
English is highly dependent on factors such as the verb, personal pronoun,
and text type (Rissanen 1991). Therefore, issues of saltation (macro-
change) or gradualness (micro-change) that Nykiel raises in the introduc-
tion appear not to be particularly relevant. What is relevant is that, when
correlated with genre, stability may show considerable frequency uctua-
tions over time.
Various types of more highly pragmatic sluicing appear during the his-
tory of English. Inference without any syntactic antecedent appears rst in
Late Middle English, how-mismatch and pragmatic control in the Early
Modern period, as evidenced by ARCHER. All three are of low fre-
quency. They may perhaps be seen as competing with sprouting since the
percentages of sprouting are lower than in the earlier periods. Nykiel com-
ments, English seems to have shifted in a surprising direction, without
giving reasons for the surprise. Perhaps she has in mind arguments from
Givo n (1979: 209) on developments from discourse > syntax. . . . It
is true that structurally English became more syntacticized in Middle
English, if we measure syntacticization by such phenomena as the shift
from topic-focus structuring to obligatory use of a subject or subject-slot
ller. However, it is also the case that there has been a tendency in writing
for certain sub-domains of grammar to become less formal over time (see
Biber and Finegan 1989, Mair 2006). It might be worth investigating
whether the modest rise of more pragmatic uses of sluicing is correlated
with changing practices associated with writing or with specic genres.
References
Biber, Douglas
1988 Variation across Speech and Writing. Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press.
Biber, Douglas and Edward Finegan
1989 Drift and the evolution of English style: A history of three
genres. Language 65: 487517.
Buchstaller, Isabelle and Elizabeth Closs Traugott
2006 The lady was demonyak: Historical aspects of adverb ALL.
English Language and Linguistics 10: 345370.
Chambers, J. K.
1995 Sociolinguistic Theory: Linguistic Variation and its Social Signi-
cance. Oxford: Blackwell.
Culpeper, Jonathan and Merja Kyto
2000 Data in historical pragmatics: Spoken interaction (re)cast as
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2007 Methods in Historical Pragmatics. Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter.
Givo n, Talmy
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Labov, William
2002 Principles of Linguistic Change, Vol. 2: Social Factors. Malden,
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2006 Twentieth-century English: History, Variation and Standardiza-
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Raumolin-Brunberg, Helena
2002 Stable variation and historical linguistics. In Helena Raumolin-
Brunberg, Minna Nevala, Arja Nurmi, and Matti Rissanen,
eds., Variation Past and Present. VARIENG Studies on English
for Terttu Nevalainen, 101116. Helsinki: Societe Neophilologique.
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Commentary on Nykiel 63
Romaine, Suzanne
1982 Socio-historical Linguistics: Its Status and Methodology. Cam-
bridge: Cambridge University Press.
Waksler, Rachelle
2001 A new ALL construction. American Speech 76: 128138.
Zwicky, Arnold
2005 More illusions. Language Log, August 7th. <http://listserv.
linguistlist.org/cgi-bin/wa?A2=ind0508a&L=ads-l&P=16478>.
Response to Commentary by Traugott
Joanna Nykiel
In her commentary, Elizabeth Traugott rst notes that the recognition of
a hitherto unnoticed phenomenon may lead linguists to misinterpret the
phenomenon as a recent one. To prevent such misinterpretation we ought
to test every hypothesis formulated in this way. But beyond exploring the
hypothesis that sluicing has over time become a less syntactic construc-
tion, my research seeks to answer a rather dierent need.
Analyses of sluicing, and indeed of elliptical constructions, have always
suered from lack of an empirically adequate account of the facts.
1
It
comes as little surprise that without statistics on what kinds of sluicing
appear in actual use, a few scattered examples could be easily dismissed
as infrequent and insignicant or used to counter a previously established
line of argument. In bridging this gap, my purpose was three-fold: (i) to
provide statistical evidence for and an account of the distribution of sluic-
ing, (ii) to verify whether there ever was any basis for teasing apart surface
and deep anaphora, and (iii) to indeed test the hypothesis mentioned
above.
I have no quarrel with Traugotts second comment that the stability in
the behavior of sluicing could be investigated via analysis of sociolinguis-
tic variables and writing conventions. This kind of endeavor would, how-
ever, encounter the usual problems that beset investigation of the oldest
sources: a bias toward the written variety, male authors and sometimes
toward prose, as is the case with Old English. My analysis of sluicing
shows that with the transition from Old English to Middle English comes
a drastic change in the ratio of merger to sprouting, clearly the most intri-
guing of the few shifts. An explanation may lie in the fact that social strata
and genres are poorly represented by the available Old English material
as compared to the relative richness of the Middle English data. Un-
fortunately, a truly sociolinguistic comparison of the two periods remains
problematic.
1. Beechers (2006, 2007) investigation of sluiced prepositional phrases in present-
day American English is the closest I know of to a corpus-based analysis.
What issues like this illustrate is the necessity to go beyond English,
and any individual language under investigation, whenever stability or
change in the history of a given construction seems surprising. A discovery
of what typological similarities and dierences there are can help us better
understand the historical conditions and discourse contexts which might
favor a particular construction. Some researchers (cf. Bybee 2008, Hopper
2008) already emphasize that connections between constructions and the
discourse contexts in which they arise should be explored across a variety
of languages. Typological research in turn avoids the danger of modeling
the architecture of grammar on English; this danger is real since English
exhibits a high degree of exceptionality (Traugott 2008).
References
Beecher, Henry
2006 Pragmatic licensing of sluiced prepositional phrases. Research
paper II. Available at:
<http://idiom.ucsd.edu/~hbeecher/PLSPP.pdf>
Beecher, Henry
2007 Pragmatic inference in the interpretation of sluiced prepositional
phrases. In Proceedings of the Fifth Cambridge Postgraduate
Conference in Language Research, 916.
Bybee, Joan
2008 Formal universals as emergent phenomena: the origins of struc-
ture preservation. In Linguistic Universals and Language Change,
edited by Je Good, 108124. Oxford: Oxford University Press.
Good, Je, ed.
2008 Linguistic Universals and Language Change. Oxford: Oxford
University Press.
Hopper, Paul J.
2008 Emergent serialization in English: pragmatics and typology.
In Linguistic Universals and Language Change, edited by Je
Good, 253286. Oxford: Oxford University Press.
2008 Presidential address. International Society for the Linguistics of
English Inaugural Meeting. Freiburg, Germany.
66 Joanna Nykiel
Notion of Direction and Old English
Prepositional Phrases
Olga Thomason
Since prepositions present a versatile lexical category, interest in them and
especially their semantics is steadily growing (Luraghi 2003, Tyler and
Evans 2003, Segen 2001). In the present paper, we take a closer look at
Old English constructions that designate direction. There are several pre-
positional phrases that mark direction in Old English:
into in Acc, on Acc, binnan Acc, innan Acc
onto on Acc, ofer Acc
up to t Acc or o Acc (rare o Dat)
to, toward to# Acc/Dat/Gen, wi Acc/Dat/Gen, onge#an Acc/Dat,
to#ge#an Dat.
It is the last group of prepositions, designating a more general notion to,
toward, that is the scope of this study. The questions that this investiga-
tion will try to answer are: why does Old English reserve so many pre-
positional phrases to mark such a general concept as to, toward and
what are the possible reasons for such diversity in case governance of these
prepositions?
The vast majority of research analyzing prepositional semantics is con-
ducted using Present Day English data as a base. Semantic investigations
that examine materials of earlier stages of language development (e.g.,
Old English or Middle English) are less common. Textbooks on Old and
Middle English often give a brief list of prepositions with some short notes
on their usage, referring readers to glossaries and dictionaries for fur-
ther information simply because the study of prepositional semantics is
not seen as being necessary when one introduces a new language (Baker
2003: 1012). These facts are unfortunate since detailed and well-balanced
synchronic and diachronic explorations of data from earlier periods of
language development (and of the English language in particular) could
shed more light on such a complex notion as prepositional semantics. For
example, diachronic study of prepositional meanings shows that spatial
roles develop earlier than other semantic functions (Luraghi 2003: 18).
The present study joins those that are making every eort to ll this gap
and add to the knowledge of prepositional semantics and usage.
Spatial meanings deserve special attention not only because they tend
to be the original semantics of prepositions but also because they fre-
quently present a background for structuring many other conceptual
domains. It has already been pointed out that speakers use spatial expres-
sions in constructions that designate temporal concepts, kinship relations,
body parts, and some others (Levinson 2003: 168). For example, the
English prepositions in and on are often used to mark spatial and tempo-
ral concepts: cf. in the classroom versus in the evening and on the plate ver-
sus on Sunday.
Linguistic discussions of prepositional semantics often focus on rela-
tions between prepositional meanings and human physical experience of
the surrounding world. Researchers attempt to nd a cognitive stimulus
for the use of prepositions. In the course of their everyday life, humans
interrelate in and with the surrounding world. Recurring events, struc-
tures, arrangements, etc. become encoded in the human mind as abstract
notions and concepts. As a consequence, several linguists argue that the
semantic structure of prepositional phrases arises from human conceptual
structure or mirrors it (Cienki 1989, Cuyckens 1997, Kemmerer 2005,
Tyler and Evans 2001). Some linguists employ geometric or functional
specics of constructions in which spatial prepositional phrases are
used in order to pinpoint certain semantic particulars (Coventry 2001).
Throughout our discussion, we will strive to show in which manner
various cognitive stimuli trigger or support particular semantic develop-
ments of the prepositional constructions designating the notion to,
toward. We will pay particular attention to the functional and syntag-
matic specics of these prepositions in our attempt to show that even
though in Old English spatial relations are primarily coded in the seman-
tics of prepositions, some spatial information is derived from the meanings
of verbs with which these prepositions are used and from the functions of
cases which these prepositions govern.
The domain of spatial prepositional semantics is characterized by a
high level of variation found in means of expressing spatial concepts
(Coventry 2001, Rudanko 1995, Van der Zee and Slack 2003). It is com-
mon for the same spatial notion to be expressed by a variety of preposi-
tional phrases. On the other hand, many languages demonstrate that the
same prepositional phrase can designate a number of spatial concepts.
Despite the fact that languages have a nite number of spatial preposi-
tions, it is often problematic to isolate exact rules for their usage. Old
68 Olga Thomason
English is not an exception in this case; variation of prepositional phrases
is expected in this language. However, it does demonstrate a particularly
high level of variation among prepositional constructions denoting the
meaning to, toward. This study oers a detailed examination of this
variation and attempts to nd potential reasons for such diversity.
Even if we do not take into consideration more abstract extensions of
the directional concept, such as purpose, order/command, instruction,
management, result, etc., and concentrate only on spatial characteristics
of this notion, they are still exceptionally complex and dicult to describe
precisely. Direction is considered to be one of the basic spatial notions (in
line with location and source). Direction is commonly thought of and
represented as a line or an arrow along which something moves, but it
is also a point, area or region toward which some entity is heading. In
this light, it is not surprising that many prepositional phrases chosen to
mark direction also designate a static location. In fact, it is sometimes dif-
cult to draw a denite border between these two concepts since in many
languages, the same prepositional phrase can designate both direction and
location. Cases of such syncretism have already been documented. Silvia
Luraghi oers a good summary of investigations that depict loss or pre-
servation of distinction among the three concepts direction, location,
and source (Luraghi 2003: 202).
The notion of direction is multi-layered and closely connected with the
concept of containment (the meaning into), the concept of surface (the
meaning onto), and the concept of proximity (the meaning up to): cf.
jumping into the box, jumping onto the box, jumping up to the box. The
rst two notions presuppose the presence of contact while the third one
marks instances when a moving object does not come into a full contact
with its nal goal. All these notions are distinct in Old English.
In the case where the concept of direction is connected with the notions
of containment and surface, Old English responds with a well established
set of prepositional phrases where the dierence between location and
direction is marked with the help of the dative and accusative cases (with
minor variations in case forms): cf. in in Dat, on Dat, binnan Dat,
innan Dat versus into in Acc, on Acc, binnan Acc, innan Acc
and also on on Dat, ofer Dat versus onto on Acc, ofer Acc.
These are not the only prepositional phrases that are used to mark the
stated notions (e.g., to# Dat can also designate the locations in and
on), but they are the primary ones. Such a way of marking is expected
since it reects not only the primary meanings of the prepositions per se
but also the original semantics of cases: the designation of destination
for the accusative case and the designation of static location for the
Notion of Direction and Old English Prepositional Phrases 69
dative case. Due to syncretism in Old English (as in all other Germanic
languages), the dative case has a variety of functions, reecting the seman-
tics of the original Indo-European cases dative, ablative, locative, and
instrumental.
The meaning up to, usually marked in Old English with t Acc or
o Acc (rare o Dat), presupposes the absence of contact, the con-
cepts of containment and surface do not play any salient role and, thus,
are not marked. These prepositions govern the expected accusative
case, which rearms the designation of direction. In this light, the more
general direction notion to, toward is problematic since these preposi-
tions govern a diversity of cases: to# Acc/Dat/Gen, wi Acc/Dat/
Gen, onge#an Acc/Dat, to#ge#an Dat.
But the three concepts discussed above may not be the only ones that
aect the semantics of the prepositional phrases denoting direction. The
pragmatic nature of the directional concept is more multifaceted. Con-
sidering that this notion is associated with the motion in the direction of
something which is in the area or vicinity of, near, close to, or facing
something, the spatial notions in, near, next to, opposite to, against,
and before, in front of should be salient and have inuence on the choice
of the prepositional phrases.
Lets take a closer look at the prepositional phrases that denote the
meaning to, toward in Old English, focusing only on literal spatial usages
of these constructions. The prepositional phrase to# Dat is the one that
is used primarily to mark a general direction to, toward. It commonly
occurs in combination with motions of coming, running, falling, etc. as
well as with verbs of bringing, taking, sending, etc. (in these instances
the directional semantics of the prepositional phrase are reinstated by
a verb).
(1) God him com to# (Gen 20, 3 Mk. Skt. 5, 21)
God came to him
Sende se Fder his sunu to# cwa#le (Homl. Th. ii. 6, 17)
Father sent his son to death
In the spatial usages of to# Dat, the object toward which a motion/action
is directed could be reached or not:
(2) Bryne stige to# heofonum (Exon. Th. 233, 7; Ph. 521)
Flame reaches heaven.
Hie onhnigon to# am herige (Cd. Th. 227, 3; Dan. 181)
They bowed to the altar.
70 Olga Thomason
There are also instances where to# Dat, designating direction, is com-
bined not with motion verbs but with verbs whose semantics imply a cer-
tain motion. For example, we nd cases like this in instances where
to# Dat becomes a complement to verbs that denote looking or listening.
(3) Beseoh to# me# (Ps. Th. 12, 3.)
Look at me.
These verbs do not mark a motion per se, but it is implied that in order for
somebody to look in a certain direction or listen to somebody, one has to
turn toward this direction/this person.
The question to answer here is why the preposition to# governs the
dative instead of the expected accusative. It is plausible that the semantics
of to# Dat receive the extension to a directional meaning only because of
the meaning of these verbs since the designation of directionality is in-
herent to their semantics. Propositions of this kind have been made earlier
by those researchers who believe that it is the semantic and syntactic
qualities of verbs that dictate what kind of meaning a nominal or a pre-
positional phrase would have (Fillmore 1968: 103). Another way to
explain the extension to a directional meaning is to derive it from the
meaning of the dative case that the preposition to# governs in such pas-
sages. It has been already mentioned that the Old English dative is an
amalgamation of a number of Indo-European cases, the locative being
one of them. There are known instances when the locative case expresses
direction (without a preposition): cf. Skt. papa#ta medinya#m (MBh.) he fell
to (so as to be upon) the earth (Whitney 1993: 103). Thus, it is the seman-
tics of the Old English dative case that could condition the location-to-
direction semantic development of to# Dat. On the other hand, the
meaning toward seems to be original for the preposition to# as it is
preserved and evidenced by several Indo-European cognates of this pre-
position: cf. Germ. zu to, L. do-nec as long as, Gk. -de, O.Ir. do, Lith.
da- to, toward (Holthausen 1963: 350). Therefore, one can argue (and we
are in favor of this argument) that there was no location-to-direction
extension here and the notion of direction is already at the core of the
semantics of the preposition itself and this concept is simply reinforced by
other members of collocations (i.e. verbs and case forms). Any proposition
made seems to be speculative at this point; however, one thing is certain:
directionality is the primary function of to# Dat be it due to the original
meaning of the preposition itself or due to a mixture of factors.
There are many instances where to# Dat designates static location
specifying such meanings as near, next to, by, and even in, on:
(4) H # man bebyrigde to# hyre were (Homl. Th. i. 318, 1: ii. 188, 5)
She was buried next to her husband.
He# gesette Iudas to# bisceope to# Godes temple (Elen. Kmbl. 2114;
El 1058)
He made Judas to sit down next to the high priest in the Gods
temple.
To# horse (Exon. Th. 298, 7; Cra. 81)
on horseback
Since in the majority of cases where to# Dat marks a static location
notion it species the meaning near, next to, one can talk about saliency
of the proximity notion for the semantics of this prepositional phrase.
Even though we do nd examples where it marks the location of an
object/person within or on top of the boundaries of some locations (see
the last two passages in (4)), such instances are rare and could be con-
sidered the result of secondary development.
In some cases, the semantics of to# Dat are extended even to the
designation of source where it is combined with verbs denoting seeking,
expectation, or attainment:
(5) To# eoran #tes tilian (Cd. Th. 94, 5; Gen. 1557: 59, 31; Gen. 972)
to obtain from the earth of food
This function is probably secondary, acquired on the basis of the location
usages of to# Dat creating, consequentially, the following chain of exten-
sions: next to the area > at, in the area > from the area. The seman-
tics of to# Dat are an interesting example demonstrating syncretism of
all three basic spatial roles direction, location, and source.
The construction to# Gen can also mark the direction to, toward
although not as frequently as to# Dat and only in combination with a
demonstrative or interrogative pronoun:
(6) To# s gingran ider ealle urnon #r se e#ca ws (Cd. Th. 298, II,
Sat. 531)
Thither all the disciples ran, to the place where the Eternal were.
To# hws h # gearwe bron (Cd. Th. 190, I; Exod. 192.)
Whither they should bear their arms.
We also nd several instances where to# Gen designates location. How-
ever, in the majority of such instances, to# Gen is part of a bigger adver-
bial construction to# middes in the midst:
72 Olga Thomason
(7) He# ws to# middes wtres (Homl. Skt. ii. 30, 176)
He was in the midst of the stream.
In instances such as these, to# Gen becomes a part of a set construction,
and it is hard to make judgments about the original location meaning of
this phrase and its conceptual connections since its semantics are already
fossilized in the semantics of the whole construction.
The only spatial meaning that to# Acc has is the designation of the
direction to, toward. Such instances are notably less frequent than simi-
lar directional occurrences of to# Dat. This situation is surprising since
the semantics of the accusative are regularly connected with the desig-
nation of direction, and it is probably for this reason that we do not nd
any passages where to# Acc comes to mark a static location:
(8) He# leat to# s ca#seres eare (Homl. Th. i. 376, 28)
He leaned toward the ear of the emperor.
To# is an excellent example that demonstrates the complexity of preposi-
tional semantics at its best. The explored material shows that to# Dat is
the primary construction among those with to# that is used to denote the
direction to, toward due to a combination of factors: the original mean-
ing of the preposition and the semantic support from motion verbs and the
dative that also express directionality. The main static location meaning of
to# Dat next to suggests that the notion of proximity is a salient one
for the speakers of Old English. This prepositional phrase exemplies syn-
cretism of the three basic local semantic roles designation of direction,
location, and source. To# Acc, the phrase that is expected to be a pri-
mary one for the denotation of direction, is in fact a less frequent variant
even though its semantics are limited to the designation of this notion.
To# Acc and to# Dat are probably in free variation at this stage of lan-
guage development. Despite the fact that to# Gen can mark location and
direction, its usage is restricted to a few syntactical constructions.
The preposition wi is similar to the preposition to# as far as its gover-
nance and some semantic functions are concerned. It governs the dative,
the accusative, and the genitive. In combination with all of these cases,
wi can express directionality just like to#. Lets take a closer look at the
semantic specics of wi and try to establish reasons why all three phrases,
namely wi Dat, wi Gen, and wi Acc, came to designate the
direction to, toward, and why Old English preserves these prepositional
phrases even though it already has to# Dat/Acc/Gen, which is versatile
in itself.
Once again, governance of the dative case greatly enriches the preposi-
tional semantics (compare examples (1)(5) of to# Dat discussed earlier).
Just like in the case with to# Dat, wi Dat can designate spatial rela-
tions specifying the notion near:
(9) Hire l # chama reste wi Ro#mebirig on am wege e man nemne
Latina (Shrn. 31, 28)
Her body rests near the city of Rome on the way which one calls
Latin.
But in addition to this meaning, wi Dat can also denote the location
notion against, opposite to:
(10) Sweall uplang gesto#d wi Israhe# lum (Cd. Th. 197, 8; Exod. 303)
A high sea-wall stood against Israel.
The meaning of wi Dat in this passage is not connected with hostility
but rather once again with the concept of proximity as if stating that
whatever is against/opposite to someone/something is necessarily next to/
near someone/something. Therefore, this passage could easily be under-
stood as a high sea-wall stood next to/near Israel. But compare this
passage with the following sentence:
(11) Se wi mongum sto#d (Exon. Th. 121, 26; Gu# 294)
That one stood against many.
In this instance, wi Dat does have a meaning that has a close associa-
tion with the notion of hostility. The question is: is the designation of
opposition an inherent feature of the semantics of this preposition, or is it
a secondary development? Before we answer this question, lets look at
those instances where wi Dat expresses direction:
(12) Scearp cyme sceo wi o#rum, ecg wi ecge (Exon. Th. 385, 8;
Ra. 4, 41)
A pointed cloud comes toward/against another, an edge toward/
against an edge.
Streamas wundon sund wi sande (Beo. Th. 431; B. 213)
Streams whirled water toward/against the sand ( the sandy
shore).
Ongan ic steppan for a#na wi englum (Cd. Th. 280, 1; Sat 249)
I alone stepped forth against the angels.
Bordrand onswa#f wi am gryregieste (Beo. Th. 5113; B. 2560)
Shield swung forward against the terrible stranger.
74 Olga Thomason
In the rst two examples, wi Dat could be rendered as both toward
and against whereas in the second two passages, the interpretation is
clearly against. It is important to note that in the last two sentences,
there are other members (aside from the analyzed prepositional phrases)
that also express the meaning against: ongan towards, against and
onswifan turn against (the preposition/prex on can also express the
meaning against in line with its more frequent senses on, upon). It is
possible that it is these elements that ensure the correct reading of the
construction as against as if the usage of wi Dat alone is not enough
to take care of this meaning. On the other hand, multiple cognates of wi
preserve the meaning against, thus showing that the notion of opposition
(and proximity) is salient for the semantics of this preposition: cf. Goth.
wira against, opposite, OCS. vutoru other, second, Skt. vi asunder,
Avestan vi- asunder (Holthausen 1963: 401). Since the primary function
of wi Dat is to mark a static notion, namely opposition, the location-
to-direction semantic development is most likely made possible by the syn-
tagmatic features of this preposition, namely by its repeated occurrence in
combination with motion verbs and by the inherited location function of
the dative case that this preposition governs (see the discussion of the
directional usages of to# Dat above).
Taking into consideration all of the discussed directional and location
usages of wi Dat, one can suppose that the notion of opposition (sepa-
ration) in connection with the concept of proximity is original for the
semantics of wi Dat in Old English. But the notion of hostility is sec-
ondary and often reinstated in passages by elements other than wi Dat.
Such instances demonstrate a complex interface between the semantic and
syntactic characteristics of various members of a sentence in general and
prepositional phrases in particular. Compare also the occurrences of
to# Dat that also mark hostility but only in combination with words
that designate hostility:
(13) Monige e to# me# feohta (Ps. Th. 55, 3)
Many who fought against me.
Wi Gen can also mark an object toward which a motion or an action
is directed. The meaning toward is its primary function.
(14) Fleo gan wi s holtes (Byrht. Th. 131, 14; By. 18)
To y to the forest
There is also a rare case where this construction designates location that
could be understood as both next to, near and opposite to:
(15) Stt se H#lend wi s dores (Mk. Skt. Lind. 12, 41)
The Savior sat next to/opposite to the gate.
However, this passage does not hold a great value for our discussion since
it is a translation from the Latin version of the Bible and might simply
mirror the corresponding construction of the original: Et sedens Jesus
contra gazophylacium Mk.12, 41 (Itala 1970, II: 119).
Wi Acc unexpectedly shows a particular productivity in the designa-
tion of location (despite the fact that the accusative case usually marks
direction). It is probable that the semantics of the preposition itself prevail
here. Since the concept of proximity is prominent for this prepositional
phrase, it allows wi Acc to denote the location near repeatedly:
(16) Wi t do#msetl ic sitte (fc. Gr. 47; Zup. 269, 16)
I sit near the tribunal.
He# gesto#d wi steapne rond (Beo. Th. 5126; B. 2566)
He stood near the high edge.
Just like in the instance with wi Dat, wi Acc expresses the meaning
against where it is combined with words marking hostility:
(17) Ic eom fa#h wi God (Cd. Th. 270, 28; Sat 97; Beo. Th 1627; B. 811)
I am hostile toward/against God.
In the instances where wi Acc expresses direction, it merely species
the meaning to, toward:
(18) Se H#lend eode wi a s# (Mt. Kmbl. 4, 18)
The Savior went to the sea.
This prepositional phrase is rarely associated with a contrary motion or
action:
(19)
#
r ge# sceonde wi gesceapu fremmen (Cd. Th. 149, 4; Gen. 2469)
Before you injure ( drive against) the creatures, they will do (so).
All of the discussed passages show that in Old English, wi Dat,
wi Acc and wi Gen often share the same or similar functions. On
several occasions these constructions express the same meaning within
one clause, therefore presenting a case of free variation:
(20) Breo stnet wi ord and wi ecge ingang forsto#d (Beo. Th. 3102;
B. 1549)
Coat of mail defended the entrance against a spear-point and
against a sword.
76 Olga Thomason
The semantics of wi Dat, wi Acc and wi Gen emphasize the
salience of the two senses near and against, thus designating the concep-
tual importance of these notions for the concept of directionality. It is
because of this double-sided nature (together with the frequent occur-
rence of these prepositions in combination with words denoting opposite
entities/motions/actions) that it becomes possible for the semantics of
wi Dat, wi Acc, and wi Gen to be extended to designate such
notions as hostility versus protection, exchange, address, etc. Directional
usages of these constructions are made possible by syntagmatic properties
of prepositions their regular occurrence in combination with motion
verbs.
To#ge#an Dat and onge#an Acc/Dat are also found to express direc-
tions to, toward and against. This is expected for these prepositional
phrases since they are compounds in which one of the components is a
preposition whose rich semantics already encompass a variety of direc-
tional notions including the meaning against (the second unit is a form
of ge#n, which is a rare word that is sometimes used as an adverb with the
meanings yet, still, again, further and sometimes used as an adjective
denoting direct).
Onge#an Dat and onge#an Acc are both found to designate static and
dynamic spatial notions (location and direction). In instances where these
constructions mark location, they specify only the meaning opposite,
against:
(21) a# arn he# and gesto#d ongean am le# ge (Gen. 221, 11)
The he ran and stood against the bed.
He# st #r him get# ht ws ongean one cyngc (Ap. Th. 14, 13)
He sat there where it was instructed to him, against the king.
Furthermore, both these phrases can express direction, marking the mean-
ings to, toward and against:
(22) Him com seo menio ongean (Jn. Skt. 12, 18)
The host came toward him.
Fe#rdon ongean #m he#num (Blickl. Homl. 203, 2)
They marched against heavens.
H # fe#rdon onge#n one bry# dguman (Mt. Kmbl. 25, I, 6)
They marched toward the bridegroom.
Ongean stream (Cod. Dip. B. i. 502, 3: ii. 374, 10)
Against the stream ( against the direction of the stream ow)
It is interesting to see how the meaning against is promoted in the seman-
tics of onge#an Dat/Acc since we do not nd any location meanings for
these phrases other than the ones designating against even though they
both still express the directional meanings towards and against with
similar frequencies. Since these prepositional constructions occur in com-
bination with similar (and sometimes the same) words (see examples
above), they are most likely in free variation.
The semantics of to#ge#an Dat are limited to directional values and are
not extended to any other spatial notions (e.g., location). It can designate
both directional values to, toward and against:
(23) Foerdon to#ggnes him (Jn. Skt. Lind. Rush. 12, 13)
They marched toward him.
H # fe# rdon to#geanes #m he# enum (Homl. Th. i. 504, 27)
They marched against heavens.
The concept of meeting plays an important role for the semantics of
to#ge#an Dat since it is frequently found in combination with verbs mean-
ing to march, go (to meet). It is understood that when two people/objects
move toward each other to meet at a certain point, they will be opposed to
each other (with or without hostility toward each other).
As the present study demonstrates, there is a great deal of overlap in
semantic elds that these prepositional phrases cover. Practically all ana-
lyzed prepositional phrases are used to designate location and direction
values. Only the semantics of to#ge#an Dat and to# Acc are limited to
the denotation of direction. The semantics of to# Dat are extended even
further, resulting in constructions where this phrase marks source. Such
divisions of semantic space create favorable conditions for a high level of
prepositional variation.
As far as prepositional governance and its inuence on prepositional
semantics goes, we nd a variety of instances ranging from those where
the meaning of a prepositional phrase is an expected result (e.g., to# Acc
designating the direction to, toward) to those where it is an outcome
opposite of the expected one (e.g., wi Acc marking the location
near). These results are due to interplay among the semantics of a prepo-
sition itself, meanings of verbs in collocation, and functions of cases which
these prepositions govern. Thus, in the case with to# Dat it is the seman-
tics of the preposition that promote the directional meaning. On the other
hand, the examples with wi Dat show that the directional meaning is
primarily derived from the semantics of motion verbs.
78 Olga Thomason
Some combinatory properties of prepositional phrases create limitations
for these constructions. Thus, to# Gen has restricted usage occurring pri-
marily in combination with a demonstrative or interrogative pronoun. As
a consequence, it has a semantic range more limited than to# Dat, for
example.
The semantics of the investigated Old English data show a continuous
interplay among three concepts: directionality (the meaning to, toward),
proximity (the meaning next to, near) and opposition (the meaning
against, opposite to). It is obvious that for speakers of Old English, the
notions of proximity and opposition have close links with the notion of
direction. We can even talk about dierent degrees of salience of the
notions of proximity and opposition for the Old English prepositional
phrases. Thus, we nd prepositional phrases of three kinds: those for
which the concept against is the most important one (e.g., to#ge#an Dat),
those that present the salience of the notion next to, near (e.g., to# Dat),
and, nally, those whose semantics comprise both of these meanings (e.g.,
wi Dat). It is important to note that the salience of a given concept (or
both) is retained by a preposition no matter what case it governs (cf. both
wi Dat and wi Acc can designate the meanings near and against).
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80 Olga Thomason
Commentary on Thomason, Notion of Direction and
Old English Prepositional Phrases
Joanna Nykiel
This paper suggests a wider landscape in which to locate Thomasons dis-
cussion of English prepositional phrases (PPs). Thomason points out that
there has been little work on the semantics of PPs beyond present-day
English. Her data are intended to redress this imbalance by oering insight
into the phrases expressing direction in the Old English (OE) period. The
study shows that the traditional correlation between the accusative case
and the sense of direction does not always apply in OE. The accusative
may in fact carry a location meaning when in a construction with preposi-
tion wi. Further, the dative, normally associated with location, is also
found in phrases that denote direction. This eect is strongest in sequences
headed by preposition to#, where the accusative is an option too, though a
notably less frequent one.
Assuming that it is possible to identify OE cases by nominal suxes, it
would have been helpful to see numerical data along with a chronological
organization of the results. Allen (1995) and more recently Krygier (2002)
have argued that the case system breaks down already in OE, sometimes
leaving the dative and accusative forms identical. The data seem particu-
larly dubious to me where one relies on nal -e as an indicator of the
dative because it might just as well be the accusative, as is the case with
strong feminine nouns, e.g., cwalu in example (1). The inclusion of the
temporal factor in particular would have imparted more precision to
Thomasons ndings and helped warrant a more detailed analysis of
them. Suggesting an approach is, inasmuch as the results allow it, my pur-
pose in what follows. Thomasons data raise two general issues: repeated
use leading to entrenchment and a possible t of the data with the con-
structional framework. I address them in this order.
I nd it indeed puzzling that the distribution of cases is so variable
across phrases. But perhaps there is an explanation for the variety. Central
to Thomasons discussion is the contrast between the behavior of Ps in, on,
binnan, innan and ofer on the one hand and that of to#, wi, onge#an and
to#ge#an on the other. She notes that the former set selects the dative for
location and the accusative for direction in the context of containment and
surface. The latter set appears to somewhat randomly select the dative or
accusative with respect to both direction and location. Part of the explana-
tion may lie in frequency of occurrence, to which I now turn.
It has been recognized that grammar is shaped by speakers linguistic
experience: strings of words experienced more often will have stronger
mental representations than those that are only sporadically encountered.
This recognition is formalized in usage-based models with an emphasis
on how particular exemplars may guide semantic change (Barlow and
Kemmer 2000, Langacker 2000, Bybee 2001, 2006). Because speakers are
believed to keep a mental record of all the contexts associated with a given
string, that strings representation is variable to the extent that it may
accommodate new contexts and meanings or lose previous ones if they
become too infrequent. It could be that the division of labor between
the dative and accusative in surface/containment contexts arose through
repetition (entrenchment); if there was prior variation, it might have been
eliminated due to insucient frequency.
With respect to other contexts, Thomason argues that directional uses
of the dative may be supported by aspects of the string it is part of: the
semantics of the verb or that of the governing preposition. For exam-
ple, motion verbs impose a direction meaning on the following PP. If the
preposition is to#, a direction meaning receives additional support. But the
sequence to# dative can indicate location and source as well are these
its basic meanings? It is possible that the meaning of direction was inferred
for to# dative and added to its representation as a result of frequent use
with motion verbs. The accusative could then be the case originally asso-
ciated with direction, and continue to be used so, presumably at a rate
that still allows it to exist as an alternative. The preference for the string
to# dative with the meaning of direction, however, does not yet solve the
issue of whether to# accusative antedates it, leading to a later extension
to the dative, or whether the reverse is true, or whether both phrases oc-
curred in parallel. What would help us decide between these scenarios is
considering the temporal factor because a rise in frequency may often
reect a new use developing out of an earlier one, pushing it into a second-
ary role (see, for example, Bybee (2006) on the development of the be
going to construction).
Whatever the scenario, it emerges for the data that directional mean-
ings are best taken to derive from accessing an entire verb phrase as a
unit and not as individual constituents, which enables a constructional
treatment in the sense of Croft (2001), Goldberg (2006) and De Smet and
82 Joanna Nykiel
Cuyckens (2007). In the formalism of construction grammar, strings form
micro-constructions (individual construction-types) based on their con-
texts of use; these may then align to form higher-level structures: meso-
and macro-constructions (Traugott 2008a,b, Trousdale 2008). OE may
have seen formations along these lines. As long as the accusative is
selected, a directional meaning is arguably constructed out of the con-
stituents of a verb phrase; an extension to the dative, though, signals a
partial loss of constituent transparency. If this were the case (cf. rst
scenario), a micro- (or meso-) construction formed in OE. In fact, such a
construction would have formed even if the second and third scenarios
turned out to be true, only it must have formed prior to OE. It would be
interesting to know whether Old English PPs may be recast as part of
direction (or location) constructions. This possibility would bring a
solution to the otherwise puzzling variation.
References
Allen, Cynthia
1995 Case-Marking and Reanalysis: Grammatical Relations from Old
to Early Modern English. Oxford: Clarendon Press.
Barlow, Michael, and Suzanne Kemmer, eds.
2000 Usage-based Models of Language. Stanford, CA: CSLI Publica-
tions.
Bybee, Joan
2006 From Usage to Grammar: The Minds Response to Repetition.
Language 82(4): 711733.
Bybee, Joan
2001 Phonology and Language Use. Cambridge: Cambridge Univer-
sity Press.
Croft, William
2001 Radical Construction Grammar: Syntactic Theory in Typological
Perspective. Oxford: Oxford University Press.
De Smet, Hendrik, and Hubert Cuyckens
2007 Diachronic Aspects of Complementation: Constructions, En-
trenchment, and the Matching Problem. In Studies in the History
of the English Language III: Managing Chaos: Strategies for
Identifying Change in English, edited by Christopher M. Cain
and Georey Russom, 187213. Berlin/New York: Mouton de
Gruyter.
Goldberg. Adele
2006 Constructions at Work: The Nature of Generalization in Lan-
guage. Oxford: Oxford University Press.
Commentary on Thomason 83
Krygier, Marcin
2002 A Re-classication of Old English Nouns. Studia Anglica Posna-
niensia 38: 311319.
Langacker, Ronald
2000 Grammar and Conceptualization. Berlin/New York: Mouton de
Gruyter.
2008a All that he endeavoured to prove was: On the Emergence of
Grammatical Constructions in Dialogual and Dialogic Contexts.
In Language in Flux. Dialogue Coordination, Language Varia-
tion, Change and Evolution Volume 1, edited by Robin Cooper
and Ruth Kempson. London: College Publications.
2008b Grammaticalization, Constructions and the Incremental De-
velopment of Language: Suggestions from the Development of
Degree Modiers in English. In Variation, Selection, Develop-
ment. Probing the Evolutionary Model of Language Change,
edited by Gerhard Jaeger, 219250. Berlin/New York: Mouton
de Gruyter.
Trousdale, Graeme
2008 Constructions in Grammaticalization and Lexicalization: Evi-
dence from the History of a Composite Predicate Construction
in English. In Constructional Approaches to English Grammar,
edited by Graeme Trousdale and Nikolas Gisborne, 3367.
Berlin/New York: Mouton de Gruyter.
84 Joanna Nykiel
Response to Commentary by Nykiel
Olga Thomason
Nykiel oers a thorough and insightful commentary to the article. This
response is organized around the main points which were brought up in
her discussion. The rst argument is connected with the syncretism of the
case system in Old English and grammatical and semantic ambiguity of
words (like strong feminine nouns) that have identical forms in the dative
and accusative. This argument is reasonable, however, not all nominals
have lost their distinctions in these cases (see example (2)), and some pre-
serve it in plural even though they lost it in singular (like strong feminine
nouns). Preserved dative/accusative distinction in third-person singular
pronouns (example (1)) and demonstrative pronouns makes the posited
problem even more tangible (example (2)). Thus, it is still plausible to
talk about the designation of direction by to# Dat.
Answering Nykiels question about the basic meaning of to# Dat, we
would like to stress that it is precisely the fact the basic meaning of
to# Dat is direction (and not location or source, which this construction
also marks albeit less frequently) that initially triggered this study. This
meaning could be a result of frequent use with motion verbs (as suggested
by the reviewer and mentioned in the article). It could also be due to the
case syncretism and broadening of semantic range of the Old English
dative (see the discussion in the article). However, the opinion is main-
tained that the denotation of direction is inherent to the semantics of to#
since there is an abundance of Indo-European cognates of this preposition
that retain the directional value (see examples in the article).
It is agreed that any semantic analysis should be derived from an entire
construction including its verbal and nominal components (as we hoped to
show in the article). However, we are not eager to treat them as a one-way
relationship where a verbal head dictates the choice of a preposition and a
preposition, in turn, rules the selection of case. The relationship is much
more complex. There are instances where the semantics of a preposition
has a decisive value (directional usages of to# Dat, in our view) and ex-
amples where it is the meaning of a motion verb that prevails (directional
usages of wi Dat). The role of the accusative case whose primary func-
tions are connected with the designation of direction are exemplied by
means that are used in Old English to express the meanings into
(in Acc, on Acc, binnan Acc, innan Acc) and onto (on Acc,
ofer Acc). In addition, one has to keep check with conceptional spe-
cics. In our case the notion of direction is connected with the concepts
of proximity and opposition as exemplied by the Old English data. This
cognitive complexity adds to the level of variation found in Old English
texts.
Nykiels perceptive suggestion to present a chronological organization
and statistical analysis of the data anticipates the next step of our research,
which intends to add a diachronic spin to a currently primarily synchronic
study and hopes to mark the exact course and stages of semantic develop-
ment of prepositional phrases denoting direction in Old English. This, of
course, should make possible the explanation of the distinction between
direction and location usages with the help of the frequency of occurrence
suggested by the reviewer.
86 Olga Thomason
Survival of the Strongest: Strong Verb Inection
from Old to Modern English
Sherrylyn Branchaw
Old English had a relatively robust system of strong verbs, 367 that the
extant corpus allows us to count. In the twelfth and thirteenth centuries,
the system began to break down in a serious way, leaving us in Modern
English with 72 of these inected as purely weak and 78 inected with at
least some strong forms.
1
The forces behind the weakening process have
been treated in detail by Marcin Krygier (1994) among others; the ques-
tion I address here is why those specic 78 verbs, and not others, remained
strong to the present day. Because the eleventh century, immediately pre-
ceding the breakdown, is one of the worst-attested periods in English his-
tory, I nd it most useful to look at the verb system of Old English to see
what factors already present then allowed certain verbs to resist the regu-
larizing tendencies of Middle English. Where the Old English data are
insucient to explain the modern outcome of a verb, I examine the state
of the language at the relevant later period.
Since the weakening process is still ongoing, the status of some verbs in
the present day is uncertain. For example, dive has as a preterite only dove
for some speakers, only dived for other speakers, and variation for other
speakers. I have, therefore, included three categories in dening the
modern outcome of a verb: strong, weak, and uncertain. With the under-
standing that usage will vary slightly from speaker to speaker, assignment
of verbs to the categories has proceeded according to my own usage,
which is American and is rather conservative, retaining e.g., sank, trod,
and throve.
The major factors I examine are type frequency, by which I mean the
number of verbs with the same ablaut pattern; token frequency, by which
I mean the number of occurrences of that specic verb in the Old English
corpus; the shape of the root, not including the vowel; and the eciency of
the ablaut pattern in making distinctions among principal parts.
1. I count using the list in Quirk et al. (1985).
A cautionary note on token frequency: due to the nature of the searches
I was able to perform on the online Dictionary of Old English Corpus,
these numbers should be viewed as ballpark gures only, and no statistical
analysis should be attempted on them. They are solely for the purpose of
determining which verbs were more or less common than others, not how
much more or less common. Further research will be done to obtain
gures with higher accuracy and precision so that more detailed conclu-
sions can be drawn.
For some forms, I was unable to obtain even ballpark gures in the
time available due to homography with much more common words, such
as the past tense of etan, t, meaning ate, and the far more common
preposition t, meaning at. These forms simply have no number beside
them in the tables. The absence of any number is to be distinguished
from the presence of a 0 in the following way: no number means that the
search was unsuccessful due to homography. A 0 means that a search was
successfully carried out, and no instances of the form in question were
found.
The size of the data set can be reduced somewhat by eliminating a
group of certain infrequent verbs in the following manner. Looking at
Table 1, I dene a fully attested verb as one for which the vocalism of
each of its four principal parts is attested in Old English, according to the
compilation of data in Krygier (1994), with modern surviving verbs
checked using a search on the electronic corpus. In the rst row, Old
English had 367 strong verbs, of which 224 were fully attested, which
Table 1
# verbs # fully
attested
% fully
attested
Old English strong 367 224 61
Modern English descendants 150 120 81
MdE weak 72 52 72
MdE strong 62 55 89
MdE uncertain 16 13 81
MdE at least some strong
(uncertain strong)
78 68 87
88 Sherrylyn Branchaw
comes to 61%. Of those 367 verbs, 150 survive in Modern English, and
120 of those, or 80%, were fully attested in Old English. Of those 150 sur-
viving verbs, 72 are now inected as weak, and 62 as strong. Of those 62
strong verbs, 89% were fully attested in Old English.
If we assume a correlation between fully attested and frequent, we
can conclude that in the very broadest sense, the frequency of the verb
was a signicant factor not only in determining its lexical fate in the
language in other words, whether the word survived at all but also in
determining the survival of its strong inection.
My conclusion is therefore that any verb not fully attested, if it survives
at all, will survive as weak, unless special conditions prevail, namely that it
can be easily t into one of the most productive strong patterns, as in the
case of slink. Therefore, I reduce the set of verbs I am considering to the
fully attested verbs as well as to those handful of surviving strong verbs
that were not fully attested. To investigate the eects of type frequency, I
sorted these verbs into groups with identical ablaut. I refer to these groups
as series to avoid confusion with the traditional grouping into classes.
The tables in this paper are grouped in series according to Old English
type frequency, from highest to lowest, with some mergers I will talk
about. The rst column contains the modern descendant of the Old
English verb, which may or may not have the same meaning, and the sec-
ond through fth columns contain the four principal parts innitive,
preterite rst and third singular, preterite plural and second singular, and
past participle along with the ballpark token frequency counts of each
form where obtainable from the corpus search.
For the rst two series, I have given only lists for the outcomes of
verbs, which seemed the most ecient method of presentation given the
minimal impact of token frequency and the large number of surviving
verbs. Including each verb on a table line would have added very little
information in a great deal of space.
The Old English type frequencies are given in parentheses in the head-
ing of each series, e.g., Series I (28). Modern English verbs that are
italicized were not fully attested in Old English but survive as strong
nonetheless.
Series I (28)
Strong: bind, drink, nd, grind, begin, run, shrink, spring, spin, sting, sing,
sink, swim, swing, wind, win, wring, stink, cling, slink
Weak: burn, climb
Survival of the Strongest 89
Series II (28)
Strong: bite, drive, ride, rise, shrive, smite, write, shine, stride, strike
(transferred to Series I)
Weak: glide, gripe, slide, writhe
Uncertain: bide, shit, cleave
Series III (26)
Table 2. Strong Outcome
Modern English Innitive Pret. sg. Pret. pl. Past participle
y
1
e# ogan 63 e# ah 190 ugon 118 ogen 13
choose ce# osan 42 ce# as 322 curon 79 coren 859
freeze fre# osan 2 fre# as 2 fruron 4 froren 6
shoot sce# otan 30 sce# at scuton 19 scoten 31
1
Three principal parts of y and ee are identical.
Table 3. Weak Outcome
chew ce# owan 8 ce# aw 5 cuwon 2 cowen 5
creep cre# opan 3 cre# ap 5 crupon 5 cropen 6
ee
2
e# on 229 e# ah 190 ugon 118 ogen 13
lie le# ogan 19 le# ah 12 lugon 27 logen 19
reek re# ocan 14 re# ac 2 rucon 0 rocen 1
seethe se# oan 3 se# a 4 sudon 4 soden 162
2
No gures were obtainable for mete due to excessive homophony.
From the rst three series, it emerges that type frequency was not the most
important factor. Here we have three series with nearly identical frequency
counts, yet the percentage of verbs surviving as strong is dramatically
lower for Series III. To explain this phenomenon, we must remember that
the nature of the strong verb is to indicate grammatical changes through a
change in the root vowel. If the vowels in the principal parts of a verb are
not easily distinguishable from one another, then the grammatical changes
are indicated only weakly and, from a perceptual point of view, such an
ablaut pattern will be disfavored.
The robustness of the ablaut pattern correlates well with the outcomes
of the rst three series. [i]P[a]P[u], the well-known vowel triangle, are
maximally distinct and [i:]P[a:]P[i] moderately so. In Series III, however,
[eo] spelled <e# o> and [a] spelled <e# a> underwent a near merger in early
Middle English to [e:] and [:] (Lass 1992: 4245) and in some dialects had
become homophonous already in Old English. Because [e:] and [:] are so
similar to each other, as a pair they do a poor job of distinguishing a past
tense from a present. I conclude that Series III verbs were more susceptible
to the use of the dental preterite than they would have been had the two
vowels been more distinct from each other. Taking into account this
greater (relative to Series I and II) tendency to become weak, the verbs
from Series III survive as weak or strong according to their relative token
frequency in Old English, in general. I must leave freeze, with its low
token frequency, for further research.
At least three pieces of evidence make it clear that root shape had some
impact in Series I. Series I had a high survival rate of verbs without fully
attested vocalism in Old English, such as stink, cling, and slink. As men-
tioned above, when the concept of fully attested was introduced, verbs
not fully attested in English continued as strong to the present day only if
they could be t into a very productive series such as this one. Further-
more, both denominal verbs such as ring and string and Norse verbs such
as ing were transferred into this series in Middle English.
By the sixteenth century (OED), a critical mass had been reached, and
the nal velar became the most salient part of the root without requiring
the presence of a nasal. An initial consonant cluster, especially one begin-
ning with [s], was helpful but not necessary.
Evidence for the importance of the velar in dening this series is found
in the reassignment of certain verbs into this category (Bybee 2001: 126).
The verbs stick and dig ought to be weak, but because of their nal velars,
they became conjugated like slink in Middle English even though they had
no nasal. Similarly, strike ought to be conjugated strikePstrokePstricken
but because of its nal velar was susceptible to being conjugated strikeP
struck. In the case of stick and strike, the consonant cluster beginning with
[s] made them even more similar to many verbs in this series, and thus
they transferred more easily. From strike especially we see the importance
of root shape since the word properly belongs to Series II, which has
always had relatively high type frequency, and the vowel of strike does
not even match the usual vowel of Series I, which is [I]. In a product-
oriented schema, this mismatch is not as surprising as it might be in other
theories because inputs need not be identical in form. So if the present
form allows for the creation of a preterite that follows the type of Series
I, the dierences in the vowels are not problematic. In Modern English,
Bybee points out that the eects of the root shape are felt even more
strongly, as seen in the nonstandard preterites snuck and drug of sneak
and drag, respectively (2001: 126).
Table 4 shows the factors that inuenced the outcome of verbs in the
rst three series. Series I was favored by high type frequency, optimal
vowel distinctness, and easily denable root shape, and accordingly it has
the largest percentage of verbs surviving as strong. Series II was favored
by type frequency and by vowel distinctness, and accordingly it has a
lower percentage of verbs surviving as strong compared to Series I but
relatively high compared to other series. Series III was favored by type fre-
quency alone, and accordingly it began to break down both earlier and
more thoroughly than the rst two series, leaving Modern English with a
still lower percentage of surviving strong verbs.
In Series IV and IX, the importance of the function of ablaut over type
frequency also appears clearly. Here the two series, with identical vocalism
in the rst three principal parts, merged their past participles in favor of
the vowel /o/ from Series IX. This process began in Old English (Krygier
1994: 54), and I therefore categorize them into a single series by the time
of the great shift to weak verbs in early Middle English. The [o] participles
in Series IX had a lower type frequency, but [o] is more distinct from [e]
and [] than is [e], and the more distinctive participle was extended, not
the more frequent one. Furthermore, all verbs from these series that
remain strong to the present day now have preterites in [o] taken from
the past participle. This pattern reinforces the conclusion that distinctness
of vowel quality heavily favors survival. Due to the scarcity of surviving
weak verbs from this class, it is dicult to analyze the eects of token fre-
quency, but wreak looks oddly frequent for a weak verb. It may have been
Table 4. Factors Aecting Series I-III
Type Frequency Consistent Root Shape Vowel distinctness
Series I
Series II
Series III
due to analogy with work if metathesis is applied often enough to the
[wr] cluster
2
.
Back-up support for the survival of strong verbs in IV and IX is found
in the root structure. Krygier nds a 90% correlation between preservation
of strong verbs in the 12th century and the presence of a single root-nal
sonorant (1994: 248249). The transfer of wear from the weak system to
the strong on the analogy of bear and tear (OED) is also evidence for the
eects of root structure here. Also transferred to this series was wake from
Series VI based on the analogy of break and speak (OED), all of which
sounded a great deal more alike in the sixteenth century than they do
now. In Table 7, I use Leiths table showing the sociolinguistic distribution
of vowels for mate, meat, and meet in 1600 to show what the possibilities
for our verbs are. The reader is advised to keep in mind that as their spell-
speak sprecan 276 sprc spr con 310 sprecen 53
tread tredan 19 trd 28 tr don 14 treden 21
weave wefan 10 wf 1 w fon 1 wefen 26
bear beran 333 br 336 b ron 127 boren 532
break brecan 142 brc 221 br con 96 brocen
steal stelan 43 stl 47 st lon 17 stolen 48
tear teran 6 tr 17 t ron 17 toren 15
mete
2
metan mt m ton meten
wreak wrecan 112 wrc 80 wr con 7 wrecen 68
quell cwelan 5 cwl 1 cw lon 4 cwelen 1
2
No gures were obtainable for mete due to excessive homophony.
2. Suggested to me by Donka Minkova.
ings suggest, break and speak were once pronounced identically, and their
modern pronunciation reects the selection of an unshifted break from a
dialect that did not undergo the stage of the Great Vowel Shift that raised
the vowel of speak (Lass 1999: 9698).
The same product-oriented schema that allows us to expect dug, struck,
and even snuck to match swung and stung allows woke to match broke
despite dierences in the innitive. Wake, much like shit, had only two
principal parts attested in Old English and now has a preterite from
another series and an unexpected innitive (OED). In the case of wake,
the innitive comes from the weak verb. Shit we will return to later.
In Series IV, like VI and IX, the survival of verbs as strong or weak
correlates reasonably well with their token frequency. These three series
have in common relatively high type frequency and good vowel distribu-
tion. For the gures of Series VI, see Tables 8 through 10. The outstand-
ing exceptions to survival based on token frequency are wreak and fare.
The OED attributes the weakening of fare to confusion with its weak
counterpart, and the weakening of wreak, as mentioned above, may have
been due to confusion with work. It still remains to be asked, of course,
why these particular verbs were more susceptible to confusion with their
weak counterparts than other similar verbs such as steal, and that will
require further investigation.
Few verbs survive from Series VII. None retains the original strong
inection; three are unequivocally weak, and one, namely dive, hesitates
between strong and weak, but the strong inection is that of another
series. The gures appear in Tables 11 and 12, and individual verbs are
discussed following the tables. Bow, according to the OED, began to
absorb the meanings of its weak causative bey in the 13th and 14th cen-
turies, and simultaneously it became weak. Its weak outcome is therefore
like fare and possibly wreak, which as seen above also became confused
with weak counterparts. Brook has no attested strong forms in Middle
English (Krygier 1994: 257), so we can conclude that it was not robustly
strong even in Old English. Dive, the one verb from this series with strong
Table 7. Wake, break, speak c. 1600. (Leith 1983: 1489)
Aristocracy Bourgeoisie Lower Class
meet [i:] meet [i:] meet [i:]
break/speak meat [:]/[e:] meat [e:] meat [i:]
wake mate [:]/[:] mate [e:] mate [e:]
forms, takes its innitive from the weak system and its strong preterite and
participle from Series VII to create a paradigm that ts nicely into Series
II (OED).
The fact that so few verbs from this series survive into Modern English
should not, of course, be taken to say anything about the type frequency
of the series in Middle English. The Middle English type frequency num-
bers will need to be computed separately, relative to those of all the other
series. I point this out because of the disparity between the similar Old
English type frequencies of Series VI and VII and the number of modern
survivals. The disparities are presented in Table 13.
There were two other series, V and VIII, that merged the last principal
part that kept them separate, this time for a phonological reason. In the
early part of the Middle Ages, [a:w] and [o:w] regularly became [ou]. I
(for)sake sacan 130 so#c 139 so#con 29 sacen 22
shake sceacan 21 sceo#c 80 sceo#con 3 sceacen 25
stand standan 473 sto#d 766 sto#don 296 standen 80
draw dragan 7 dro#h 2 dro#gon 11 dragen 21
wake wo#c 41 wo#con 14
fare faran 573 fo#r fo#ron 291 faren 291 [sic]
wade wadan 13 wo#d wo#don 2 waden 4
wash wascan 6 wo#x 2 wo#xon 1 waxen 2
Table 10. Uncertain Outcome
grave grafan 8 gro#f 9 gro#fon 2 grafen 28
lade hladan 12 hlo#d 9 hlo#don 8 hladen 27
shave scafan 3 sco#f sco#fon 0 scafen 4
therefore think it fair to consider these as one class with high type fre-
quency by the time of the breakdown of the strong verb system. However,
unlike in most series, including the otherwise similar IV/IX, the survival
of strong versus weak verbs in V/VIII does not evidently follow token
frequency lines. Figures are presented in Tables 14, 15, and 16. Grow
and throw have inexplicably low token frequencies to survive as strong
although with the proviso that homophony prevented counts of the pre-
terite of throw. If these two survive as strong, one would expect ow to
do so as well with the same root shape, ablaut, and type frequency, and
signicantly higher token frequency, which is not the case. The verbs of
this series remain a mystery to me.
All verbs in Series X and above have low type frequencies, and several
have frequencies as low as 1, meaning they are unique patterns. Accord-
ingly, they have a low survival rate of strong verbs, and generally only
verbs with very high token frequencies survive. Verbs belonging to a series
higher than X have type frequencies of no more than 7, and it is at this
point that I have grouped all the remaining verbs together rather than
giving separate tables for each. Because of the high numbers of verbs sur-
viving as weak, I give only a selection of those in Table 23.
brook bru#can 189 bre# ac 50 brucon 13 brocen
bow bu#gan 271 be# ah 138 bugon 111 bogen 43
shove scu#fan 30 sce# af scufon 14 scofen 40
dive du#fan 12 de#af dufon 1 dofen 3
Table 13
Old English type frequency # of Modern English survivals
Series VI 11 11
Series VII 10 4
grow gro#wan 15 gre# ow 10 gre# owon 3 gro#wen 3
blow bla#wan 16 ble# ow 57 ble# owon 2 bla#wen 40
know cna#wan 242 cne# ow 341 cne# owon 96 cna#wen 82
throw ra#wan 2 re# ow re# owon ra#wen 15
ow o#wan 24 e# ow 51 e# owon 24 o#wen 22
row ro#wan 9 re# ow 8 re# owon 3 ro#wen 3
mow ma#wan 2 me# ow me# owon 2 ma#wen 2
sow sa#wan se# ow 26 se# owon 9 sa#wen 6
fall feallan 91 fe# oll 209 fe# ollon 184 feallen 86
hold healdan 828 he# old 1047 he# oldon 256 healden 473
fold fealdan 3 fe# old 19 fe# oldon 2 fealden 21
wield
3
wealdan we# old 67 we# oldon 8 wealden 25
wax weaxan 62 we# ox 126 we# oxon 25 weaxen 53
3
Wield is a result of the merger of strong wealdan and weak wieldan according to
the OED.
Series XI and greater
Sorting out the relative impacts of root shape, token frequency, and
vowel distinctness is interesting. In general, verbs with high token fre-
quency, in particular of the preterite singular, survive as strong. As we
expect, the lower the type frequency, the higher the token frequency needs
to be for a verb to come out as strong. Consider for example step as com-
pared to weave in Series IV above. There are no root shape eects, nearly
similar ablaut pattern once the participial [o] of weave was transferred to
the preterite in the fourteenth and fteenth centuries, and a much more
frequent preterite for step, yet the preterite of step has been stepped since
the Middle Ages (OED; Krygier 1994). The lower type frequency of step
was obviously what disfavored it for survival. In many cases, however,
a type frequency of less than 10 overlaps with the presence of a liquid-
consonant cluster, which Krygier nds a signicant factor in the weaken-
ing process during the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries (1994: 248).
Modern
English
Innitive Pret. sg. Pret. pl. Past participle
slay sle# an 281 slo#h >365 slo#gon 325 slagen 355
lie licgan 76 lg 440 l gon 11 legen
sit sittan 164 st 663 s ton 309 seten
give
4
giefan 16 geaf 785 ge# afon 50 giefen 20
get
4
gietan 75 geat >345 ge# aton 170 gieten 65
eat etan 206 t ton 146 eten 9
swear swerian 40 swo#r 174 swo#ron 30 sworen 28
come cuman 826 co#m 6050
cwo#m 425
co#mon 1023
cwo#mon 65
cumen 580
ght feohtan 89 feaht 269 fuhton 230 fohten 19
see se# on 803 seah 1691 sa#won 728 sewen 613
4
The Old Norse borrowings account for the initial [g] in Modern English, which
would have been [ j] if from Old English.
Two cases where verbs with high token frequency failed to remain
strong are outstanding: let and read. Both have low type frequency, high
token frequency unfortunately due to homophony I was unable to
obtain gures for the preterite singular of either limited vowel distinct-
ness, especially after [:] became [:], and both end in dentals.
A selection of carve, starve, warp, help, melt, swallow, leap, ay, sleep, read,
let, burst, braid, ban, span, step, yield, yelp, weep, shed, shape, delve, spurn,
thresh/thrash
carve ceorfan 59 cearf 47 curfon 19 corfen 69
help helpan 106 healp 9 hulpon 2 holpen 36
melt meltan 13 mealt 6 multon 5 molten 13
swallow swelgan 33 swealh 45 swulgon 15 swolgen 10
leap hle# apan 6 hle# op 17 hle# opon 3 hle# apen 1
sleep sl pan 2 sle# p 56 sle# pon 31 sl pen 1
read r dan 159 re# d re# don 2 r den
let l tan 512 le# t le# ton l ten 360
burst berstan 25 brst 79 burston 36 borsten 16
shear scieran 1 scear scearon scoren 31
heave hebban 104 ho#f ho#fon 14 hafen 7
hang ho#n he# ng 3 he# ngon 11 hangen 1
swell swellan 2 swealh 43 swullon swollen 38
beat be# atan 18 be# ot be# oton 22 be# aten 31
hew he# awan 19 he# ow he# owon 11 he# awen 29
bid biddan 579 bd 1068 b don 330 beden 105
Now, Krygier nds a strong enough correlation between dental-nal
verbs and the shift to weak in the twelfth century for him to conclude
that root-nal dentals triggered the disintegration. His explanation for
the phenomenon is that the Norman French speakers, using English as a
second language, reinterpreted the root-nal dental as the dental preterite.
Anglo-Saxons, with native-speaker intuitions about which verbs were
weak and which were strong, interpreted that as the speakers of the pres-
tige dialect inecting strong verbs as weak, and they generalized it to the
weakening but the most salient strong verbs (1994: 148).
Although relatively little eect by the Normans on the English gram-
mar has been demonstrated
3
, weakening of strong verbs is a move in the
direction of simplifying the grammar, and therefore I consider it at least
possible that once the Normans triggered the change, the Anglo-Saxons
might have continued to carry it out. I am not committed to his explana-
tion, but I would like to point out that no matter who or what triggered
the change, if the shift from strong to weak indeed began among dental-
nal verbs, several of these verbs ablauted with vowels of a low degree of
perceptual distinctness. Examples include let, read, shed, and beat. In each
case, the vowel of the preterite was a front mid vowel or diphthong that
became a front mid vowel in Early Middle English, and in each case the
vowel of the present tense was a front mid vowel or diphthong that
became a front mid vowel. If Norman speakers, or even native speakers,
could hardly hear the dierence between the root of the strong past and
of the present, and if the preterite already had a dental at the end, they
might all the more easily have been reinterpreted as weak.
In contrast, verbs ending in dentals with distinctive vowels in the pre-
sent and preterite or participle, such as writePwrotePwritten and sitPsat
survive as strong. Their survival indicates that the dental alone did not
fate a verb to become weak and that additional explanation, such as vowel
distinctness, is called for.
Sit is perhaps the strongest of the strong verbs. Despite its dental and
low type frequency, sit had a high enough token frequency to continue to
3. There is more evidence for Norse inuence on the grammar of English, but
in most cases where the OE verb is strong, the Norse cognate is also strong.
In fact, in some cases where the Norse verb is weak, e.g., ing, the OE verb
is strong and remains so. Whether the interaction between two languages
with robust strong verb systems but with diering vowel qualities in many
preterites e.g., OE br and ON bar would be enough to trigger a general
shift toward weakening verbs, I cannot answer denitively, but I doubt it.
be inected as strong, which itself is not surprising. What may come as a
surprise, depending on the framework in which one operates, is that sit
must have been largely responsible for the preterite shat of shit and prob-
ably the preterite spat of spit. Shit should conjugate shitePshote, and spit
was originally weak (OED). The problem is that the process of analogy is
not well understood by linguists. In a nearest neighbor model, the most
similar form already present in the lexicon, in this case sat, provides the
template for the new form being produced, in this case the preterites of
shit and spit.
Other ndings, though, including those of Bybee (2001: 124), suggest
that a type frequency of more than three verbs should be necessary for
productivity. Furthermore, even if one counters that other verbs, such as
bidPbad, display the same pattern, Moder (1992) nds that as high
token frequency leads to greater autonomy, items with high token fre-
quency have weaker connections to related forms and thus are more likely
to become independent and less likely to contribute to the formation of
productive classes (Bybee 2001: 136). According to this principle, a type
including sitPsat and bidPbad, for example, should not take in new
members like spit and shit because sitPsat should be treated as an isolate.
A resolution may lie in the use of a framework that allows for analogies
to multiple neighbors. If in the sixteenth century, spit was perceived as
closely resembling both sit and spin in dierent respects, then the preterites
sat and span might both have contributed to the formation of the preterite
spat. Then, by the nineteenth century, speakers of the language have sitP
sat, spitPspat, and spinPspan, which would all tend to contribute toward
shat as one of the options for the preterite of shit. However, the jury is still
out on whether this sort of multiple analogy eect is possible in grammars:
Albright and Hayes (2003: 152) are rather emphatic that it is not.
From the results obtained in this paper, I conclude that the single most
important factor in preserving the strong inection of a verb was the per-
ceptual ease of distinguishing the vowels of the principal parts. Token
frequency and root shape are hard to rank with respect to one another.
Within series of all type frequencies, with isolated exceptions, token fre-
quency was responsible for selecting which survived as weak and which
as strong. Root shape was denitely responsible for the transfer of a verb
from one series to another or from outside the strong verb system into it.
Root shape played a signicant role in holding existing strong verbs in the
system, which is especially visible when the verb was poorly attested in
Old English. Type frequency seems less important than the other factors
as type of high frequencies might have low survival rates, and isolated
type frequencies might have robust strong inection, depending on the
other factors. It is certainly not unimportant, however, as reected in the
organization of this paper. The lower the type frequency, the greater the
other factors, especially token frequency, must be in order to keep a verb
strong.
Regarding the more general theoretical implications, the strong verbs
support a product-oriented schema in which a preterite of a desired shape,
such as struck and dug is derived from inputs of dierent shapes strike
and dig. There is also some evidence for multiple analogies in which one
new form may be produced by analogy with multiple existing forms.
Much work, however, remains to be done on the development of the
strong verbs. I intend to do a more accurate and precise token frequency
count of forms in Old English using the searchable corpus and to ob-
tain frequency counts from Middle English and perhaps Early Modern
English. Toward that end, there exist searchable parsed corpora from
those periods from the Penn Helsinki project, as well as other resources,
such as Longs dissertation The English Strong Verb: From Chaucer to
Caxton. Once the numbers are more reliable, statistical analyses can be
carried out to nd the answer to the question How frequent is frequent
enough?
The verbs that are historically weak but synchronically strong, verbs of
the leadPled type, and historically weak but synchronically partially
strong verbs of the keepPkept type, must be included in the study. Such
verbs both provide further examples in the language of indicating gram-
matical change through a change in the vowel, which must have been
important in the preservation of the historically strong verbs, and they
provide analogies for specic strong verbs, such as readPread.
Dierent models of analogy will be tested to see how well they predict
the outcomes of these data. Hayes and Albright (2003), among others,
have done a study with modern native speakers to see how they handle
nonce verbs and have produced a model based on their study, but to my
knowledge, no one has investigated the success of dierent analogical
models in explaining the data of Middle English.
I intend to quantify statements about vowel distribution with as much
precision as possible. Flemmings dissertation Auditory Representations in
Phonology explores the spread of vowels within the space of the mouth
and the number of distinctions that can be made and perceived. I will see
how his model applies to the data of verbs losing ablaut because their
vowels were too close together. I also intend to quantify the critical
mass reached in Middle English when Series I verbs no longer required a
nasal, allowing the past tense of strike to be struck.
Acknowledgements
I am indebted to my advisor, Donka Minkova, for guidance in writing
this paper and to the students and professors in the Program in Indo-
European Studies at UCLA for feedback on drafts.
References
Albright, Adam and Bruce Hayes
2003 Rules vs. Analogy in English Past Tenses: A Computational/
Experimental Study. Cognition 90: 119161.
Bybee, Joan
2001 Phonology and Language Use. Cambridge: Cambridge Univer-
sity Press, Dictionary of Old English Corpus in Electronic
Form. February 11, 2005. Antonette di Paolo Healy Centre
for Medieval Studies, University of Toronto. <ets.umdl.umich.
edu/o/oec/>
Flemming, Edward S.
2002 Auditory Representations in Phonology. New York: Routledge.
Krygier, Marcin
1994 The Disintegration of the English Strong Verb System. University
of Bamberg Studies in English Linguistics, vol. 34. Frankfurt am
Main: Peter Lang GmbH.
Lass, Roger
1994 Old English: A Historical Linguistic Companion. Cambridge
University Press.
Lass, Roger
1992 Phonology and Morphology. In The Cambridge History of the
English Language, Volume II: 10661476, edited by Norman
Blake, 23155. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Lass, Roger
1999 Phonology and Morphology. In The Cambridge History of the
English Language, Volume III, 14761776, edited by Roger Lass,
56186. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Leith, Dick
1983 A Social History of English. London: Routledge and Kegan
Paul.
Long, Mary McDonald
1994 The English Strong Verb from Chaucer to Caxton. Menasha,
Wisc.: Banta.
Moder, Carol Lynn
1992 Productivity and Categorization in Morphological Classes. Bualo,
NY: SUNY dissertation.
September
2007
John Simpson. Oxford University Press. <www.oed.com>
Quirk, Randolph et al.
1985 A Comprehensive Grammar of the English Language. London,
New York: Longman.
Welna, Jerzy
1996 English Historical Morphology. Wydawnictwa Uniwersytetu
Warsawskiego.
Commentary on Branchaw, Survival of the Strongest:
Strong Verb Inection from Old to Modern English
Sherrylyn Branchaws article focuses on the diachronic development of
strong verb inection from Old English to Modern English and, spe-
cically, on the question of why some verbs have remained strong to the
present day while others have become weak.
The method Branchaw has chosen for her study is sound: she uses the
OE verb system as her starting point and sets out to nd what kind of
factors could explain survival of certain kinds of strong verbs into the
ME period and beyond. The factors examined include type frequency
(the number of verbs with the same Ablaut pattern), token frequency (the
number of occurrences of a specic verb in the Dictionary of Old English
Corpus), shape of the root of the verb, and eciency of the Ablaut pattern
in making the distinctions. All these are relevant and yield interesting re-
sults despite the fact that the statistics are not yet completely accurate as
the author herself points out. On the other hand, it must be borne in mind
that the nature of the surviving OE textual evidence is such that any quan-
titative generalizations based on the corpus must be treated with caution.
The method used in the study has another potentially major limitation:
Branchaw compares her OE data only with standard present-day English
and totally disregards the evidence oered by non-standard dialects. The
English Dialect Dictionary (EDD), for example, provides ample evidence
of extensive variation in the past and past participle forms in most if not
all of the series of strong verbs discussed by Branchaw. To give but some
examples, the following verbs from Branchaws Series I, which she con-
siders to survive as strong only, are attested in nineteenth-century dialects
with weak outcomes: bind, drink, run, spring, swim, swing, wind, slink. The
preterite and past participle forms for drink serve as an illustration of the
considerable range of variability in the dialect data:
pret. drak, drenk, drenked, drinked, dronk, druck, drunk
pp. dhrunken, drank, drinked, dronken, drucken, druckin, druken,
drukken, drunk, drunken
In Branchaws Series III, in turn, all of the four verbs with strong out-
comes ( y, choose, freeze, shoot) are also found with weak outcomes in
the EDD. To give an idea of the broad range of variability found in the
dialectal data, we list in the following the dierent preterite and past par-
ticiple forms recorded for the verb freeze in the EDD:
pret. fraaz, fraaze, fraze, frez, friz, frore, fruize, fruz, vreezed, vriz, vrore
pp. frawn, freezen, frez, friz, frizzent, froan, froar, froaz, froozed, fror,
frore, froren, frorn, frown, froze, frozed, frozzan, frozzen, fruozen,
fruz, fruzzen, vraur, vreezed, vriz, vroar, vror, vrore
Taking these dialectal data into consideration would not necessarily have
aected the overall conclusions reached by Branchaw, but it would have
brought to light some of the complexities involved in assessing the relative
weight of each of the factors examined here.
The otherwise clear exposition of the data and the argumentation suf-
fers somewhat from the abrupt transition from Series I to III to IV and IX
in the description of the types of strong verbs. This is aggravated by the
lack of explanation in the previous text about the number of the series
as Branchaw calls them and their distinguishing features. The reader
would also have beneted from some kind of an introduction to Tables 5
and 6. Other shortcomings include a rather heavy reliance on work by
others (especially Krygier 1994 and Bybee 2001) in matters relating to fac-
tors inuencing survival of (types of ) strong verbs. Multiple analogy is
suggested as an explanation for some individual verbs (shit, spit), but the
mentioned counterarguments to multiple analogies by Albright and Hayes
(2003) remain unexplained.
Despite the mentioned shortcomings, Branchaw has made an im-
portant contribution to the eld by showing, rst, that a multiplicity of
factors need to be considered in trying to explain why some strong verb
forms have survived up to the present day, and, second, that some of these
factors have been more inuential than others. According to her results,
the perceptual ease of distinguishing the vowels of the principal parts
turned out to be the most important factor in preserving the strong inec-
tion of a verb. Token frequency and shape of the root were next in the
hierarchy whereas type frequency had less of an eect on the survival rates
than the others. Branchaws results are persuasive, notwithstanding the
aforementioned limitation concerning the evidence from dialectal forms
of English.
106 Markku Filppula and Juhani Klemola
Response to Filppula and Klemola
Sherrylyn Branchaw
I would like to thank the reviewer of my paper for the helpful comments
provided, and here I will respond to points made about dialect forms and
about multiple analogy.
Data forms from dialects other than what is now the American stan-
dard are of course invaluable. Their importance is hinted at in my paper
in this volume in the use of the forms drug and snuck, and they are used
more crucially in my talk at ICEHL 15 (Munich, August 2008). It is not
my goal to explain all forms in any dialect of the English language,
though that is a valuable endeavor, for that would make the task of this
particular project too large, but to use them both to explain the origin of
standard forms and as evidence for linguistic phenomena.
As an example of the former, the OED explains the preterite drew for
draw as a form that arose in the Middle English dialect of the north of
England where a phonological change that occurred in the south did not
take place, and therefore in the north draw and blow continued to resem-
ble each other closely. The analogy blow : blew :: draw : X, where X is
drew, was therefore more apt in the north than in the south, and the form
drew spread until it entered what would become the standard dialect. The
north, therefore, is indirectly responsible for other preterites such as slew
and ew. Those forms probably arose when the past tense morpheme
<ew> became associated with present tenses in both <aw> and <ow>
thus making it a product-oriented schema. Because <ew> tense form no
longer occurred only with present tenses of a single form, it was free to
become more productive and expand to verbs of still other vowels such
as slay and y. Nonstandard forms in modern American English such as
drug and snuck provide still more evidence for product-oriented schemas
since drag and sneak do not share the vowel of sting and the other mem-
bers of its class. Examples such as these abound.
Furthermore, as my reviewers point out, one can imagine that Old
English might predict the outcomes of some dialects better than it does
standard American English, or, for that matter, standard British English.
In that case, the dialects will form a backdrop against which to evaluate
other factors that have been at work in the standard language, one of
which might be the inuence of grammarians.
As for multiple analogy, the debate is still open, and further research
will be required before I can assert a belief in its existence or non-
existence. Hayes and Albright test their learner models against predictions
that would be made if multiple analogy, which they call variegated anal-
ogy, held true. They identify the kinds of patterns in English that their
model, programmed not to use variegated analogy, would fail to identify,
but they do not nd their model failing to identify these patterns. They
conclude that variegated analogy adds nothing to their model and there-
fore that it is not at work in the grammar of speakers.
Still other scholars, such as Bybee and Hay, have models where each
word has phonological, morphological, and semantic connections of vary-
ing strengths with other words. Such models would allow spit to have pho-
nological connections with the -it of sit and with the spi- of spin. Because
the ablaut of sat and span is a morphological connection between them,
the morphological pattern could be extended analogically to create spat.
I am interested in evaluating this possibility because the rest of the
verbs
4
that form their past tense with // end in nasals, velars, or nasal
velars. Much work has been devoted to characterizing this class, to which
swimPswam and singPsang belong.
It is hard for me to see how spit could have been generated without the
existence of sat since spit does not end in a nasal or velar, and the gram-
mar of modern English by Quirk et al. (1985) places sit and spit into a sub-
category to which no other verbs belong. Yet a popular claim asserts that
high frequency words with unique morphology remain idiosyncratic and
do not form the basis for analogy. If this assertion is true, sit alone makes
a poor model for spit. This claim itself, however, has also been called into
question. Hare and Elman (1995) report an experiment in which speakers
pronounced the nonce-word vone to rhyme with the idiosyncratic gone
rather than bone. Nevertheless, it remains to be seen if indubitable exam-
ples in natural language can be found.
The case of spat, then, will make an interesting test case for the claims
about the existence of multiple analogy and about the existence of analo-
gizing based on a single, high-frequency item. If neither of those phenom-
ena exists, then it is necessary to re-evaluate the criteria of the class of sing
4. With the exception of (for)bidP(for)bad(e), for speakers who have //
rather than /ei/.
and swim to admit a verb ending in a dental stop. In any case, the English
strong verb preterites, both of the standard American English and of other
dialects, form a fertile testing ground for morphological theory.
References
Hare, M. & J.L. Elman
1995 Learning and Morphological Change. Cognition 56.1: 6198.
Quirk, Randolph et al.
1985 A Comprehensive Grammar of the English Language. London,
New York: Longman.
Response to Filppula and Klemola 109
Subject Compounding and a Functional Change of the
Derivational Sux -ing in the History of English
*
Akiko Nagano
1. Introduction
In the literature on Present-day English (PE) word formation, compound
nouns of the form [Noun Verb-ing] (e.g., city planning, housekeeping,
letter writing) and compound nouns of the form [ Noun Verb-er] (e.g.,
dish washer, taxi driver, watchmaker) are often called synthetic com-
pound nouns. The possible grammatical relation between the rst Noun
and the second Verb in these constructions has constituted an important
topic of discussion. For example, Bloomeld (1933: 231232) claims that
synthetic compounds embody the verb-object relationship, and Marchand
(1969: 1519) also denes synthetic compounds in terms of the verb-object
relationship. To state simply the most generally held view, PE synthetic
compounds are based on the verb-object relationship and exclude the
subject-verb relationship (Adams 2001: 7879, Lieber 2005: 381).
Against this background, this paper will examine -ing compound nouns
diachronically and will argue that -ing compound nouns in Old English
(OE) and Middle English (ME) allowed the subject-verb relationship and
that certain types of PE -ing compound nouns do as well. The aim of this
paper lies in elucidating the relationship between the possibility of subject
compounding (SC hereafter) and a functional change of the derivational
sux -ing. In short, I will argue that the possibility of SC in -ing changes
throughout the history of English and that this change can be accounted
for in terms of a functional change of the derivational sux -ing.
* I would like to thank the audience at the 5th meeting of the Studies of the His-
tory of English Language (SHEL) for their helpful comments. I am also
indebted to Elizabeth Traugott and two anonymous reviewers for their valu-
able comments and suggestions. Thanks also go to Molly Bassett and Kurt
Spurlock for stylish improvements. Needless to say, responsibility for any
errors is my own. This work is nancially supported by Grant-in-Aid for
Young Scientists (B), No. 19720115, from the Ministry of Education, Culture,
Sports, Science and Technology in Japan.
2. Subject Compounding in PE
Consider the representative examples of PE -ing compound nouns cited in
(1). The derivational sux -ing forms a deverbal compound noun. The
acceptability dierence between (1a) and (1b) indicates that, unlike an
object, the subject of a head verb cannot be compounded as the non-head
of an -ing deverbal compound. For instance, the non-head noun of the
acceptable compound noun car-driving is interpreted as an object of the
head verb, while the compound noun *girl-swimming is unacceptable if
the non-head is interpreted as a subject of the head verb.
(1) a. car-driving, carol-singing, fruit-devouring, pasta-eating
e.g., Bicycle-repairing went on in the back room.
(Adams 2001: 78)
Taxi-driving by John can be dangerous.
(Di Sciullo 1992: 65)
Flower-arranging by experts is preferable to do-it-yourself.
(ibid.)
b. *child-devouring (of fruit) a child devours fruit, *dog-running,
*girl-swimming, *rain-falling, *sunrising, *weather changing
e.g., *Unexpected guest-arriving is a nuisance. (Adams 2001: 78)
*Man-sleeping is sometimes noisy. (Di Sciullo 1992: 65)
*Sun-rising is nice to watch. (ibid.)
This fact is considered to be a general property of PE -ing compound
nouns, as Adams (2001: 7879) shows:
Compounded process nominalizations cannot easily exhibit relationships
other than that of verb-object: compare the subject-verb expressions in
*unexpected guest-arriving is a nuisance, *frequent dog-barking disturbs
the neighbors, *mechanic-repairing of bicycles, *tycoon-evasion of taxes.
Adjuncts and complements of the verb other than direct objects also appear
strange when compounded with process nominalizations: *guest-cooking of
meals, *council-sending of letters.
Unacceptable -ing compound nouns such as (1b) and those found in the
above citation led some researchers to propose general principles to
exclude SC in -ing. Roeper and Siegels (1978) First Sister Principle and
112 Akiko Nagano
Selkirks (1982) First Projection Principle are probably the most famous
examples of such general principles on compounding.
1
Interestingly, PE allows SC when the head verb is nominalized by a suf-
x other than -ing. For example, the non-heads of the deverbal compound
nouns in (2a) and (2b) below can be interpreted as subjects of the head
verbs. In these cases, the head verbs are nominalized not by the sux
-ing but by conversion or by nominalization suxes of lesser productivity
like -al.
(2) a. baby-step, bee sting, earthquake, heart-ache, lion attack, the
Mitterrand visit, mouse-squeak, rainfall, sunset, weather change
e.g., One of the best-known episodes of repeated lion attack
occurred in Kenya in 1898. Rail construction was going
on about 40 miles north of Tsavo National Park when two
lions began killing the workers. Twenty-six Indians and a
similar number of Africans lost their lives before the lions
were shot. (www.webcorp.org.uk)
There is concern that a weather change in South Australia
may do little to help the ght against big bushres on
Kangaroo Island. (www.webcorp.org.uk)
b. consumer choice,
2
dust accumulation, population growth,
train-arrival
e.g., Consumers choose products based on various tangible and
intangible attributes. Previous research has shown that there
is a dierence between appearance-based and word-based
evaluations of wood species. However, little research has
been done on how this dierence aects consumer choice.
(www.webcorp.org.uk)
As Bauer and Renouf (2001: 117120) claim, conversion gives rise to
numerous examples of SC. Along with instances of object compounding
(e.g., handshake, pay raise, tax cut), there are many instances, such as
bee sting and weather change, where the subject of an intransitive verb
is compounded. Additionally, there are some instances, such as lion
1. See Lieber (2005: 380383) for an up-to-date survey of the development of
this discussion in generative-linguistic word-formation theories.
2. Strictly speaking, the head noun of this deverbal compound is nominalized
not by suxation but by vowel alternation (choosePchoice).
Subject Compounding and a Functional Change 113
attack, where the subject rather than the object of a transitive verb is
compounded.
In the literature, the acceptability dierence between (1a) and (1b)
seems to be taken as a universal fact about -ing deverbal compounds in
PE; however, my corpus-based research (Nagano 2007) has found that
PE does allow SC in -ing to a limited extent, as the -ing compound nouns
in (3) below show. For example, the compound noun fruit-ripening in the
sample sentence in (3a) has the subject-verb interpretation fruit ripens.
One might argue that the compounds in (3a, b) are object compounds
and their category is adjective. Of course, as PE -ing compounds, they
might be used as object-incorporating compound adjectives (e.g., a fruit-
ripening factor, milk-souring bacteria), but the sample sentences cited in
(3a, b) clearly show that they can also be used as subject-incorporating
compound nouns. In fact, since these -ing compounds all describe a
natural phenomenon that is not caused volitionally by an external agent,
the subject-verb reading is much more frequent and easier to induce than
the verb-object reading.
(3) a. artery-hardening, fruit-ripening, gap-widening, muscle softening,
poverty deepening, skin-darkening, world-attening
e.g., Lower blood sugar (by natural means or with insulin if
necessary) according to the condition. This will decrease the
blood sugar in the body eectively, control the diabetes and
thus prevent or postpone the occurrence of artery hardening
indirectly. (www.webcorp.org.uk)
Because ethylene is the main trigger for fruit ripening,
several genetic engineering strategies involve the reduction
or prevention of ethylene production. Tomato fruits that do
not produce ethylene develop fully on the plant and then
stop before ripening and turning red. (www.webcorp.org.uk)
b. airway-narrowing, hair-thinning, milk-souring, muscle thinning
e.g., In exercise-induced asthma, the airway narrowing begins
within 5 to 15 minutes after initiating physical exercise.
Unfortunately there is no one simple explanation as to
why hair thinning occurs as it may be down to a medical
condition or it may be the type of lifestyle a person is
leading. In fact the only real way of determining the cause
of hair thinning is for a person to visit their doctor.
114 Akiko Nagano
The absence of these female hormones after menopause may
lead to . . . hair loss, skin coarsening, decrease in breast size
and support, and bone thinning. (www.webcorp.org.uk)
Notice that the head verbs of the -ing compounds in (3a, b) cannot
be nominalized by conversion. As Marchand (1969: 276277) observes, a
derived verb, whether a suxed one (e.g., to widen) or a converted one
(e.g., to thin), cannot be converted into a noun (e.g., *[widen]
N
, *[thin]
N
).
3
Due to this morphological restriction, the converted versions of the SC
compounds in (3a, b) (e.g., *[ gap-widen]
N
, *[hair-thin]
N
) are systematically
impossible. This is why -ing SC in PE is exceptionally allowed in (3); in
PE, SC is realized by conversion or by non-productive axes as discussed
above, but the unavailability of these options forces the exceptional use
of -ing compounding. My observation that conversion and -ing forms
constitute an almost complementary distribution in SC, with conversion
forms being unmarked options, is conrmed by the contrast between the
unacceptable instances in (1b) and the acceptable instances in (2a). For
example, compare the unacceptable -ing form *rainfalling with the accept-
able conversion form rainfall and the unacceptable *weather-changing
with the acceptable weather change.
It should be noted that we do not see this distributional fact as conver-
sion forms blocking -ing forms in SC. Rather, we will claim in section 5
that -ing SC is very dicult in PE as a result of the recategorization
function of the sux -ing, while conversion allows SC because it does not
have that function. See section 5 for details.
In sum, PE uses conversion or less-productive suxes than -ing for
SC, and SC in -ing is exceptionally allowed when these options are
unavailable.
3. Subject Compounding in OE and ME
In OE and ME, SC in -ing occurred more frequently than in PE, and its
possibility was independent of the existence of conversion counterparts.
3. This restriction on the morphological property of a base word seems to apply
to conversion in general, independently of syntactic category. A derived noun
or adjective cannot be converted into a verb either (e.g., *to arrival, *to free-
dom, *to guidance, *to idleness, *to piggy, *to spoonful ) (Bauer 1983: 223227,
Marchand 1969: 372373).
For instance, OE compound nouns in (4)
4
and ME compound nouns in
(5) given below are just a few of many instances of -ing SC. These in-
stances suggest that many of PE conversion instances of SC, such as (2a),
originally had an -ing form. For instance, the PE conversion compound
earthquake had the -ing form erthe-quakinge in ME.
(4) eorbeofung earthquake, feaxfallung shedding of hair,
s-ebbing ebbing of the sea (Kastovsky 1992: 367)
(5) dai-dauing day-dawning daybreak, drope-falling drop-fall,
erthe-moving earth movement, erthe-quakinge earthquake,
sun-rising sunrise (Kageyama 1985: 14)
cok crowynge cock-crow, day-springyng day spring, hart stangyng
heart sting, sonne rysyng/arising sunrise, son settyng/doun gang-
ing sunset (Tajima 1985: 125)
SC by conversion was also allowed in OE and ME, and, as in PE, it seems
to have been a rather productive process. ME produced instances like (6)
below.
(6) earthquake, earthquave, herte-bren heartburn, nosebleed, sunne
sine sunshine, sunrise, sunset, toth-ake tooth-ache
(Marchand 1969: 76)
In short, the -ing SC was rather freely allowed in OE and ME, but, in
PE, its productivity has dropped. Instead, the rival conversion form has
gained productivity.
4. Functional Change of the Derivational Sux -ing
Kastovsky (1985, 1986) claims that a derivational ax has two main func-
tions: recategorization and naming. Recategorization refers to the
fact that a derivational sux usually changes the syntactic category of a
word as required by its syntactic environment. Naming describes the pro-
cess through which derivation yields a new name or label for an extra-
linguistic entity. For instance, compare the meanings of curiousness and
4. The suxes -ung and -ing were the same sux in OE. Kastovsky (1985: 241)
treats -ung as an alternant of his -ing
1
and groups the following OE derivatives
into the same action noun category:
(i) binding binding, delng digging, brastlung rustling, huntung hunting
116 Akiko Nagano
curiosity and those of callousness and callosity. The -ness form is a pure
transposition from adjective to noun,
5
while the -ity form can refer to
an entity as a countable noun (e.g., They admired his dress, but only as a
curiosity/ Callosities can be so painful as to aect a persons gait). Thus, in
Kastovskys terms, -ness tends toward a recategorization sux, while -ity
tends toward a naming sux.
In the domain of nominalization, these two derivational functions cor-
respond to Grimshaws (1990) distinction between event nominals and
result nominals.
6
An event nominal is a nominalization that changes
only the category of a base verb and inherits its argument structure, as in
(7) below. A result nominal is a nominalization that refers to a concrete
entity and does not inherit the argument structure of a base verb, as in
(8) below. An event nominal has an Event argument (Ev) as its external
argument and suppresses the original external argument of a base verb (as
indicated by x 0), while a result nominal only has a non-thematic argu-
ment R, which binds a specic LCS-argument of a base verb (as indicated
by R y).
7
(7) assign
V
<x <y>> !assignment
N
<Ev <x 0 <y>>
e.g., (Johns) assignment of dicult problems always causes
problems.
The assignment of that problem too early in the course always
causes problems. (Grimshaw 1990: 54)
5. The sux -ness changes only the syntactic category of a base word, so, for
instance, the sentence in (i a) is synonymous with the sentences in (i b, c)
(Arono 1976: 38).
(i) a. His callousness surprised me.
b. The fact that he was callous surprised me.
c. The extent to which he was callous surprised me.
6. To avoid unnecessary complications, I ignore here Grimshaws distinction
between complex event nominals and simple event nominals. A complex event
nominal has an argument structure to be realized syntactically (e.g., The
examination of the patients took a long time), whereas a simple event nominal,
though it similarly expresses an event, does not (e.g., The examination took a
long time).
7. For a more detailed comparison of the lexical representations of event and
result nominals, see Grimshaw (1990: section 3.3). The suppression of the
original external argument in event nominalization is explicated and empiri-
cally conrmed in Grimshaw (1990: chapter 4).
(8) assignment
N
(R y) such that x assigns y (Grimshaw 1990: 67)
e.g., The assignments were long.
They study the/an/one/that assignment.
*The assignments of the problems took a long time.
(Grimshaw 1990: 54)
Major distinctive properties of event nominals are listed in (9) below.
These properties function as criteria for distinguishing event nominals
from result nominals.
(9) a. An event nominal has to realize the argument structure inherited
from its base verb.
b. Occurrence with an adjective such as constant and frequent
forces an event-nominal reading.
c. An event nominal from a transitive verb cannot realize its
subject argument without realizing its object argument.
d. An event nominal cannot take a determiner other than the.
e. An event nominal cannot be plural.
f. An event nominal cannot occur in a predicative nominal
position.
First of all, these criteria clearly show that PE nominalizations by the
sux -ing are always event nominals (except lexicalized instances such as
buildings, happenings, paintings), while nominalizations by conversion are
almost always result nominals. Notice the examination of -ing nominals in
(10) and of conversion nominals in (11) below. The numbering in these ex-
amples corresponds to the numbering of the criteria in (9). For example,
we can see in (10d and e) that -ing nominals meet the criteria in (9d and
e). However, we can see in (11d and e) that conversion nominals do not.
(10) a. the felling *(of the trees), the destroying *(of the city)
b. Constant shooting *(of rabbits) should be prohibited.
c. The governments raising *(of taxes) will invite endless
criticism.
The raising *(of taxes) by the government will invite endless
criticism.
d. *A/one/that shooting of rabbits is illegal.
e. *The shootings of rabbits are illegal.
f. *That was the destroying of the city.
118 Akiko Nagano
(11) a. *Johns hit of Mary, *the drive of this car, *the break of
the vase
b. *Johns frequent hit of Mary,
*the constant break of the vase (is a nuisance)
c. Johns random hit, the kick by Bill
d. take a long walk, I enjoyed that walk along the shore.
e. Whos the TV comedian who does funny walks?
f. That was Johns great hit.
Notice that the most important and conspicuous dierence between -ing
nominalization and conversion nominalization in PE is that an -ing nomi-
nal always inherits the argument structure of a base verb, as in (10a), but
a conversion nominal does not, as in (11a).
8
In Kastovskys terms,
these observations mean that, in PE, -ing functions primarily as a recate-
gorization sux, while the chief function of the verb-to-noun conversion is
naming.
9
Interestingly, in the OE and (at least) early ME periods, the sux -ing
was used more as a naming sux than as a recategorization sux, and
-ing nominals of these periods were predominantly result nominals.
Koma (2000) examines -ing nominals in OE data (lfrics Catholic Homi-
lies and Orosius) on the basis of the list in (9) and concludes that OE -ing
nominals were result nominals. Although there is not enough space here to
review his results in detail, below is some of his clearest evidence for this
8. Citing the following instances, Borer (2003: 54) argues against this view:
(i) a. a good living, a strong craving, a strong beating, a reading
b. Women are reared not to feel competent or gratied by the questing,
the competing, the outbidding that collecting. . .
c. (this kind of) ghting, fraternizing, parenting, writing
(ii) a. My constant change of mentors from 19921997
b. The frequent release of the prisoners by the governor
c. The frequent use of sharp tools by underage children
However, these instances are in a small minority and should be considered
exceptional.
9. As discussed in Kastovsky (1986), the two functions of a derivational sux,
recategorization and naming, are not an either-or matter, but rather two
opposite ends of the same scale. Each sux nds itself somewhere between
those two ends. Even the sux -ing and the conversion (or the zero sux)
sometimes exhibit the combination of these two functions, as the data (i, ii)
in Note 8 suggest. However, their positions on the scale should be extremely
close to the two opposite ends.
conclusion. Compare the following four pieces of data in (12ad) with the
criteria in (9a, c, e, f ) respectively:
(12) a. Pilatus he hfde on reatunge. . .
[reatunge < reatian to threaten]
He held Pilatus in threatening. . . (Orosius 136/1)
onne he mid genierunge fram geferrdene his gecorenra
hi totwm
[nierung < nierian to accuse, condemn]
when he, with condemnation, shall separate them from the
fellowship of his chosen (Homilies 1/412/1718)
b. An event -ing nominal from a transitive verb could realize its
subject and object arguments in one of the following three
patterns in OE, but no such instance can be found in the data.
i) *the enemys destruction the citys
[Genitive] [Genitive]
ii) *the citys destruction the enemys
[Genitive] [Genitive]
iii) *the citys destruction through the enemy
[Genitive] [Accusative]
*the citys destruction from the enemy
[Genitive] [Dative]
c. for hiora mgdena orunga
[orung < orian to oer]
on account of the oerings of their maidens (Orosius 2/910)
d. re lufe fandung is s weorces fremming.
[fremming < fremman to accomplish]
The proof of love is the performance of work.
(Homilies 2/314/2627)
In (12a), we have OE -ing nominals that are derived from transitive verbs
but that do not realize the object arguments of the verbs. Also, as stated in
(12b), no instance of an -ing nominal that realizes both subject and object
arguments was found. The -ing nominal in (12c) takes a plural form, while
that in (12d) occurs in a predicative position.
Parallel instances have been found for early ME -ing nominals. Below
are the most explicit pieces of evidence of their result nominal status: the
120 Akiko Nagano
occurrence with an indenite article [cf. (9d)] and the occurrence in a
plural form [cf. (9e)].
10
(13) a. And certes every man, mayden, or wyf
May understonde that Jhesus, hevene kyng,
Ne wolde nat chese a vicious lyvyng.
(The Canterbury Tales, WB 11801182)
And surely every man, maiden, or wife can understand that
Jesus, heavens king, would not choose sinful living.
b. And over alle the houses angles
Ys ful of rounynges and of jangles
(The House of Fame 19591960)
and all the houses corners are full of whispers and gossips
Although it is virtually impossible to prove that -ing event nominals did
not exist in the OE and ME periods, -ing instances like (12) and (13)
especially the existence of indenite and plural forms prove that -ing
result nominals were produced rather productively in OE and ME. Fur-
thermore, in these periods, the naming function of the derivational sux
-ing was active.
Finally, let us take a look at OE and ME conversion nominals. The cri-
teria in (9), especially (9d) and (9e), suggest that conversion nominals
started as result nominals and remain so in PE as well. As Kastovsky
(1985: 246253) shows, OE produced many conversion nominals like (14)
below, and they all had plural inected forms. Instances in (15ac) below
show that ME conversion nominals were indenite [cf. (9d)], took a plural
form [cf. (9e)], and occurred in a predicative position [cf. (9f )].
(14) Strong masculines: drepe slaying < drepan to strike
Weak masculines: hopa hope, expectation < hopian to hope
Strong feminines: faru journey, going < faran to go
Weak feminines: swinge/swynge strike < swingan to strike
Strong neuters: beorc bark(ing) < beorcan to bark
(Kastovsky 1985: 247248)
10. The data in (13) are taken from Yonekura (2006: 8587).
(15) a. O Thow . . . which . . . tornest the heuene with a Rauessyng sweyh
Oh you, who turn the heaven with a powerful motion
(Biese 1941: 98)
But swich a cry and swich a wo they make,
But they made such a cry and woe
(The Canterbury Tales, Knights T. 900)
b. That for the swough and for the twigges,
This hous was also ful of gigges,
And also ful eek of chirkinges.
so that with the gusts and the whirring of the twigs, this house
was full of squeaks and creakings (The House of Fame 1942)
And with a sorwful noyse he seyde thus,
Among his sobbes and his sykes sore.
and he said in a husky voice amid his sighs and sobs
(Troilus and Criseyde IV375)
c. Quod tho this sely man, I nam no labbe.
The silly fellow answered, Im no blab.
(The Canterbury Tales, Millers T. 323)
In summary, this section has shown that the main function of the deri-
vational sux -ing has changed from naming in OE and ME to recatego-
rization in PE. To put it dierently, -ing nominals in OE and ME were
result nominals and did not maintain the argument structure of the base
verb, while -ing nominals in PE are event nominals and inherit the argu-
ment structure of the base verb. On the other hand, the derivational func-
tion of the verb-to-noun conversion, the naming function, has remained
the same from OE to PE, and it has invariably produced result nominals.
5. The Correlation between Compounding and Nominalization
We have seen that the possibility of SC in -ing has changed from OE to
PE and also that the function of the -ing nominalization has changed
from OE to PE. This section will establish a correlation between these
two historical changes.
Grimshaw (1990) and Oshita (1995) claim that the -ing nominalization
in PE derives an event nominal by suppressing the external argument of a
base verb, as depicted in (16) below, and an -ing deverbal (or synthetic)
compound occurs when an -ing event nominal projects its argument struc-
122 Akiko Nagano
ture thus formed word-internally. For example, the event nominal raising
has an argument structure like (17a) below, and it is realized either on the
phrasal level as in (17b) or word-internally as in (17c). In (16), x is an
external argument of the base verb, and y is an internal argument.
(16) a. base verb: <x <y> > !-ing nominal <Ev <x 0 <y> >
e.g., (Johns) observing of the phenomenon
b. base verb: <x> !-ing nominal <Ev <x 0 > >
e.g., (Johns) swimming
c. base verb: < <y> > !-ing nominal <Ev <y> >
e.g., the ripening of the fruit
(17) a. raising: <Ev <x 0 <y> >
b. the raising of the fund
c. fund-raising
This analysis accounts for why SC in -ing is basically impossible in PE. As
a result of the external-argument suppression, an -ing event nominal does
not inherit an external argument of the verb (i.e., the subject of the verb),
so it cannot be realized in an -ing compound. To use the example in (17),
the y argument of the event nominal raising can be realized in a com-
pound, such as fund-raising, but the suppressed x argument cannot. To
put it more simply, the -ing compounding in PE cannot incorporate a sub-
ject because it is sensitive to the organization of the argument structure of
an -ing event nominal.
On the other hand, -ing in OE and ME derives a result nominal as
shown in section 4, and, since a result nominal does not have an argument
structure, it enters a compound through the N-N compounding. For
example, the ME -ing nominal quakinge does not inherit the argument
structure of the base verb, so the -ing compound erthe-quakinge is formed
through the N-N compounding, simply connecting the two nouns erthe
and quakinge as in (18a) below. This compounding is no dierent from
the compounding of two simple nouns depicted in (18b), which produces
the ME compound nouns schoolmaster and bloodhound, for instance.
(18) a. [erthe]
N
[quakinge]
N
! [erthe-quakinge]
N
b. [school]
N
[master]
N
! [schoolmaster]
N
Signicantly, the N-N compounding is insensitive to argument structure
considerations, so a result nominal can be compounded not only with the
object (or internal argument) of a base verb but also with its subject (or
external argument). This is why SC in -ing was allowed in OE and ME as
we saw in section 3. That is, it was allowed because the subject status of
the non-head noun had nothing to do with the N-N compounding.
Exactly the same account applies to the data of conversion. We saw
that, from OE to PE, deverbal compound nouns with a converted head
exhibit SC, as the data repeated in (19) show:
(19) ME: earthquake, earthquave, herte-bren heartburn, nosebleed,
sunne sine sunshine, sunrise, sunset, toth-ake tooth-ache
((6))
PE: baby-step, bee sting, earthquake, heart-ache, lion attack, the
Mitterand visit, mouse-squeak, rainfall, sunset, weather
change ((2a))
These instances can occur because converted nominals are invariably
result nominals, and, therefore, they form a compound through the N-N
compounding, just like OE and ME -ing nominals.
Finally, let us take a brief look at the -ing compound nouns in (3) in
section 2, which are repeated below.
(20) a. artery-hardening, fruit-ripening, gap-widening, muscle soften-
ing, poverty deepening, skin-darkening, world-attening ((3a))
b. airway-narrowing, hair-thinning, milk-souring, muscle thinning
((3b))
We saw that these SC -ing compound nouns are exceptionally allowed in
PE due to the lack of conversion counterparts. Under the present analysis,
it should be noticed that these PE -ing compounds are based on intransi-
tive verbs of the unaccusative type (Perlmutter 1978: 162163). For
instance, the head intransitive verbs ripen and widen in (20a) and narrow
and sour in (20b) are all unaccusative verbs, describing a natural, non-
volitional change of state. If we adopt the view that subjects of unaccu-
sative verbs are internal arguments,
11
we could say that these -ing
compounds are possible because the subject arguments are not external
arguments and are thus not suppressed by the -ing nominalization. The
relevant argument structure change is the one given in (16c).
In sum, this section has claimed that the possibility of SC depends on
the function of the nominalization involved. That is, event nominals do
not allow SC due to the organization of their argument structures, while
11. This view is rst proposed as the Unaccusativity Hypothesis by Perlmutter
(1978) and defended by Burzio (1986).
124 Akiko Nagano
result nominals allow it because they form a compound through the N-N
compounding. Due to the functional change of the sux -ing, PE -ing
compounds are of the former type, while OE and ME -ing compounds
are of the latter type. Since the function of the conversion nominalization
is invariably naming from OE to PE, compounds with converted heads
always allow SC.
6. One Factor for the Functional Change of the Derivational Sux -ing
In this last section, I am going to point out one factor that seems to under-
lie the functional change of the derivational sux -ing that we saw above.
One of the most signicant historical events for the derivational morphol-
ogy was the introduction of various Romance derivational suxes in the
ME period. This event changed not only the number of derivational suf-
xes in English but also the quality of Germanic suxes that OE origi-
nally had. For example, the corpus-based study by Dalton-Puer (1996)
reveals how the introduction of Romance suxes led to semantic special-
ization of Germanic suxes. Notice the two diagrams in Figure 1 below,
which are taken from Dalton-Puer (1996: 124). These represent form-
meaning mappings of nominalization suxes in two stages of ME: ME 1
in (a) from 1150 to 1250 and ME 3 in (b) from 1350 to 1420. On the left
side, we see newly introduced Romance suxes, while on the right side are
Germanic nominalization suxes. Specic meanings of nominalization
suxes are given in the middle,
12
and the line indicates that the sux in
12. The six categories in the middle stand for the following six semantic groups of
derived nominals:
(i) a. NActionis: Nomina Actionis act(ion) of V-ing
e.g., adaptation, resentment, arrival, departure, coverage, acceptance,
merger, launch
b. NEssendi: Nomina Essendi quality of being A
e.g., freshness, hostility, cruelty, elegance, accuracy, exactitude, precision
c. Instrumental: Instrumental Noun thing with which one V-s
e.g., eraser, perforator, stimulant, lift
d. Objective: Objective Noun thing that is V-ed
e.g., deposit, transplant, clipping, attachment, enclosure
e. Locative: Locative Noun place of V-ing/related to N
e.g., storage, anchorage, renery, dump
f. Collective: Collective Noun aggregate of Ns
e.g., jewellery, pottery, clientele, readerage/ship, priesthood
(Dalton-Puer 1996: 121)
a. form-meaning mapping of nominalization suxes in ME 1
(11501250)
b. form-meaning mapping of nominalization suxes in ME 3
(13501420)
Figure 1.
126 Akiko Nagano
question can express that particular meaning. For instance, these diagrams
show that, in the ME 1 period, the Germanic sux -ness semantically de-
rived four types of abstract nouns, Nomina Actionis, Nomina Essendi,
Objective Noun, and Locative Noun, but, in the ME 3 period, it semanti-
cally specialized in the Nomina Essendi type.
13
This comparison of the two stages of ME reveals that, as more and
more Romance suxes were introduced, the form-meaning mapping on
the Germanic side became simpler. Each Germanic sux came to spe-
cialize in one or two meanings.
14
My suggestion is that this kind of semantic specialization in Germanic
suxes was closely related to the functional change of the Germanic sux
-ing from a naming sux to a recategorization sux. Although the seman-
tic variety of the sux -ing (UNG) itself did not change from ME 1 to
ME 3, the gradual enrichment of the form-meaning mapping on the
Romance side and its concomitant simplication on the Germanic side
suggest a general tendency through which a Romance sux became
semantically heterogeneous, while a Germanic sux became restricted to
one or two specic meanings. In the case of -ing, it came to specialize in
the action meaning (Nomina Actionis), as is evidenced by the productivity
13. Unlike the one in PE, the sux -ness in OE and ME derived a noun from a
verb (Kastovsky 1985: 244246, Dalton-Puer 1996: 111112). Below are
some examples of OE and ME deverbal -ness nominals.
(i) a. OE: blinness cessation (<blinnan to cease),
brecness breach (<brecan to break),
ymbceorfness circumcision (<ymbceorfan to circumcise)
(Kastovsky 1985: 244)
b. ME: ales(end)nesse deliverance, asolknesse laziness,
drednesse/dradnesse dreadfulness, druncnesse drunkenness,
forgefenesse/forgifnesse forgiveness
(Dalton-Puer 1996: 112)
14. The form-meaning mapping simplication in Germanic suxes is exhibited by
agentive noun suxes more explicitly than nominalization suxes. Dalton-
Puer (1996: section 7.4) shows that, in the ME 1 period (11501250), Ger-
manic agentive noun suxes (e.g., -ere, -end, -ling, -estre, -ild, -el ) expressed
various meanings including Agent, Instrument, Location, Female, Attributive,
Diminutive, and Pejorative, but such a complex form-meaning mapping on
the Germanic side was gradually simplied. In the ME 3 period (13501420),
Romance agentive noun suxes (e.g. -ard, -esse, -ary, -erel, -our) began to
exhibit a similar complex mapping instead. For the relevant diagrams of the
form-meaning mappings of agentive noun suxes, see Dalton-Puer (1996:
161).
change of each semantic group of -ing; in OE, the sux -ing productively
derived not only action nouns but also objective/instrumental/locative
nouns (Kastovsky 1985: 241243), but, in ME, -ing instances as action
nouns became dominant, and fewer and fewer instances of the other
semantic types were produced. In fact, according to Dalton-Puer (1996:
93), the ME -ing instances of the semantic groups other than the action
group can be listed exhaustively as follows:
(21) a. Result Ns: fyndynges ndings, grauyngges diggings, oringes
oerings, peyntynggs paintings, ritinges rules, schauynges
shavings, wrytynges writings
b. Locative Ns: hidinges hiding place, nooks
c. Collective Ns: bygynnynges beginnings, doinges doings,
noryssynges nutriment, worchynges workings
d. Material Ns: enarmynges armor, norysschynges
nourishment
The fact that the meaning of -ing became restricted to pure action is
basically equivalent to its functional change from a naming sux to a
recategorization sux. Then it seems safe to say that one factor for the
functional change of -ing lies in the introduction of various Romance
suxes in the ME period, and a hypothesis such as the one below could
be advanced.
(22) With new Romance suxes taking on a naming function, -ing,
originally a naming sux itself, gradually developed into a
recategorization sux due to its high productivity as well as its
parallel development as an inectional (gerundive) sux.
OE originally had several nominalization suxes, but why did the sux
-ing, instead of others, develop into a recategorization sux? This ques-
tion must have to do with the high productivity of this sux and its
development as an inectional or gerundive sux, as pointed out in the
hypothesis (22). Its detailed examination, however, must be left for
another occasion.
7. Concluding Remarks
This paper has attributed the changing possibility of SC to the functional
change of the derivational sux -ing. Compared with the development of
128 Akiko Nagano
-ing as an inectional or gerundive sux, the development of -ing as
a derivational recategorization sux has received little attention in the
literature and awaits much more detailed examination. Traditionally,
the rise of the gerund has been accounted for as follows: the sux of the
present participle, -inde, was morphologically and phonologically merged
into -ing, the derivational sux of the action nominal, with the result that
the former gave the latter some verbal properties (Mustanoja 1960: 566
573). Although this account concerns the development of the so-called
verbal gerund from the so-called nominal gerund, it might also be
conceivable that the functional change of -ing from a naming sux to
a recategorization sux as well beneted from the merger of -ing with
the present participle sux. This functional change is equivalent to the
increase of verbal properties of the -ing nominal, and in this sense, it is
on the same diachronic line as the development of the (verbal) gerund.
References
Adams, Valerie
2001 Complex Words in English. Harlow: Pearson Education.
Arono, Mark
1976 Word Formation in Generative Grammar. Cambridge, MA: MIT
Press.
Bauer, Laurie
1983 English Word-Formation. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Bauer, Laurie, and Antoinette Renouf
2001 A Corpus-Based Study of Compounding in English. Journal of
English Linguistics 29: 101123.
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1941 On the Origin and Development of Conversions in English.
Helsinki: Annales Academi Scientiarum Fennic, B XLV.
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1933 Language. New York: Holt.
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2003 Exo-skeletal vs. Endo-skeletal Explanations: Syntactic Projec-
tions and the Lexicon. In The Nature of Explanations in Linguis-
tic Theory, edited by John Moore and Maria Polinsky, 3167.
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Formation to Word-Formation. In Historical Semantics, His-
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port of a Grant-in-Aid for Scientic Research (C) (Grant No.
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130 Akiko Nagano
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Commentary on Nagano, Subject Compounding and
a Functional Change of the Derivational Sux -ing
in the History of English
Olga Thomason
Akiko Nagano oers an interesting argument for one of the most widely
discussed topics in English morphology the nature and functions of the
sux -ing. The productivity of this sux and its role in the history of the
English language has stimulated a number of debates reecting the syntac-
tic, semantic, and morphological particulars of this morpheme. Nagano
considers compound nouns of the form [ Noun Verb-ing], focusing on
those that express a subject-verb relationship, and argues that even though
such formations are thought impossible by some linguists, they exist as a
trace of the rich functional history of the sux -ing. One of the strengths
of this investigation is that Nagano takes a praiseworthy stand based on a
multi-disciplinary approach examining the issue in question both syn-
chronically and diachronically and employing the achievements of modern
theories in syntax, semantics, and morphology to explain changes that
occur in the history of the sux -ing.
I oer a word of caution regarding such statements as the non-heads
of the deverbal compound nouns [like baby-step and bee sting] can be in-
terpreted as subjects of the head verbs. I am hesitant to call such words
deverbal compounds and units like step in baby-step and sting in bee sting
head verbs. I would argue that the morphological process was as follows:
at rst, step and sting became nouns by conversion and only then were
words like baby-step and bee sting created by compounding. In this case
the verbal nature of the nouns step and sting was greatly reduced, and, as
a result, one can no longer talk about subject-verb relationships in the
compound since these words are composed from two nouns even though
one of the components is a deverbative. This hesitation leads to my unwill-
ingness to accept the subject-verb interpretation of fruit-ripening as fruit
ripens. I would argue in favor of treating fruit not as an object but as an
attribute (as suggested by Nagano herself ) and would explain the con-
struction along nominal lines, for instance, the ripening of fruit. Such
treatment would t perfectly in with the morphosyntactic relationship
demonstrated by many synthetic languages where one of the components
in noun combinations corresponding to the fruit-ripening type is expressed
in the genitive case a default nominal case for such constructions that
expresses possession and does not normally indicate an argument of the
verb. The semantic nature of deverbatives suggested in examples (3) and
(4) also play an important role here. Not all of them designate an action
per se but rather name a process through which a certain quality or attri-
bute is achieved. Thus, once again, attributive (and not verbal) semantics
are in question here. The sample sentences cited in (3a) and (3b) do not
simplify the matter since the compounds in all of them can easily be
understood attributively, e.g., the hardening of an artery, the thinning of
hair, etc.
The Old English examples should be given special consideration since
the English language was still synthetic in nature at this stage and the dis-
tinction between verbal and nominal morphosyntactic features was more
obvious. For instance, example (4) presents Old English data as follows:
eorbeofung earthquake, feaxfallung shedding of hair and s-ebbing
ebbing of the sea. Even if one examines closely just the semantic relation-
ships between morphemes in these compounds (as they are actually repre-
sented in the last two nouns) and pays no attention to additional syntag-
matic particulars of these words (which are of no less importance), the
attributive semantics becomes visible and should be accounted for (see
the discussion above). However, Nagano does not always include exam-
ples from OE. For instance, examples of conversion are limited to ME
(e.g. (6)) in spite of the fact that Nagano says that SC by conversion
was also allowed in OE and . . . it seems to have been a rather productive
process.
The examination of PE -ing constructions as event nominals and con-
version nominals as result nominals would perhaps be more comprehensi-
ble if the distinctive properties of event nominals (and their absence) were
explained with the help of one construction for (10) (e.g. shooting (of
rabbits)) and another for (11) (e.g. hit (of Mary)). The way this contrast
is presented in the article leads native speakers to make grammaticality
judgments which are based not only on the immediate particulars of -ing
or conversion nominals themselves, but on some other factors. For exam-
ple, several native speakers of English with whom I have consulted did not
like examples in (10a), claiming that they would not use these nominals
(the felling, the destroying) whether they had a complement (of the trees
and of the city, respectively) or not. Thus, the problem here is not a type
of nominalization, but in derivation itself. Furthermore, there seems to be
Commentary on Nagano 133
a disagreement on whether to consider the sentence in (10b) a grammatical
one or not. Thus, some speakers said that both Constant shooting of
rabbits should be prohibited and Constant shooting should be prohibited
are grammatical and presence/absence of the complement does not play
any role here. Some believed that Shooting of rabbits should be prohibited
is grammatical while Constant shooting of rabbits should be prohibited is
not (note that this opinion goes against the criteria (9b) which proposes
that event nominals (exemplied by PE -ing constructions) can occur
with modiers like constant or frequent). When asked about the source of
the problem, these speakers stated that they believe that the phrase con-
stant shooting of rabbits does not make any sense (due to various prag-
matic reasons). Existence of such discrepancies evidently means that the
criteria used to distinguish between event and result nominals are still in
need of further clarication.
Comprehensive and early treatment of postulates addressed in the con-
cluding remarks, connected with the historical development of -ing sux
and nature of participial forms, would have beneted Naganos discus-
sion. The morphological peculiarities of the English gerund and its history
are at the core of the problem which is being investigated by Nagano (due
to a dual nature of participles which convey both nominal and verbal
characteristics), and it is surprising that it is addressed only at the end of
the whole discussion.
All IE languages have traces of -nt- participles (Szemerenyi 1990: 317
9). Sihler in his discussion of PIE participles calls forms in *-nt- active
eventive participles (cf. classication event/result nominals used by Na-
gano) and claims that the original meaning of the ax was essentially
that of the NE participle in -ing: functionally, the noun modied by the
pple. [participle] corresponds to the noun that would stand in subject rela-
tion to a nite verb (Sihler 1995: 613) (cf. the main hypothesis in (22)).
Sihler also adds that participles formed to a transitive verb preserve
the argument structure of this verb (ibid.) an assertion that practically
mirrors the criterion (9a) which is used to distinguish event and result
nominals and supports one of Naganos main claims connected with the
relationship between subject compounding and argument structure of
event nominals. Szemerenyi notes that without a doubt the sux -nt-
is closely connected with the present active stems and aorist stems of
verbs, but it is also used to form noun derivatives in several IE languages
(Szemerenyi 1990: 3178). This observation creates problems for the main
hypothesis formulated by Nagano in (22) where -ing is taken as an origi-
nally naming sux. In addition, after examining the multifaceted nature
134 Olga Thomason
of the sux -ing and its role in the IE languages one would be more cau-
tious in morphological characterization of this sux and would not rigidly
classify it as a derivational morpheme.
Overall, Nagano successfully illuminates the complex interplay of syn-
tactic, morphological and semantic particulars of the sux -ing and how
this multilayered relationship is projected diachronically and synchroni-
cally. Without a doubt, one can and should talk about functional shifts
in the history of this sux. However, the exact stages and directions of
the development of the sux -ing remain in need of further scrupulous
examination.
References
Sihler, A. L.
1995 New Comparative Grammar of Greek and Latin. New York/
Oxford: University Press.
Szemerenyi, Oswald J. L.
1996 Introduction to Indo-European Linguistics. London: Oxford Uni-
versity Press.
Commentary on Nagano 135
Response to Commentary by Olga Thomason
Akiko Nagano
Olga Thomason raises mainly three questions about my paper: the mor-
phological status of the sux -ing, the validity of the distinction between
event and result nominals, and the constitution of compounds that I call
subject-compounding (SC) type. I will answer them in this order.
First of all, I should make it clear that the topic of my paper is the
change of the V-to-N derivational sux -ing (OED -ing
1
), not the par-
ticipial or gerundive -ing (OED -ing
2
). According to Kastovsky (1985:
241243, 1992: 388), -ing and -ung were the same sux in OE and formed
derived nouns from both strong and weak verbs, -ung primarily occurring
with weak class 2 verbs and -ing elsewhere. Semantically, derived -ing/-ung
nouns in OE are classied into the categories of Action, Agent (collec-
tives), Object/Result, Instrumental and Locative, showing the same output
semantics as many other nominalization suxes. Marchand (1969: 302)
also says that -ing is historically an alternant of OE -ung (which had dis-
appeared by about 1250) and thus a morpheme of deverbal substantives.
On the other hand, the participial -ing in PE traces back to the OE inec-
tional sux -ende, which is the -nt- participle common to IE languages
that Thomason discusses in the second to the last paragraph. These two
suxes, derivational and participial, were overtly distinct in OE and ME,
and only after their forms became identical due to their entirely pho-
netic merger (OED 2nd, -ing
2
), did the gerundive function, or the noun-
verb duality start to manifest itself in -ing (see also Mustanoja 1960: 566
573). Therefore, the functional properties of the sux -nt- (OE -ende)
pointed out by Thomason do not impair my claim that the derivational
sux -ing was a naming sux in OE. This claim concerns not the dier-
ence between the derivational and participial suxes, but the dierence
between the derivational sux -ing/-ung in OE (and ME) and the deriva-
tional sux -ing in PE. In other words, the fact that participles formed to
a transitive verb preserve the argument structure of this verb (Thomasons
citation from Sihler 1995: 613) does not exclude in any way the possibility
that OE -ing/-ung derivatives, unlike PE -ing derivatives, did not preserve
the argument structure (AS) of their base verbs. Section 4 of my paper
demonstrates the validity of this possibility, and the interaction between
the participial or gerundive sux and the derivational sux -ing is of
secondary importance for my claims; in my view, as stated in (22),
it may account for the functional change of the derivational sux -ing
from a naming (or non-AS-preserving) sux to a recategorizing (or AS-
preserving) sux.
The distinction between naming and recategorizing suxes concerns
the second question raised by Thomason, namely the validity of the dis-
tinction between result and event nominals. Based on her own informant
checking, she claims that native speakers do not use such sentences as
those given in (10) of my paper. However, my interest lies not in their
pragmatic plausibility but in their grammatical well-formedness. The
grammaticality judgments of the sentences in (10) are given by Grimshaw
(1990: chapter 3). Moreover, the contrastive behaviors of the derivational
sux -ing and (V-to-N) conversion in terms of the criterion in (9a),
i.e. the inheritance of the AS of the base verb, have been suciently de-
fended by various researchers in the generative eld (e.g., Roeper 1987,
Grimshaw 1990: ibid., among others). They demonstrate that in PE,
-ing nominalization inherits the AS of the base verb, while V-to-N conver-
sion does not. The inherited argument is realized by an of-phrase, or more
accurately, of is inserted as a case-assigner to the argument (Chomsky
1970: 204). Thus, even if the criteria in (9) need further clarication in
their details (see, for example, Snyder 1998 for such an attempt), the
most important observation they are intended to capture, i.e. the existence
of two types of nominalizations, the one with high nouniness and the
other with high verbiness, remains undisturbed. My own claim in this
scenario is that -ing derivatives have changed from the former type to
the latter type, while conversion nominals have been the former type all
the time.
Lastly, my term subject compounding (SC) seems to cause misunder-
standing about my claims about OE/ME -ing SC (e.g., (4) (5)), PE -ing SC
(e.g., (3)), OE/ME conversion SC (e.g., (6)), and PE conversion SC (e.g.,
(2a)). I use this term to refer to compound nouns whose nominal element
and verbal element have the subject-verb relationship rather than the
canonical object-verb relationship, and the term itself does not entail the
realization of an AS. Since OE/ME -ing derivatives and OE/ME/PE con-
version nominals are result nominals, as shown in section 4, compound
nouns based on them are N-N compounds. Thus, my claim is that OE/
ME -ing SC, OE/ME conversion SC, and PE conversion SC allow the
subject-verb interpretation due to the interpretive freedom of N-N com-
Response to Commentary by Olga Thomason 137
pounds in general (e.g., Downing 1977, Ryder 1994, Adams 2001: section
6.2). On the other hand, since PE -ing derivatives inherit the AS of their
base verb (see (16)), PE -ing SC realizes the subject argument of the
(16c) type of -ing derivative, word-internally. Therefore, Thomasons
claim that my SC examples are not verbal but nominal compounds does
not contradict my claims. Except for PE -ing SC examples, I claim
that they are nominal (N-N) compounds. As for PE -ing SC, the fact
that the compounds in (3) (e.g., fruit-ripening, artery-hardening) are para-
phrased by the NP the Ving of N (e.g., the ripening of fruit, the hardening
of an artery) does not prove their nominal nature, for this of is inserted to
assign case to the argument of the -ing derivative, as already discussed
above.
References
Adams, Valerie
2001 Complex Words in English. Harlow: Pearson Education.
Chomsky, Noam
1970 Remarks on Nominalization. In Readings in English Transfor-
mational Grammar, edited by Roderick A. Jacobs and Peter S.
Rosenbaum, 184221. Waltham: Ginn and Company.
Downing, Pamela
1977 On the Creation and Use of English Compound Nouns. Lan-
guage 53: 810842.
Grimshaw, Jane
1990 Argument Structure. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press.
Kastovsky, Dieter
1985 Deverbal Nouns in Old and Modern English: From Stem-
Formation to Word-Formation. In Historical Semantics, His-
torical Word-Formation, edited by Jacek Fisiak, 221261. Berlin:
Mouton Publishers.
Kastovsky, Dieter
1992 Semantics and Vocabulary. In The Cambridge History of the
English Language: Volume I, The Beginnings to 1066, edited by
Richard M. Hogg, 290408. Cambridge: Cambridge University
Press.
Marchand, Hans
1969 The Categories and Types of Present-Day English Word-Forma-
tion: A Synchronic-Diachronic Approach, 2nd ed. Mu nchen: C.H.
Beck.
Mustanoja, Tauno
1960 A Middle English Syntax. Helsinki: Societe Neophilologique.
138 Akiko Nagano
Roeper, Thomas
1987 Implicit Arguments and the Head-Complement Relation. Lin-
guistic Inquiry 18, 267310.
Ryder, Mary Ellen
1994 Ordered Chaos: The Interpretation of English Noun-Noun Com-
pounds. Berkeley: University of California Press.
Snyder, William
1998 On the Aspectual Properties of English Derived Nominals. MIT
Working Papers in Linguistics 25, 125139.
Sihler, Andrew L.
1995 New Comparative Grammar of Greek and Latin. Oxford: Oxford
University Press.
Response to Commentary by Olga Thomason 139
Bad Ideas in the History of English Usage
Don Chapman
With a title like Bad Ideas in the History of English Usage, you would
expect a long paper at least if it is written by a linguist. Linguists have
acquired a reputation for rejecting all things prescriptive a reputation
that is not altogether fair, but not altogether unfounded, either. But this
paper is not about the entire prescriptive tradition. It is not even about
the silly rules that keep getting repeated in usage books, even though they
have no real validity rules like a proscription against using aggravate
to mean annoy or Frankenstein to refer to the monster instead of the
creator. Instead this paper is about those prescriptions that seem to have
been bad ideas even within the prescriptive tradition, since they are only
recorded one time; apparently no other usage books think them worth
repeating.
There are a surprising number of such prescriptions, or one-os as I
will call them in this paper, borrowing a term from British English to indi-
cate a one-time occurrence. It is the abundance of such one-os that
points to the main reasons for studying them in this paper. Not every pre-
scription ever proposed can be said to be part of a canon; there must still
be a selection process. But what are the constraints used in that process?
More particularly, is there any way of telling which potential prescriptions
will and which will not become part of the prescriptive tradition? Perhaps
by examining those that did not become part of the tradition, we will gain
some clues about how prescriptions come to be included.
The notion that usage prescriptions constitute a tradition is not new.
But the nature of that tradition especially how it is maintained and
perpetuated has received little scholarly attention. John Algeo (1991: 3)
is one of the clearest in pointing out the self-referential nature of the
tradition:
The tradition of what is or is not a usage problem has been largely parthe-
nogenic. That is, the tradition of usage study creates usage problems to
study. A writer on usage becomes exercised about some option, often an
old option whose frequency of choice is changing, and that writer begins to
comment upon the option unfavorably.
Very often those unfavorable comments get picked up by other usage
books and practically acquire their own authority, simply by their being
included in usage books. Peters and Young (1997: 317) registered this
phenomenon in their review of fty usage books:
This and other Fowlerian prescriptions seem to persist in an independent
usage tradition, a kind of paralexicography which is untouched by descrip-
tive lexicography or the discipline of grammar. Certain topics indeed have
become conventional for usage books, and the commentators note without
justication what is right/ wrong, preferred/ to be avoided.
Later Peters and Young (1997: 322) suggest that the conservative tradi-
tion is self-sustaining and tends to insulate and isolate its protagonists
more than they realize. Similarly, Georey Nunberg (1990: 475) notes
that the rules have been ossied as a body of traditional yore and that
usage has become a matter of simple etiquette, and in such matters, pre-
cisely because they are unimportant, we submit to arbitrary precedent.
Nunbergs connection of usage rules and etiquette is apt, since in many
ways the prescriptive tradition derives its authority and perpetuates itself
much like instructions on etiquette. In both, the facts (of usage and
etiquette) derive their authority mainly from being part of a tradition, not
from any independent validation. We might call such traditions canonical,
in that their tenets are inherited and received, rather than questioned and
proved. The authority of a canonical tradition depends simply on its
acceptance, not necessarily on any outside criteria. Canonical traditions
are not common today, given our manifest preference for evidence and
argument supporting our systems of knowledge, but they do exist in vari-
ous degrees, in such realms as etiquette, and perhaps in religion and law.
Acknowledging usage advice as constituting a canonical tradition ought to
clarify any principled discussion of prescriptions and prescriptivism.
But such acknowledgment of a canonical usage tradition has not been
forthcoming from either the linguists attacking the prescriptive tradition
or the prescriptivists defending it. The apologists for a prescriptive ap-
proach to usage would certainly not relish such a characterization of their
tradition; not a few have claimed to be nobly saving the English language
and preserving it from the ignorance and carelessness of the masses. How
could their eorts possibly be characterized as perpetuating a circular,
self-referential system? And while linguists may have recognized the circu-
lar nature of the canonical tradition, they have not really taken the tradi-
tion seriously, since it is patently inadequate in the face of the knowledge
of language they have gained from more careful, systematic study of
language.
142 Don Chapman
But in ignoring or dismissing the canonical nature of prescriptivism,
both sides have missed one of the chief strengths of a canonical system
whatever else can be said about a canonical system, it is robust. Of course
a canonical system has nothing to say about anything except itself, but the
advantage it has is that its facts cannot be gainsaid. That is likely a
large reason that the prescriptive tradition has stood practically imper-
vious to the attacks of linguists for decades. It does not matter, for exam-
ple, whether linguists demonstrate that educated people frequently write
third century A.D. Within a canonical tradition, the validity of that
proscription has nothing to do with actual usage; instead, the more im-
portant point is the extent to which the proscription of using A.D. with
centuries has become part of the tradition. Yet the process by which a
prescription becomes part of a tradition has hardly been studied. This
paper represents an initial attempt: perhaps one way of understanding
how prescriptions enter that tradition is to examine those prescriptions
that failed. Hence the investigation into one-os.
The one-os for this study have been taken from comparing the follow-
ing usage guides: American Heritage 1996, Brians 1997, Wilson 1993,
Grammar Slammer 2006, Lynch 2007, Vidrine 2006, Hutchinson, Merriam-
Webster 1994, Fowler 1926, Burcheld 1996, Bernstein 1965, and Copperud
1970. A list of these works and the number of one-os found in each one
can be seen in Table 1. It is possible that some of these one-os could have
been included in a manual not examined for this study, but they still will
have been at most infrequently repeated. These one-os have been supple-
mented by entries from Baker 1770, Ayres 1881, and Hodgson 1889 that
have been compared against the manuals just listed. They have also been
supplemented by entries from Merriam-Webster (1994) that give only one
citation. Of course this manual is not exhaustive in its citation, so that an
entry with only one citation may not have truly been a one-o, but I have
tried to include only those that appear to have limited circulation and that
are not mentioned by the other manuals in this study.
Unnoticed Constructions
A prescription will less likely be repeated if others do not notice the con-
struction. This is probably the soundest principle for telling whether a pre-
scription will be picked up by others. Having a prescription attract notice
takes just the right amount of exposure of the construction. If a construc-
Bad Ideas in the History of English Usage 143
tion rarely occurs, a prescriber will either not have noticed the con-
struction or not have thought it suciently widespread to deserve com-
ment. As the examples below show, a construction may be rare because it
is on its way out of the language, as in the case of thou (#1) or because
it has yet to become established, as with dynamitard (#4).
1. The using you and thou together in the same period (and more espe-
cially so very close together) is an unnatural way of writing. (Baker
1770)
2. The word hit is commonly used in Oxfordshire and some of the adja-
cent counties, even by people of good education, to signify toss, throw
or ing. It is necessary to inform them, that to hit signies to strike,
and not to toss or to throw. (Baker 1770)
3. do(e)st. In modern, though not in older, use the auxiliary has dost
only, & the independent verb doest only. (Fowler 1926)
4. dynamiter, -tard. Use -er. (Fowler 1926)
5. pawn o. This is a peculiar expression. None of the usual dictionaries
of slang mentions it, and neither do any of the usual usage books,
except Harper 1985. (Merriam-Webster 1994)
Table 1.
Total entries One-os Percent
Brians 1997 1101 392 35.6%
Fowler 1926 6321 1918 30.3%
Hutchinson 1300 362 27.8%
Wilson 1993 4721 906 19.2%
Grammar Slammer 167 26 15.6%
Bernstein 1965 1298 145 11.2%
Vidrine 2006 58 6 10.3%
Burcheld 1996 1105 89 8.1%
American Heritage 1996 691 49 7.1%
Lynch 2007 270 11 3.9%
Merriam-Webster 1994 2306 6 0.2%
Copperud 1970 1475 0 0.0%
144 Don Chapman
Occasionally a construction drops out of the language because it is essen-
tially topical for a particular time. As times and fashions change, the con-
struction becomes little used. Prescriptions that treat such topical con-
structions would not be expected to be repeated, once the construction
has lost its currency.
6. It is customary at the playhouse, at the conclusion of The Beggars
Opera, if the same be intended to be acted again the next night, for
one of the actors to advance and say Tomorrow will be performed this
opera again. He ought to say this Comedy, not this Opera: for though
The Beggars Opera be the name of the piece, it is not an opera.
(Baker 1770)
On the other hand, a prescription may fail to be repeated if the construc-
tion that it treats occurs too frequently. Frequent constructions may well
appear natural, and therefore unobjectionable:
7. raise the rent. An expression incorrectly used for increase the rent.
(Ayres 1881)
8. settle. This word is often inelegantly, if not incorrectly, used for
pay. (Ayres 1881)
Insucient Justication
Beyond whether a construction is noticed, we might also expect that pre-
scriptions will more likely be repeated if the justications for those pre-
scriptions are more compelling. We may infer that for those prescriptions
that fail to be repeated, the justication apparently does not reach a
threshold of plausibility or importance for others judging the construction.
In discussing justications, we may prot from the list of rst principles
that Bryan Garner (2003: xii) uses for evaluating a prescription. This
list looks reasonably accurate when compared with the justications or
explanations for prescriptions that show up in usage handbooks. Most
prescriptions are indeed justied by an appeal to one or more of these
principles.
1. Purpose. The purpose of a usage dictionary is to help writers, editors,
and speakers use language eectively: to help them sound grammati-
cal but relaxed, rened but natural, correct but unpedantic.
2. Realism. To guide users helpfully, recommendations on usage must
be genuinely plausible. They must recognize the language as it cur-
rently stands, encourage reasonable approaches to editorial prob-
lems, and avoid reghting battles that were long ago lost.
3. Linguistic Simplicity. If the same idea can be expressed in a simple
way or in a complex way, the simple way is better and, parado-
xically, it will typically lead readers to conclude that the writer is
smarter.
4. Readers Reactions. Generally, writing is good if readers nd it easy
to follow; writing is bad if readers nd it hard to follow.
5. Tightness. Omitting needless words is important. As long as its accu-
rate, the briefest way of phrasing an idea is usually best because the
brevity enhances speed, clarity, and impact.
6. Word-Judging. A word or phrase is somewhat undesirable if it has
any one of the following characteristics, and is worse if it has two or
more:
(a) it sounds newfangled;
(b) it dees logic;
(c) it threatens to displace an established expression (but has not yet
done so);
(d) it originated in a misunderstanding of a word or its etymology;
(e) it blurs a useful distinction.
7. Dierentiation. If related words especially those diering only in
the sux begin to take on dierent senses, its wise to encourage
the latent distinctions when theyre rst emerging and then to follow
them once theyre established.
8. Needless Variants. Having two or more variant forms of a word is
undesirable unless each one signals a distinct meaning.
9. Conservatism. If two constructions are current, and one of them has
been widely condemned by authorities whose values are in line with
those outlined in #6, the other construction is better.
10. Actual Usage. In the end, the actual usage of educated speakers and
writers is the overarching criterion for correctness. But while actual
usage can trump the other factors, it is not the only consideration.
It will also be useful to discuss these justications under two broad divi-
sions: those justications that are more arbitrary and those that are less
arbitrary.
Justications that are more arbitrary
Several justications for prescriptions are based on criteria that can only
seem arbitrary, or at least very close to arbitrary. Prescriptions depending
146 Don Chapman
on appropriateness are a prime example. In principle #1, Garner states
that usage advice should help people sound grammatical but relaxed,
rened but natural, correct but unpedantic. Yet when one tries to devise
criteria for determining whether a construction is natural, rened, or un-
pedantic, one ends up mainly with the prescribers preference. There is
very often little else to help determine such prescriptions. Since only the
prescribers preference justies the prescription, others may feel less apt
to repeat it. Judgments about whether a form is outdated, cliche, informal,
pretentious, overused, and so on, seem especially hard to establish.
9. retire. It is only the overnice that use retire in the sense of go to
bed. (Ayres 1881)
10. splendid. This poor word is used by the gentler sex to qualify well-
nigh everything that has their approval, from a sugarplum to the
national capitol. In fact, splendid and awful seem to be about the
only adjectives some of our superlative young women have in their
vocabulary. (Ayres 1881)
11. beau Harper 1975 tells us that beau is obsolescent, if not obsolete,
and that the plural beaux is obsolete in the U.S. Harper is wrong on
both counts. (Merriam-Webster 1994)
Similarly, Garner explicitly notes that a word should be avoided if it is
newfangled (#6a), but determining whether a word sounds newfangled
is dicult. Such judgments have more of arbitrariness than principle to
them.
12. ageism Simon 1980 asperses ageism as an illiteracy. He also pur-
ports, ironically, not to understand its meaning. (Merriam-Webster
1994)
13. commonality Howard 1978 seems to be the only commentator to
take exception to the modern and predominantly American use of
commonality. (Merriam-Webster 1994)
14. imbecile, imbecilic Simon 1980 says in passing that imbecilic is a
substandard adjective derived by faulty analogy. We do not know
on what basis this assertion is made, but the formation from the
noun imbecile and the adjective ending -ic, as shown in the OED
Supplement, is entirely regular. (Merriam-Webster 1994)
15. prewar Prewar is used primarily as an adjective, but it is also some-
times used as an adverb. . . . It was criticized by Fowler 1926, but it
has never caught on as a popular target among usage commentators.
The probable reason is that it is too uncommon to attract much
notice. (Merriam-Webster 1994)
Another area of prescriptions whose justications end up being largely
arbitrary are judgments about which adverbial/prepositional complements
should be used with particular words. These t Garners recommenda-
tion in principle #8 to avoid needless variants. The variants are needless
largely because the dierent adverbs and prepositions hardly change the
meaning of the construction. But since they do not aect the meaning,
the judgment of which one to use becomes arbitrary. Apparently a judg-
ment can be felt to be suciently arbitrary, that there is little compelling
reason to repeat it.
16. crushed out. The rebellion was nally crushed out. Out of what?
We may crush the life out of a man, or crush a man to death, and
crush not crush out a rebellion. (Ayres 1881)
17. demanding According to Bernstein 1965, demanding is idiomatically
followed by of. However, we nd demanding very seldom used with a
complement introduced by a preposition, and we have no examples
with of. While demanding of certainly sounds idiomatic, the only
preposition we have recorded is in. (Merriam-Webster 1994)
18. dismayed Colter 1981 recommends with after dismayed, which is a
little surprising, as by is the usual preposition. With and at may also
be used. (Merriam-Webster 1994)
Justications that are less arbitrary
Several other justications are less arbitrary, at least insofar as the prin-
ciple undergirding them can be more easily enunciated and illustrated.
Constructions can at least be explained to be redundant or illogical, for
example, whether or not those explanations are convincing. The justica-
tions rest on reasons besides the prescribers preferences. The problem
comes, then, in gauging whether the prescribers arguments are indeed
convincing. Just because a justication is made, it does not mean that the
prescription is desirable. The one-os in this category apparently failed to
meet the necessary level of desirability.
Logic
Garners principle #6c holds that a word or phrase is less desirable if it
dees logic. But logic is a dicult criterion to apply to language, because
language is not logic. Language can be used to state logical relationships,
148 Don Chapman
but language states many other relationships as well. The term illogical is
best applied to entities that indeed involve logic, such as propositions or
steps of an argument. Calling a word or phrase illogical makes consider-
ably less sense. When an appeal to logic is used as a justication for a pre-
scription, the prescriber often means that the words in a phrase, if taken in
their most prominent acontextual sense, do not add up to what the writer
really wants to say, or they introduce an inconsistency or impossibility.
Since language works on principles extending beyond logic, prescriptions
that try to reduce language to logic are not always convincing. If the
logical inconsistency is harder to see than the meaning of a construction,
the prescription will be less likely deemed valuable enough to be repeated.
And if the construction is idiomatic, the senses of its constituents are
irrelevant.
19. neither read nor write. This is a common way of speaking, but it is
certainly wrong, it being much more proper to say He can neither
write nor read, than He can neither read nor write. (Baker 1770)
20. as the result of. The phrase is usually inexact. For example: Two
persons were killed and three injured as the result of a collision of
two cars on Highway 5 this morning. Obviously there were other
results: The cars were damaged, the road was probably blocked,
and perhaps an ambulance driver was called away from an interest-
ing poker game. What was meant in the sentence was a result of or
one result of. (Bernstein 1965)
21. parallel Simon 1980 nds fault with Joyce Carol Oates for having
written Nor do the parallels between the two American women
become too aggressively pointed. According to Simon, Parallels
are lines that run side by side; in no sense can they be pointed.
(Merriam-Webster 1994)
Redundancy
Garners principle #5 claims that omitting needless words is important
and that brevity enhances speed, clarity, and impact. This seems like
sound advice. But redundancy also serves a useful purpose in language,
namely making a message robust (see Merriam-Webster 1994: s.v. redun-
dancy). Just because a word or phrase repeats an idea in discourse, does
not mean that it is useless. Redundancy allows a message to be under-
stood, even if parts of it are missed. That is probably why redundancy is
a natural feature of language and permeates it at all levels. At some point,
however, redundancy can pass from being helpful to being tedious. If the
message is reasonably clear without the repeated element (e.g. phrase,
word, clause), the repeated element runs the danger of becoming simply
obtrusive and annoying. The task, then, is to gauge whether a particular
phrase or word that is claimed to be redundant stands a greater chance
of being annoying on one hand, or useful or merely harmless on the other.
Apparently some decried redundancies do not rise to the level of being
annoying.
22. collaborate Einstein 1985 calls collaborate together redundant. It
represents an intensive use of the adverb, or would if actually so
used. We have no evidence of its use in print. What we do nd is
that collaborate is frequently used with in, on, and with. (Merriam-
Webster 1994)
23. coequal Bryson 1984 disparages this word as a fatuous addition to
the language. But coequal was actually added to the language in the
14th century and has been found useful now for about 600 years.
Etymology
Garners principle #6d holds that a word or phrase is less desirable if
it originated from a misunderstanding of the etymology of a word. But
etymology is an unsure guide of a words meaning. There is no reason to
suppose that a word means what it used to mean, unless the etymology
has persisted to the present. The real question, then, is whether an older
meaning has persisted long and widely enough that it should be taken
into account when judging a newer sense. Since etymology by itself is not
sucient as a criterion for a prescription, it should not be surprising to see
prescriptions based on them being rejected. If an etymology is long-buried
in the words history, an appeal to it will smack of over-renement and
pedantry.
24. equanimity of mind. This phrase is tautological, and expresses no
more than does equanimity (literally equal-mindedness) alone; hence
of mind is superuous, and consequently inelegant. (Ayres 1881)
25. abortive A love of etymology and the consequent dismembering of
English words into their presumed constituent parts has led many a
usage commentator down the primrose path of error. Sare 1982
seconds a correspondents objection to the use of abortive to describe
150 Don Chapman
a failed mission to rescue U.S. hostages in Iran in 1979. Sare claims
to see in the sux -ive an implication of continuation or permanence,
and he maintains that abortive must therefore suggest a continuous
process of aborting. This is, of course, a conclusion that could only
be reached by ignoring the use of the whole word in English in favor
of speculating about what it might mean. (Merriam-Webster 1994)
Useful Distinction
Garner, like many other prescribers, appeals to the notion of a useful
distinction (#6e). It is a handy justication for a prescription, since all it
really requires is for a distinction to be spelled out. But just because a
distinction can be made does not mean that a distinction should be made.
When gauging the usefulness of a distinction, we need to keep track of two
questions: 1) is it really a distinction, or how easy is the distinction to
grasp; 2) is it actually useful, or how often do speakers really use the
distinction. The rst question acknowledges that some distinctions are
easier to state and grasp than others. Often the claim that a distinction is
useful seems to rest on little more than this: if the prescriber can state a
clear distinction, the distinction is considered to be desirable ipso facto.
But how easy is the distinction to maintain in actual language use? Pre-
scriptions that depend on ne-grained distinctions would seem less likely
to be repeated.
Yet even ne-grained distinctions are easy to use if speakers sense a
need for them. That is why the question of usefulness is also important.
Probably the best gauge of usefulness comes from actual use of the distinc-
tion: if speakers maintain the distinction, it must be useful. This last claim
is more than a resort to empirical evidence, though it is that; it is also an
acknowledgment that a distinction will be easier to grasp the more it is
used. In this regard a useful distinction is like a distinctive feature in
articulatory phonology. A phonetic feature is distinctive only if speakers
use it to make meaningful dierences. Speakers can readily apprehend dis-
tinctive features, but have a much harder time grasping phonetic features
that are not distinctive, no matter how pronounced their properties are.
Whether the distinction in the sound is easy to identify depends entirely
on whether it is used to make a distinction in meaning. Similarly, those
meaning distinctions expounded in prescriptions even the ne-grained
ones will be easier to grasp if speakers actually use the distinctions
as prescribed. A proposed useful distinction has less chance of being
repeated if speakers are not already making the distinction. The following
prescriptions are probably too ne-grained or too little observed to be
useful enough to be repeated:
26. calamity. This word is sometimes misused by careless writers in the
sense of loss, whereas properly it should be used in an abstract sense,
meaning source of misery, or of loss. To call a loss a calamity is
as absurd as it would be to call a loss an inundation, a famine, or a
plague. (Ayres 1881)
27. deceiving. You are deceiving me. Not infrequently deceiving is used
when the speaker means trying to deceive. It is when we do not sus-
pect deception that we are deceived. (Ayres 1881)
28. conquer. This word is often employed when the better word would
be overcome or vanquish. The leading idea in conquer is that of get-
ting; in overcome and vanquish, that of getting the better of. (Ayres
1881)
29. completed. This word is often incorrectly used for nished. That is
complete that lacks nothing; that is nished that has had all done to
it that was intended. (Ayres 1881)
30. proof. This word is much and very improperly used for evidence,
which is only the medium of proof, proof being the eect of evi-
dence. What evidence have you to oer in proof of the truth of your
statement. (Ayres 1881)
31. news. This word is very often improperly used instead of tidings.
The dierence between the two words lies therein that to news we
may be indierent, while in tidings we are always interested. News is
of public, tidings of individual interest. (Ayres 1881)
32. despondent can only apply to people (Simon 1980) (Merriam-
Webster 1994)
33. attain, says Bryson, suggests the reaching of a desired goal.
Dierentiation
Following Fowler, Garner recommends dierentiation between similar
constructions where possible (principle #7). As with useful distinctions,
however, it is always possible to create distinctions that are too subtle or
too contorted to recognize or remember. Unless speakers already recog-
nize the dierence between two similar constructions, it will probably
152 Don Chapman
be too much to expect dierent suxes, spellings, or particles to maintain
dierences in sense.
34. He [Janis 1984] says that collectable is being used more as an adjec-
tive in relation to bills, while collectible is being used as a noun
for things like glassware, furniture, political campaign buttons, and
posters that are collected. (Merriam-Webster 1994)
35. Foster 1968 discusses a British concern of the earlier 20th century to
restrict the transitive verb [approve] to the ocial sanction sense,
and the favorable view sense to the intransitive [approve of ]. The
transitive verb, however, had been in use in the favorable view sense
earlier than the ocial sanction sense, so it is not surprising that the
urged distinction failed to make much headway. (Merriam-Webster
1994)
Conclusion
This paper has tried to illustrate the ways that a prescription can fail to
take hold. In general terms, a prescription fails to be repeated if it does
not cross a threshold of noticeability, plausibility, or importance. But
where to locate that threshold remains a question, especially since for
nearly every principle discussed above, we can nd many prescriptions
that have crossed the threshold and have entered into the canonical tradi-
tion, even though the prescribed constructions do not seem much dierent
from those that have not been repeated. Whereas collectable/collectible
has not gained much traction as a species of dierentiation within the
usage handbooks, further/ farther and uninterested/disinterested have. While
completed/nished did not become an issue, convince/persuade did. And if
we nd no references to The Beggars Opera in usage books today, we do
nd references to Frankenstein. It is hard to say what makes uninterested/
disinterested, convince/persuade, and Frankenstein more worthy of repeti-
tion. Perhaps they seem more plausible or important mainly because they
occur more often in actual language use, giving speakers enough experience
with the constructions for the arguments to make sense. Perhaps the dis-
tinction between disinterested and uninterested is repeated in prescriptions
because the impartial sense of disinterested is used often enough for
speakers to grasp the prescribed distinction. We may not care about The
Beggars Opera anymore, but Frankensteins monster has become a xture
in our popular culture. Perhaps the main principle for repeating a prescrip-
tion after it is rst proposed boils down to exposure: a prescription acquires
its appeal as it accounts for actual language use.
What further factors would account for the inclusion or exclusion of
prescriptions in the canon remain to be identied in future research. This
paper has shown reasons that one-os could be expected to occur for most
justications that have been advanced for prescriptions. The obvious next
step is to sort each of the one-os according to the justications given in
this paper, to see if indeed some justications are more likely to produce
one-os. We might expect that the more arbitrary justications (like pro-
scriptions against old-fashioned or pretentious words) are more likely to
stall than less arbitrary ones (like those appealing to logic or etymology).
We should know better with further research. At least now we have some
categories and conjectures for that research.
References
Algeo, John
1991 Sweet Are the Usages of Diversity. Word 42: 117.
American Heritage Book of English Usage
1996 Boston: Houghton Miin.
Ayres, Alfred
1881 The Verbalist. New York: Appleton.
Baker, Robert
1770 Reections on the English Language in the Nature of Vaugelas
on the French. London: Printed for J. Bell.
Bernstein, Theodore
1965 The Careful Writer. New York: Atheneum.
Brians, Paul
1997 Common Errors in English. http://www.wsu.edu/~brians/errors/
index.html.
Burcheld, Robert W.
1996 The New Fowlers Modern English Usage. Oxford: Clarendon.
Copperud, Roy H.
1970 American Usage: The Consensus. New York: Van Nostrand
Reinhold.
Fowler, H. W.
1926 A Dictionary of Modern English Usage. Oxford: Clarendon.
Garner, Bryan A.
2003 Garners Modern American Usage. Oxford: Oxford University
Press.
Grammar Slammer
On-line http://englishplus.com/grammar/mistcont.htm.
Hodgson, William B.
1889 Errors in the Use of English. Edinburgh: David Douglas.
154 Don Chapman
Hutchinson Dictionary of English Usage
http://www.tiscali.co.uk/reference/dictionaries/english/.
Lynch, Jack
2007 Guide to Grammar and Style. http://andromeda.rutgers.edu/~
jlynch/Writing/index.html.
Merriam-Websters Dictionary of English Usage
1994 Springeld, MA: Merriam-Webster.
Nunberg, Georey
1990 What the Usage Panel Thinks. In The State of the Language,
edited by Christopher Ricks and Leonard Michaels, 467482.
Berkeley: University of California Press.
Peters, Pam, and Wendy Young
1997 English Grammar and the Lexicography of Usage. Journal of
Vidrine, Rachel
2006 English Grammar Gone Awry. http://www.grammarerrors.com/
index.html.
Wilson, Kenneth G.
2001 The Columbia Guide to Standard American English. http://
www.bartleby.com/68/.
Commentary on Chapman, Bad Ideas in the
History of English Usage
Stefanie Kuzmack
Don Chapmans paper takes an interesting approach to prescriptivism.
Rather than examining the prescriptive rules that have caught on and are
now widely accepted, he looks at the rules he terms one-os rules that
appeared in a usage manual once, but that were not repeated by other
authors. In taking this approach, he explores how these rules are justied,
and how those justications can fail. It is also enlightening just to see a
portion of the rules that did not make it into the canon of accepted rules,
and to see how they compare to the ones we encounter regularly.
The idea raised here that usage rules are a form of etiquette is an
intriguing alternative to viewing them in terms of truth and falsity. As
Chapman suggests, discussions of these rules with non-linguists might be
made more productive by keeping that perspective in mind. The authors
of usage guides, admittedly, are too invested in the belief that usage is a
matter of right and wrong to welcome such a comparison, but people
who are less invested in the matter might take a dierent view, even if
they do believe in the validity of prescriptive rules. By giving people a
dierent form of correctness to hold onto, presenting prescriptivism as
etiquette might make it easier to encourage people to rethink such ideas
as two negatives must logically make a positive.
Comparing usage rules to etiquette rules might also let us avoid the
apparent contradictions that often arise in discussions of prescriptivism.
In formal written language, certain usage rules do matter, just as rules of
etiquette matter more in formal social situations. There is technically
nothing wrong with ending a sentence with a preposition in English, but
it is still a construction to avoid in formal writing since the rule against it
is so widely accepted. Presenting this as a matter of etiquette would pro-
vide a coherent explanation that would account for both the arbitrariness
of the rules, and the value in taking them into account under certain
circumstances.
For future research, Chapman proposes to organize the one-os dis-
cussed here according to the types of justication used to support them,
and to investigate whether some types of justication work better than
others. He writes, We might expect that the more arbitrary justications
(like proscriptions against old-fashioned or pretentious words) are more
likely to stall than less arbitrary ones (like those appealing to logic or
etymology). However, there is another factor that may also be worth
considering: the eectiveness of a type of justication may vary depending
on the audience. The present paper already examines usage guides from
multiple decades; one could assess the eectiveness of certain justications
at dierent times for example, describing words as old-fashioned or
newfangled might well more eectively encourage a prescriptive rule
against those words during some times than others. If some usage guides
were only sold in one region, that would provide another dierence in
audience to examine, as well.
Although we associate prescriptivism with conservativism, the preva-
lence of these one-os (over a fourth of the rules in some guides) suggests
that prescriptivists are less conservative than they appear. Furthermore,
while some of the justications used are inherently conservative, others
are not. Newfangled expressions tend to be proscribed, and etymology
is given more weight than current usage: these are unquestionably con-
servative traits. However, usage guides also appeal to brevity, logic, and
avoiding redundancy to support their rules, and those are not uniquely
conservative values. Based on the dates of the manuals used in this study,
the percentage of one-os included appears to be fairly consistent over
time, so it is safe to say that prescriptivism is in no danger of becoming
obsolete due to a lack of innovation.
Commentary on Chapman 157
Response to Commentary by Kuzmack
Don Chapman
I began this paper as a qualitative study, partly because I did not think
that I would nd enough one-os for quantication. Most of my paper,
therefore, is devoted to forwarding the idea that prescriptivism can be
seen as a canonical tradition and to examining the kinds of justications
given for introducing new items into the tradition. I am gratied that
Stefanie Kuzmack found interest in those parts.
I am also grateful for the insights and suggestions that Kuzmack gives
concerning the quantied aspects of the study. It was only after submitting
the paper that I came up with any quantied data, and the table of one-
os was a last-minute insertion. The table invites several questions, and
in the future, I plan to present a quantitative study of these one-os. For
now, I can at least respond tentatively to a couple of Kuzmacks insights. I
take Kuzmacks point that the prescriptive tradition may not be as conser-
vative as we thought, if a quarter of the entries in several usage manuals
are one-os. I was genuinely surprised at the number of one-os. Perhaps
the large number of one-os partly owes to the relatively small number of
usage manuals that I surveyed. Perhaps with more usage manuals, we
would have more repetitions. But even so, that would still mean that the
tradition is still more diuse than expected. Even if some of these one-os
turn out to be repeated in other manuals, they have not been repeated
often enough to make it into more than one of the sixteen well-known
usage manuals surveyed in this study. As Kuzmack points out, the tradi-
tion is not sclerotic, as it can continue to refresh its content. In fact, two
recent usage manuals not surveyed in this study have some of the highest
numbers of one-os: Peters 2004 has 28% and Garner 2003 comes in with
a whopping 41%. Apparently usage manual editors do not see themselves
as merely conservators of a tradition, but instead are willing to propose
new prescriptions as they see t.
It is also worth considering Kuzmacks suggestion that the types might
vary according to the time that they were introduced. It certainly is the
case that dierent manuals favor dierent types of one-os, but without
more manuals per period, it would be hard to tell whether the dierences
owe to diachronic trends or to idiosyncratic preferences of the editors. The
latter looks more likely: Bernstein 1965, for example, favors prescriptions
involving complementation, while Fowler 1926 has an unusual number of
prescriptions about plural formation.
Finally, even for a qualitative study, I can give a few more examples
than I gave in the paper:
complementation: charged with/by, obsessed with/by, scruple innitive/
gerund; sensitive to/of;
dialect dierences: spelling of estrogen/oestrogen; rst oor/ground oor;
dierentiation: carbolic/carbonic; collaborator/collaborationist; evasion/
evasiveness; potency/potence; populous/populace; roundel/roundelay;
chanty/shanty; dolly/handcart;
meaning distinctions: law/theory; underneath/below/beneath; vicar/rector;
etymology: ll/t the bill; just assume/just as soon; next door/next store;
old-timers disease/Alzheimers disease; op-ed opposite, not opinion;
archaic: derring-do; boon; ergo; tilth; withal;
cliche: aborning; between a rock and a hard place; bound and determined;
down and out;
newfangled: overthrowal; revisal;
pretentious: intermediary; network (vb); streamlined; terrain;
principal parts: sleep; slink; strew;
plurals: bula; broma; orilegium; lamprey; latifundia; miasma.
References
Bernstein, Theodore.
1965 The Careful Writer. New York: Atheneum.
Fowler, H. W.
1926 A Dictionary of Modern English Usage. Oxford: Clarendon.
Garner, Bryan A.
2003 Garners Modern American Usage. Oxford: Oxford University
Press.
Peters, Pam.
2004 The Cambridge Guide to English Usage. Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press.
Response to Commentary by Kuzmack 159
The State of English Etymology
(A Few Personal Observations)
Anatoly Liberman
1. The Beginning: From Minsheu to Wedgwood
The rst dictionary of English etymology appeared in 1617 (Minsheu
1617), and this is the conventional date marking the emergence of English
etymology as an independent branch of scholarship. In European lexi-
cography, Minsheu was preceded only by Kiliaen (1599; Dutch). Both
authors wrote their works in Latin. During the pre-Rask-Grimm epoch,
researchers made useful etymological discoveries either by chance or
when correct conclusions could not be missed. For example, no one
doubted that Latin was the foundation of the Romance languages. We
admire Socrates insights, as we know them from Platos Cratyllus, but
the truly interesting part of the dialogue is devoted to the perennial ques-
tion about the relation of sign and meaning. The etymologies oered there
are indefensible. Socrates and his interlocutors in Cratyllus knew only
Greek and some Phrygian. seventeenth- and eighteenth-century scholars
were aware of the multitude of languages around them, but their evolu-
tionary model held out little promise. Debate centered on whether Latin
arose from Greek or was a language in its own right. Hebrew enjoyed the
status of a protolanguage. Hardly anyone doubted that Gothic gave birth
to German, and in the second half of the nineteenth century Skeat still
kept reminding his readers that German is not the progenitor of English.
The greatest handicap in the work of early etymologists was their igno-
rance of sound correspondences and, as a result, their dependence on
near identical forms.
Yet in one respect their comparison of modern languages with Hebrew,
Greek, and Latin is instructive: it reminds us of how much in the history
of words depends on chance and thereby teaches us caution. Unbelievably
many look-alikes are almost too good to be wrong. Junius (about whom
more will be said below) derived stubborn from Greek stibarov rm,
strong, but stibarov is not allied to stubborn. The coincidence is strik-
ing. Stubborn is related to Icelandic ybbin (the same meaning). The dier-
ence between the suxes the rare -orn versus -inn remains a puzzle.
Perhaps stubborn is related to Latin tu#ber swelling (for details see the
entry on stubborn in Liberman 2008: 20305). In any case, it is not
stub orn. Even the Hebrew words cited generously by the earliest ety-
mologists are of some value. Since ancient ties between Indo-European
and Semitic are indubitable, the Hebrew material in Minsheu and others
may occasionally be put to use. The oldest dictionaries exist in modern re-
prints. If they were indexed for words, the Hebrew list might show how
often modern linguists hit upon the forms mentioned in similar contexts
by their distant predecessors. A typical example is English lad, which has
been erroneously referred to Hebrew yeled boy (some etymologists still
defend this comparison despite the evidence to the contrary), though it is
almost certainly of Scandinavian origin.
However dedicated Minsheu and his contemporaries might be to Hebrew,
Greek, and Latin as the presumable sources of modern languages, they
had to deal with many words so obviously recent (slang, for example) that
projecting them to antiquity was out of the question. Minsheu told an
anecdote about cockney being a fusion of cock and neigh. The anecdote
can be found in both the OED and The Century. When Casaubon (1650:
218, 3089) compared cockney and Greek oi
kogenhv born and bred
at home, no one followed him. (The origin of cockney is still debatable;
there is an entry on this word, too, in Liberman 2008.) Yet an atten-
tive etymologist will nd some stimulating ideas in seventeenth- and
eighteenth-century dictionaries. Not all of them are wrong.
In addition to the arguments advanced above (coincidences and non-
trivial suggestions about late words), it should be borne in mind that the
science of etymology, this mixture of rigor, inspiration, and good luck, is,
unlike phonetics, grammar, and semantics, often ignorant of its history.
This is particularly true of English. When people approach a word of
yet undiscovered origin, some associations are predictable. On hearing
English strumpet, an Icelander will think of strympa bucket, virago, etc.;
and a German, of Strumpf stocking, hose. Scholars and amateurs oer
the same conjectures again and again, including those that have been re-
jected on good grounds. Has the comparison between strumpet strympa
and strumpet Strumpf been investigated? If so, is it valid? The answer to
the rst question is no, and to the second yes. The main reason for the
eternal return of both silly guesses and promising hypotheses is the
lack of reference tools English etymologists can use. What are they ex-
pected to do once dictionaries tell them that the origin of strumpet is
unknown/disputable/obscure? Who has the time, patience, and resources
162 Anatoly Liberman
to look through all the volumes of the Years Work type and myriad
popular books with the prospect of coming away empty-handed? And
should the same search be repeated for every word? (I keep referring to
my dictionary not for the sake of promoting it or self-aggrandizement.
Quite naturally, I cite the words that I have researched; strumpet will also
be found in Liberman 2008. Its origin does not seem to have been dis-
cussed outside dictionaries.)
For over two decades I have been putting together a bibliography of
English etymology. My database contains about 20,000 articles, reviews,
and notes featuring close to 14,400 words of Modern English, from the
most common (like man, boy, girl ) to the rarest ones (regional, archaic,
and exotic). Its publication (2009) will facilitate answers to questions like
those given above about strumpet. However, every bibliography contains
numerous gaps. Some omissions are due to bad luck, others are inten-
tional. For example, Kennedy (1927) compiled a superb bibliography of
writings on the English language but ignored thousands of contributions
to Notes and Queries, both London-based and local. My database is all-
inclusive to the extent that I was able to make it such. Yet (to give a single
example) I found it unnecessary to cite works on the etymology of
Greek a nQrohov because English has anthropology and misanthrope. By
contrast, nectar, shaman, and viking, all borrowed, are there. In Liberman
2008, early etymologists (beginning with Leibnitz) feature prominently,
and the reader will be able to see whether some of the most tempting
modern ideas, tenable or untenable, occurred for the rst time centuries
ago (they sometimes did).
We can now return to the seventeenth century. Minsheus book was a
blend of an etymological dictionary and a synonym nder in about a
dozen languages. The next two dictionaries are those by Skinner (1671)
and Junius (1743); both were written in Latin and published posthu-
mously. Many of Skinners guesses make sense. Junius, a native speaker
of Dutch, noticed numerous convergences between his native language
and English (for details on these and later dictionaries, as well as on books
of word histories, see Liberman 1998, 2430).
A major gure in the history of English etymology is Horne Tooke, the
author of a two-volume book on winged words (epea pteroenta: Tooke
17981806). Today his inuence on contemporary thought looks like one
of historys unpredictable moves. A noted radical, an admirer and oppo-
nent of John Locke, Tooke belonged to the Age of Reason, and we
may appreciate him for his philosophical acumen, but his derivations of
English words will not bear scrutiny, even though he had some familiarity
The State of English Etymology 163
with Middle English and some knowledge of the older period. Nor can we
generate sucient enthusiasm while debating whether all words are trace-
able to nouns, for, using his dictum, words are things. It is enough to
observe Tookes inuence on the young Samuel Coleridge (cf. Jackson
1983) to see how little a word historian at any time could learn from
Epea pteroenta. By the forties of the nineteenth century, German philolo-
gists had discovered a good deal of what has not been superseded by later
research, but in England Tooke still had staunch supporters, as evidenced
by Edward Johnson, the author of a once well-known book (Johnson
1842; like a few other fellow etymologists of that period, Johnson was a
medical doctor). Epea pteroenta was for the last time reprinted in 1860;
now there is a facsimile reprint of the original edition.
I fully agree with Dolezal (1997: 262):
In North America it is a commonplace to assert a Kuhnian inuenced anal-
ysis of linguistic history that creates a revolution of thought that not only
marginalizes, but trivializes most, if not all, work before the publication of
Noam Chomskys Syntactic Structures. There should be no wonder, then,
that historical linguistics itself does not hold a central position in the dis-
cipline today. In order to hold a place in the present episteme, stalwarts of
diachronic studies will place the ground work of the revolution at the time
of Bopp, Rask, and the Grimms; to admit any work beyond that would
invite the ridicule of the standard bearers.
The disrespect in which pre-Rask scholarship is held not only in North
America (a fact strangely at odds with multiple publications on the his-
toriography of linguistics) has been nearly as detrimental to modern
linguistics as the conservative thinking of the British in the nineteenth
century. Dolezal nds it unfair that Tooke is mainly remembered for his
fanciful etymologies. But since etymology is the subject of this paper, I
have no other choice than to dismiss those etymologies as indeed fanciful.
Tookes emphasis on nouns in the development of language has been men-
tioned; however, he derived many words from imperatives (if from give!,
yet from get!, and so forth) and past participles. These derivations are no
longer even thought provoking.
With regard to the history of English lexicography, I would like to set
the record straight on one minor point. Dolezal remarks (1997: 278):
It is also worthy of note that two dictionaries were published that were
directly inuenced by Tookian etymologies (and perhaps other principles):
Richardson (1835) and Noah Webster (1828). The former is now just a
curiosity, the latter stands for the highest authority of North American
lexicography.
Only the name connects the highest authority of North American lexi-
cography with Websters 1828 work. Websters etymologies, an embar-
rassment to later scholars, remained unchanged until Mahn, a German
expert in Romance linguistics, revised them. His input was treasured so
much that the 1864 edition became known as Webster-Mahn. The etymol-
ogies in the dictionary gained a measure of respectability, but too little
eldwork had been done by 1864 for Mahn to be able to oer something
durable. Richardsons dictionary (see Richardson 1858 for the nal ver-
sion) is a treasure trove of ingenious denitions and excellent citations.
His etymologies are a waste, but he summarized the earlier conjectures
on the origin of words, and this is a useful feature of his entries. All in
all, his dictionary is not just a curiosity.
With the appearance of Juniuss Etymologicum (the last dictionary of
this type written in Latin) English etymology of the premodern period
reached its peak. However far Minsheu, Skinner, and Junius may have
been from understanding what we call the comparative method, they
were no longer medieval scholars, whose arbitrary etymologies aimed at
supporting preconceived ideas. In the Middle Ages, god would be equated
with good not because their kinship could be shown by referring to linguis-
tic rules but because God is good. Unlike such practitioners of etymology,
Minsheu and others studied the history of words (as best they could). At
present we accept the medieval idea that homo man, human being is
allied to humus earth not simply because many religions share the myth
of the human beings creation from earth but because the vowels and
consonants in homo and humus match according to our rules. By the
same token, we reject the proposition that English man is derived from
Latin humanus: the similarity between them is fortuitous. (Latin hu#ma#nus
human, a derivative of homo, has nothing to do with the Germanic
divine name Mannus, the most likely etymon of man).
The literature on European etymology from Isidore of Seville through
Leibnitz to the end of the eighteenth century is not vast, if we disregard
the treatises on the origin of language and the diversity of languages (the
Tower of Babel). As pointed out above, the rst etymological dictionary
of a new language (Dutch) appeared in 1599. Minsheus was the second.
The third, by Helvigius (1620), was of German. At that period, etymology
was guesswork, inspired or foolish, as the case might be. Despite the
polemical spirit informing some works, the authors usually followed a cer-
tain protocol, preserved by Richardson: before embarking on ones own
theory, the predecessors suggestions were discussed. This is the title
of the least successful eighteenth-century etymological dictionary (in the
bibliography appended to this paper, the title will not be reproduced in
full): G. W. Lemon, English Etymology; or Derivative Dictionary of the
English Language: In Two Alphabets, Tracing the Etymology of those
English Words that are derived I. From the Greek, and Latin Languages:
II. From the Saxon and other Northern Tongues. The whole compiled from
Vossius, Meric Casaubon, Spelman, Sommer, Minsheu, Junius, Skinner,
Verstegan, Ray, Nugent, Upton, Cleland, and other Etymologists (Lemon
1783). Lemon attempted to trace as many words as possible to Greek,
but not all his authorities were of one mind: Minsheu turned to Hebrew
for the origin of English, Cleland preferred Celtic, and so forth, while
Sommer and Ray were lexicographers, not etymologists. Lemons erudi-
tion cannot be doubted, yet he missed not only Kiliaen and Helvigius but
also Ihre (1769), the author of a deservedly inuential Swedish dictionary.
Since etymology is based on a broad comparison of languages, it
cannot aord being only Dutch, English, German, or Swedish. For in-
stance, in all those languages the word for hand sounds alike. English
hand, German Hand, and so forth must have developed from the same
protoform: Gothic had handus, a u-stem (< *handuz), in accord with Old
Icelandic hond (o from a by u-umlaut). Our task consists in discovering
why *handuz designated the body part we still call hand. Consequently,
if the origin of this word in Gothic, Dutch, German, Icelandic, or Swedish
happens to be explained, the problem of its etymology elsewhere in
Germanic will also be solved. This is why the bibliography of English
etymology is a eld with blurred contours and why the state of English
etymology should be viewed in conjunction with the state of etymology
in the other Germanic languages and to some extent in the rest of Indo-
European (and occasionally in Semitic and Finno-Ugric).
Between 1822 (the year the second edition of Jacob Grimms Deutsche
Grammatik came out) and the emergence of the Neogrammarians, Ger-
man historical linguistics made great progress, and etymological studies
in other countries either shone with a reected light or lagged behind (the
usual case). English scholars were slow in realizing what was happening
on the continent, and serious conclusions about the origin of English
words can be found almost only in articles and books by German lin-
guists. The rst Old English (Anglo-Saxon) grammar was written by
Sievers (1882). Germans also brought out the rst dictionary of Middle
English (Stratmann 1867). Only in the area of Old English Englishmen
(Sommer 1659; Bosworth 1838) left the Germans Ettmu ller (1851) and
Matzner (187885) behind. For years Diefenbach (1851) remained the
best comparative dictionary of Gothic. All those books are, naturally,
outdated, but they ushered in a new era of English philology and con-
tain much that is still usable. It is no wonder that in 1891 Henry Bradley
saw t to revise Stratmanns dictionary. In the early eighties of the
nineteenth century, Skeat mentioned a single English etymological dic-
tionary with approval, namely Muellers (or Mu llers) Etymologisches
Woerterbuch der englischen Sprache (186567; 1878), now completely
forgotten.
Meanwhile, in England a plan for a new dictionary (the future OED)
was inaugurated. The designated etymologist for that dictionary was
Hensleigh Wedgwood. Year after year, from the early eighteen-forties on,
Wedgwoods articles appeared in the volumes of the Transactions of the
Philological Society. Between 1859 and 1865 his etymological dictionary
was being published in installments (Wedgwood 185965). It ran into
three more editions, and a revised American edition was launched, but
only the rst volume (the letters A through D) appeared. Like Webster,
Wedgwood knew many languages, including some non-Indo-European
ones. His etymologies are much more realistic than Websters, but he
often ruined them by adhering to the idea that words usually go back
to onomatopoeia or interjections. He was aware of major sound laws,
but since expressive words need not obey them, he did not bother about
phonetics. Like no one else, he managed to string look-alikes of near
homonyms from dierent, sometimes unrelated languages, once again
highlighting the riddle and danger of chance coincidences. Serious scholars
disapproved of Wedgwoods conclusions, but some of them admitted that
the pseudocognates he paraded could not always be dismissed out of
hand. For instance, English chide (from c # dan) resembles Finnish kidata
creak; shrink; press together. True to this guiding principle, Wedgwood
believed that chide was sound imitative (< *make a lot of noise). He
was probably wrong, but the sound complex kid does often turn up in
words for creaking, shrieking, screaming, and the like. Before rejecting
Wedgwoods etymology, I investigated it in detail. This example is far
from unique. Wedgwoods dictionary changed little from edition to
edition, and this circumstance doomed it, for what appeared controversial
in 1865 must have looked like an anachronism in 1888.
Thus, by the early eighties English etymologists had at their dispo-
sal Minsheu, Skinner, Junius, Tooke, Webster-Mahn, Wedgwood, and
Mueller not an impressive list. But even German etymological dic-
tionaries (Kaltschmidt 1839; Schwenck 1839 and later) were antiquated.
Only Kluge (1884) struck a modern note, though the rst edition of his
dictionary was a modest venture by todays standards. In other countries
the situation was even worse.
2. The Middle Period: From Skeat to Weekley
The Reverend Walter W. Skeat planned to spend his life serving his
parishioners, and only an illness that aected his voice made him turn to
academic pursuits. In 1879 he began to publish an etymological dictionary
and completed it in three years (Skeat 1882). The Clarendon Press did not
want to tamper with the original text, so that the second and the third
edition dier minimally from the rst, and only in the fourth (the last) he
could expunge, add, and modify some of his statements. The progress of
his scholarship can be traced through the several versions of his A Concise
Etymological Dictionary of the English Language.
In one respect Wedgwood and Skeat share common ground. Their
predecessors, as already pointed out, rst summarized other solutions
and only then oered their own. One can call such dictionaries analytic.
Wedgwood dispensed with the history of research. Skeat referred to the
most important compendia and dictionaries and occasionally to an article
that contained a denitive answer to an etymological puzzle, but his
entries are summaries of the relevant facts and his conclusions. Beginning
with Wedgwood, English etymological lexicography became dogmatic
and anonymous. In Germany, Kluge followed the same format (Schwenck
was not dierent in that regard). The undesirable consequences of the
dogmatic trend are easy to see. The briefest comparison between Skeats
or Kluges dictionary with Feists (to give an almost random example:
Feist 1939) will show how much more useful information one gets from
Feist, who cites thousands of works in many languages and unfolds a
multicolored picture, where Skeat and Kluge allow us to see the top of
the building and to assume that its foundation is solid. We cannot even
judge how well-read they were. Wedgwood did without a bibliography.
The dictionary by Skeat opens with a long list of other dictionaries
and editions, but it remains unclear how closely he followed journals and
Festschriften.
As time went on, European etymological lexicography began to gra-
vitate toward Feists model, whereas English lexicography remained
dogmatic. Skeats dictionary is still the best we have for English, but it
does not encourage research. One example will suce. According to
Skeat, bigot, from French, is a word of unknown origin. Everybody will
concur with his verdict even today. Yet by 1910 the most distinguished
Romance scholars had had a chance to discuss the history of bigot more
than once. In England, Wedgwood wrote about its etymology several
times. Skeat dismissed Wedgwoods derivation on chronological grounds
(no reference is given) and produced the impression that no one else had
dealt with the problem. However, Wedgwoods etymology (in this case
not based on sound imitation) convinced no one and occupied an insigni-
cant place in the long polemic.
Two years after the appearance of Skeats dictionary the rst volume of
the NED (later renamed as the OED, though even Murray did not know
when O substituted for N) went into print. The last volume came out in
1928. A supplementary volume followed. After World War II, four more
supplementary volumes were published. Then they were all merged, and
now the OED, with regular additions, is available online. It is a historical,
not an etymological dictionary, but etymology constitutes an important
part of every entry. Murray and Bradley, the rst two editors, were out-
standing etymologists and kept abreast of German scholarship, often
through personal correspondence. Craigie, Onions, and Burcheld were
more interested in the development of English words than in their origins.
Until today the state of English etymology is dened by two works:
the last edition of Skeats dictionary (1910) and the OED (18841928).
As we will see, there is great discrepancy between what has been achieved
by several generations of scholars who have worked since roughly the
end of World War I and what one nds in the post-1910 etymological
dictionaries.
The last etymological dictionary with a discernible imprint of individ-
ual research was written by Ernest Weekley (1921), a distinguished spe-
cialist in onomastics and the inuence of French on Middle and Modern
English. His popular books, now seldom consulted despite their merits,
and numerous articles bear witness to his resourcefulness and courage in
oering original solutions. Yet his dictionary is less innovative than his
scholarly publications and makes it clear that after Skeat and the OED,
attempts to produce a run-of-the-mill dictionary of English etymology
should be abandoned. Being able to explain several hundred words better
than it was done by Skeat, Murray, and Bradley does not justify such a
venture.
English vocabulary contains words with ramied Indo-European con-
nections (for instance, numerals and kin terms), words attested in all the
Germanic languages (sometimes without Gothic; dwarf is a typical exam-
ple) or only some of them, words without established cognates outside
English (not necessarily slang: consider bird, cub, boy, girl, rabbit, toad,
ever, yet, and so forth), and loanwords from about every language of
the world (but predominantly from Old Norse, French, and Latin). An
etymological dictionary cannot be all-inclusive: 10,000 entries are usually
more than enough to satisfy anyones curiosity about word origins. After
the enormous work done by philologists in the course of two centuries (if
we begin with Rask, Grimm, and Bopp, rather than Minsheu, Skinner,
and Junius), the incontestable etymologies have become common pro-
perty. Every obscure word poses a problem. Monographs have been writ-
ten on the history of words ranging from ginger to shyster. Attempts to
explain the origin of god, man, wife, and other universally known but
etymologically opaque words continue with unabating vigor, but more
often than once we seem to be facing a blind wall: no recorded evidence,
no established cognates, no associations.
An ambitious lexicographer with an interest in etymology is expected
to shed light on god, man, wife, and the rest, for otherwise why bother?
Even a detailed history of attempts to solve the riddle is useful: in such a
survey all the relevant literature is presented and evaluated, demonstrably
mistaken solutions are weeded out, promising approaches are highlighted,
and the door is open for the next round, as it were. In search of illumi-
nation we open Weekley and nd the following: god: ultimate origin
unknown; man: a few cognates and a lengthy disquisition on usage; wife:
perhaps ultimately the veiled being, in allusion to marriage custom (thus
uncritically repeating the hypothesis oered in the dictionary by Falk-
Torp and not even explaining which word for the veil is meant), and so
it goes. It would have been more to the point to write a book titled New
Solutions to Old Problems: An Etymologists Musings, but such a book
would have had a limited market, and dictionaries are published to be
sold. The sales of Weekleys dictionary must have been good, for he put
together a concise version (1923), and more recent reprints are available
today. Although in many entries revealing suggestions turn up, they are
buried in a mass of the familiar and the trivial. Let me repeat: the time
for another traditional one-volume dictionary of English etymology is
over. It is characteristic that no one dared to revise Skeats master-
piece. The German scene is dierent. After Kluges death, slightly or radi-
cally revised editions were brought out, and the dictionary is no longer
dogmatic.
3. The Present Period
The diculties outlined above did not deter publishers from further
attempts to replace Skeat (which, incidentally, is available in a modern
reprint). Two etymological dictionaries by Partridge (1958) and Klein
(1966) seem to have been a commercial success. Yet Partridge repack-
aged (often ineptly) the information from a few earlier dictionaries, and
Klein set out to present the history of civilization by adding entries on
scientic terms. Neither was trained to deal with the history of English,
and neither examined the special literature on the subject. The Oxford
Dictionary of English Etymology (ODEE, 1966) lled a long deplored gap
(everybody wished for a compact up-to-date dictionary with Oxfords
imprimatur), but it did not tell anyone anything new either. A digest of
the OED (without citations), it showed at its birth every sign of old age.
Later a concise version of ODEE came out (Hoad 1988). The most recent
etymological dictionary of English is Barnhart (1988; 1995, concise). Care-
fully written and cautiously worded, this team work contains neither new
material nor original solutions.
So far, in this paper the science of English etymology has been equated
with English etymological lexicography. In a brief outline of the subject
this equation was hard to avoid. To get an idea of what was known about
the origin of English words at the end of the seventeenth century, we turn
to Skinner. Our window to the state of the art two hundred years later
is Skeat. Unfortunately, that window is not fully transparent. In foot-
notes to treatises on Old Indian religion, in countless articles with the
titles Etymologisches and Etymological Notes gracing journals and
Festschriften, presentations at philological congresses (of which often only
summaries are extant), and reviews, one encounters ingenious compari-
sons and bold conjectures; most probably, Skeat, Murray, and Bradley
were unaware of some of them. But only an exhaustive bibliography and
an analytic (as opposed to dogmatic) dictionary based on it can do justice
to the achievement of etymologists from Norway to Japan. Feists dic-
tionary mirrors the state of Gothic etymology in 1939, whereas Skeats
dictionary reects only his own (profound but, of necessity, limited)
understanding of the subject.
Throughout the nineteenth century, historical linguistics was the most
prestigious area of language study. The rise of structuralism pushed it
to the background. The post-1956 trend, mentioned by Dolezal, made
etymology even more marginal in the profession and curricula. Yet it sur-
vived. As noted in connection with the word hand, a relevant work need
not be devoted to English to deserve the attention of an English etymolo-
gist. A true measure of the level reached by English etymology is not the
collective wisdom of Skeat, the OED, and Weekley (with Junius and
Wedgwood thrown in for good measure), but a critical synthesis of every-
thing ever said on the origin of English words and their cognates. An
almost random example will show how much lower the level of our
current dictionaries is than that of the science of English etymology. To
make my point especially clear, I have chosen a word coined in the full
light of history and having no cognates outside English. In our search we
will therefore be untrammeled by hints from Tocharian, Hittite, Greek,
Latin, and so forth.
The origin of the word cocktail has puzzled English speakers for a long
time. Evidently, we have a sum of cock and tail, but whence the resulting
meaning? The earliest dated citation of cocktail in the original edition of
the OED goes back to 1809. The volume of the OED with the word cock-
tail appeared in 1893. The examples are preceded by the comment: A
slang word, of which the real origin appears to be lost. Note the amusing
epithet real. However, one fact is incontestable: cocktail, wherever its
home might be, spread to the rest of the world from the United States;
it designates an American drink. The explanations pertaining to the
unreal origin of cocktail are many. The folk-etymological and other
fantasies summarized here have been culled from Notes and Queries for
the eighteen-nineties. . . . the term was suggested by the shape which
froth, as of a glass of porter, assumes when it ows over the sides of a
tumbler containing the liquid eervescing; The old doctors had a habit
of treating certain diseases of the throat with a pleasant liquid, applied
with the tip of a long feather plucked from a cocks tail. . . (the liquid
allegedly consisted of bitters, vermouth, and other appetizers); The Aztec
word for pulque is pronounced much like octail, and General Scotts
troops called the liquor cocktail and carried the word back to the United
States; we also read that coquetel (whatever its origin), a mixed drink
known in the vicinity of Bordeaux for centuries, was introduced to
America by French ocers during the Revolution and that the rst cock-
tails were served from eggcups, with the French for eggcup being
coquetier (the custom originated in New Orleans soon after 1800); the
etymon of cocktail may presumably be either of those French words.
Additionally, a beverage called cock ale existed. This ale mixed with
the jelly or minced meat of boiled cock, besides other ingredients has
been traced to the middle of the seventeenth century (OED). Another
cock ale is dened as a mixture of spirits and bitters fed to ghting cocks
in training. Those who derived cocktail from cock ale had no qualms
about t in the middle of cocktail but noted instead that in the days
of cock ghting the spectators used to toast to the cock with the most
feathers left in its tail after the contest, and the number of ingredients in
the drink corresponded to the number of feathers left: hence cocktail.
Cocktails are inseparable from bars and restaurants, and it was sug-
gested that the word may be an abridged form of cock tailings, the name
of a mixture of tailings from various liquors, thrown together in a com-
mon receptacle and sold at a low price. It is reported, as a slightly dier-
ent version of the bar-and-restaurant etymology has it, that in the early
American days they used to empty the last ounce or so of miscellaneous
bottles of liquor into one bottle, the cork of which was decorated with a
cocks tail feathers. In this etymology, cocktail emerged as cockcork.
Most of the aforementioned conjectures with reference to cock, whether
nonsensical or ringing true at rst sight, are hopeless by denition. If any
of them had any foundation in reality, the drink would have been called
cocks tail (cf. coxcomb, that is, cocks comb). Some people realized this
and suggested a connection with the adjective cock-tailed. They were close
to the truth, but cock-tailed means having the tail docked so that the
short stump sticks up like a cocks tail, and it remains unclear where the
beverage comes in. The missing link was provided by Laftman (1946). He
read attentively the relevant entries in the OED and explained the origin
of cocktail. It was customary to dock the tails of horses that were not
thoroughbred (for example, of hunters and stagecoach horses). They
were called cocktailed horses, later simply cocktails. By extension, the
word cocktail was applied to a vulgar, ill-bred person raised above his sta-
tion, assuming the position of a gentleman but decient in gentlemanly
breeding. Laftman also unearthed an 1806 citation in which cocktail is
dened as a stimulating liquor, composed of spirits of any kind, sugar,
water, and bitters. Of importance is not the fact of antedating (1806, as
opposed to the OEDs 1809) but the mention of water as an ingredient.
According to an 1836 anecdote, a wounded duelist was carried into a
tavern and revived by a mixture of liquor, egg yolk, sugar, lemon, and
crushed ice (presumably, a cocktail); ice, it will be remembered, is frozen
water. Laftman concluded that cocktail was an acceptable alcoholic drink,
but diluted, not a purebred, a thing raised above its station. Hence
the highly appropriate slang word used earlier about inferior horses and
sham gentlemen.
Laftman wrote his article in Swedish, which did not redound to its
popularity, but it could not have been lost in the bibliographical jungle
thanks to its title (Cocktail). Also, the journal (Moderna sprak) was
and is well known. The Supplement to the OED incorporated the 1806
citation, possibly from that article. No one seems to have paid attention
to it, and under Burcheld old etymologies in the OED were not revised.
The statement a slang word, of which the real origin appears to be lost
remained unchanged.
Those who should have read Laftmans explanation did not read it,
though his hypothesis is worthy of celebration. The next cocktail decoder
was Buyssens who wrote about this word four times: three times in
English (1959, 1961, 1964) and once in French (1961). He must have
been very proud of his discovery. He did not appreciate the value of the
1806 citation, but even without it he oered the same etymology as did
Laftman. Finally, Messing (1978) contributed an ebullient paper to the
Hill Festschrift. At last, he announced, the riddle of cocktail is solved.
The same etymology was advanced for the third time.
Do we now know the origin of cocktail ? Etymologies are not theorems,
they cannot be proved; at best, they can be made highly probable. This, I
believe, has happened to cocktail. It is also signicant that three scholars
reached identical conclusions, a rare case in the eld of reconstruction.
Unlike wine, beer, and ale, the word cocktail is late. Its use has been docu-
mented. Despite such great advantages, we have only a persuasive hypo-
thesis. In this case, the search did not require deep thoughts on ablaut,
laryngeals, or the structure of the Indo-European root. It is rather the
straightforward nature of the question (Where did American slang cock-
tail come from?) that turned out to be a trap.
In 1946 Laftman assumed (correctly) that the OEDs verdict (the real
origin . . . is lost) still stands. Buyssens could not imagine that he had
been anticipated. Messing, who also let himself be guided by the OED,
repeated Buyssenss mistake. In 1978 a specialist writing on cocktail
should have screened bibliographies, and a foray into a territory con-
quered ve times and trod nearly barren has no excuse. But the most curi-
ous thing is that Buyssenss and Messings papers written in English
elicited no remonstrance and for some time joined Laftmans in the mass
grave of English etymology. Nor were they appreciated, even when noticed,
by dictionary makers in England or the United States. In Germany and
France, Buyssenss, not Laftmans, explanation attracted the attention of
those who studied borrowings from English into their languages (see
Seibicke 1964, Knobloch 1971, and Seebolds edition of Kluge: 1989,
1999, 2002). Knobloch knew Buyssenss work, Seibicke referred for
brevitys sake only to a derivative article in Sprachdienst, but as late as
1987 the second edition of Random House Unabridged said that the origin
of the word is obscure and that none of numerous attempts to explain its
relationship to cocktail a horse with a docked tail; a horse that is not a
thoroughbred; a man of little breeding who passes for a gentleman had
won general acceptance (where were the dissenting voices?). The ODEE
made do with the statement of obscure origin. The 2000 edition of The
American Heritage Dictionary of the English Language has a question
mark in the rubric for etymology.
It was therefore a pleasant surprise to nd a slight deviation from the
beaten track in the rst edition of The New Oxford American Dictionary
(2001): . . . perhaps analogous [to not a thoroughbred horse], from the
idea of an adulterated drink (the same in the second edition, 2005). This
is correct, but too timid and too vague. Since today one can enjoy a
shrimp cocktail and even a cocktail of drugs, the phrase adulterated
drink (why adulterated?) had to be explained. If Laftmans article never
made it to the top, one can imagine how little chance of attaining visibility
observations in reviews and fugitive papers have in the boundless sea of
linguistic information. The cocktail saga is a typical example of the rift
between the state of English etymology as a science and as it is reected
in English etymological dictionaries and dictionaries with a signicant
etymological component.
The earliest modern popular book of word histories is nearly two hun-
dred years old (Taylor 1818). Later the genre of rambles among words
and word gossip gained strength, and now publishers churn out such
books at top speed. The Internet added numerous blogs to this stream.
Among their authors the only professional etymologist was Ernest Weekley.
The others have been journalists, editors (occasionally editors of dic-
tionaries), and well-meaning amateurs dedicated to language study. Their
work, as far as it is done with care and is not intent on pursuing a crazy
agenda (for instance, to prove that all English words go back to Hebrew
or Arabic), feeds the public with easily digestible gruel, providing at the
same time a modicum of fun. Their content is usually derived from the
OED, an inestimable source of information, but, as noted, it is a historical
rather than an etymological dictionary, full of inconclusive statements
about the derivation of English words.
It may perhaps be appropriate to say a few words about the metho-
dology of the work that is expected to result in a viable etymological dic-
tionary of English, though the same methodology is applicable to any
other language with a richly documented history and a long history of
research. It follows from the cocktail saga that etymology as an area of
knowledge did not begin yesterday and that the price for neglecting this
fact is failure. However, the literature on word origins is notoriously hard
to nd. Even nineteenth-century luminaries sometimes needed a disclaimer
to the eect that in oering their proposals they may have been antici-
pated. Their fears were not groundless.
Cocktail, an isolated and a fairly recent English word, poses few dif-
culties, but if the object of study is wife (with cognates in West Ger-
manic and, less obviously, Scandinavian), dwarf (recorded in all the
Old Germanic languages except Gothic), man (Germanic-Indo-Iranian),
or daughter (occurring in most Indo-European languages), the search be-
comes almost endless. Apparently, we need comprehensive bibliographies
of many national etymologies. I am publishing (2009) a voluminous
bibliography of English etymology, but this is a drop in an almost bottom-
less bucket.
Numerous dictionaries, books, and articles have to be screened before
the rst word in an entry can be written. More than once this gigantic
work will result only in an informative state of the art report. If the author
of such a report (which will serve as the starting point for later re-
searchers) is a scholar of Feists or Jan de Vriess caliber, a survey will
not be a mean achievement, for all the conjectures will be ordered and
evaluated by a great expert. The origin of some words will, of necessity,
remain undiscovered, but every now and then a thorough knowledge of
the literature will provide a clue. Thus, while reading an old article on
the impact of Italian on Middle High German, I guessed the origin of
galoot (the material suggested an easy answer), and a forgotten book by
a Dutch linguist on Dutch etymology made the origin of yeoman, another
seemingly impenetrable word, clear. Such incidents are not too rare.
We all use how-to books. So here is a recipe for writing a good
etymology of English.
1. Have at your disposal all the editions of all the etymological dic-
tionaries of the Germanic languages and of serious dictionaries with
an etymological component. You will also need etymological dic-
tionaries of many other languages. Collect books on word histories.
Many of them are repetitive and trivial, but quite a few are useful.
Consulting books on the history of English is taken for granted. Those
that have no word indexes should be indexed.
2. Amass and read everything that has been written about your word
and its cognates, secure or putative.
3. Evaluate the conjectures. Some are probably fanciful; others, though
wide of the mark, may contain a reasonable idea. Still others may
look promising or acceptable. Write a critical overview of what you
have read.
Needless to say, my dictionary (Liberman 2008) is the product of the
cookbook, as it is presented above. A new convincing solution (the coveted
aim of every entry) is a matter of luck, even inspiration. No recipes will
help here. But even if the author of an etymological dictionary worthy of
its name combines superhuman diligence, analytic skills, and imagination,
in the twenty-rst century such a dictionary must be team work. The bane
of all great lexicographic projects is the volume of preparatory work. (See
the more technical details of etymological methodology in Liberman 2008:
xxvxxix).
4. Conclusion: The Prospect
In my opinion, the future of an analytic dictionary of English etymology
(and, consequently, the science of English etymology) is not rosy. For two
decades my oce has served as a clearing house for the materials on the
origin of English words. About a hundred people have worked for me:
undergraduate and graduate students and volunteers. My funding came
from my university, a philanthropist with strong ties to the University of
Minnesota, a few minor grants, an out-of-state private foundation, and
an out-of-state philanthropist. All my attempts to get a grant from NEH
failed. The objections have been of a type that would be hard to counter
by means of pure reason. Here are some of them.
A person without a strong background in Sanskrit and Classics cannot
be entrusted with writing a dictionary of English etymology.
The principal investigator divided the vocabulary of English into
several groups and plans to begin with words lacking established
cognates. By denition, such words are of no importance to Indo-
European linguistics, for the only aim of etymology is to advance
comparative studies and provide researchers with reconstructed proto-
forms.
The rst volume (words without established cognates outside English)
is expected to contain about 2000 words, so that if the proposal is
funded, how much will taxpayers have to cough up for every word?
It remains unclear how the monuments of Old and Middle English
literature (such as Beowulf and Canterbury Tales) will be used in the
prospective dictionary.
Nothing is said in the proposal about the treatment of words like uncle
in idioms of the cry uncle type.
A consistent survey of old dictionaries and early etymologies is a waste
of time, for, as everybody knows, those sources contain nothing of
value for a modern scholar.
The principal investigator wants to write the entire dictionary himself.
There is no guarantee that he wont merely promote his views. A team
of specialists is needed to exercise control, the more so as his research
is not on the cutting edge of modern linguistics.
This dictionary will never be nished.
Here is one more project that will result in a heap of Xeroxed paper.
The principal investigator admits that we already have many etymo-
logical dictionaries, so why write one more?
In 2007 the verdict was: Has merit, does not deserve funding.
It is only fair to say that some suggestions were useful (and every next
application incorporated the improvements I owed to them) and that
many were encouraging and even laudatory, but I did not succeed in gen-
erating the required state of unanimous academic ecstasy. One or two
snide remarks may have been directed at me personally, but, on the whole,
anyone else in my place would probably have been dismissed with the
same show of hostility and tired disdain. In retrospect, I am even glad
that the critics of my project have been so unkind. The grant period lasts
two years (it used to be three), and writing an application is a time con-
suming process. To continue work, I need nancial security, not constant
distractions, and the certainty that for ten years or so I will have a modest
annual sum for assistants who will run errands, screen journals, enter the
articles marked for words into the computer, and prepare the work for
publication. At the moment, the largesse of another friend of historical
linguistics and the English language provided me with coveted security
for the next several years.
There is no public awareness of the fact that a state-of-the art etymo-
logical dictionary of English is a project worthy of support. Yet the sad
fact remains that the English speaking world, which has the best historical
dictionary ever written, the great and incomparable OED, does not possess
an up-to-date etymological dictionary. Excellent analytic dictionaries (in
some cases multivolume ones) have been written for Sanskrit, Classical
Greek, Latin, French, Spanish, Gothic, Old Icelandic, Dutch, Russian,
Lithuanian, Old Irish, Finnish, partly for Polish, and a few other lan-
guages. The etymological dictionaries of German and Italian are less
detailed but in every respect superior to anything we have for English.
First-rate analytic etymological dictionaries of Hittite and Old High
German are in the making. If some semblance of a center for English (or
better for Germanic, ideally for Indo-European) etymology, perhaps
underwritten by a consortium of inuential publishing houses, becomes
a reality, the present situation will be remedied: we will get the desired
analytic dictionary and an exhaustive bibliography. Otherwise, we will
be doomed to reading digests of the OED, with a few antedatings,
more illustrative examples provided by modern search machines, and a
sprinkling here and there from Skeat and others, until the proverbial
cows come home.
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Commentary on Liberman, The State of
English Etymology
Ann-Marie Svensson
Recently, historical linguistics and etymology, much too often seen as
inferior to other elds within linguistics, have enjoyed a resurgence, and
new theories and etymologies are being presented at conferences and in
articles.
Anatoly Libermans article on the state of English etymology discusses
on the one hand the history of etymological lexicology and also his own
work with the Analytic Dictionary of English Etymology, begun in 1987.
An extremely interesting part of Libermans article is the description of
the work with the dictionary, which began with construction of a database
containing about 20,000 articles, reviews, and notes featuring close to
14,400 words of Modern English. The rst volume, An Introduction, was
published in the spring of 2008 and discusses 55 words with unknown
etymology, e.g. cub, girl, slang, and an extensive bibliography that covers
80 pages. Fascinating articles on the origins of common words like cub
and cockney will stimulate the interest in digging deeper into etymology.
The dictionary will be an invaluable resource for researchers and students
working with etymology and will denitely help to enhance interest in
historical linguistics.
One of the key issues in Anatoly Libermans article is the importance of
making a distinction between present-day etymological lexicology and the
science of English etymology. Liberman nds that [u]ntil today the state
of English etymology is dened by two works: the last edition of Skeats
dictionary (1910) and the OED (18841928), so that there is a dis-
crepancy between what is found in etymological dictionaries based on
these two and what has later been achieved by generations of scholars.
Furthermore, although the OED is invaluable as an historical dictionary
with its numerous citations illustrating the dierent uses of words, it is
not primarily an etymological dictionary.
It is interesting to see how the story of cocktail, a random example with
no cognates outside English, illustrates the risk that a great many articles
on word origin are lost or forgotten, so that the same discoveries are made
over and over again. As Liberman comments:
A true measure of the level reached by English etymology is not the collec-
tive wisdom of Skeat, the OED, and Weekley (with Junius and Wedgwood
thrown in for good measure), but a critical synthesis of everything ever said
on the origin of English words and their cognates.
Cocktail thus illustrates in a clear way the rift between the state of etymol-
ogy as a science and its reection in etymological dictionaries. Origin
unknown is an etymology often given in dictionaries, both old and new.
It was around the turn of the twentieth century that historical linguis-
tics, and with it etymology, lost ground to other linguistic elds, and this
aected etymological lexicology in a negative way. As the dictionaries of
English etymology printed after the 1920s are generally reprints or sum-
maries of the prestigious old dictionaries, the research and achievements
of contemporary scholars will easily be forgotten or lost in the same
way as the cited article on cocktail by the Swedish linguist Emil Laftman.
Liberman asserts that:
the time for another traditional one-volume dictionary of English etymology
is over. . . . [O]nly an exhaustive bibliography and an analytic (as opposed
to dogmatic) dictionary based on it can do justice to the achievement of
etymologists from Norway to Japan.
A bibliography of English etymology is, however, a wide eld, as other
languages, not only Germanic but also other Indo-European languages
such as French, Italian, Spanish, etc. are important for determining the
origins of English words, and the collection of material thus involves an
enormous amount of work.
Libermans survey of the history of etymological lexicology shows that
dictionaries of English etymology have been published since the seven-
teenth century, and an interesting point in the history of English etymol-
ogy is how much work in this eld has been done by Germans. Also, in
this context it can be mentioned that a considerable number of Old and
Middle English texts were edited by German linguists, e.g. Ko lbing,
Horstmann, and published in Germany in the nineteenth century.
It may be argued that seventeenth- and eighteenth-century etymologists
were ignorant of the regular sound changes and correspondences charted
by Rask and Grimm, and that their dictionaries are of little or no value
today, but nevertheless they present interesting ideas and citations, and,
184 Ann-Marie Svensson
as pointed out by Liberman, they also summarize earlier conjectures,
which can be of interest even for a modern reader. These early dictionaries
were analytic, but from the middle of the nineteenth century dictionaries
became dogmatic and anonymous instead of analytic, and therefore it is
unclear how much the authors followed recent research.
Libermans thought-provoking article strongly claries how much
lower the level of our current dictionaries is than that of the science of
English etymology and how badly a bibliography of English etymology
and a new analytic dictionary are needed. He also points to the sad fact
that the English language, in contrast to several other languages, does
not have an up-to-date analytic etymological dictionary and that such a
dictionary is not regarded as a project worthy of support. It is uplifting
to see how, in spite of all the diculties involved, Libermans work on
this much needed etymological dictionary is progressing.
Commentary on Liberman 185
Response to Commentary by Svensson
Anatoly Liberman
I was very glad to read Dr. Svenssons friendly comments on my presenta-
tion. They bore out my conviction that specialists have no diculty appre-
ciating the usefulness of my project. Like me, they have probably spent
countless hours trying to nd the relevant publications on the origin of
English words and realize how helpful it would be to have an English
Feist, and, like me, they noticed the disparity between the skimpy infor-
mation one nds in dictionaries and the richness of material and ideas in
the ever-growing corpus of articles and books on Indo-European, Ger-
manic, and English etymology. They do not ask how many dollars each
etymology in a dictionary costs or why it is important to have a complete
critical summary of everything done in the course of several centuries.
During the short period that has passed since the publication of my An
Analytic Dictionary of English Etymology: An Introduction, I have read
a half-dozen reviews, and their tenor is very much like that of Dr.
Svenssons comments. Even if we stay with isolated English words, which
need special attention, the amount of work to be done is huge, but given
the support of the profession, the task I set before me is not utopian.
Perhaps one day my main dream will come true (then, of course, it will
be called vision), and we will have an international center for English
etymology. The money spent on it will not be wasted.
From Germanic fence to urban settlement:
On the Semantic Development of English town
Ann-Marie Svensson and Jurgen Hering
As a language is integrated with the society in which it operates (Lyons
1977: 248), changes in society are likely to create lexical deciencies as
new concepts need new names. A gap in the vocabulary can be lled either
by borrowing a word from another language or by adding new meanings
to an already existing lexeme (cf. Aitchison 2001: 125, Nevalainen 2006:
65). The latter option of making up for deciencies in the language will
lead to polysemy, which may in turn lead to the loss of the original sense
of the word. In order to illustrate some of the factors that may lead to
polysemy and semantic change in a period of social and economic transi-
tion, this paper focuses on the occurrences and referents of one English
word, town, in texts written in the Middle English period.
Common Germanic tu#n-, possibly related to Celtic du#n fortied place,
castle, camp, originally denoted a fence or a hedge (as does Modern
German Zaun). Sometimes the Germanic word could also include the
piece of land surrounded by the fence. Thus Old High German zun and
Old Low German tun could mean enclosure as well as fence, hedge,
and Middle Low German tun meant garden, which is also the sense of
Modern Dutch tuin (Pfeifer 1999, OED). Swedish tun, a fairly frequent
place-name element, is obsolete as a common noun in Modern Swedish
but is still used dialectally in the sense of enclosure (Hellquist 1939:
1243).
As for Old English tu#n, Pfeifer 1999 and Duden 2001 give fence as one
of the uses of the word here as in the other Germanic languages; Smith
nds that the derivative verb ty#nan . . . points to some such meaning
(1956: 188); Ekwall gives fence or enclosure (1960: 482), while the
OED claims that the original Germanic sense of fence, hedge never oc-
curred in early Old English.
Contrary to the uses of tu#n in the other Germanic languages, English
tu#n (town in the following discussion) came to include the house(s) on the
enclosure. As more people settled on the enclosed land the sense of rural
community developed, and eventually, as these communities grew and
became more organized, that of urban settlement or, as the OED denes
the modern meaning of the word, inhabited place larger and more regu-
larly built than a village, and having more complete and independent local
government.
In place-names from the Old and early Middle English periods, town,
in the form -ton, is a frequent English place-name element and is [e]asily
the most common of all last elements (Room 1988: xxvi) but was proba-
bly not active as a name-forming element when town had developed urban
connotations. The -ton element was thus usually given to farms and vil-
lages (cf. Smith 1956: 188193). Ekwall nds that many of the names end-
ing in -ton denoted villages but that many of these may have developed
from homesteads (1960: 482).
Old English town was generally applied to enclosures, house(s) on the
enclosed land, a kings residence (e.g., s cyninges tune in the Saxon
Chronicle) or to the rural communities that had developed from the
original homesteads. Germanic burh and the Latin loan ceaster (Modern
English borough and chester, respectively) were the established Old
English words for urban settlement; for instance, both burh and ceaster
are applied to Arles (in Areela re byrig and to Arela re ceastre) in
The Old English Version of Bedes Ecclesiastical History, and Canterbury
is called both burh and ceaster (in a burg and in re ceastre) in the
Saxon Chronicle.
The Middle English period, here regarded as the years between c. 1100
and c. 1500, was a period of social, economic and political changes, which
involved the growth of trade and the break-up of the feudal system (cf.
Fennell 2001: 9697). These factors are likely to have aected the places
called town, and in order to establish how the changes in society con-
tributed to the semantic change of town, the dierent uses of the word
in literature written in the Middle English period will be examined (see
Figure 1).
Method and Material
This study of the Middle English uses of town is based on the occurrences
and referents of the word found in ninety texts (c. 1.5 million words),
prose and end-rhymed and alliterative verse, chosen to cover the four
centuries between 1100 and 1500. The text material includes chronicles
(e.g., The Peterborough Chronicle, Layamons Brut), Biblical paraphrases
(e.g., Cursor Mundi, The Passion of our Lord ), homilies (e.g., Sawles
Warde, Old Kentish Sermons), legends (e.g., The Life of Saint Katherine,
188 Ann-Marie Svensson and Jurgen Hering
Canticum de creatione), romances (e.g., Roland and Vernagu, The Wars of
Alexander), lyrics (e.g., The Poems of John Audelay, The Middle English
Lyrics of MS. Harley), proverbs (e.g., Poema Morale, The Proverbs of
Alfred ) and debates (e.g., The Owl and the Nightingale, Vices and Virtues).
The chronological classication is based on the dates of the manu-
scripts and not the originals. As originals are often lost, the date of com-
position is not always known, and, furthermore, in a copy written at a
later date, the wording may have been changed by the scribe so that it
agreed better with the language spoken by his contemporary readers.
All the occurrences of town have been recorded and classied according
to uses (as in Figure 1). The contexts and topics of the texts have given
guidance in the classication of uses. When possible, the referents of the
word have been identied and examined according to size, importance
and locality, i.e., British or non-British. Also, when relevant, the instances
Figure 1. Uses of English town
From Germanic fence to urban settlement 189
of city, borough and village found in the same texts, possible synonyms or
antonyms of town, have been compared with those of town.
Town in Early Middle English (twelfth and thirteenth centuries)
From the data collected in this study, we nd that while the Modern
English sense of town as urban settlement developed during the Middle
English period, the original Old English meaning of enclosure, eld may
have survived into the thirteenth century, which can be seen for instance in
the passage about the fox in the Bestiary:
husbondes hire haten/ for hire harm dedes:/ e coc and te capun/ ge
fecche ofte in e tun,/ and te gandre and te gos,/ bi e necke and bi
e nos,/ hale is to hire hole;
Husbandmen hate her/ for her deeds of harm./ For the cock and the
capon/ She often seizes/ as well as the gander and the goose,/ by the
neck and by the nose,/ and takes them to her hole.
(Bestiary 391; translation from EETS edition)
In the translation given in the EETS edition of the Bestiary, the phrase in
e tun is not translated at all. The OED places this occurrence of town in
the Bestiary in the category enclosed land surrounding or belonging to a
single dwelling . . . the enclosed land of a village community. However,
even if enclosed land is a likely interpretation, the author may still refer
to the village itself or farms in the village and not only to the enclosed
land around the village as the fox may be regarded as daring enough to
seize cocks in the village as well as in the enclosure. This demonstrates
the ambiguity in the use of this word.
The sense of twelfth-century town is generally rural community as
in the following lines from The Peterborough Chronicle where cattle and
ploughs are mentioned:
es ilces geares ws swa micel oerfcwalm . . . et ws on nt 7 on swin
swa et, on a tun a ws tenn ploges oer twelfe gangende, ne belf r
noht an;
In the course of this same year, there was such a great cattle plague . . .
that was among cattle and pigs, so that in a village that had ten or
twelve ploughs in action, there was not one left.
(Peterborough Chronicle 1131: 7; translation by Whitelock 1961)
Whitelock 1961 uses in a village for on a tun in her translation of
the text.
Likewise, rural community appears to be the sense of town in the
following passages from The Peterborough Chronicle:
Hi liden g[]ldes o n the tunes uere um wile . . . a e uurecce men ne
hadden nammore to gyuen, a rueden hi 7 brendon alle the tunes, at
wel u myhtes faren al a dis fare, sculdest thu neuere nden man in tune
sittende ne land tiled.
They levied taxes on the villages every so often. . . When the wretched
people had no more to give, they robbed and burned the villages, so
that you could easily go a whole days journey and never nd anyone
occupying a village, nor land tilled.
Gif twa men oer iii coman ridend to an tun, al e tunscipe ugn
for heom,
If two or three men came riding to a village, all the villagers ed
from them.
(Peterborough Chronicle 1137: 3741, 51; translation by Whitelock
1961)
Whitelock 1961 has village in her translation. The OED gives these in-
stances of the word as urban settlement, i.e., an inhabited place larger
and more regularly built than a village, but this interpretation is hardly
likely as the writer points out that the tunes were deserted and that the
land had not been tilled. It seems unlikely that the deserted places referred
to here were urban settlements. However, a medieval urban settlement is
not easily distinguished from a rural community as inhabitants in both
types of places were occupied in agriculture.
Thus, how can a medieval urban settlement, a town in the modern
sense of the word, be separated from a rural community? Reynolds de-
nes a medieval town as an inhabited place having two essential features:
that a signicant proportion (but not necessarily a majority) of its popu-
lation lives o trade, industry, administration, and other non-agricultural
occupations and that it forms a social unit more or less distinct from
the surrounding countryside (1977: ix). The twelfth-century place that
satised these criteria was called borough. Boroughs like Gloucester or
Rochester were originally fortied places of defence, but during the Old
English period, many of these boroughs had developed as commercial
and administrative centres. Even if twelfth-century town was developing
more urban connotations, the named referents of town in the MSS.
from this century are clearly small, seemingly unimportant and possibly
unknown places. Westbourne in West Sussex is one of the British places
referred to as town in The Peterborough Chronicle:
is ws don on re tuna a men cleopa[] Burne,
this was done in the town that people call Burne
(Peterborough Chronicle 1114: 27)
The phrase a men cleopa[] Burne that people call Burne indicates
that the writer of the passage in The Peterborough Chronicle did not
regard Westbourne (Burne), which was part of an estate held by the king
(Domesday Book), as a well-known place.
Normally, named Biblical places, such as Jerusalem or Bethlehem,
mentioned in the twelfth-century texts are called borough. The exception
here is Cana:
Ure Hlend com hwilon to Chanan, am tune on Galileiscre scire,
r r he swyest bodede; 7 on am tune he awende hwilon water to
wine, six fate fulle mid am fyrmestan wine.
Our Saviour came once upon a time to Cana, the town in the district
of Galilee, where he used to preach very much; and in that town he
once changed water into wine. six vessels full of the best wine.
(Bodley Homilies 22: 89; translation in the EETS edition)
The scribe probably regarded Cana as a small place as he felt the need to
explain where it was: on Galileiscre scire.
Peterborough, on the other hand, should have been regarded as a well-
known and important place by the writers of The Peterborough Chronicle,
but the place is consistently called town in the chronicle in spite of the fact
that the twelfth-century name of Peterborough was Burh (the Peter-prex
of the modern name was added later, in the fourteenth century (Room
1988: 274)):
on isum ylcan geare brnde eall et mynstre of Burh . . . 7 rto eac
brnde eall a mste dl of a tuna.
In this same year all the monastery of Peterborough was burnt . . . and
in addition most of the town was burnt.
(Peterborough Chronicle 1116/1819; translation by Whitelock (1961))
In the MSS. from the thirteenth century, however, town and borough can
both be applied to important places like London:
he wende riht to Lundene; e burh he leoue[de] swie,/ He bigon er ane
ture; e strengeste of al e tune.
He went right to London, the borough he loved very much./ There he
began to build a tower; the strongest of all the town.
(Layamon (MS. Caligula) 301819)
Likewise, both town and borough are used with reference to Biblical places
like Jerusalem:
As he com in-to e bureh. so rydinde./ e children of e tune. comen
syngynde.
As he approached the city/ the children of the town came singing
(Passion of our Lord 6970; translation in EETS edition)
Thirteenth-century town had thus acquired more urban connotations,
probably a result of the medieval changes in society as trade was increas-
ing, and many of the small communities that had been called town (and
often had town in the form -ton as the last part of the name) had grown
and developed as market places so that a new type of town was de-
veloping. These new towns were often small but were clearly separated
from the country by the occupations of their inhabitants.
Also, towards the end of the thirteenth century, the word borough
seems to have developed the meaning place with certain privileges as
many of the important places had acquired liberties and won a degree
of independence during the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, and, even
though these borough privileges varied widely, there were certain features
expected from a place called borough, for instance royal charter and
administrative separation from the country (Stenton 1965: 181).
In the reign of Edward I (12721307), the term borough had to be
clearly dened as boroughs were taxed at a higher rate than the counties
and, even more important, borough representatives were summoned to
Parliament (Stenton 1965: 191). Borough became a restricted term and
thus less frequently used in texts not dealing with administration or
government. As the small places that had been called town had grown
and developed urban connotations, the focus of the term town shifted
downwards on the list of uses of the word in Figure 1 above, and the
earlier uses of town, enclosure and house(s) on the enclosed land, were
gradually lost.
Town in Late Middle English (fourteenth and fteenth centuries)
As the data from the thirteenth century suggest, town had thus developed
the sense of urban settlement in general and lled the gap in the lexicon
created when borough became restricted to parliamentary borough around
the turn of the fourteenth century. There are two ways of lling gaps in lan-
guages: by borrowing words from other languages . . . or . . . by associating
a new meaning to an already existing lexeme (Lyons 1977: 236). As for
borrowing, the French loanword city was introduced into the English lan-
guage towards the end of the thirteenth century, a period of massive French
inuence on the English vocabulary following the Norman Conquest and
subsequent French rule in England. City was a new word for urban settle-
ment but did not replace borough as the word for urban settlement in
general as it was initially a dignied title with foreign connotations,
mainly used in translations (cf. Svensson 1997: 148).
In texts written in the fourteenth century, town does not appear to be
used with reference to enclosures or single dwellings but only to collections
of dwellings of all sizes. For instance, London is called town in the follow-
ing passage from the Handlyng Synne. Here town is added after the place-
name in opposition, a usage that appears in texts from the late fourteenth
century:
Yn Londun toune fyl swyche a chek,/ A ryche man and pore were at
cuntek,/ And pleted a-boute a lytyl land
In London town such an incident occurred,/ a rich man and a poor
man were debating/ and pleaded about a little land
(Handlyng Synne 26992701)
Town can also be applied to important non-British places such as Jerusalem:
Right fra e tun of ierusalem/ It ledd am in-to bethleem,
Right from the town of Jerusalem/ it led them to Bethlehem
(Cursor Mundi (MS. Cotton) 11, 4878)
Even if town could still be applied to small places, there seems to be a clear
distinction between the word town and the country. It appears that town
had become the hypernym that covered the whole of the semantic eld of
town but at the same time also its own hyponym (cf. Figure 2 below).
As the hypernym of the semantic eld, fourteenth-century town and city
could be applied to the same places, e.g., Biblical places like Jerusalem or
to important British places like Winchester as in the lines from Sir Orfeo
below, where city is used the rst time the place is mentioned and town is
used when the place is later referred to:
at was a cite of noble defens;
That was a city of noble fortications
O way! what er was wepe & wo/ When he at hadde ben king wi croun/
Went so pouerlich out of toun.
Oh woe! what weeping and woe there was/ when he that had been
king with a crown/ went out out of town in such poverty.
(Sir Orfeo 48, 234236)
On the other hand, as the hyponym of the eld, town could also be
contrasted with city as in the following passage from Vita S. Etheldredae
Eliensis (early fteenth century), where town and city are both used with
reference to Granchester:
For er is a litulle toun in is contrey neye here byside,/ e whiche
somme-tyme a fulle fayre cite hit was,/ Of e whiche e walles ben broke,
e atys ben wyde,/ Bot e compas of at toune is full gret space;
For there is a little town in this country near here,/ which once was a
very fair city,/ the walls of which are broken, the gates are wide/ but the
compass of that town is very spacious.
(Vita S. Etheldredae Eliensis 64245)
The two words are contrasted here, and city is used to describe the former
greatness of Grantchester, the litulle toun. In Ipomadon, another fteenth-
century text, town and village are used as synonyms. Village is not a fre-
quent word in Middle English texts (Svensson 1997: 149) but is used here
to emphasize the small size or insignicance of the place:
They saw a towne at the laste/ Stondyng on the syde of a broke./ Hit
was but a meane velage/ So littill was the harburage,/ That both one
inne they toke.
They saw a town at last/ standing on the side of a brook./ It was only
a mean village,/ so small was the dwelling/ that they both took one
inn. (Ipomadon 705661)
Chaucer, in the Prologue to the Canterbury Tales, uses town in his portrait
of the poor country parson, and town refers to the parsons parish. The
Figure 2. Fourteenth- and fteenth-century town as hypernym / hyponym
word parisshe is later used, and the phrase houses fer asunder shows that a
small, rural community is meant:
A good man was ther of religioun,/ And was a povre persoun of a toun,
There was a good man of religion,/ and he was a poor parson of
a town
Wyd was his parisshe, and houses fer asonder,
His parish was extensive and the houses far apart (Prologue to the
Canterbury Tales 47778, 491)
On the other hand, Chaucer also uses town as the hypernym of the seman-
tic eld, which is seen in the following passage from The Millers Tale,
where town is distinct from or contrasted with the country (OED, sv
town 4c), an indication of the urban connotations attached to the word.
He sente hire pyment, meeth, and spiced ale,/ And wafres, pipyng hoot
out of the gleede;/ And, for she was of town, he profred meede./ For som
folk wol ben wonnen for richesse,/ And somme for strokes, and somme for
gentillesse.
He sent her sweetened wine, mead, and spiced ale,/ and waes,
whistling hot out of the iron;/ and, as she was from town, he oered
money,/ as some people will be won by riches,/ and some by force and
some by gentleness. (Chaucer: The Millers Tale 337882)
Middle English Town in Phrases
The previous discussion has shown instances of Middle English town
occurring with reference to inhabited places, but it also occurs in phrases,
often as generalizing expressions, as the following examples demonstrate.
Lenten ys come wi loue to toune,/ wi blosmen ant wi briddes roune./
at al is blisse brynge.
Spring has come with love to town/ with owers and with bird song/
that bring all this joy. (Harley Lyrics 11: 13)
As spring does not come only to urban settlements, to toune here should
probably be interpreted as to the world. Town in generalizing expressions
often occurs in coordinated phrases, a stylistic device used by Middle
English writers to create verbosity or various rhythmical eects (Blake
1979: 9799). One of these coordinated phrases where antonyms are
linked is town and eld. The earliest examples of this phrase in the exam-
ined texts are found in Havelok (c. 1300):
Haue nu for-i of Cornwayle/ e erldom ilk del, with-uten fayle,/ And al
e lond at Godrich held,/ Boe in towne and ek in feld;
Have now therefore every part/ of the earldom of Cornwall, without
fail,/ and all the land that Godrich held/ both in town and also in eld
(Havelok 290811)
The OED points out that eld can be the country as opposed to a town
(OED, sv eld 2). The Old English synonyms tu#n and feld had thus
become antonyms that could be contrasted in Middle English so that the
phrase boe in towne and ek in feld here is used in the meaning every-
where.
An early example of a similar phrase, on wudan 7 on / tunan, is found in
The Peterborough Chronicle:
ises geares wron swie mycele windas on Octobris mone, ac he ws
ormte mycel on a niht Octabe Sancti Martini, 7 et gehwr on wudan
7 on / tunan gecydde.
In the course of this year there were many strong winds in the month
of October, but it was extremely strong on the night which was the
Octave St. Martin, and it was evident everywhere in woods and
villages
(Peterborough Chronicle 1114: 1213; translation by Whitelock (1961))
The OED gives the original Old English sense of enclosure or eld as
the meaning of town here, but the MED (Middle English Dictionary) gives
the phrase on wudan 7 on / tunan as everywhere; Whitelock 1961 uses
villages for tunan in her translation of the text. It appears that wudan
and tunan are contrasted here; the strong winds were evident in the
woods and also in the inhabited places. Everywhere would be a likely
interpretation.
Another fairly frequently used phrase in Middle English is tower and
town. The MED gives the phrase as a generalizing expression denoting
fortied places, and the OED gives the following denition: an allitera-
tive phrase for the inhabited places of a country or region generally
(OED, sv tower 9). The earliest instance of tower and town in the examined
texts dates from the fourteenth century, and e cites alle in Spain are
referred to.
Charls dede at ymage falle,/ & wan in spaine e cites alle,/
Boe tour & toun;
Charles overthrew the statue/ and won all the cities in Spain/
both tower and town (Roland and Vernagu 3479)
The phrase tower and town can also be applied to specic places as in the
reference to Tyre in The Wars of Alexander from the fteenth century:
The toure of tyre & e towne. titely he levys,
He quickly leaves the tower of Tyre and the town
(Wars of Alexander (MS. Dublin) 1283)
It appears that the phrase here refers to the fortied town of Tyre.
Final Remarks
A close examination of early texts shows that it was the period around the
turn of the fourteenth century that saw the transformation of Old English
tu#n enclosure or rural community to Modern English town inhabited
place larger and more regularly built than a village (OED). But why did
the semantic change take place at that particular time?
As a language is integrated with the society in which it operates
(Lyons 1977: 248), changes in vocabulary are likely to reect changes in
society, and the thirteenth century was a period of social, economic and
political change that created a new category of urban settlements:
Trade was increasing and market places were needed.
Small places called town grew and set up markets.
Borough, the word for urban settlement, became restricted as
borough representatives were summoned to Parliament.
The growth of urban settlements and the restricted use of borough created
a need for a convenient word for the new concept of urban settlement in
general. The French loanword city had been introduced into English in
the thirteenth century, but the loan was initially applied to foreign or
important British places and was mainly used in translations from the
French. City did not ll the lexical gap in the English vocabulary created
by the changes in society, but the already existing word town did. In the
thirteenth century, the small rural communities that had been called town
and often had town, in the form -ton, as part of their names had grown
and often become market places so that they were clearly separated from
the surrounding country. Even if town could still be applied to small settle-
ments, it had acquired urban connotations and was no longer used in the
Old English senses of enclosure and house(s) on the enclosed land. It
was thus the lexical need created by the thirteenth-century changes in
society that triggered the transformation of town from the original sense of
enclosure or house(s) on the enclosed land to its modern sense of urban
settlement.
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An Old English Miscellany. EETS 49 (1872).
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Commentary on Svensson and Hering, From
Germanic fence to urban settlement:
On the Semantic Development of English town
Don Chapman
Who would have suspected that town would be such an interesting word?
We know about nice and silly as great words for teaching about semantic
change. But town is such a mundane, homey word. That it has such
an interesting history conrms Crystals words: Being an etymologist is
the most fascinating of professions though without a day-job, as Eric
Partridge used to say, it wont pay the mortgage (Crystal 2006: 151).
As Svensson and Hering have shown, town started out as fence. Some-
how we have to get from fence to . . . to . . . to what? Just what has town
come to mean? Town is such an every-day word, how could anyone not
know what it means? But as Svensson and Herings paper brings out, the
word has taken on a wide range of meanings centering on the core mean-
ing of a settlement. Again, town would be a good word to illustrate the
notion that words accrue meanings and that older words have more senses
(Nevalainen 1992: 434).
This article is also useful for showing the importance of context for
deciphering meaning in older stages of a language. The examples in this
paper excellently illustrate the senses that we can detect in Middle English,
as when Svensson and Hering point to Cana as the only Biblical place
called a town in the twelfth-century texts from their corpus, and even
then it seems to need an additional explanation: Ure Hlend com hwilon
to Chanan, am tune on Galileiscre scire. Of course the historical diction-
aries (OED and MED) aim to do much the same thing, but this article has
the advantage of using more narrative and argument to show the changes
that occurred to the word. I can see using this article in connection with
the entries from the OED and MED to show students how to unpack the
story captured in dictionary entries.
These examples remind us, too, that context is not only important for
us in retrieving the meanings from earlier stages, but it must have been
important for contemporary speakers in forming the meanings. After
lexicographers, historical linguists and philologists might well be the most
aware of the importance of context for establishing a meaning; all our
experience tells us that a word means as it is used. But for a public who
can consult a dictionary for a words meaning the same way they can
check a metric system conversion chart, the meanings of words probably
seem more like independent facts. A History of the English Language
course should help students become more comfortable seeing meaning as
historical linguists do: as the residue of all the occurrences of a word by
many dierent speakers in many dierent contexts.
The importance of context in forming meanings suggests a core mecha-
nism of semantic change: not only do words mean as they are used,
they change meaning as they are used in dierent contexts. Svensson and
Herings paper implicitly recognizes this as their citations of town through-
out the centuries reect speakers using town in new situations and thus
gradually attaching new senses to the word. Nevertheless, I would have
appreciated a more explicit formulation of this mechanism for change.
When Svensson and Hering discuss mechanisms, they argue that semantic
changes came from changes in society and a lexical gap that developed as
society became more urbanized. As reasonable as their arguments are, I
believe that they could have highlighted more how the speakers use of
language propagated those changes. For example, I am not so sure a
lexical gap is the best way to describe the dierentiation between city and
town. It is not as if speakers newly encountered large settlements and so
needed a word for them. I imagine that it is more likely that speakers
would have been using both town and city to refer to the same kinds of
settlements, and then found themselves gradually preferring city for the
larger settlements. As the word is used in that context, the notion of large
size becomes a salient feature of city.
In general, I wish more discussions of semantic change would examine
mechanisms; the glib repetition in our textbooks of taxonomies (general-
ization/specialization, amelioration/pejoration, strengthening/weakening,
etc.) do not explain enough. More interesting are the ways that words
come to generalize, specialize, ameliorate, pejorate, etc. In the case of
town, the largest change in sense was from fence to a settlement enclosed
by a fence. This happened before any usages were recorded, but the
guessing for how this happened is not too hard. It is a classic case of
metonymy one of the principal paths for meaning shift (Traugott and
Dasher 2002: 2734; Nevalainen 1992: 442). As speakers referred to a
fence that enclosed a settlement, somehow the area that was enclosed
would have become regarded as part of the meaning. As the whole enclo-
sure was more important than just the fence that enclosed it, the principal
Commentary on Svensson and Hering 203
sense would have shifted from the fence to the enclosure. And since it
was really the settlement that was the most important, not just that the
settlement was enclosed, it is easy to see how speakers would have inferred
settlement as the main sense of town. The initial change from fence to
settlement, then would have come from invited or contextual infer-
ences, that is from speakers inferring new senses as the term was used in
a variety of contexts (see Nevalainen 1992: 43941; Traugott and Dasher
2002: 3440).
Once town had acquired the sense of settlement, continued use of the
term would account for its change in sense as the referent of town would
have shifted underneath the label. As settlements changed, becoming
larger and more urban, the label that speakers continued to use (town)
would have acquired new senses. This is a classic example of social change
leading to semantic change, cited as such by Traugott and Dasher (2002:
61) and emphasized by Svensson and Hering. The part to keep in mind
throughout this process is that speakers would have continued using the
same label as the referent changed. Speakers and listeners must have
recognized enough of a core sense of town to continue using it and thus
to extend its sense.
The use of town in contrast to other words, like burgh and country, as
well as the use of town in collocations like at town and to town are likewise
interesting parts of its history, as Svensson and Hering point out. How
these contrasts and collocations came about could probably also be ex-
plained in ner detail with an appeal to their actual use. Dierentiation
similar to that between town and city would account for the contrasts
with burgh and country, and the widening reference of town would have
led it to its use as a hypernym, as Svensson and Hering describe, and
thus its availability in collocations that depend on its hypernym status.
But explaining semantic change is not easy. Attempts, including my
preliminary sketch here, run the risk of becoming merely post hoc descrip-
tions. Still I hope that our understanding of the mechanisms of semantic
change improves, and as we have seen with Svensson and Herings paper,
even a little word like town has a fascinating history and provokes us to
think how that history came about.
References
Crystal, David
2006 Words, Words, Words. Oxford: Oxford University Press.
204 Don Chapman
Nevalainen, Tertu
1999 Early Modern English Lexis and Semantics. In The Cam-
bridge History of the English Language: 14761776. Vol. 3. Ed.
Roger Lass. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Traugott, Elizabeth Closs and Richard B. Dasher
2002 Regularity in Semantic Change. Cambridge: Cambridge Univer-
sity Press.
Commentary on Svensson and Hering 205
Response to Commentary by Chapman
Ann-Marie Svensson
Semantic change is one of the factors that can make the understanding of
an old text dicult for a modern reader, and town is one of the many
words that have been subject to semantic change over the centuries. The
journey from Germanic fence rst to Old English enclosure and even-
tually to Modern English inhabited place larger and more regularly built
than a village, and having more complete and independent local govern-
ment (OED) was a long one.
As pointed out in the commentary, the context is important for the
understanding of the meaning of a word in earlier periods. Town often
refers to a denite, generally identiable place, at least as an important or
unimportant British or non-British place, and this context gives the reader
guidance as regards the meaning of the word.
Semantic changes are often triggered by changes in society, and the
Middle English period, especially the thirteenth century, was denitely a
period of social, economic and political change: increased trade created a
need for marketplaces, which led to the growth of the small places that
had been called town. As pointed out in the commentary, speakers would
have continued using the same label as the referent changed. Perhaps
even more important for the development of the word town to urban
settlement in general, however, was a political change that led to the
restriction of the use of the word borough, previously favored in the
context of urban settlement in general: borough came to refer only to
privileged places that sent representatives to Parliament. Consequently,
borough was no longer used to mean urban settlement in general, a
fact that is clearly reected in texts of a general nature written in the
fourteenth century and that led to a gap in the lexicon eventually lled
by town.
Celtic Inuence on English: A Re-Evaluation
1
1. Introduction
The question of Celtic inuences in English grammar has preoccupied the
minds of historical linguists for well over a century now, but no consensus
has yet been reached about the matter. The prevailing view on the extent
of this inuence holds that apart from place- and river-names, Celtic ele-
ments in English are limited to about a dozen loanwords, with hardly any
trace in phonology or syntax. This despite the fact that English and Celtic
have coexisted in the British Isles for at least one and a half millennia; in
such circumstances lack of phonological and syntactic contacts can be
regarded as highly unusual. The oddity of the situation is acknowledged
by such eminent scholars as Barbara Strang, who notes that the poverty
of the Celtic contribution to English vocabulary even in this area [of
place-names], and at a time when Celtic cultural inuence was enormous,
is very remarkable (Strang 1970: 374). Yet she is content to endorse the
traditional view which can be traced back to the early statement by Otto
Jespersen, who explained the paucity of Celtic inuence in English
through the social, political, and cultural supremacy of the Anglo-Saxons
over the conquered Britons; this meant that the ruling classes had no need
to learn Celtic, whereas the Celts had to learn English and according
to him, very well in order to serve their Anglo-Saxon masters (see
Jespersen 1905: 39).
Not all scholars have been willing to accept Jespersens account. Keller
(1925) was one of the rst to raise serious objections to it and to propose
Celtic origin for some central features of English grammar, including the
so-called progressive form. His work has since inspired many others to
explore the possibility of Celtic contact eects in various domains of
1. The research for this article was partly supported by the Academy of Finland
funding for Markku Filppula (grant no. 119396) and Juhani Klemola (grant
no. 119271), which we gratefully acknowledge. We would also like to thank
the two anonymous referees for their useful comments.
English grammar. These dissident voices include Dal (1952), G. J. Visser
(1955), Preusler (1956), Tolkien (1963), and Braaten (1967). After a rela-
tively quiet period on the Celtic front in the 1970s and 1980s, there has
clearly been a new rise of interest in what could be called the Celtic
Hypothesis (CH) from the 1990s onwards. It started with a paper by
Patricia Poussa (see Poussa 1990) on the possible contact origin of so-
called periphrastic do, and was followed by a host of articles on this
and several other phonological or syntactic features by a steadily increas-
ing number of scholars. Let it suce to mention Hickey (1995 on possible
Celtic low-level phonological and syntactic contact inuences; Tristram
(1999) on general typological inuence of Celtic on English syntax and
morphophonology (esp. loss of inections), Mittendorf and Poppe (2000)
and Poppe (2003) on possible Brythonic inuence on the English progres-
sive; Vennemann (2001) on, e.g. the so-called internal possessor construc-
tion; van der Auwera and Genee (2002) on periphrastic do; McWhorter
(2006) on the same feature, and Lutz (2006) on Celtic inuence on the
OE be paradigm and the English progressive. In addition to these, an
edited collection of articles (Filppula, Klemola and Pitkanen 2002) seeks
to address the issue of Celtic inuences from various linguistic and his-
torical perspectives.
The aims of the present paper are, rst, to adduce both linguistic and
extra-linguistic evidence to show that early Celtic inuence on English
was not only possible but most likely under the sociohistorical circum-
stances in the rst few centuries following the adventus Saxonum. Particu-
larly relevant are, in our view, four types of evidence: archaeological,
demographic and historical, contact-linguistic, and areal-typological. Our
second aim is to illustrate and also demonstrate the power of this kind
of argumentation through a case-study, which concerns one of the most
often mentioned putative Celtic-derived feature of English syntax, viz.
periphrastic do.
2. Archaeological, demographic and historical evidence
Needless to say, linguistic contact eects presuppose (more or less) active
interaction between speakers of two or more languages, and this is exactly
what is denied in the most extreme traditional accounts of the Anglo-
Saxon invasions. Some eminent nineteenth-century historians like Free-
man (1870) and Stubbs (1870) held that the Anglo-Saxon newcomers
drove out or exterminated virtually all of the native British and Romano-
British population and usurped their lands and property. The same
Anglo-Saxonist view entails the idea that the English people are of pure
Germanic extraction, with virtually no admixture of native British ele-
ments. This replacement or ethnic cleansing theory still has its suppor-
ters, although the most recent archaeological, historical, and population
genetic evidence does not support it. The extent of survival of the indige-
nous Romano-British population must have varied from one place to
another, but there is no rm evidence of widespread massacre of the in-
digenous population in either towns or rural areas. This is the conclusion
of, e.g., Laing and Laing (1990 on the basis of their discussion of various
kinds of early medieval archaeological nds. Instead of sharp polarization
between the two populations, they consider widespread intermingling
of the two cultures to have been a much more likely scenario in the Bri-
tain of that period. In a similar vein, Oppenheimer (2006) cites the view
of British archaeologist Helena Hamerow, who also concludes that the
archaeological evidence does not lend support to the replacement theory
but rather suggests a substantial degree of continuity (Hamerow 1997:
40, cited from Oppenheimer 2006: 347).
The replacement theory is not supported by the estimated population
statistics either. The Germanic immigrants formed only a small propor-
tion of the population of the country. The size of the (Romano-)British
population c. 450 AD has been estimated to have been about one million,
but there are wide dierences in estimates of the immigrant: native ratio.
The most minimalist stand is represented by the historian Nick Higham,
who puts the gure at 1:100 (Higham 1992). At the other extreme is the
archaeologist Heinrich Harke, who places the ratio at 1:5 (Harke 2003),
while the archaeologists Laing and Laing adopt a medium position, pro-
posing 1:20 or 1:50 (Laing and Laing 1990). What is signicant, however,
is that even Harke agrees that instead of a wholesale extermination of the
Britons, what happened in most places (excepting some areas in eastern
and central England) was a process of acculturation over the couple of
centuries following the arrival of the Germanic tribes.
Support for the acculturation theory can be obtained from recent
population genetic studies. Particularly well-known among these is the
Capelli et al. (2003) analysis of Y chromosome variation based on a sam-
ple of 1772 males from 25 small urban locations in the British Isles and
Ireland, involving also comparative sample sets from Norway, Denmark,
and North Germany. Capelli et al.s quantitative analysis of the results
shows that there has not been complete population replacement any-
where in the British Isles (Capelli et al. 2003: 981982). It is another
Celtic Inuence on English 209
matter, then, to what extent the present-day population of the British Isles
retains gene ows dating back to the pre-historical period preceding the
arrival of the Celts in Britain. In the light of the most recent research,
this seems to have been much greater than was previously assumed (for
discussion, see Oppenheimer 2006). Another study similar to that of
Capelli et al. (2003) was conducted under the auspices of the Oxford
Genetic Atlas Project (Sykes et al. 2006). Their analysis of both matri-
lineal mitochondrial DNA and patrilineal Y-chromosome samples of
over 10,000 subjects from all over Britain and Ireland also supports signi-
cant continuity of the indigenous Celtic-speaking population in Britain
and Ireland. In the words of the authors, Celtic must in this context be
understood as referring to descent from people who were here before the
Romans and who spoke a Celtic language (Sykes 2006: 287).
Despite some continuing controversies in these areas of study, there is
enough evidence to conclude that the demographic and sociohistorical cir-
cumstances surrounding the adventus Saxonum were such that linguistic
contact inuences were not just possible but most likely. Arguably, there
was a period of extensive bilingualism for a considerable length of time
after the adventus. During this period, the Britons shifted to English and
were gradually assimilated to the Anglo-Saxon population both culturally
and linguistically.
3. Evidence from language-contact theory
The most relevant question to ask here is: what happens in language shift
situations like the one in early medieval Britain? Evidence from similar
contact settings in other parts of the world tells us that speakers shifting
to another language typically bring along considerable inuences from
the substrate language to the target language (cf. Thomason and Kaufman
1988). It has likewise been shown that linguistic contact eects in one
domain or subsystem of a language are usually accompanied by the same
type of eects in some other subsystem (ibid). Living testimony to these
kinds of eects are the outcomes of the modern-age language shift in the
formerly Celtic-speaking areas in Wales, Ireland, Isle of Man and in
the western parts of Scotland, which have given rise to so-called Celtic
Englishes. What we also know from general contact-linguistic theory is
that, in conditions of language shift where speakers have only limited
access to the target language, phonology and syntax are aected most,
whereas there is much less lexical transfer (cf. Thomason and Kaufman
1988). This is particularly signicant from the point of view of the English-
Celtic contacts, because the paucity of Celtic loanwords in English is in
fact something to be expected in this type of a language shift situation,
not a factor speaking against Celtic inuence on English ( pace Jespersen
1905).
What have sometimes been called delayed contact eects are also
likely in certain types of conditions. As examples, McWhorter (2006) men-
tions loss of inections in Middle Persian, not visible until after a three-
century documentational gap; Standard Finnish which is very much
lagging behind Universal Colloquial Finnish; Ecuadoran Spanish; and
Moroccan Arabic. In all these cases, a signicant time gap exists between
colloquial and spoken varieties and the respective standard languages. In
the discussion below, it will be argued that the same phenomenon most
probably accounts for the relatively late attestation in English of, e.g.,
periphrastic do.
Finally under this heading, the sources cited in the Introduction pro-
vide ample evidence to show that contact inuences from Celtic have not
been conned to just one or two isolated features, but appear to have
aected several core areas of English grammar and morphophonology.
4. Areal and typological evidence
Extrapolation from typological and areal distributions of linguistic fea-
tures has long been a commonly used method for obtaining additional evi-
dence when there are few or no written records of a language or variety.
For example, Haspelmath (1998) uses it in his attempt to trace the origins
of Standard Average European features. Writing much earlier, Slavicist
Valentin Kiparsky applied the same methodology to the question of pos-
sible Finno-Ugrian substrate inuence on Russian (1969); he used areal-
typological evidence to ascertain that the non-use of the verb have in
Russian possessive constructions is most likely due to an early Finno-
Ugrian substratum.
2
In the latter part of this article, this same method
will be applied to shed light on the origins of English periphrastic do.
On a more general level, the explanandum from an areal-typological
perspective is: Why does English have so many syntactic and other fea-
2. Russian, unlike other Slavic languages, uses a possessive construction which
closely corresponds to the construction found in Uralic languages, c.f. Kiparsky
(1969: 1516) and Thomason and Kaufmann (1991: 246).
tures that it shares with the Celtic languages but which are not found, or
have been lost, especially in German and, in many cases, in most other
Germanic languages or dialects? Are the parallels merely coincidental (i.e.,
endogenous developments) or results of contacts with Celtic languages?
Recent research on possible areal-typological connections between English
and the Celtic languages has brought to light several syntactic features
that are shared by English and Celtic languages but not by German. These
include:
the Old English functional distinction between the *es- and *bheu
-forms of the substantive verb be (Tolkien (1963); Lutz (2006))
periphrastic do (van der Auwera and Genee (2002))
the prevalence of the so-called internal possessor construction in which
the possessor assumes the form of a possessive pronoun rather than
the denite article, as in He broke his wrist (Ko nig and Haspelmath
(1997); Vennemann (2001))
the progressive (Dal (1952); Filppula (2003); Poppe (2003); Lutz
(2006); Filppula, Klemola, and Paulasto (2008))
3
the it-cleft construction (German 2003; Filppula, Klemola, and Paulasto
(2008))
relative clauses with preposition stranding (Tristram (1999))
identical forms for intensiers and reexives (Vezzosi (2005))
Phonological features are clearly fewer, but there are a couple of obvious
ones:
preservation of // and /w/ in English; no other Germanic dialect pre-
serves them both; // is only preserved in Icelandic (Tolkien (1963))
preservation of the interdental fricatives in English and Welsh, which is
remarkable from a typological point of view because of the marked-
ness of interdental fricatives from a cross-linguistic perspective (Tolkien
(1963), Tristram (2002))
To sum up the areal and typological evidence, English has a striking
number of un-Germanic features which are hard to explain as coinciden-
3. It is true, as one of our referees points out, that various other Germanic dia-
lects have, or have had at some stage of their history, at least partial parallels
to the English progressive. However, English is the only Germanic language
in which the progressive is based on the use of a verbal noun type structure
(similar to that found in Celtic languages) and not on that of a nominalised
innitive (as in other Germanic dialects).
tal given the Celtic parallels and the socio-historical contact evidence. The
existence of similar parallels in the modern-era Celtic Englishes in
Ireland, Wales, Man, and (West of ) Scotland also reduces the likelihood
of independent developments or drift at least as the sole explanatory
factors. The case-study to be discussed in the next sections provides a con-
crete illustration of how the various strands of evidence mentioned so far
can be used to show that attempts to explain the origins of English peri-
phrastic do fail to be convincing without assuming at least some degree
of contact inuence from Celtic.
5. A case study: the rise of periphrastic do
In present-day English, periphrastic auxiliary do is used as an operator
characterized by the so-called NICE properties (Negation, Inversion,
Code, Emphasis, cf. Huddleston (1976: 333)). As Denison remarks, this
feature sets English apart not only from the other Germanic languages,
but also from Standard Average European (1993: 255). Although there is
some evidence for the use of periphrastic and causative do in colloquial,
spoken registers in German and Dutch (van der Auwera & Genee (2002)),
grammaticalized do-support constructions are indeed typologically rare,
to the extent that McWhorter (2006) has characterized the use of do in
English as starkly peculiar . . . alien to its entire Indo-European family
and also bizarre in the cross-linguistic sense.
What is the origin of this starkly peculiar use of do in English?
Denison notes that the Old English don verb does not have auxiliary-like
properties, and it is only during the Middle English period that do devel-
oped into an auxiliary, at least in some of its uses (1993: 255). There is a
widespread consensus that periphrastic do developed from an earlier,
causative use of do. This causative hypothesis is mainly associated with
Alvar Ellegard (1953), and was developed further by Denison (1985). In
a nutshell, Ellegards argument runs as follows: in late Old English/early
Middle English, a construction consisting of causative do NP inni-
tive came to be widely used in the east and south-east of England. This
construction is exemplied by (1) (from Denison (1993: 257)):
(1) c1155 Peterb. Chron. 1140.22
e biscop of Wincestre . . . dide heom cumen ider.
the bishop of Winchester . . . caused them come (INF) thither
The bishop of Winchester . . . had them come there.
The do NP innitive construction had a variant, where the subject
of the innitive was not expressed (do innitive), as in example (2),
from Denison (1993: 257):
(2) a1225 (c1200) Vices and V.(1) 25.10
is hali mihte e die ilieuen at . . .
this holy virtue that causes believe that . . .
This holy virtue which causes one to believe that . . .
According to Ellegard (1953: 2833; 11819), the periphrastic do con-
struction then arose as a result of a permutation of meaning of such
equivocal do innitive constructions that could be interpreted either
as causative or as purely periphrastic constructions where do was inter-
preted as a semantically empty auxiliary. The equivocal construction is
exemplied in (3) (from Denison 1993: 278).
(3) ?a1400 (a1338) Mannyng, Chron. Pt. 2 97.22
Henry . . . | e walles did doun felle, e tours bette he doun.
Henry . . . | the walls did down fell the towers beat he down
Henry . . . felled the walls, he beat down the towers.
As Denison states, Did felle [. . .] could be interpreted either as did
caused felle to fell/be felled or as did past tense felle cause to
fell/be felled (1993: 278). The interpretation of do as a purely periphras-
tic auxiliary in these equivocal contexts then led to the rise of periphrastic
do in general.
Although the causative hypothesis is elegant and attractive, there are
some problems with it. Perhaps the most serious one, already pointed out
by Ellegard (1953: 118119), has to do with the dialectal distribution of
periphrastic uses of do in Middle English. In the thirteenth century, when
periphrastic uses of do rst appear in English, causative uses of do are
found mainly in south-eastern texts, while the early attestations of peri-
phrastic uses are found in the south-west only. Periphrastic uses of do
only appear in the south-east of England about a century later, during
the fourteenth century. The problem is thus the following: How could
causative do be the source of the periphrastic uses, if causative uses are
not attested in the area where periphrastic uses of do originate, that is, in
the south-west of England?
This problem with the geographical distribution of dierent uses of do
in Middle English is an important motivation for the hypothesis that the
Celtic languages played an important role in the rise of periphrastic do in
English. The use of constructions where a verb with the sense do is com-
bined with a verbal noun is a prominent feature of all Celtic languages,
and especially the Brythonic languages, Welsh, Breton and Cornish, where
periphrastic uses of do are attested already in the earliest surviving
documents.
4
Thus, periphrastic uses of gweneuthur do are attested in
Middle Welsh, as in example (4) from the eleventh century:
(4) ath gyrchu a wna
and.your attack PT will.do
and he will attack you
(11th c.; Lewis and Pedersen 1961: 316)
Similar uses of the do verb are also common in Middle Cornish and
Middle Breton:
(5) ny wreugh why tryge
not do you (pl.) remain
you will not remain
(Middle Cornish, 16th c.; Lewis and Pedersen 1961: 316)
(6) hoz trugaregat a raf
you (pl.) thank PT do (1. sg.)
I thank you
(Middle Breton, 16th c.; Lewis and Pedersen 1961: 316)
Walther Preusler (1938, 1956) was one of the earliest scholars to make
explicit the claim that the rise of periphrastic do in English is due to Celtic
inuence. Preusler argues that since in Welsh a construction with a verb
corresponding to periphrastic do is attested before the late thirteenth cen-
tury, which is the period when Preusler considers periphrastic do to have
appeared in English, it is reasonable to assume that it was the Welsh
language that inuenced English (1938: 182; 1956: 3345). Furthermore,
4. An anonymous referee suggests that our argument here would be more per-
suasive if do could be shown to occur with verbal nouns. However,
although the verbal noun in the Celtic languages is found in a range of con-
structions, its primary use is in a construction that is functionally equivalent
to the innitive in English (Lewis and Pedersen 1961: 312). Thus it is not
unexpected that DO should occur with the innitive rather than the verbal
noun or the gerund in English. Furthermore, it is not at all uncommon in lan-
guage contact situations that syntactic parallelism between a donor language
and a borrowing language is only partial.
Preusler points out the fact that unstressed periphrastic do has survived
in the south-western dialects of English as an archaism and that it is
signicant that this archaic feature has survived just in the area where
Welsh and Cornish inuence must have been strongest (1938: 182).
In an attempt to document the use of unstressed periphrastic do in
English dialects, Klemola (1996) presents a detailed survey of the geo-
graphical distribution of unstressed periphrastic do in these dialects. Map
1, based on both the published Survey of English Dialects materials and
the unpublished SED eldworker notebooks, shows the geographical dis-
tribution of unstressed periphrastic do in armative statements in the tra-
ditional dialects of England towards the middle of the twentieth century.
The round shape of the isogloss on Map 1 would seem to indicate that,
historically, periphrastic do was an innovation that took place somewhere
in the focal area of West Wiltshire and East Somerset and spread from
Map 1. The geographical distribution of unstressed periphrastic do in armative
statements in the traditional dialects of England and Wales in the mid-
twentieth century (from Klemola 1996: 64).
there. Indeed, in the light of historical documents this seems to be the
case, as Ellegard conrms: Our ndings also make it probable that
periphrastic do really originated in the West (or rather, South West)
(1953: 47).
But what about the geographical distribution of periphrastic do before
the mid-twentieth century and the SED evidence? Although the use of
unstressed periphrastic do in armative declarative sentences is men-
tioned as a characteristic feature of south-western dialects already in
many nineteenth-century dialect descriptions, these early dialect studies,
as a rule, are not very helpful when one tries to determine the geographical
distribution of do-periphrasis in any detail. There is, however, one nine-
teenth-century dialect survey which oers us a very detailed picture of
the geographical distribution of the use of periphrastic do in mid- to
late nineteenth-century England. This is Alexander Elliss monumental
study, On Early English Pronunciation. Part V: The Existing Phonology
of English Dialects Compared with that of West Saxon Speech (Ellis
1889). Map 2, drawn on the basis of the remarks found in Ellis (1889),
represents as accurate a picture of the geographical distribution of peri-
phrastic do in the mid- to late nineteenth century as we can ever hope
to obtain.
Comparing Maps 1 and 2, it is clear that there is a remarkably good t
between the nineteenth-century geographical distribution of periphrastic
do, as described by Ellis (Map 2), and the distribution that can be inferred
from the SED data collected in the 1950s, about a hundred years after
Ellis (Map 1). One of the assumptions behind the apparent-time method
in the sociolinguistic study of linguistic change is that each generation
acquires its basic motor-controlled vernacular and its evaluative norms
between the ages four and seventeen (Downes 1984: 198). Applying the
principles of the apparent-time method to Elliss survey (and assuming
that Elliss dialect informants were 60 years old on average), we can
infer that Ellis (1889) reects the situation during the rst quarter of the
nineteenth century. The SED data displayed on Map 1, on the other
hand, also based on data collected from NORM informants, were col-
lected during the 1950s, and can thus be taken to reect the situation
during the last decades of the nineteenth century. In other words, the close
match between Map 2, based on Ellis (1889), and Map 1, based on the
SED, together with the backwards projection principle of the apparent-
time method, warrants the conclusion that the SED data probably reect
fairly accurately the dialectal distribution of periphrastic do as far back in
time as the rst decades of the nineteenth century.
There are no reliable, systematic descriptions of English folk-speech
that could take us further back in time than the rst decades of the
nineteenth century. However, as Ihalainen (1994) has argued, English
(traditional) dialect areas and characteristics on the whole have been
remarkably stable and in many cases well-established for centuries. This
prompts the question whether it is possible that the SED distribution of
periphrastic do, as shown on Map 1, could indeed provide us with a fairly
good indication of the dialectal distribution of unstressed periphrastic
do even before the early nineteenth century. Some evidence pointing in
this direction can be found in the surviving written documents from the
Middle English and early modern English periods. Ellegard arrives at the
following conclusion about the geographical distribution of periphrastic
do in ME and EModE:
Map 2. The geographical distribution of unstressed periphrastic do in armative
statements in the rural dialects of England in the mid-nineteenth century
on the basis of Ellis 1889 (from Klemola 1996: 26).
The origin of the do-construction, according to my argument in Part I, has
to be sought in the Central and Western parts of the South, from where it
spread eastwards and northwards. All through the 15th century it is absent
in prose works from the North, and is rare in the East. In the 16th and 17th
centuries the do-form continues to be used much less often in the North
than elsewhere. (Ellegard 1953: 164)
A similar conclusion on the dialectal distribution of periphrastic do is
found in Mustanojas Middle English Syntax:
The earliest prose instances of periphrastic do date from c 1400, but the con-
struction remains uncommon down to the end of the 15th century, being
rarer in the East than in the West. The Paston Letters contain few instances
of periphrastic do. In Caxtons early works it is much less frequent than in
his later products. It is not found in the prose written in the North during
the 15th century, and it remains comparatively rare in the northern prose
works of the 16th and 17th centuries. (Mustanoja 1960: 603604)
There is also strong evidence to indicate that periphrastic do was not used
in Middle Scots during the fteenth and sixteenth centuries. In her study
based on the extensive Helsinki Corpus of Older Scots (14501700),
Meurman-Solin found that periphrastic do is introduced into Scots prose
as late as the latter half of the sixteenth century (1993: 248). She further
argues that the form shows signs of having been introduced into Scots
through the inuence of southern English (presumably the London stan-
dard). As early Scots was very heavily inuenced by the northern varieties
of English, the fact that periphrastic do seems not to have been an in-
digenous feature of early varieties of Scots lends further support to the
claim that the construction is a southern borrowing rather than an original
feature of the northern vernacular varieties of Middle English and early
modern English. In other words, it appears that periphrastic do is a
south-western innovation, and that the later introduction of do to the
northern vernacular varieties (in questions, negatives, etc.) took place
through the inuence of the evolving standard variety of English as a
change from above, to use the terminology introduced by Labov (see, e.g.,
Labov 1994: 78).
To sum up the discussion on the geographical distribution of periphras-
tic do: the dialectal evidence discussed in Klemola 1996 supports the argu-
ment that periphrastic do was originally a feature of the south-western
dialects of Middle English, and only later diused to other vernacular dia-
lects as a consequence of the growing inuence of the southern standard
from the seventeenth century onwards. In other words, the dialectal evi-
dence supports Preuslers (1938) Celtic hypothesis for the origin of do.
Ellegard was aware of Preuslers Celtic hypothesis and the fact that it
would seem to supply an answer to the problem of the dialectal distribu-
tion of early attestations of periphrastic do:
In spite of the fact that my investigation tends to show that English peri-
phrastic do originated in the South West, which would seem to lend some
support to Preuslers thesis, I do not think that it is acceptable. To establish
a genetic relation between parallel expressions in two languages it is not
enough to show that the expression exists in both languages, and is found
earlier in one than in the other. We need more circumstantial evidence
as well.
In this case it is relevant to ask the following questions. First: is there any
evidence that Welsh inuence was especially strong in the 13th century, the
time when the periphrasis is rst found in English? Celtic inuence is
generally believed to have been fairly insignicant in English, and I do
not see any reason why it should have been stronger in the 13th century
than during all the previous centuries that the races had been in contact.
(Ellegard 1953: 119)
For Ellegard, the timing of the possible Celtic inuence was the major
problem with Preuslers Celtic hypothesis, as shown by the quotation
above. However, contra Ellegard, it may be argued that the fact that peri-
phrastic do is only attested in written documents from the thirteenth
century onwards should not be considered a problem for the Celtic
hypothesis. A number of studies of language contacts have shown that
delayed contact eects are frequent in language contact situations (cf.
Dal 1(952), McWhorter (2006)). McWhorter even argues that delayed
appearance of contact eects in written texts is the norm:
5
Dal was correct that if Celts contributed periphrastic do, then its delayed
appearance in texts is nothing short of ordinary. For it to have occurred in
Old English texts would have been a stark contradiction of sociolinguistic
realities typical of written languages worldwide since time immemorial.
(McWhorter 2006)
5. On the other hand, some of the Celtic-derived features already show up in Old
English texts (e.g. the internal possessor construction and the it-cleft construc-
tion). The reasons for this kind of selective contact inuence are so far poorly
understood and need further study.
Since Preusler (1938), a number of scholars including Wagner (1959),
Poussa (1990) Tristram (1997), Klemola (2002), van der Auwera and
Genee (2002), and most recently McWhorter (2006), have argued that
Celtic inuence must have played a signicant role in the rise of periphras-
tic do in English (for a survey, see van der Auwera and Genee 2002). It is
unlikely that sucient evidence can ever be amassed to prove conclusively
any one theory on the origins of do but we would argue that there is su-
cient evidence to conclude that the Brythonic do construction must have
been a signicant contributory factor in the rise of do in English.
6. Conclusion
We have endeavored to show in this paper that the question of Celtic in-
uences in English continues to intrigue the minds of language historians
and that important new light can be shed on it by combining dierent
kinds of linguistic and extra-linguistic evidence. Among these, archaeolo-
gical, demographic and historical, as well as contact-linguistic and areal-
typological evidence seem to us to provide the most reliable basis for
ascertaining contact inuences. Periphrastic do was chosen here as a
good example of a syntactic feature which has long deed attempts to
explain its origins by recourse to language-internal factors only. As men-
tioned above, several other morphosyntactic features of English can like-
wise be shown to have a Celtic connection in some way or another, which
adds signicantly to the overall plausibility of the Celtic hypothesis.
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Commentary on Filppula and Klemola,
Celtic Inuence on English: A Re-Evaluation
Elisabeth Tacho
Markku Filppula and Juhani Klemolas paper takes up the long-running
debate over the extent of Celtic impact on English grammar and cre-
ditably shows how a thorough discussion of recent research ndings and
the combination of various kinds of linguistic as well as extra-linguistic
evidence may contribute to deepen our understanding of the development
of Celtic features in the English language.
The authors introduce their paper with a critical discussion of Otto
Jespersens (1905) explanation for the scarcity of Celtic elements in
English. Jespersens account stands in marked contrast to the view that
numerous central grammatical elements of the English language, like the
progressive, the it-cleft construction or periphrastic DO, may be of Celtic
origin, as advocated by Keller (1925), Preusler (1956) and, more recently,
of proponents of the Celtic Hypothesis such as Poussa (1990), Hickey
(1995), and McWhorter (2006). In highlighting the discrepancy between
the paucity of Celtic elements in the English language, as the traditional
view holds, and the assumption that the socio-historical situation after
the adventus Saxonum must have fostered cultural and linguistic inter-
action between English and Celtic to at least some extent, Filppula and
Klemola make a powerful argument for the need to debate and reassess
previous studies in the light of recent linguistic and historical evidence.
Filppula and Klemola presuppose a period of prolonged bilingualism
after the Anglo-Saxon invasion with recognizable linguistic eects on the
English language. They put forward conclusive archaeological evidence
drawn from Oppenheimer (2006) and Laing and Laing (1990) in order
to substantiate their claim that instead of a wholesale extermination of
Britons, what happened in most places . . . was a process of acculturation.
Furthermore, Harke (2003) and Highams (1992) population statistics and
the genetic studies of Capelli (2003) and Sykes (2006) do not support the
Freeman (1870) and Stubbs (1870) ethnic cleansing theory either. And
although Filppula and Klemola are aware of and acknowledge the con-
tinuing controversy over recent genetic testing procedures, the fact that
all the dierent studies reveal a signicant continuity of the indigenous
Celtic speaking population is telling and lends further support to the
here advocated acculturation theory.
In the second part of the paper, Filppula and Klemola maintain their
focus on geographical and historical evidence and show how a meticu-
lously researched case study on the origin of periphrastic do can be
placed within the larger framework of the Celtic Hypothesis. Periphrastic
do represents a grammatical feature that distinguishes English from
most other European languages as Denison (1993) indicates. The origin
of auxiliary do, however, is not entirely clear. While Denison and Ellegard
argue that ambiguous do innitive constructions may have led to a
twofold interpretation of the phrase as either a causative and a periphras-
tic construction, thus contributing to the rise of periphrastic do, Filppula
and Klemola cast serious doubt on this causative hypothesis and challenge
the approach of Ellegard (1953) and Denison (1985), revealing aws in the
scholars interpretations. The key argument put forward against Ellegard
and Denisons interpretation of periphrastic do is based on Filppula and
Klemolas nding concerning the geographical and typological distribu-
tion of the relevant structure. Filppula and Klemola discern that while
periphrastic uses of do initially appear in south-western areas rst, causa-
tive do is mainly found in the south-east of England, which therefore
does not necessarily qualify as the source of periphrastic do. In combining
Klemolas (1996) thoroughly conducted survey of the geographical distri-
bution of twentieth-century unstressed periphrastic do with Elliss 1889
study on early English pronunciation and the distribution of nineteenth-
century periphrastic do, the authors apply the principles of apparent-time
method and represent their results on two maps that show an accurate pic-
ture of the linguistic situation of that period.
The patterns they observe in the geographical and areal-typological dis-
tribution of periphrastic do are borne out by the ndings of historical lin-
guists, as Filppula and Klemola indicate by their inclusion of viewpoints
expressed by scholars like Ellegard and Preusler (1938, 1956), who both
indicate a south-western origin of periphrastic do constructions. It is note-
worthy that this account can be further corroborated by evidence drawn
from the analysis of the dialectal distribution of periphrastic do in various
text types and genres. The authors adopt Mustanojas (1960) conclusions
to good purpose and thereby substantiate their initial results that northern
sources of the fteenth and sixteenth centuries hardly show any instances
of periphrastic do, which in turn gives good evidence that periphrastic do
can indeed be regarded a southern borrowing.
Commentary on Filppula and Klemola 227
One more detail that has intrigued a number of linguists, among them
Ellegard (1953), is the relatively late attestation of Celtic features, such as
periphrastic do, in English written sources. Here, Filppula and Klemola
commendably draw on McWhorters (2006) research results to explain
the observed time gap between the contact situation and the actual imple-
mentation of grammatical borrowings as delayed contact eects, which
may be interpreted as a rather common phenomenon whenever colloquial
oral features gradually shift towards the written standard. However, while
Filppula and Klemolas ndings give ample and strong evidence for the
mechanisms behind the uses of auxiliary do, a small element of doubt
concerning the motivation behind the rise of periphrastic do still remains.
It would be useful to know whether the authors think it plausible that
the great number of Anglo Norman and French loanwords may have con-
tributed to the increase of periphrastic do constructions in Middle English
as Fischer and Van der Wur argue (2006: 155):
Such new verbs can be dicult to t into the native inectional system, and
a way of avoiding a hybrid form (a French word with an English past tense
in -ed or a present in -est or -es/-eth) would be to use a form of the all-
purpose verb do plus an innitive (a strategy for incorporating loan verbs
that is in fact found in several other languages). Once do has become more
common, it may also begin to be used more frequently with other innitives,
possibly for phonotactic reasons. . . .
In drawing all strands of their argument together, Filppula and Klemolas
seminal paper is a comprehensive and thoroughly researched account of
Celtic inuence on the English language. Discussions like these not only
successfully model convincing evidence based on contact-linguistic princi-
ples, as well as historical and geographical ndings, but also shed new
light on the possible origin of a single syntactic feature like periphrastic
do, and provide fascinating information on and compelling arguments for
the plausibility of the Celtic Hypothesis, for which Filppula and Klemola
present appealing linguistic and extra-linguistic accounts.
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Hogg and David Denison, 109198. Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press.
228 Elisabeth Tacho
Response to Commentary by Tacho
In her commentary to our paper, Elisabeth Tacho raises the question
of other possible explanations for the rise of periphrastic do in Middle
English. She refers to Fischer and van der Wur (2006: 155), who suggest
that the initial spread of do in Middle English could have been aided by
the large inux of French loanwords, which may have been dicult to
incorporate in the native inectional system. As Fischer and van der Wur
point out, this type of strategy of avoiding verb inections is not uncom-
mon crosslinguistically (for a survey of the use of do periphrasis as a
strategy of avoiding verb inections, see Jager 2006: 26064).
If we understand Fischer and van der Wur correctly, they oer the
avoidance of inections as a contributory factor in the early stages of
the rise of periphrastic do, cf. their following remark: [o]nce do has
become more common, it may also begin to be used more frequently
with other innitives (2006: 155). However, the earliest attested exam-
ples of periphrastic do found in thirteenth century south-western verse
show periphrastic do used with native verbs rather than French loans, as
in the following examples from Denison (1993: 264): His schlaun he dude
dun legge (c1300 Horn 1057), toward e stude at e sonne: In winter does
a-rise (c1300 SLeg. Patr. Purg 205.191). Thus, at least on the basis of the
earliest attested evidence, Fischer and van der Wurs explanation does
not seem to work. In principle, it should be relatively simple to further
corroborate Fischer and van der Wurs hypothesis of avoidance of inec-
tions with French loanwords as a contributory factor in the rise of do in
English. This could be done, for example, by using Ellegards (1953) data
on the early instances of periphrastic do, and calculating the percentage of
French loans among the verbs that the early occurrences of periphrastic do
collocate with.
References
Denison, David
1993 English Historical Syntax. London: Longman.
Ellegard, Alvar
1953 The Auxiliary Do. The Establishment and Regulation of its Use
in English. (Gothenburg Studies in English II.) Stockholm:
Almqvist & Wiksell.
Fischer, Olga, and Wim van der Wur
2006 Syntax. In A History of the English Language, edited by Richard
Hogg and David Denison, 109198. Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press.
Jager, Andreas
2006 Typology of Periphrastic Do-constructions. (Diversitas Lingua-
rum, Vol. 12.) Bochum: Universitatsverlag Dr. N. Brockmeyer.
When ar # ven Came to England:
Tracing Lexical Re-Structuring by Borrowing in
Middle and Early Modern English. A Case Study
Elisabeth Tacho
1. Introduction
While jetting all around the globe, we often forget about the risks and
dangers of traveling. Nowadays, most tourists and travelers just have to
deal with lost luggage or ight delays, and although traveling can involve
more serious risks, we do not even come close to what traveling meant to
people more than seven hundred years ago. Hunger and thirst, heat and
cold, exhaustion, illnesses and death those were the dangers medieval
and Renaissance travelers had to face. Kings and knights, monks and
pilgrims, merchants and traders, apprentices and refugees, people from
all walks of life all of them needed stamina and good luck to survive
their journeys. Traveling was not at all safe and the English seafaring
merchant Henry Timberlake reported about his pilgrimage to Jerusalem,
[. . .] my life was the thing I most of all feared (1974 [1603]: 25). Simi-
larly, Katherine Paston writes in a letter to her son I was very glad to
heer by your rst letter that you wer so say arriued at your wished
port. We must not think of these quotations as hollow phrases but read
these lines as mirroring the ever-presence of danger on the roads as well
as the concerns of the travelers and their beloved, waiting for them to
return back home. Building on sociolinguistic evidence (cf. Labov 1972
and 1994; Nevalainen and Raumolin-Brunberg 2003; Romaine 1982) that
languages are socially embedded and therefore do not evolve in a social
vacuum, it may be claimed that the high rate of mobility during the middle
ages and the Renaissance (cf. MacDonald 2006; Ohler 1989; Verdon
2003), as well as the signicance of moments such as the arrival from a
journey, must have had some impact on the English language. The focus
of the present study is, therefore, on a very small segment of the English
lexicon, i.e., the verb arrive, in order to examine how the verb entered the
English lexicon and to investigate whether and how the word developed in
meaning and frequency from the Middle English to the Early Modern
English period. Furthermore, the present article reports some of the nd-
ings concerning the distribution and frequency of ME ar # ven in written
and speech-based text types between 1100 and 1500. Since both quanti-
tative and qualitative research are necessary to gain a full picture of the
situation in Middle English, I will further provide contextualized examples
to show how ar # ven is used in various dierent text types compared to its
native competitor le#nden.
2. Theoretical framework
As far as the theoretical framework is concerned, I will give a brief outline
of the theories on which my paper is based. Word eld theory has proved
to be very useful for the present study as it provides the theoretical back-
ground for the analysis of a lexical eld. According to Coseriu and
Geckeler (1981), a lexical eld can be dened as a lexical paradigm,
which results from the division of a lexical content continuum into dier-
ent lexemes (Tacho 2007: 66). The individual lexemes are connected with
each other in various dierent ways, regarded as lexical relations such
as antonymy, polysemy, or hyponomy (cf. Coseriu and Geckeler (1981),
Geckeler (1971), Kastovsky (2006)). These concepts of lexical elds and
relations help to determine the notion of the lexical eld investigated, i.e.,
to come ashore, and to study the relationship between the lexemes incor-
porated in the eld.
Language change, such as the borrowing of a foreign lexical item,
always involves at least some kind of social interaction between dierent
cultures and groups of speakers. Nevalainen and Raumolin-Brunberg
(2003) examine the mechanisms of language change in the tradition of
Labovs variationist approach, thereby including socio-linguistic and social
criteria, such as social status, regional and gender variation. Social status
or prestige may also be regarded as one of the driving forces behind some
of the observed changes in the lexical eld of to come ashore and may in
particular account for the borrowing of ar # ven from Anglo-Norman, as I
will discuss later on.
Historical linguists largely rely on the study of manuscripts and texts of
a certain period in order to gain an impression of how language changed
over time. Literary scholars as well as linguists have developed numerous
theories and approaches to classify and categorize these preserved texts.
As regards genre theory, the distinction between genre and text type is
not always clear. While Biber (1988: 206) distinguishes between genre and
232 Elisabeth Tacho
text type on the basis of external and internal features, the compilers of
the Helsinki Corpus use both terms as rough synonyms and provide what
Oesterreicher (1997: 193) calls a medium-distinction, labeling texts ac-
cording to their main characteristics and purpose as travelogues, letters
or biographies, etc. Nevalainen and Raumolin-Brunberg (2003: 28) point
out that genres dier in many ways, for instance in their conventions,
level of formality and type of setting. The level of formality serves as the
major criterion to establish the degree of orality in written texts in many
linguistic studies (cf. Biber 1988, Kohnen 1997, and Taavitsainen 1997).
The Helsinki Corpus categories written, speech-based, and script,
i.e., written to be spoken, represent a rough guideline towards a more con-
ceptual prole of these texts. Koch and Oesterreicher (1996: 6496) have
developed a very useful framework to determine the orality of written
texts. They dierentiate between the language of immediacy, i.e., the in-
formal or oral type of linguistic conception, and the elaborate and formal
type of language of distance as the two poles of a conceptual continuum.
On this scale Koch and Oesterreicher provide further levels of orality
which are characterized by varying degrees of spontaneity or planning,
sentence complexity and elaboration. Oesterreicher (1997: 193) also high-
lights the importance of treating the aspects of medium and conception
separately. In the present study I will use the Helsinki Corpus classication
of text types and I will apply Koch and Oesterreichers conceptual ap-
proach in order to nd out more about the level of orality of individual
texts.
1
The varying levels of orality in written texts have turned out to
shed more light on the mechanisms of the lexical changes examined. Ac-
cording to Labov (1972) and Romaine (1982) language innovations may
occur in spoken language long before they show up in written sources.
Both scholars focus their attention on language internal changes and pre-
suppose that linguistic novelties primarily nd their way into a language
through regular and prolonged face-to-face interaction taking place within
a close-knit social network.
However, recent studies on socially embedded changes (Eckert 2003,
Milroy 2007) have proven Labovs and Romaines assumptions to be
only partly relevant for linguistic innovations involving contact situations
and have further developed dierent ways to identify and explain two
major types of language variation. Based on the observation that some lin-
guistic innovations in language are more readily available to its speakers
1. For a discussion of the text type classication used in the present study see
Section 5.
When ar # ven Came to England 233
than others, Lesley Milroy adapts Eckerts (2003) denition of o the
shelf changes and adds to it her own category of under the counter
changes. Milroy points out that these labels roughly correspond to the
distinction between supralocal and local changes. Furthermore, both
terms refer to the extent to which language variation is accessible to
speakers. Whereas under the counter changes are restricted to smaller
local speech communities and need regular and repeated social interaction
among their members in order to be implemented, o the shelf changes
can be seen as more freely accessible to a greater number of speakers
regardless of their social aliation and geographical location. Although
these studies primarily focus on sound changes, Eckert (2000: 16) and
Milroy (2006: 165) argue that lexical borrowings are very likely candidates
for o the shelf changes, too, since many loan words enter a language not
only through face-to-face interaction but through written sources and
distant contact between two dierent cultures. In the present paper I will
aim to nd out whether Eckert and Milroys categorization of socially
motivated sound change can also be applied to the case of the borrowing
of ar # ven.
Lexical and semantic changes have always been a fascinating eld of
research for many historical linguists of dierent schools. Schendl (1985
[1987]: 357399) for example applies Fillmores model of valency and
case grammar theory (1968) to the study of semantic change. He illus-
trates his study with diachronic accounts of individual verbs of motion,
among them ar # ven and le#nden. His discussion of the phenomenon of
meaning variation in ar # ven and le#nden is closely connected with the re-
sults of my quantitative approach to investigate the implementation of
the AN loan word in the English language.
3. The dictionaries and corpora used
The present paper is based on the entries in the standard dictionaries and
data retrieved from two diachronic corpora. For the semasiological part
of this study, I collected my data from the online versions of both the
Oxford English Dictionary (henceforth OED) and the Middle English Dic-
tionary (MED). Additionally, I backed up the data with information
drawn from the Anglo Norman Dictionary (AND), the Dictionnaire du
Moyen Francais (DMF), and Hindleys Old French-English Dictionary.
The aim of the rst part of this paper is to trace ar # vens way into the
English lexicon and its subsequent variation in meaning as well as its rela-
tion to native lexemes.
234 Elisabeth Tacho
The frequency data presented in this study are based on the Helsinki
Corpus of English Texts (henceforth HC) for Middle English (ME) and
Early Modern English (EModE). The ME part of the HC is further sub-
divided into four periods, ranging from M1 (11501250), M2 (12501350)
and M3 (13501420) to M4 (14201500), and consists of 608,570 words in
total. The EModE part (551,000 words) is divided in three sub-periods
from E1 (15001570) to E2 (15701640) and E3 (16401700). In addition,
I also consulted the Corpus of Middle English Prose and Verse (CME) in
order to expand the rather limited data set on ME sources provided by the
HC. While the HC consists of extracts of continuous texts the CME has
been compiled by the Humanities Text Initiative at the University of
Michigan, using reliable collections of full ME electronic texts. At present,
the corpus consists of 146 titles, comprising a total of 18,402,897 words,
and provides the user with dierent search types. For the present fre-
quency study I searched the corpora for all tokens of ar # ven carrying
the meaning of to come ashore and all possible spelling variations
2
were
considered. Moreover, the material was organized according to the sub-
periods given in the HC. Since the HC and the CME dier considerably
in size it is not possible to directly compare their results. I will, therefore,
use the data retrieved from the HC and aim to provide the reader with a
quick overview of the implementation of ar # ven in the English language,
and will focus on the early development of the verb in the second part
of my quantitative study, using data drawn from the full texts included in
the CME.
4. How ar # ven came to England
In this chapter I turn to the origin and the early development of ar # ven.
The way the new word found its way into the English language as well as
the question of its origin have been debated by various scholars and is still
controversial.
First, there is a remarkable dierence in the way the dictionaries treat
the relevant verbal form of ar # ven and its etymological background. It is
noteworthy to state that for the OED and the MED the verb ar # ven is bor-
2. Tokens showing the following spelling variations arrive, arriue, arive, ariue,
arryve, arryue, aryve, aryue, a-ryve, a-ryue including common suxes, such
as -n, -de, -th, are included in the study.
rowed from OF arriver in the sense of to land, to come ashore or to reach
shore. The form and meaning of the verb is derived from Late Latin
adripare, a combination of the preposition ad, meaning to and the noun
ripa for shore. In his article Arrivals and Departures, Rothwell (1998),
however, expresses serious doubts about the dictionaries accuracy on the
Old French origin of loan words, such as arrival or departure, and Schendl
(1985 [1987]: 379) sharply criticizes the OEDs etymology of the verb
ar # ven. Both claim that arrival and ar # ven are to be considered Anglo Nor-
man rather than Old French loan words and both corroborate their claims
with evidence taken from the Anglo Norman Dictionary and a selection of
other dictionaries as well as from ME texts
3
. According to the entries
taken from the AND and those found in the MED ar # ven is only attested
in its narrow meaning of to come ashore for the early ME period while
the DMF includes entries with both the verbs extended and narrow mean-
ing as being attested in Old French texts. From an etymological perspec-
tive, therefore, it is possible to view ar # ven as being borrowed from Anglo
Norman.
Second, the borrowing of ar # ven involves both linguistic and socio-
historical aspects, which are closely interrelated. Since the speakers of
English in medieval England were not short of native words expressing the
idea of traveling and coming ashore, the prestige of the Anglo-Norman
language as well as some language internal shift within the English lexicon
may be considered to be responsible for the borrowing of ar # ven.
The evidence taken from various dierent ME texts
4
shows that the
Anglo Saxons used three dierent lexemes in order to express the same
meaning as the AN verb ar # ven, to come to land. One of these equiva-
lents in Old English is le#ndan, a denominal formation of the noun land
plus the sux -jan, which develops into le#nden due to the Old English pro-
cess of i-mutation. The OED mentions that ME le#nden slowly loses its
specic concept of to come ashore and broadens its meaning towards
the more general notion of to come to a place. The two main meanings
of le#nden roughly co-existed for more than a century before the verb
ceases to be used around 1540.
3. For a detailed reference list of dictionaries, reference books and Middle
English text sources see Rothwell (1998) and Schendl (1985 [1987]).
4. A contrastive analysis of the distribution of ar # ven, le#nden and comen to in
selected Middle English texts is conducted in Tacho (2007).
236 Elisabeth Tacho
Moreover, we can observe the use of the verb in various dierent mean-
ings in ME texts from the early thirteenth century onwards, as illustrated
in the semasiological diagram
6
above.
According to the OED, supported by the MED, the rst use of the ex-
tended meaning of le#nden in ME texts coincides with the rst attestation
of the AN loan word ar # ven to come ashore. Roughly at the same time
as the native lexeme broadens its meaning, the new and foreign word
ar # ven appears in the English language and gradually takes over the posi-
tion and function of le#nden, which it maintains for more than one hundred
years. It seems plausible to assume that the widening of meaning of le#nden
facilitated the later spread of ar # ven. However, as the MED further states,
the loan word does not remain stable in its meaning for long but rather
extends its meaning, gradually adopting the broader notion of to come
to a place, just as its predecessor le#nden once did.
Figure 1. Semasiological diagram of le#nden
5
5. The data used in Figure 1&2 above is taken from the OED and the MED.
The following conventions are used in Figure 1&2:
words are listed from top to bottom in the order of their rst attestation.
broken lines indicate that the words in question are already found in Old
English.
solid lines indicate the length of usage of words with their rst and last
attestation in written sources given, according to the OED.
6. For a more detailed discussion of Figure 1 & 2 see Tacho (2007).
The semasiological diagram of ar # ven below shows how the process of
meaning extension has developed from the originally restricted meaning to
rather abstract concepts in Early Modern and Modern English.
As soon as both le#nden and ar # ven had completed their widening of
meaning, the English language was devoid of a specic term denoting the
concept of to come ashore. According to Schendls hypothesis of a func-
tional pull, i.e., the closing of a real or just felt gap by a new word for-
mation, the new verb landen, denoting the concept to come ashore, is
coined and has remained in its narrow meaning until the beginning of the
twentieth century. The above described development may also be sum-
marized as a circular movement with repeating processes of meaning
extension and partial replacements of lexemes, as indicated in Diagram 1.
The variety of meaning can be illustrated by the examples below.
Example (1) is taken from King Horn and shows ar # ven in its earliest and
narrowest meaning to come ashore.
(1) He fond bi e stronde, ariued on his londe, Schipenes fteen, Wi
sarazins kene.
(HC, M2, King Horn, 3538)
The following three examples show the words usage in both its narrow
and its wide meaning to come to a place during the fourteenth and
fteenth centuries, whereas example (5) shows ar # ven in its current meaning.
Figure 2. Semasiological diagram of ar # ven
7
7. For detailed explanation of the graph see footnote 5.
238 Elisabeth Tacho
(2) Eneas . . . With gret navie aryveth at Cartage.
(MED, 1393, GOWER, Confessio Amantis III, 4.8)
(3) all that contre on the left hond unto Egypt & arryuen at the cytee
of Damyete.
(HC, M3, Mandevilles Travels, 36)
(4) I was very glad to heer by your rst letter that you wer so say
arriued at your wished port.
(HC, M4, Katherine Paston, KPASTON 65)
(5) He shall in good time arriue to his designed journeys end.
(OED, 1661, BARROW, Sermon, i. I. 2)
5. Frequency studies
5.1. The Helsinki Corpus
Semasiological accounts of the development of a verbs meaning in time
are one task of a linguist in order to establish a detailed picture of a loan
words variation in form and meaning, thereby contributing to the better
Diagram 1. Illustration of meaning variation of ME le#nden and ar # ven
understanding of language change. However, the quantitative study of a
verbs distribution in dierent genres may turn out to be a crucial aspect
in research in order to shed some light on the nature of its implementation
in and the eect on the recipient language. The rst part of my quantita-
tive study of ar # ven was carried out with regard to the following con-
straints. First, I focused only on those tokens of the loan word which com-
prise the meaning of to come ashore in ME. For the EModE period I
included both the verbs broad and narrow meaning. Second, I included
all known spelling variants of the verb in question. However, the fre-
quencies of ar # ven based on the data of the HC are rather low and can
only be regarded as a rough guideline. Table 1 lists absolute numbers;
normalized numbers will be considered later on.
In a total of twenty-six relevant uses from 1250 to 1700, the HC renders
only eleven uncontroversial occurrences with ar # ven expressing to come
ashore, all in thirteenth century manuscripts. However, one will look in
vain for a single instance in the rst sub-period M1 (11501250) of the
Middle English part of the HC, although the dictionary evidence (OED
and MED) shows Layamons Brut as the rst Middle English text in
which the loan word is attested. Figure 1 below seems to represent a per-
fect S-shaped curve, which may be typical of many cases of lexical diu-
sion
8
. However, caution must be exercised. The sudden drop around
1400 is rather puzzling, since the period between 1350 and 1450 is re-
garded as a very productive era of translations from Latinate or French
sources (cf. Drinka 2006, Srensen 1957). Furthermore, the very low fre-
quencies in the EModE period seem to be very unreliable, since the inven-
tion of printing may have had a positive inuence on the production and
spread of written texts.
Table 1. Absolute frequencies of ar # ven in HCE database
1150
1250
1250
1350
1350
1420
1420
1500
1500
1570
1570
1640
1640
1700
11 3 1 3 3 5
8. According to Wang and Chen (1972), any kind of change may start slowly
and then speed up, spreading rapidly, just to slow down and come to an
end nally.
240 Elisabeth Tacho
As it turns out, a valid generalization on the basis of the data drawn
from the HC does not seem possible because the total number of occur-
rences in the text samples provided in this corpus is too small. A more
comprehensive study of full texts, as included in the CME for the ME
period, is therefore highly desirable and will be conducted below.
5.2. The Corpus of Middle English Prose and Verse
The second part of my frequency study focuses on the ME period only,
because the period of direct rivalry between the loan word ar # ven and its
native competitor le#nden deserves particular attention. I am further inter-
ested in the question whether a detailed analysis of full texts can provide a
more comprehensive picture of the verbs development in order to support
the above discussed semasiological account of the borrowing process. In
Table 2 below, I have listed the absolute frequencies of ar # ven to come
ashore and categorized them according to text type distinctions and the
sub-periods of the HC. The HC gives a list of text types, which are clas-
sied according to language external parameters, such as text origin,
purpose, and audience (cf. Taavitsainen 1997). Although Middle English
written sources often show dierent internal features and vary in style
and format so that they are not homogeneous enough to be clearly as-
signed to a specic text type I have decided to use the HC classication
in order to provide my study and the reader with a clear overall structure.
Figure 3. Frequency study of ar # ven in HCE database (absolute numbers)
Furthermore, I have modied the Helsinki Corpus distinction between
speech-based and written text types and followed the model provided by
Koch and Oesterreicher (1996), who provide a list of idealized communi-
cative events ranging from immediacy types, i.e., intimate conversation or
private letters, to distance types such as scientic articles or legal texts.
Oesterreicher (1997: 206) also stresses the fact that features of orality in
literary texts must be examined with caution because they normally do
not reect spontaneous or natural language [. . .]. This argument par-
ticularly holds true for ME romances, like Malorys Morte DArthur or
Caxtons Blanchardyn and Eglantine, because they chiey represent trans-
lations from French or Latinate sources and therefore include linguistic
features which are less spontaneous but more carefully planned and out-
lined than for example a private letter. The same goes for ction of this
period. Although early ction includes many oral features, such as dia-
logues, spontaneous interactions, and emotionally loaded language (cf.
Taavitsainen 2005: 197), the examples of ctitious texts included in this
study, like Gowers Confessio Amantis or Chaucers Canterbury Tales,
do not qualify as speech-based texts because the authors may have func-
tionalized oral features in order to add more immediacy to their stories. I
therefore count romances, travelogues, chronicles, biographies and reli-
gious treatises as well as documents and ction as written text types, since
they resort to literate strategies, such as elaborate style and complex struc-
Table 2. Absolute frequencies of ar # ven in ME genres (data based on CME)
11501250 12501350 13501420 14201500
History 1 53 147 20
Romance 33 6 116
Biography 15
Religious treatises 6 5
Travelogue 14
Documents 3
Fiction 34
Letters 5
Handbooks 5
Total 1 106 210 146
242 Elisabeth Tacho
tures. The only text type which can be regarded as more oral, spontaneous
and speech-like is the private correspondence from the members of the
Paston and Stonor families.
As it turns out, the period between 1350 and 1420 clearly shows the
highest rate of occurrences of ar # ven in nearly all text types and is closely
followed by the period until 1500. This development partly coincides with
the increase of text production in general and can also be explained by the
introduction of new text types as well as the variation of subject matter in
the Late Middle English period. Moreover, a large number of those texts
showing the highest number of incidents of the loan word may be classi-
ed as translations from mainly French originals, which supports Drinkas
(2006) hypothesis that word constructions or lexemes of French or Anglo-
Norman origin may occur more frequently in translations and in written
text types. The normalized frequencies in Figure 4 below illustrate the
implementation of the loan word ar # ven with its high tide (Srensen:
1957) around 1400 and the use of its native competitor le#nden in the
same period. From the graph we can see that the lines run parallel to one
another, le#nden always on a lower level than its foreign rival, and that the
amounts received for both lexemes reach a peak by around 1400.
The pie chart in Diagram 2 additionally illustrates ar # vens distribution
within the dierent text types. And here the results of my study point to
an interesting trend: chronicles and romances have the largest share and
Figure 4. Normalized frequencies (10.000) of ar # ven and le#nden / londen (to come
ashore) in ME texts
number of instances of the loan word. Both text types are aimed at an
educated clerical and courtly readership. A closer look at these chronicles
and romances reveals that nearly all of them represent translations from
Latin, French or Anglo-Norman original sources. Moreover, literary
scholars (Cooper 1999, Field 1999, and Galloway 1999, etc.) have found
out that chronicles and romances often show similar stylistic features and
Field (1999: 154) emphasizes the fact that many romances are inuenced
in style and structure by vernacular chronicles and chansons de geste. The
results of my frequency study in Table 2, showing a gradual shift of the
use of ar # ven from chronicles, with 147 tokens in the period between 1350
and 1420, to romances, with 116 tokens from 1420 to 1500, can be inter-
preted in a similar way and may highlight the parallels between chronicles
and romances from a linguistic point of view. Additionally, romances are
gradually shifting from the relatively narrow courtly context to a much
wider audience of gentry and merchants during the thirteenth and four-
teenth centuries. Thus, the close connection between romances and chroni-
cles or historical writing as well as the translation of and the expanding
Diagram 2. Percentage of ar # ven in dierent Middle English text types based on
CME data
244 Elisabeth Tacho
audience for romances (Bennett 1986, Field 1999: 168169) are further
factors that may have contributed to the increasing number of occurrences
of ar # ven. Furthermore, the lower number of instances of le#nden may be
due to the fact that translations from Latin or French sources have the
tendency to use more words of Latinate and Romance origin because of
word by word translation and other translation methods or the higher
prestige of these languages at a certain period in time.
The results of the frequency study above seem to draw a very clear
picture and indicate that the loan word ar # ven is predominantly used in
chronicles and romances translated from or inuenced by Latinate or
French and Anglo-Norman original sources whereas the percentage of
le#nden in the same texts remains on a rather low level.
However, a closer analysis of contextualized examples taken from
chronicles and romances has revealed some astonishing results. For the
study of textual examples I decided to use chronicles and romances of
those periods in which the loan word occurs most often, i.e., the period
from 1350 to 1420 for chronicles and the period between 1420 and 1500
for romances, in order to get the most extensive amount of data possible.
I then counted the occurrences of ar # ven to come ashore and compared
them with the number of tokens of le#nden in these texts. Although the
overall tendency and relation between loan word and native lexeme in
chronicles and romances is similar to the results of the study of all texts
included in the CME a more detailed analysis shows remarkable excep-
tions. The chronicles which can be dated to the period between 1350 and
1420 present the following distribution of ar # ven and le#nden, as in Table 3
below:
Table 3. Absolute frequencies of ar # ven and le#nden / londen in ME chronicles
M3 (13501420) The Brut Langtofts
Chronicle
Trevisas
Polychronicon
ar # ven 50 49 3
le#nden / londen 24 5 38
While The Brut and Langtofts Chronicle show a considerably higher rate
of ar # ven than of le#nden, Trevisas translation of the Polychronicon Ranul-
phi Higden displays a dierent distribution of both verbs. Interestingly,
Trevisas version of the Polychronicon includes far more instances of the
native verb le#nden than of the synonymous loan word. Galloway (1999:
270; 277278) argues that that Peter Langtofts Chronicle can be regarded
as a courtly history for a landowning and French-speaking class
whereas Trevisa provided a history in colloquial English which was aimed
at a lay vernacular readership and therefore did not include too many loan
words but rather used a variety of native equivalent terms. According to
accommodation theory and audience design (cf. Bell: 2001), it is the . . .
sociolect of the audiences that will dene the language of the text type
used by the given author (Eitler 2004: 225). Based on this assumption,
the reason for the low frequencies of ar # ven may be seen in the broader
readership and audience of travelogues compared to other written text
types. Furthermore, by the time Trevisas translation of the Polychronicon
was produced, English slowly began to regain a position in formal writing
formerly occupied by Latin and French. Thus, the emergence of English
as the standard language in formal writing may be foreshadowed by
Trevisas work.
The outcome of the close analysis of romances in the period from 1420
to 1500 presents another puzzling detail, as illustrated in Table 4 below.
The romances Merlin and Caxtons translation of Blanchardyn and Eglan-
tine show rather high numbers of ar # ven compared to le#nden. Here only
Malorys Arthurian romance Morte DArthur deviates from the expected
norm and we can see a roughly even distribution of both verbs ar # ven and
le#nden throughout the text.
The variation in the usage of ar # ven compared to le#nden can be ob-
served in selected text examples and gives the reader some insight into the
style and writing patterns of individual authors. One feature the reader
can notice in all the examined texts is that both the loan word ar # ven as
well as its native equivalent le#nden are embedded in a very specic context
in order to distinguish the dierent meanings of the verbs and to get the
meaning across to ones audience. Therefore, the two verbs in question
mostly occur with explicit reference to journeys overseas, to ships and the
Table 4. Absolute frequencies of ar # ven and le#nden / londen in ME romances
M4 (14201500) Wheatleys
Merlin
Malorys
Morte DArthur
Caxtons
Blanch. & Egl.
ar # ven 12 20 42
le#nden / londen 3 15 2
246 Elisabeth Tacho
navy as well as to names of ports and rivers, as in the examples (69)
taken from Peter Langtofts Chronicle and John Trevisas translation of
Higdens Polychronicon. In addition to the verbs ar # ven and le#nden de-
noting the concept of to come ashore a third verb is used to refer to the
process of to come to a place in general, i.e., come.
(6) Oseth, e Danes kyng, com Inglond to aray. He aryued at Berwik,
in e water of Tuede. (CME, 1350?, Peter Langtofts Chronicle)
(7) Philip & late e folk ouer wend / & passage haf in schip, to londes
forto lend.
(CME, 1350?, Peter Langtofts Chronicle)
(8) Anone he made hym redy and cam over see into Englond with alle
his hooste, and arrived in Mylford haven;
(CME, 1387, John Trevisas translation of Polychronicon Ranulphi
Higden)
(9) . . . cam over soe to Dover with moche peple, and there landed, to
whome al the countray drewe, and cam to London armed.
(CME, 1387, John Trevisas translation of Polychronicon Ranulphi
Higden)
Sometimes the author also includes allusions to rough waters, bad weather
and good fortune, as in (10):
(10) . . . daryus the sone of Alimodes, by fortune of the see, arryued in
the lande of ryse.
(CME, 1489, Caxtons Blanchardyn and Eglantine)
Thomas Malory pursues a similar writing and translation technique as
chroniclers did in earlier periods. In his Morte DArthur he uses the words
ar # ven and le#nden along with other verbs connected with seafaring, such as
to ship, to sail or the verb phrase to pass the sea but also comes up
with ar # vens wider meaning to come to a place on land, as in (13).
(11) [. . .] they had syghte of londe and saylled tyl they arryued atte
Barete in Flaundres.
(CME, 1470, Thomas Malorys Morte DArthur)
(12) [. . .] and so shypped and passed the see in to Englond / and
londed at Douer
(13) [. . .] Soo after on a mondaye hit befelle that they aryued in the
edge of a foreste [. . .]
By the end of the fteenth century, when ar # ven had already widened its
meaning, the loan word slowly made its way from written to more
speech-based text types and can be found with ve instances in the mean-
ing of to come ashore and further four tokens of to come to a place or a
result together with four instances of le#nden to come ashore in private
letters of the Paston and Stonor families. However, le#nden is predomi-
nantly used thirteen times in its meaning to lend money in commercial
contexts, as in (15).
(14) Syr John Trobylvyll, and Johon Motton, sariant porter, be a-ryvyd
a-geyn vp-on e cost of Yngland, save all only Syr Richard
Egecum wech londyd in Breten and [. . .]
(Margery Paston, 1477)
(15) Neuerthelesse, i ye and all my frendys and yowrys in Norolk
myght haue lende me so moche money, [. . .]
(John Paston, 1478)
As the contextualized examples above illustrate, the emergence of ar # ven
and le#nden in a wider range of meanings adds to a certain stylistic variety
in the examined texts in Late Middle English. The loan words variation in
meaning described in the semasiological account above is clearly mirrored
by the ndings in the examined texts.
In addition the extension and variation of meaning seems to correlate
with the more widespread usage of both lexemes throughout various dif-
ferent text types in Middle English. The loan word spread from chronicles
and romances and made its way to more oral types of texts like hand-
books and letters. Since chivalric literature was extremely popular among
courtiers of the fourteenth and fteenth century romances quickly adopted
an important social function among the upper ranks of society. It was
considered a sign of high prestige to own a copy of Malorys Morte
DArthur or Caxtons prints and Cherewatuk (2000: 4647) puts forward
good evidence that books circulated among members of the royal court
of the fteenth century. Since these romances were basically written for
and by the educated and lay nobility the possession and circulation of
selected prints of romances might have inuenced the language of the
courtly audience, among them members of the gentry like John Paston
who worked his way up at Edward IVs court. Paston evidently was a
248 Elisabeth Tacho
reader of chivalric literature
9
, which was regarded as a means of self-
improvement among social aspirers, and he might have been more than
willing to adopt some popular phrases from the books he consumed
at court.
6. Concluding remarks
One can conclude that the borrowing of ar # ven involved meaning varia-
tion of both the Anglo-Norman loan word and the native lexeme le#nden.
According to sociolinguistic principles one can assume that the process
of lexical intake was partly conditioned by semantic as well as extra-
linguistic criteria. Firstly, the growing ambiguity of le#nden and its meaning
extension facilitated the borrowing and further implementation of ar # ven.
Secondly, the AN loan word might have been borrowed because many
speakers of Middle English wanted to have a precise term in order to
denote the concept of to come ashore. Great Britains island position
and the fact that the cheapest and fastest way to travel or to transport
goods in medieval times was to travel by ship are two factors that may
have contributed to the felt need for a specic expression for to land.
Furthermore, the high prestige of the donor language Anglo Norman
may have favored and supported the borrowing process, thereby, con-
sciously initiating a change from above as Labov (1994: 78) sees it.
As far as the distribution of ar # ven in various Middle English text types
is concerned, it turned out that the highest number of instances can be
found in written text types, such as chronicles and romances of Latinate
and French or Anglo-Norman origin. These translations account for the
vast majority of instances of the loan word in contemporary texts and are
mainly responsible for the educated and formal writing in the Middle
English period. Linguistic change, thus, seemed to have taken place in
written text types rst. Judging from the popularity of these translations,
members of the gentry, representatives of the higher London merchant
class and social aspirers must have been fascinated by the attitude,
ideology and language displayed in those learned books. These people
9. Cherewatuk (2000: 4267) gives a detailed and in-depth account of John
Pastons connections to Edward IVs court and describes the way Arthurian
romances and chivalric literature, especially Malorys Morte DArthur, were
circulated and spread among members of the court.
might have adopted particular linguistic features they considered presti-
gious in order to establish social aliation to the upper ranks of society.
According to Eckert (2003) as well as Milroy (2007: 163) speakers on
the periphery of a particular speech community behave linguistically dif-
ferently from those fully integrated in a social network. Speakers on the
edge of the network take up prestigious linguistic forms by making exten-
sive use of older variants which are publicly accessible, for example in
books. Following Milroys denition of o the shelf changes we may
assume that social up-movers like John Paston were not necessarily depen-
dent on face-to-face interaction and unrestricted access to the local speech
community. In fact, the prestigious linguistic structures they were looking
for were easily available in traditional romances and chronicles, printed
and circulated at court. In the case of ar # ven, thus, the book may have
served as the medium for transmitting lexical change o the shelf, or
rather o the bookshelf, to be precise.
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256 Elisabeth Tacho
Commentary on Tacho, When ar # ven Came to England:
Tracing Lexical Re-Structuring by Borrowing in
Middle and Early Modern English. A Case Study
Emily Runde
Elisabeth Tachos paper commendably models how a meticulous semasio-
logical study of a single word may be placed in the context of, and con-
tribute to, our knowledge of the culture in which it was used. Her opening
sets the tone for the rest of her paper with a discussion of the seriousness
of journeys and their perils in medieval and early modern England. This
preface also makes a compelling argument for the social impact of voyag-
ing on the development of the verb ar # ven, whose meaning ties it to the
idea of travel. Tacho sustains this focus on historical context to good pur-
pose in her account of the origins of the verb ar # ven, which, she argues was
probably an Anglo-Norman loan word rather than an Old French one, as
the OED claims. Here, she draws on the arguments of Rothwell (1998)
and Schendl (1985 [1987]) in support of her etymology and points out
that the prestige of Anglo-Norman in England after the Norman Con-
quest could well have motivated the borrowing of the word in English.
The sociohistorical situation Tacho describes lends accessibility to her
data and analysis thereof. Tacho analyzes the shifting meanings and fre-
quencies of usage of ar # ven as well as an Old English equivalent, le#nden.
In tracing their staggered semantic widenings and shifts, she discerns a
possible relationship between the uses of the two words, observing, it
seems plausible to assume that the widening of meaning of le#nden facili-
tated the later spread of ar # ven. This assumption is at odds with the fre-
quently observed pattern of dierentiation in which an Old English word
undergoes semantic narrowing and its former sense is expressed with a
borrowed word as in the word pairs end vs. enemy or heaven vs. sky
(Burnley 1992 [2001]). Further explanation would therefore be useful
here. Tacho also applies Schendls hypothesis of functional pull, which
she describes as the closing of a real or just felt gap by a new word for-
mation, to account for the adoption of landen with the specic meaning
to come ashore once both le#nden and ar # ven widened in sense. Tachos
circular diagram provides a good visual summation of her ndings, and it
could make for an interesting study to explore whether this circular model
can be applied to other instances of borrowing and lexical restructuring
during the Middle English period.
Tacho dedicates the second half of her paper to a closer analysis of
ar # vens adoption and diusion in Middle English, using a modica-
tion of the Helsinki Corpus text types as her database. Recognizing that
medieval authors may have functionalized oral features in order to add
more immediacy to their stories and that writers of translations might
often have manifested the lexical inuence of their French and Latin
originals, she adapts the Helsinki Corpus distinctions to reect the range
of communicative events advanced by Koch and Oesterreicher (1996). In
principle, this is a well-reasoned approach; her focus on gradations of
orality in written texts still allows her to debate the possibility that ob-
served changes originated in spoken language. One can wonder, neverthe-
less, whether her observation that ar # ven appears earlier in more literary
texts like chronicles and romances and only later in more speech-based
texts like letters might depend as much on the relative paucity of surviving
speech-based texts during the period as on the degree of orality attribut-
able to the texts. The Paston and Stonor letters may yield good data
regarding more speech-based usages in the fteenth century, but it would
be useful for Tacho to indicate whether she had consulted earlier texts
under the category of private correspondence that simply made no use of
ar # ven.
This second portion of Tachos study has the advantage of demonstrat-
ing the relevance of her ndings to cultural, and specically literary,
studies of medieval England. The patterns she observes in the diachronic
distribution of ar # ven and le#nden among dierent genres provide informa-
tion that corroborates the ndings of literary scholar, as Tacho makes
clear by her inclusion of viewpoints expressed by scholars like Cooper
(1999) and Galloway (1999), among others. Her comparison of the fre-
quency with which ar # ven and le#nden appear in the prose Brut, Robert
Mannyngs translation of Peter Langtofts Chronicle, and John Trevisas
translation of Ranulf Higdens Polychronicon demonstrates the usefulness
of her ndings to literary as well as linguistic study. Trevisas marked pre-
ference for the Anglo-Saxon le# nden, Tacho demonstrates, stands in marked
contrast to the preference for ar # ven evident in the Brut and Mannyngs
Chronicle, but, as she remarks, Trevisa was writing for a primarily
English-speaking audience and had good reason to prefer a native word
over a borrowed one. Indeed, Trevisa is frequenty cited for his observation
258 Emily Runde
that French had become uncommon as a rst language or even a taught
language in fourteenth century England:
now, e ere of oure Lorde a owsand re hundred and foure score and
fyue, and of e secounde kyng Richard after e conquest nyne, in alle e
gramere scoles of Engelond, children leue Frensche and construe and
lerne an Englische, and . . . now children of gramere scole conne na more
Frensche an can hir lift heele . . . Also gentil men haue now moche i-left
for to teche here children Frensche. (Trevisa 161).
While Tachos ndings from Trevisa line up neatly with his own assess-
ment of his contemporaries linguistic practices, her ndings from Mannyng
stand in contrast to the writers own assessment of his language. Mannyng
claims in the preface to his Chronicle that he has written in English not
for e lerid but for e lewed,/ or o at in is land won/ at e Latyn
no Frankys con (lines 68). Moreover, he claims, haf I alle in myn In-
glis layd,/ in symple speche as I couth/. . . for e luf of symple men/ at
strange Inglis can not ken (lines 723, 778). Mannyngs claim that he
writes in simple English, though perhaps a modesty trope, would seem to
support the idea that he, like Trevisa, would prefer familiar native words
over borrowed words of similar meaning. This may be another exception
to the rule whose inevitability Tacho recognizes, but her data does suggest
that further exploration of this particular nding by literary scholars or
linguists could yield fruitful results.
I also have a factual correction whose amendment might well have a
bearing on Tachos ndings regarding Robert Mannyng. Tacho consis-
tently attributes her data from Mannyngs Chronicle to one of Mannyngs
main Anglo-Norman sources, Peter Langtofts Chronicle. Her source,
Michigans Corpus of Middle English Prose and Verse, likewise attributes
authorship of the English translation to the original Anglo-Norman
writer, though this is not standard practice. Mannyngs Chronicle is recog-
nized as a distinct text and, as Mannyngs own words suggest, the transla-
tion of Anglo-Norman chronicle materials into English implies a changed
text and a new audience.
Tacho analyzes several fteenth century romances and personal letters
with comparable specicity, but by providing a complete list of texts she
consulted in conjunction with each of her genre designations, she could
render her data even more accessible and useful to scholars. It would, for
example, be informative to know how many of the texts to which she
referred were, like Mannyngs Chronicle and Trevisas Polychronicon,
Commentary on Tacho 259
translations of earlier French or Latin works. It would be similarly useful
to know how many of the texts consulted were works of poetry or prose.
Indeed, constraints of meter and rhyme probably played a signicant role
in the adoption or rejection of the Anglo-Norman ar # ven in individual
poems. Tachos seventh citation, for example, could not conveniently
have used the verb ar # ven for reasons of both meter and rhyme:
. . . Philip & late e folk ouer wend/ & passage haf in schip, to londes
forto lend.
(CME, Robert Mannyngs Chronicle)
Metrically the position occupied by lend demands a stress-bearing
syllable, but the rst syllable of ar # ven may not bear primary stress. In
this case the vowel nal ending of the previous word could allow the drop-
ping of the initial unstressed vowel of ar # ven, but these lines still demon-
strate the sorts of metrical constraint that could force a poets hand in
choosing one word over the other. Moreover, the verb is prevented from
being a viable alternative to le#nden here by the demands of the line-nal
rhyme. A systematic analysis of instances in which meter compels the use
or rejection of ar # ven or le#nden could add complexity and accuracy to the
patterns in usage she has already observed. As it stands, however, Tachos
paper presents a very useful contribution to what is known about the
word ar # vens development during the Middle and Early Modern English
periods and presents the data in such a way as to demonstrate its relevance
to linguists and literary scholars alike.
References
Mannyng, Robert
1996 The Chronicle, edited by Idelle Sullens. Binghamton: Bingham-
ton University.
Trevisa, John (trans.)
1869 Polychronicon Ranulphi Higden Monachi Cestrensi: Together
with the English Translation of John Trevisa and of an Unknown
Writer of the Fifteenth Century, edited by Churchill Babington,
vol. 2. London: Longmans, Green and Co.
260 Emily Runde
Response to Commentary by Runde
Elisabeth Tacho
Runde has provided a thorough and insightful commentary to my article.
Nevertheless, I would like to respond to four points that Runde has
brought up. The rst two points are clarications about the CME data
used in the frequency study and my recent research ndings about ar # vens
implementation in speech-based as well as literary text types in Middle
English. The last two points respond to Rundes discussion of examples
drawn from individual texts.
First, a clarication concerning the choice of texts investigated in the
frequency study seems appropriate. For the quantitative study all 146 texts
included in the Corpus of Middle English Prose and Verse were searched
for tokens of the AN loan word ar # ven. 47 manuscripts
10
nally rendered
sucient material suitable for closer investigation. The highest frequencies
of ar # ven appeared in chronicles such as Robert Gloucesters Metrical
Chronicle, The Brut, as well as Peter Langtofts Chronicle and Robert
Mannyngs Story of England. Among the romances showing the most
instances of the loan word are the manuscripts of King Horn, Melusine,
Caxtons Blanchardyn and Eglantine as well as his translation of The right
plesaunt and goodly historie of the foure sonnes of Aymon and Thomas
Malorys Le Morte DArthur.
Second, it is true, as Runde points out, that the scarcity of surviving
speech-based texts in Middle English might inuence the results of my fre-
quency study to a certain extent. The decline or rise of ar # ven in Middle
English texts and manuscripts may well depend on the development of
individual text types throughout time. As biographies and depictions of
saints lives became less popular during the rst part of the fourteenth cen-
tury, the share of instances of ar # ven within this particular text type was in
decline, too (cf. Tacho 2007: 80). Similarly, we can observe a rise of tokens
in private correspondence as soon as letter writing as such becomes more
frequent. Runde suggests that my argument here would be more per-
10. A list of the texts relevant for the quantitative study is provided below and the
individual texts can be accessed online at http://quod.lib.umich.edu/c/cme.
suasive if earlier private correspondence could be examined to nd out
whether ar # ven occurred in those texts or not. However, the fact that
speech-based manuscripts from the early Middle English period have
only randomly been preserved confronts historical linguists with what
Labov (1994) and Nevalainen (1999: 503) describe as the bad data prob-
lem. Boey (1999: 612) once more pinpoints the problem when she states
that the signicant collections of letters [. . .] date in the main from the f-
teenth century and later. The Stonor letters are among the earliest letter
collections in English that are publicly accessible for research purposes,
and it is indeed interesting to note that the early Stonor letters of the late
thirteenth century hardly show any instances of ar # ven whereas the corre-
spondence of later years indicate a growing tendency to use the loan word
in certain contexts. Apart from the linguistic evidence, thus, ar # vens devel-
opment may coincide with the extra-linguistic fact that new text types,
such as private letters, became more and more frequent during the four-
teenth century. Furthermore, the rise of the loan word may also reect
the readers preference of a certain subject matter, such as travelogues or
private letters reporting about ones travel arrangements or business trips.
Third, Rundes observation concerning Mannyngs source of Chronicle
represents a very useful contribution, stating that Mannyngs work is
recognized as a distinct text. Interestingly, a comparison of both Robert
Mannyng and Peter Langtofts Chronicle has not yielded any signicant
dierence in the number of instances of ar # ven, with Mannyngs text show-
ing 45 tokens as compared to 49 instances in Langtofts source. Here fur-
ther close examination of contextualized examples will be needed in order
to shed some more light on the relation of these two texts.
Finally, I agree with Runde that there is still work to be done in re-
searching meter and rhyme as additional constraints for ar # vens adop-
tion or rejection in poetry. One of the main goals of this paper was to
examine the implementation and development of the AN loan word ar # ven
and a short glimpse on the metrical and rhythmical distribution of ar # ven
renders interesting results. The two examples below beautifully illustrate
how rhyme patterns may have inuenced the authors choice of words in
his work:
(1) . . . Atte laste he gan aryue / In Ytalye, a lond plentyue.
(CME, Robert Mannyngs Chronicle)
(2) . . . ar e dragoun gan ariue / At coloyne vnder a cliue.
(CME, The romance of Sir Beues of Hamtoun)
262 Elisabeth Tacho
The suggestions and arguments put forward here show how the combina-
tion of various dierent linguistic and extra-linguistic approaches may
lead to a more comprehensive understanding of the mechanisms of change
and variation in language, illustrated by the case study of le#nden and its
foreign competitor ar # ven.
Notes
Text type CME texts included in frequency study
Chronicles Layamons Brut; The metrical chronicle of Robert of
Gloucester; Peter Langtofts Chronicle; Robert Mannyngs
Story of England; The Brut or The Chronicles of England; An
English chronicle of the reigns of Richard II, Henry IV, Henry
V and Henry VI; Polychronicon Ranulphi Higden (together
with the translation of John Trevisa and unknown writer);
English Conquest of Ireland.
Romances King Horn; The romance of Guy of Warwick; The romance
of Sir Beues of Hamtoun; Le morte Arthur (a romance in
stanzas of 8 lines); The Gest hystoriale of the destruction of
Troy; The alliterative Morte Arthure; Melusine; The Laud
Troy Book; The Prose Life of Alexander; Merlin: or the early
history of King Arthur: a prose romance; Thomas Malorys
Le Morte DArthur; Caxtons Blanchardyn and Eglantine;
The right plesaunt and goodly historie of the foure sonnes of
Aymon (translated by Caxton); The Three Kings Sons.
Documents An anthology of Chancery English, English gilds: the origi-
nal ordinances of more than one hundred early English gilds:
from 1415th century ms.; The English register of Godstow
nunnery; A common-place book of the fteenth century,
religious play & poetry, legal forms.
Religious treatises The vision of William concerning Piers the Plowman; Selected
English works of John Wyclif; The English works of Wyclif;
The minor poems of the Vernon ms.; Lydgates Reson and
sensuallyte; The pilgrimage of the life of man by Lydgate.
Biographies e liade of St. Juliana: from the OE ms of 1230.; The early
South-English legendary: or Lives of saints.
Response to Commentary by Runde 263
Travelogues Mandevilles Travels (the Cotton version); Mandevilles
Travels (the Egerton version).
Fiction John Gowers Confessio Amantis; Georey Chaucers
Canterbury Tales (Cambridge, Landsdowne, Petworth,
Corpus, Ellesmere, Harleian and Hengwrt ms); Georey
Chaucers Troilus and Criseyde.
Handbooks Book of the Knight of La Tour-Landry: a compiled instruction
for his daughter (translated from French).
Private letters Stonor letters and papers: 12901483.; Paston Letters of the
Fifteenth Century. 14291489.
References
Boey, Julia
1999 Middle English lives. In Wallace, David (ed.). The Cambridge
History of Medieval English Literature. Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press, 610634.
Nevalainen, Terttu
1999 Making the best use of bad data. Evidence for sociolinguistic
variation in Early Modern English. In Valikangas, Olli; Rissa-
nen, Matti; Koivulehto, Jorma (eds.). Neuphilologische Mittei-
lungen. Helsinki: Neuphilologischer Verein, 499533.
264 Elisabeth Tacho
Reexamining Orthographic Practice in the
Auchinleck Manuscript Through Study of
Complete Scribal Corpora
Emily Runde
1. Reasons for Revisiting the Auchinleck Manuscript
The Auchinleck Manuscript (NLS Adv MS 19.2.1) is a very familiar
manuscript to medievalists of a number of disciplines. It is, as Hanna
(2000: 92) has observed, a big and messy object, provoking many ques-
tions and interpretations but allowing for relatively limited consensus. The
manuscript itself was produced by six scribes who copied a total of at least
forty-four texts, and the evidence of surviving fragments and missing
bifolia suggests that it may have contained many more texts originally.
The Auchinleck provides, in the words of Pearsall, our principal witness
for the existence of a vigorous and prolic London literary culture before
Chaucer (2006: 31). It remains an enduring focus for scholars concerned
with the light it may shed in studies of growing literacy in the vernacular
and the consequent appetite for secular vernacular reading material,
modes of book production during the fourteenth century, and the emer-
gence of a London literary standard. Unlike other miscellanies of the
time, the Auchinleck focuses on one primary genre, the romance. More-
over, the romances it contains are all written in English. For that reason,
this manuscript remains both an important literary artifact in its own right
and a compelling source of linguistic data.
I have chosen to work with the Auchinleck Manuscript in part because
it looms large in the history of Englishs rise to literary preeminence, but
also in order to show that this familiar and well-studied manuscript can
yield additional insights into the linguistic history of its contents and
creators. The paper focuses on the complete bodies of work of the two
most prolic Auchinleck scribes, commonly known as Scribes 1 and 3,
and herein I will begin to assemble a record of these scribes orthographic
practices across all of the texts they copied. I will further demonstrate that
the study of these scribes complete corpora of copied texts can be used to
further our knowledge regarding the scribes orthographic consistency,
their contributions to fourteenth-century standardizing tendencies in writ-
ten Middle English, and the extent to which their copying practices may
preserve valuable dialectal information in their exemplars. More gener-
ally, I wish to establish the usefulness of studying complete scribal corpora
in instances in which it is possible to do so.
2. The Scope and Subject of this Study
Most studies of scribal intervention in other manuscripts have focused on
multiple scribes copies of a single text.
1
Signicant linguistic variation
from one scribes copy to the next, particularly variation suggestive of dis-
parate dialects, may provide evidence regarding how faithfully scribes
copied their exemplars, what they added, and what their exemplars would
have looked like. It is thereby possible to determine the dialects, and per-
haps then the geographical origins, of both scribe and exemplar. The
circumstances of the Auchinlecks production aord the opportunity to
determine scribal intervention from another vantage point. Rather than
focusing on individual texts, many of which exist in unique copies in the
Auchinleck, I am looking at each scribes complete body of work within
the manuscript. Because Scribes 1 and 3 both copied a number of texts, it
is possible to examine their linguistic consistency across all the texts they
copied in the Auchinleck.
2
1. Notable exceptions are Wiggins comparative study of the scribal practices of
Auchinleck Scribes 1 and 6 (2004) and her study of Guy of Warwick (2003),
which focuses on Auchinleck Scribe 1s general linguistic tendencies as well
as the various scribal tendencies in dierent copies of the given text. Her
work exemplies the benets of considering more generally the practices of
the Auchinleck scribes and the scribes of other anthologies.
2. According to the most recent scholarly consensus, as provided by the Auchin-
leck Manuscript websites editors (Burnley and Wiggins 2003), paleographical
evidence reveals that Scribe 1 copied The Legend of Pope Gregory (pg), The
King of Tars (kt), The Life of Adam and Eve (lae), Seynt Mergrete (stm),
Seynt Katerine (stk), St Patricks Purgatory (stpp), e Desputisoun Bitven e
Bodi and e Soule (dbs), The Harrowing of Hell (hh), The Clerk who would
see the Virgin (cv), Amis and Amiloun (aa), The Life of St Mary Magdalene
(stmm), The Nativity and Early Life of Mary (nlm), Guy of Warwick (cou-
plets) (gwc), Guy of Warwick (stanzas) (gws), Of Arthour & of Merlin (am),
A Peniwor of Witt (pw), How Our Ladys Sauter was First Found (lsff), Lay
le Freine (lf), Roland and Vernagu (rv), Kyng Alisaunder (ka), The Thrush
266 Emily Runde
This work has already been begun by the Linguistic Atlas of Late
Mediaeval English (LALME), which has examined certain orthographic
and lexical practices of both scribes and provided both with localizable
linguistic proles based on these practices and their consistency.
3
These
proles, however, are limited by the scope of the questionnaire used in
constructing LALME as well as the number of texts consulted to construct
these proles. Of the six texts copied by Scribe 3, LALME has consulted
one, and of the thirty texts copied by Scribe 1, LALME has consulted ve.
While it provides a generally dependable survey of what the scribes do
fairly consistently from text to text, this survey is incomplete and the
possibility exists that scribal inconsistencies may have slipped through the
cracks. Furthermore, the scope of LALMEs project renders it incapable
of providing completely comprehensive or contextualized data.
4
Individual texts contained within the Auchinleck have also been subject
to scrutiny focused on linguistic practices within one copy of one text.
Because such studies are relatively narrow in scope, they benet from a
greater thoroughness than a study of an Auchinleck scribes entire output
will allow. At the same time, however, a scribes linguistic practice cannot
be distinguished so easily from that of the exemplar with which he worked
when linguistic analysis is conned to a single text he copied. The linguis-
tic proles provided by LALME may be of use in determining a scribes
and the Nightingale (tn), The Sayings of St Bernard (sstb), David e King
(dk), Sir Tristrem (st), Sir Orfeo (so), The Four Foes of Mankind (ffm), The
Anonymous Short English Metrical Chronicle (semc), Horn Childe & Maiden
Rimnild (hc), Alphabetical Praise of Women (apw), and King Richard (kr).
According to Cunninghams calculations in the introduction to the Auchin-
leck facsimile (Pearsall and Cunningham 1977), Scribe 1 copied approxi-
mately 72% of what survives in the Auchinleck, roughly 253 leaves.
Scribe 3 copied On the Seven Deadly Sins (sds), The Paternoster (pn),
Assumption of the Blessed Virgin (abv), Sir Degare (sd), The Seven Sages of
Rome (ssr), and Floris and Blancheour (fb). According to Cunningham,
Scribe 3 copied approximately 11% of what survives in the Auchinleck,
roughly 37 leaves.
3. LALME assigns the work of Scribe 1 to LP 6510 and nds his practices most
consistent with those of other scribes localizable to Middlesex. It assigns the
work of Scribe 3 to LP 6500 and nds his practices most consistent with those
of other scribes localizable to London.
4. See Putter and Stokes (2007: 470) who critique LALMEs linguistic proling
of the Pearl poet and nd its prole, LP 26, susceptible to many errors and
omissions; they also point out the lack of discrimination between normal and
metrically constrained usages.
Reexamining Orthographic Practice in the Auchinleck Manuscript 267
basic practice and thus provide a useful supplement to single-text studies,
but greater focus on scribal practice specically within the Auchinleck,
enabled as it is by access to an electronic edition of the manuscript,
5
provides an even rmer basis to support specic studies of particular texts
in the manuscript. My study begins an exploration of a middle ground
between the wide-ranging observations of LALME and the tightly focused
linguistic analyses of individual texts within the Auchinleck Manuscript.
I have chosen to focus on the orthographic and lexical practices of
Scribes 1 and 3 because their contributions to the manuscript are the
most signicant. Together they were responsible for producing over
three-quarters of the surviving contents of the Auchinleck and, in Hannas
words (2000: 95), Scribe 3 is the closest thing Auchinleck scribe 1 has to a
legitimate collaborator. Additionally, Scribe 3s possible association with
the chancery, based on Parkes analysis of his script (1969: xvii), also
merits attention. Scribe 1, a probable supervisor of the Auchinlecks pro-
duction as well as the greatest scribal contributor,
6
is the most likely of the
six scribes to have had an agenda; based on other signs of imposed orga-
nization and consistent layout, the supervisor of this manuscript might
well have valued regularity of linguistic as well as visual presentation.
Moreover, Scribes 1 and 3 have already received a great deal of lin-
guistic attention because their dialects, localizable to the region around
London, have been identied by Samuels (1989: 66) as belonging to a
kind of language that is less obviously dialectal, and can thus cast light
on the probable sources of the written standard English that appears in
the fteenth century. Specically, Samuels assigns these languages to
Type II, which he identies as a type of written English prevalent in the
regions surrounding London during the fourteenth century. He claims that
it was supplanted by Type III, the language of Chaucer and Hoccleve,
towards the end of that century. Table 1 shows some of the key dierences
Samuels observes between Type II and Type III English.
5. The Auchinleck has been converted into an electronic text under the auspices
of the National Library of Scotland and thanks to the work of Burnley and
Wiggins (2003). An electronic edition enables thorough searches of the vast
quantity of text contained within the Auchinleck so that even rare aberra-
tions in scribal behavior can be observed and a greater range of data can be
examined.
6. Shonk (1985: 73) advances the hypothesis that Scribe 1 took charge of organ-
izing and compiling the various sections of the manuscript whose copying he
delegated to the other scribes.
268 Emily Runde
With sucient circulation these London incipient standards could
have been adopted outside of London for emulation as a kind of literary
language. Sandved (1981: 39) has set two main criteria for such an adop-
tion: in a socio-linguistic sense, the incipient standard must be recognized
as a model language worthy of imitation and in a primarily linguistic
sense, the language must have enough internal consistency to be iden-
tiable as such a model. If the texts copied by Scribes 1 and 3 provide evi-
dence of an identiable and consistent written language, then their writing
arguably meets Sandveds second criterion.
3. Research Methodology
Using the scribes linguistic proles as a starting point, I have selected
words from these proles and monitored their orthography throughout
each scribes complete body of work. Many of these words are subject to
varied spellings depending on authors and scribes dialects, so I look rst
for consistency, and when I nd inconsistent spellings I take note of all of
them and how often they occur. As patterns of orthographic variation or
inconsistency begin to emerge, I monitor new lexical items that may test
these patterns and expand the pool of data regarding orthographic prac-
tice. In order to establish whether scribal orthography varies in dierent
texts copied by the same scribe, I keep track of what orthographies are
produced by which scribes and in what contexts. When apparent incon-
sistencies do emerge, I take note of the environments in which various
spellings appear in the text.
The verse nature of these texts is another complicating factor. Ortho-
graphy becomes a thornier issue when the word in question occurs in
Table 1. Some Dierences Between Types II and III (Samuels 1989: 70)
Type II Type III Type II Type III
at ilch(e), ich(e) thilke, that ilk(e) erwhile(s) (at) whil
nout, no nat -ande, -ende, -inde -yng
eld(e) old(e) noier, noer neither
werld, warld world schuld sholde
ai, hij they oain(s), aen ageyns, ayeyns
ei() though wil wol(e), wil(le)
rhyming position. Scribes who otherwise tend to translate a text into their
own dialect as they copy it may leave exemplar forms intact in rhyming
positions in order to preserve valid rhymes. Rather than exclude the
orthographic data culled from rhymes, I record it separately so that it
can be consulted for the insights it may yield into scribal behavior.
Worthy of note as well is the placement of metrical stress in relation to
the words I have monitored, either because the constraints of meter may
force the scribes hand or because the scribe may make changes in spite
of the metrical disruption they cause.
In regards to orthographical and lexical choices, the data collected:
(a) remained completely consistent in the work of both Scribes 1 and 3,
(b) remained completely consistent within the work of each scribe even if
the choices of the two scribes conicted,
(c) remained completely consistent within given texts copied by a scribe
but vary from text to text, or
(d) varied within a text.
Benskin and Laings theory of constrained selection (1981: Section 5) pro-
vides a useful means of interpreting this distribution of forms. The theory
of constrained selection works on the assumption that for any given word,
a scribe is familiar with one or more variants that may be in his spelling
repertoire due to their familiarity. There may be several spellings for one
word among these familiar forms and they may not all belong to the
scribes own dialectal group, but the scribe will in most cases prefer his
own dialectal form to the other forms of which he is aware. When copying
a text, he will copy any form within his repertoire as is, even if it is not the
preferred form. On the other hand, he will not copy any unfamiliar form
or spelling outside of his repertoire. Instead he will translate it into his
own preferred form. I have considered the implications of this theory
where it has been applicable.
4. Results: Intentionality of Orthographic Consistency
The question may arise as to whether we can attribute a scribes ortho-
graphic practices to any conscious choices, or even consistent inclinations,
on his part. In order to determine if there is any underlying logic govern-
ing the spellings used by Scribes 1 and 3, I have looked at retention of
initial <h> in their corpora of copied texts. Presence or absence of initial
<h>, and particularly the regularity of scribal practice in regards to this
270 Emily Runde
orthographic trait, may not necessarily correspond to the absence or
presence of initial <h> in the spoken language. Indeed, the initial <h>
would often have gone unpronounced at this time in words that contained
an etymological initial <h>. In such words, and particularly in those that
were recent additions to the Middle English lexicon, preservation of the
initial <h> was a purely orthographic choice. The scribes orthographic
practices regarding retention or dropping of the initial <h> may demon-
strate the degree of their sensitivity to their own orthographic consistency.
Both scribes work exhibits consistent retention of the etymological ini-
tial <h> in words of Anglo-Saxon derivation. A survey of the words hard,
hell, help, heart, holy, horse, and hundred, some of the Anglo-Saxon <h>
initial words employed most commonly in the Auchinleck, reveals that
both scribes always avoided dropping the initial <h>. This consistency is
to be expected, given the familiarity and frequency of these words.
The initial <h> becomes more unstable in both scribes spellings of
<h> initial words of Anglo-Norman or French origin. Whether the <h>
is dropped or preserved varies from word to word and sometimes also
between the two scribes, but, even so, each scribes practice with a given
word tends to be consistent. Table 2 demonstrates these patterns in two
of the Auchinlecks most commonly occurring words of French origin.
honor tends to retain its initial <h> in the spelling of both scribes.
Scribe 1 drops the <h> on rare occasions, which often coincide with rarely
used verb forms like the past participle <onourd> and the plural present
form <we . . . onoury>. Scribe 3, on the other hand, drops <h> more sys-
tematically. Whenever the prex <des-> is appended to the beginning of
the word, the <h> is dropped. Scribe 3 probably made this drop to avoid
using an <sh> cluster, a cluster he demonstrably avoided. In all of Scribe
3s texts he only ever uses one <sh> cluster, which occurs in a word whose
compounding made it unavoidable.
7
The word host, and other words expanding on that word stem, likewise
exhibit a divide between the two scribes orthographic practices. In all of
the texts copied by Scribe 1 this word nearly always occurs without an
<h>. Scribe 3, on the other hand, appears to favor the <host> spelling.
Given the infrequency with which this word occurs in his texts, it is hard
to say with any great certainty how deliberately the <h> was preserved; he
uses the <host> spelling three times and the <ost> spelling once. This is
7. That word is <falshede>. Since Scribe 3 was not dropping initial <h> for the
sux -hood, which has its roots in Old English, the <sh> cluster in <falshede>
could not be avoided.
Table 2. Patterns of h-Retention in Words of French Origin
Scribe 1:
PDE Item Middle
English
PG KT LAE StM StK StPP
HONOR (des)honour- 1 2r 1 1r
(des)onour-
HOST host-
ost- 8 2 3r
DBS HH CV AA StMM NLM
HONOR (des)honour- 1r 1 9r 2 1r 3
(des)onour-
HOST host-
ost-
GWC GWS AM PW LSFF LF
HONOR (des)honour- 6 6r 5 9r 1 34r 1r
(des)onour- 2r 1 1r
HOST host- 1r
ost- 28 2r 6 1r 9 8r
KA RV TN SStB DK ST
HONOR (des)honour- 5r 3r 1 1 2r
(des)onour- 1
HOST host- 1r
ost- 4 1 3r
SO FFM SEMC HC APW KR
HONOR (des)honour- 5 4r 4 2r 1 8r
(des)onour-
HOST host-
ost- 1 6 4 1r 4 3r
Note: the italicized numbers followed by r designate the count of a given
spelling in rhyming position.
272 Emily Runde
a recurring problem; unfortunately, Scribes 1 and 3 do not use any <h>
initial words of French origin with enough frequency to determine with
certainty whether the patterns above are deliberate.
The <h> initial words that Scribes 1 and 3 use most frequently tend to
be prosodically weak function words. Words like IT or the auxiliary have
are also liable to undergo loss of initial <h> due to their metrical posi-
tions, but Table 3 demonstrates that each scribe retains or drops initial
<h> consistently for each lexical item, regardless of metrical constraints.
For both scribes, have begins with <h> in all environments, even those
in which the word is unstressed or in which the <h> would have been
dropped in pronunciation. Scribe 3 never once drops the initial <h> and
Scribe 1, who copied the word 1,065 times, only drops the <h> once in
the form <astow>, which is a compound of the elements <hast> and
<ou>, the second person singular pronoun in its nominative form. This
would have been a very familiar form, however, since <astow> occurred
regularly in the texts he copied as a form compounding <as> and
<ou>, and it seems likely that Scribe 1 copied it without registering
which form it was.
Scribes 1 and 3 prefer dierent forms of it. Mosse (1968: 56) traces the
appearance of this h-less spelling back as far as the twelfth century and
notes it began to supplant <hit> over the next two centuries. With some
rare exceptions, Scribe 3 overwhelmingly favors the spelling <hit>, which
retains the initial <h> used in the older spelling of the word, while Scribe
1 uses the spelling <it>. According to LALME, both of these forms were
still in widespread use during the fourteenth century, so it is not surprising
Scribe 3:
PDE Item Middle English SDS PN ABV SD SSR FB
HONOR (des)honour- 2 2r 6r
(des)onour-
(des)honur- 1 1r 2 8r 1
(des)onur- 1r 2r
HOST host- 3 1r
ost- 1
Table 3. Patterns of h-Retention in IT and HAVE aux
Scribe 1:
PDE Item Middle English PG KT LAE StM StK StPP
IT hit
it 47 62 40 31 18 52
HAVE aux haue-/hab-/had- 33 27 44 8 23 44
aue-/ab-/ad-/a-
IT hit 1
it 29 9 3 96 40 41
aue-/ab-/ad-/a-
IT hit
it 339 163 366 22 11 37
aue-/ab-/ad-/a- 1
KA RV TN SStB DK ST
IT hit
it 27 32 3 3 3 160
HAVE aux haue-/hab-/had- 13 15 1 6 72
aue-/ab-/ad-/a-
IT hit 1
it 25 3 99 51 12 23
aue-/ab-/ad-/a-
274 Emily Runde
that both forms would be familiar to the scribes.
8
For that same reason,
however, even if these exemplars were internally consistent in their reten-
tion or dropping of initial <h> in these words, it is improbable that every
exemplar copied by each of these scribes adhered to one form or the other
so consistently depending on the scribe. It is far more likely that each
scribe used one preferred form whenever he encountered a form of the
word it in his exemplars. Patterns like this substantiate the supposition
that scribes tended to work with some kind of spelling repertoire. Indeed,
Scribes 1 and 3 adhere to a number of consistent spellings in their copying,
as can be seen above in Table 4.
5. Results: Samuels Types II and III
Data of the type (a) mentioned above in Section 3, namely data that re-
veals consistency in orthographical practice in the work of both scribes,
8. According to LALME, vol. 1, dot maps 24 and 25, <hit> has more attesta-
tions to the west of England and <it> more to the east, but are both fre-
quently attested and overlap throughout southern England the area around
London.
Scribe 3:
PDE Item Middle English SDS PN ABV SD SSR FB
IT hit 15 9 33 47 162 60
it 1 2 1
aue-/ab-/ad-/a-
Table 4. Type (a) Data*
PDE Item Middle English Scribe 1 Scribe 3
DO pt-sg. dede 434 44
LITTLE litel 145 25
MAN man 807 147
MANY mani(e) 574 60
SUCH swich(e) 262 62
* See the Appendix for a text-by-text breakdown of the data in Table 2.
provides some grounds for grouping the language of the two scribes
together in one linguistic type, as Samuels has done. Generally speaking,
near perfect consistency of orthography occurs more frequently here in
short, common, or function words. Table 4 shows a sampling of ve
words set down with one consistent orthography in the work of both
Scribes 1 and 3.
According to their distribution in LALME, most of these spellings were
used very heavily throughout the surveyed area. The <man> spelling for
man, for instance, is one of three orthographic variants attested in
LALME, but of the other two, one has only been used rarely and the
other, <mon>, is frequently used in the west Midlands, but hardly ever
elsewhere. Scribes 1 and 3 also share some less universal orthographies,
like their spellings for such and many. The initial <sw-> of the consistently
used <swich(e)> has been localized by LALME primarily to the north
and east Midlands as well as the area surrounding London and Glou-
cestershire, but it is almost completely absent in the central Midlands and
the south of England. Likewise, the <i> nal spelling of many is fairly
unusual. What attestations do occur are again clustered in the vicinities
of London and Gloucestershire.
While there is a fair amount of type (a) data to be found in the work of
the Auchinleck scribes, many of the orthographic patterns that Samuels
associates with Type II language do not actually belong to this set.
Samuels types can often contain more than one spelling for a given
word, so the presence of orthographic variety in the work of these Type
II scribes is not entirely surprising. At the same time, however, ortho-
graphic features that he identies with types other than Type II do appear
in the work of the two scribes, as can be seen in Table 5.
In the case of the word old, Samuels (1989: 70) identies <eld(e)> as a
Type II spelling and <old(e)> as a Type III spelling. A thorough examina-
tion of the work of Scribes 1 and 3 reveals, however, that this data tends
to fall into either the (c) or (d) types identied above in Section 3. In other
words, the word is not spelled consistently from text to text or even some-
times within a text, and the spelling identied as characteristic of Type III,
though less common than the Type II spelling, is fairly widespread.
Indeed, outside of rhyming position, <old(e)> is the more common spell-
ing in twelve out of twenty-four texts. According to LALME, the <o>
spelling is more commonly attested throughout England while the <e>
spelling is a form more common to the south and east.
9
Since LALME
primarily covers a period post-dating the production of the Auchinleck, it
9. See dot maps 851, 852, and 1141 in LALME, vol. 1.
276 Emily Runde
Table 5. Type II and III Blends
Scribe 1:
PDE Item Middle
English
OLD eld(e) 1r 3 1 1r
old(e) 1r 1r 1r 1
WORLD warld- 1 2 9 1 2 3
world- 4 2 2 5
OLD eld(e) 1 1 6
old(e) 1 1r 3 7r 1 10 1r
WORLD warld- 5 3 9 1
world- 2 2 18 1
OLD eld(e) 6 5r 1r 15 5r 4 1r
old(e) 2 3r 4 5 2
world- 9 6 7
werld- 1
KA RV TN SStB DK ST
OLD eld(e) 1 1
old(e) 1 3 3r
world- 1 1 2 2
OLD eld(e) 1 1
old(e) 1 2r 1
world- 2 1 3 1
may be that the distribution of the <e> spelling could have been greater at
the time the Auchinleck was produced, but, regardless, the fairly even dis-
tribution of the two forms in Scribe 1 and 3s texts suggests that both
scribes were comfortable copying both forms.
In his division of Type II and III forms of the word world, Samuels
ascribes the spellings <werld> and <warld> to the former and the spelling
<world> to the latter. Just as in the case of old, however, Scribes 1 and 3
complicate this division. According to LALME, the Type II variants are
very commonly attested in the Northeast Midlands, but very rarely found
elsewhere.
10
The <world> spelling is very commonly attested throughout
most of England, particularly in areas outside of the Northeast Midlands.
Throughout the entire body of texts he copied, Scribe 1 uses all three spell-
ings of the word, but he only uses the <werld> spelling once, and so it
seems very likely that <werld> was a relict form from the scribes exem-
plar for the couplet Sir Guy. Throughout most of his texts, he uses both
<warld> (96 times) and <world> (71 times). Fifteen of the twenty-four
texts copied by Scribe 1 that contain the word world contain both of these
spellings and the relative frequency with which each is employed varies
from text to text, as Table 5 shows.
This diversity of orthography complicates the idea that Scribes 1 and 3
were Type II scribes, but it does not undermine the association so much as
it calls for a rethinking, or rewording, of the scribes position vis-a`-vis
Samuels types. This is in line with Benskins useful way of thinking about
these types: as dening characteristics of the type, [the forms associated
with a given type] are necessary but not sucient (2004: 2). In other
words, the mere fact that Scribes 1 and 3 employ a set of forms associated
with Type II supports an association of their work with this type. At the
10. See dot maps 291 and 296 in LALME, vol. 1.
Scribe 3:
PDE Item Middle
English
SDS PN ABV SD SSR FB
OLD eld(e) 1 2 1r 3 1r
old(e) 1r 2r 17 1r
WORLD werld- 4 2 6 1
world- 3 1
278 Emily Runde
same time, I would argue, since they employ some Type III spellings with
the same regularity, they provide written evidence for a transition
between, or at least a permeability of, the two types. Though they may
have imposed Type II spellings more actively on exemplars, they both
clearly recognized the Type III spellings and were willing to preserve
them. The Type III spellings <old(e)> and <world> are the most fre-
quently and broadly attested spellings for each word in LALME, and their
presence in the writings of Scribes 1 and 3 alongside the Type II spellings
suggests that the scribes may have been embracing orthographic practices
that were becoming less localizable and more widespread alongside the
orthographic practices that characterized the familiar London standard
of their own time.
6. Results: Dialectal Origins
In addition to complicating Samuels breakdown of types, my examina-
tion of the texts identies evidence regarding the authorship and origins
of various texts. The data in Table 6 provides a basis for revisiting claims
that Sir Tristrem and Horn Childe & Maiden Rimnild may have originated
somewhere in the north of England.
Table 6 presents the full set of attestations of Scribes 1 and 3s ortho-
graphical treatment of the words hand and land. Their preference for the
<o> spelling in Table 6 stands in apparent contrast to their preference
for the <a> spelling of man as shown above in Table 4. The <o> spelling
of man was a carry-over from Old English, in which Anglian favored use
of the letter <o> to convey the sound that a took before a nasal. It per-
sisted in Middle English almost entirely in the West Midlands, but the
<a> spelling was far more common. Late Old English vowels preceding
consonant groups like <mb> and <nd>, however, had tended to lengthen,
and, with the exception of Northern English a#, which was fronted and
raised, Middle English a# rounded into o. Though spellings preserving the
<a> before <nd> were thus common in the North and Northeast Mid-
lands, the <o> spelling permeated most of England until the <a> spelling
began to regain ground in the East Midlands during the fourteenth cen-
tury and eventually became common in London in the fteenth century.
11
11. This entire account follows that of Mosse (1968: 16, 1920) and Richard Jor-
dan (1974: 4344, 50), who both provide a discussion of the linguistic factors
behind these phonological and orthographical shifts.
Table 6. <-and> vs. <-ond>
Scribe 1:
PDE Item Middle
English
LAND land- 1
lond- 13 8r 7 1r 1r 3r 2 7r 7 10r
HAND hand-
hond- 4 6r 7 1r 3r 5 2r 1 2r 3 5r
LAND land-
lond- 1 1 1r 32 13r 7 2
HAND hand-
hond- 3 1 1 6 12r 1 1r 1 3r
LAND land- 2r
lond- 55 22r 71 40r 73 74r 5 2r 4
HAND hand- 2 1 6r
hond- 30 16r 10 42r 40 54r 1r 1r
KA RV TN SStB DK ST
LAND land- 1r 4 18r
lond- 13 5r 8 4r 3r 47 4r
HAND hand- 1r 1 20r
hond- 4 2r 3r 4 3r
LAND land- 5 5r 1
lond- 6 2r 95 62r 28 8r 6 2r 7 17r
HAND hand- 6r
hond- 3 2r 3 23r 2 5r 2 8r
280 Emily Runde
For the most part Scribes 1 and 3 overwhelmingly prefer the <o> spell-
ing, but inconsistencies appear in Scribe 1s copying, as can be seen in
the entries in Table 6 for Sir Tristrem, Horn Childe, and Of Arthour &
of Merlin. Generally, these inconsistencies in these texts and others can
be justied by their environment. For example, in a text like Arthour &
Merlin, <o> spellings appear over ninety percent of the time and the
exceptional <a> spellings tend to occur in rhyming position with proper
names or in similarly constraining environments. In most texts that Scribe
1 copied, it would seem that he only permitted the <a> spelling when it
was unavoidable. Sir Tristrem and Horn Childe, however, defy Scribe 1s
tendency to use <o> spellings when environment does not necessitate
otherwise. Though both texts are substantially shorter than Of Arthour &
of Merlin, both contain more frequent instances of the <a> spelling in the
words hand and land, suggesting an inuence at work other than those
behind the occasional <a> spellings in Arthour & Merlin.
Scribe 1s oscillation between the two spellings for hand and land does
not appear to be the result of environment in these two texts, though, in
both, <a> spellings are more likely to occur in rhyming positions than in
line-internal ones. Typical rhyme words for the <a> spellings which
include <fand> past tense of nd, <band> past tense of bind, <stand>,
and <brand> also occur in these texts as rhyme words for the <o> spell-
ings of hand and land with <o> spellings of their own. These patterns
provide no justication for the scribes choice of <a> spellings over <o>
spellings in rhyming position. Furthermore, there are instances in both
texts in which <o> spellings and <a> spellings are placed in rhyming
positions with each other. Many of these <a> spellings, in other words,
could readily have been converted to the <o> spellings without disrupting
the rhyme.
Scribe 3:
PDE Item Middle
English
LAND land-
lond- 1 1r 1r 5 16r 6 14r 2 5r
HAND hand- 2 2
hond- 3 2r 5 2r 7 13r 15 14r 3 7r
The unusual profusion of the <a> spellings in these two texts, particu-
larly in rhyming position, suggests that Scribe 1 found these orthographic
variants in his exemplars, but, if he translated any instances of <a> spell-
ings into <o> spellings, he certainly did not trouble to translate those he
found in rhyming position. Based on his observation of the multitude of
<a> spellings in Tristrem, McNeill (1966: xxxiii) claims, the language of
the poem is such as was written towards the close of the thirteenth century
in the north of England and the south of Scotland. The theory of north-
ern authorship has been contested by Vogel (1941: 54344), who argues,
it may well be that, after all, the author of Tristrem was, in reality, a
cosmopolitan Londoner who perhaps spent part of his youth in the North,
but who, at any rate, was familiar not only with the Northern dialect, but
also with Northern literary tradition. Vogel bases his claim on the fact
that many southern forms abound alongside a rather limited number of
northern forms. One set of the northern forms he does acknowledge is
the <a> spelling of words like land and hand, but he only identies one
other in Tristrem, the <ta> spelling for the innitive form of take and the
<tan> spelling for the past participial form of that verb.
Vogel is correct that the text contains many southern forms, and these
are consistent with forms that Scribe 1 uses more generally in all of the
texts he copies. There are also, however, a number of unusual spellings
that appear in fairly high concentration in Tristrem and Horn Childe, but
are almost completely absent from all other texts copied by Scribe 1, and
these spellings tend to be northern. They also appear primarily in rhyming
position, where Scribe 1 would have been more likely to preserve spellings
from his exemplars. Some of these northern forms are listed in Table 7
below.
Table 7. Northern Forms Persisting in Sir Tristrem and Horn Childe &
Maiden Rimnild
PDE Item Middle English ST HC
TAKE inf. ta 2r 2r
TAKE ppl. tan 5r 7r
MIGHT vb. mout 5r 4r
-ONE -an(e) 10r 11r
-ORE -are 38r 14r
-ODE -ade 23r 8r
282 Emily Runde
The prevalence of these forms in Tristrem and the similarity of forms
that survive in both Tristrem and Horn Childe, lend no support to Vogels
hypothesis. Indeed, since many of the southern forms Vogel identies
could well have come directly from Scribe 1, the preponderance of north-
ern forms in rhyming positions supports an association of Tristrem with
the north, whether it was written there or copied at some point by a
northern scribe.
7. Conclusions
My examination of the orthographic practice of Scribes 1 and 3 is still a
work in progress, but the ndings above attest, I believe, to the impor-
tance of studying the work of these scribes in its entirety as well as in the
particular texts they copied. Such study enables valuable connections to be
made between the large and sometimes unwieldy data sets of LALME and
the more narrowly focused studies of the Auchinlecks individual texts.
Until quite recently, the complete corpora of Scribes 1 and 3 have gone
without close linguistic scrutiny, but I hope my work here has revealed
some valuable applications to which these corpora may be put.
As my analysis demonstrates, scribal consistencies and inconsistencies,
made more apparent by a complete survey of each scribes linguistic out-
put, can provide new insights into scribal practice and textual history. In
the regularity with which they drop or retain initial <h> from word to
word, both scribes demonstrate a greater propensity for orthographic con-
sistency than has traditionally been attributed to scribes by scholars of
Middle English. The scribes corpus-wide oscillation between Samuels
Type II and Type III forms complicates his classication of both as Type
II scribes. Their linguistic practice points to a transition between forms
belonging to a familiar London dialect and less localizable, more wide-
spread forms. Linguistic inconsistencies between individual texts copied
by a single scribe shed light on these texts histories and origins. The
unusual prevalence of northern forms in Sir Tristrem and Horn Childe &
Maiden Rimnild, both copied by a scribe who almost never employs these
forms in the many other texts he copied, gestures toward an earlier stage
in both texts transmission. Given the unlikelihood that Scribe 1 imposed
northern forms on two out of the thirty texts he copied, the abnormal pro-
fusion of northern forms in these two texts indicates that they were either
copied at some earlier stage by a northern scribe or originally written with
northern dialectal forms. The work of these two scribes certainly needs
more study, but I hope that the analysis of their work also serves to indi-
cate some possible benets of studying the complete corpora of other
scribes and how such study may shed new light on scribal practices more
generally.
References
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Benskin, Michael and Margaret Laing
1981 Translations and Mischsprachen in Middle English Manuscripts.
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2003 The Auchinleck Manuscript. An On-Line Facsimile. Version 1.1.
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ization: Language and Culture in Fourteenth-Century England
284 Emily Runde
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9. Appendix: Type (a) Data
Scribe 1:
PDE Item Middle
English
DO pt-sg. dede 3 9 11 3 6 4
LITTLE litel 6 2 1 4 4
MAN man 13 20 11 5 9 23
MANY mani(e) 6 29 2 1 5 13
SUCH swich(e) 8 3 4 1 4 15
DO pt-sg. dede 5 1 8 6 4
LITTLE litel 9 5 4 2
MAN man 7 12 1 44 15 22
MANY mani(e) 4 2 20 4
SUCH swich(e) 3 1 7 2 5
DO pt-sg. dede 86 42 122 7 2 2
MAN man 99 90 210 13 6 5
MANY mani(e) 93 45 229 1 1 2
SUCH swich(e) 43 19 66 4 2
KA RV TN SStB DK ST
DO pt-sg. dede 4 7 24
LITTLE litel 2 1 2 2
MAN man 5 11 1 1 1 66
MANY mani(e) 19 8 1 1 19
SUCH swich(e) 4 4 29
DO pt-sg. dede 5 46 7 20
LITTLE litel 9 4 2
MAN man 17 3 59 18 11 9
MANY mani(e) 4 5 24 13 3 20
SUCH swich(e) 5 13 5 3 12
286 Emily Runde
Scribe 3:
PDE Item Middle
English
DO pt-sg. dede 4 6 33 1
MAN man 4 4 11 52 60 16
MANY mani(e) 1 4 22 29 4
SUCH swich(e) 6 11 36 9
Commentary on Runde, Reexamining Orthographic
Practice in the Auchinleck Manuscript Through
Study of Complete Scribal Corpora
Sherrylyn Branchaw
Runde innovates in the way she investigates scribal practices. The tradi-
tional method has been to look at all the copies of a single text to see
how dierent scribes transcribe the same word. One of the strengths of
this method is that it allows scholars to approach a reconstruction of the
exemplar. They can compare the dierent spellings that a word exhibits as
it appears in dierent copies of a manuscript, and they consider which
spelling not necessarily identical to any of the attested spellings would
have been able to have given rise to each of the attested spellings. The
spelling that is most probable or is the only possibility is then attributed
to the manuscript the scribes were copying from. This is much the
same as the comparative method used by historical linguists in recon-
structing a protolanguage, and indeed it is where the linguistic compara-
tive method originated. By paying attention to forms that are associated
with particular dialects, the traditional method also allows scholars to
draw conclusions about the dialects of the scribes and about the dialect
of the exemplar.
What Runde does is to look at all the copies written by a single scribe.
In particular, she looks at all the texts in the Auchinleck manuscript
copied by Scribes 1 and 3. Thirty texts were copied by Scribe 1 and six
by Scribe 3, and the scope of her study allows her to investigate each one.
In contrast, although the editors of LALME did examine more than one
copy by the same scribe, because they were investigating many texts
throughout the entire Late Middle English period, they could not hone in
on one particular manuscript. Due to the scope of their study, they used
only ve of the Scribe 1s thirty copies in the Auchinleck. Furthermore,
Runde notes that the editors of LALME were limited to using only the
items included in their questionnaire whereas she was able to examine the
entire texts closely for any and all forms that might be of interest. This
larger set of possible forms seems like a real advantage, but listing in
section 2 some specic forms that she examines and that are absent from
LALME would have made this strength of her study more obvious to the
reader.
A major theoretical advantage of her study is that she is able to deter-
mine the overall consistency of a single scribes habits, independent of the
manuscripts he is copying. A priori, he could be in the habit of copying
every form faithfully, or he could be in the habit of rendering a given
word in a single spelling, regardless of how his exemplar reads. In practice,
he lies somewhere between these two extremes, and Rundes study allows
her to locate individual scribes on this continuum of consistency. Being
able to identify the consistencies and inconsistencies of scribes provides
evidence for the dialects of the scribes as well as indicating to what extent
a given scribe can be trusted to provide a faithful copy. The latter in turn
will aid in the reconstruction of the exemplar. In her paper, Runde points
out some of the implications of her ndings.
Runde starts by listing the four possibilities with respect to the ortho-
graphic consistency of forms:
In regards to orthographical and lexical choices, the data collected:
(a) remained completely consistent in the work of both Scribes 1 and 3,
(b) remained completely consistent within the work of each scribe even if
the choices of the two scribes conicted,
(c) remained completely consistent within given texts copied by a scribe
but vary from text to text, or
(d) varied within a text.
To interpret the consistency of forms with respect to the above four possi-
bilities, Runde works within the theory of constrained selection as devel-
oped by Benskin and Laing (1981). Their theory says that a scribe has a
set of familiar forms of a word, and within that set, a preferred form that
belongs to his own dialect. He will copy any form contained in his set of
familiar forms, but any form not in his familiar set will be rendered with
his own preferred form.
She uses this theory of constrained selection to handle ndings that
challenge the conclusions of earlier scholars about the dialects of Scribes
1 and 3. Samuels (1963) assigns Scribes 1 and 3 to a dialect that he calls
Type II. Runde, however, nds that they comfortably copy forms belong-
ing to Samuels Type III dialect. She points out that some of the Type III
forms Scribes 1 and 3 copy were the most generally used in LALME, in
terms of both frequency and geographical spread, and their presence in
the writings of Scribes 1 and 3 alongside the Type II spellings suggests
that the scribes may have been embracing orthographic practices that
Commentary on Runde 289
were becoming less localizable and more widespread alongside the ortho-
graphic practices that characterized the familiar London standard of their
own time. This willingness to deal with a more complex state of aairs
than the simple impression given by merely assigning one scribe to one
dialect is one of the strengths of her study.
As indicated above, the study of scribal corpora can also contribute to
the study of individual texts, and Rundes study sheds light on two texts in
particular: Sir Tristrem and Horn Childe & Maiden Rimnild. Previous
scholars, such as Vogel (1941), have concluded, because most of the forms
in these two texts are southern, that the northern forms found there were
introduced by Scribe 1. Without the rest of Scribe 1s corpus, it would not
be possible to tell rigorously whether the northern forms originated with
him or in the manuscript he was copying. Looking at the other texts he
copies, though, Runde sees that elsewhere he renders northern forms only
when metrically unavoidable, and that in Sir Tristrem and Horn Childe
northern forms appear in relatively high concentration. As it is highly
unlikely that Scribe 1 introduced many northern forms here, but nowhere
else in twenty-eight texts, the northern forms probably originated not with
him but in the manuscript he was copying. This is an important nding in
that it tells us something about the history of the text that could not have
been found without the methodology used by Runde. It is to be hoped
that other scholars will recognize its value and extend the study of com-
plete scribal corpora.
Response to Commentary by Branchaw
Emily Runde
I greatly appreciate Branchaws clear commentary on both my work and
the wider range of approaches that have been used to study and localize
dialectal layerings in Middle English texts. She rightly notes that I have
not included a list of forms examined beyond those found in LALME, an
omission I will address formally in further work as I expand the scope of
my study. When I began my work with Scribes 1 and 3 of the Auchinleck,
I made it my rst priority to examine their use of forms listed in their
LALME proles throughout their entire corpora. Much of the data I
have collected falls into this category. All of the items in Tables 4 and 9
(in the appendix) have been adopted from the scribes LALME proles,
and the words hundred (see Section 4), it (Table 3), have (Table 3), land
(Table 6), and might as a verb (Table 7) are also present in one or both
of the scribes linguistic proles. The great majority of the forms I have
considered in my paper are not included in the scribes proles, however,
though in some cases they are forms considered elsewhere in LALME.
As Branchaw has highlighted, a major advantage of the corpora ap-
proach I have adopted is that it supports study of a scribes prac-
tices in addition to the study of individual texts he has copied. This new
methodology is promising. The study of complete scribal corpora could
be extended protably to other Auchinleck scribes and to scribes involved
in copying other fourteenth-century manuscript miscellanies of com-
parable length. As paleographers identify prolic scribes whose hands are
evident in multiple manuscripts, scribes like Adam Pinkhurst (Mooney
2006) and M. B. Parkes and A. I. Doyles Delta Scribe (1991), the cor-
pora approach could also be used to study these scribes copying practices
across the various manuscripts they helped produce.
As I continue my work with Scribes 1 and 3 of the Auchinleck, I will
extend my study of their orthographic and lexical practices, and I also
hope to expand the scope of my study to include a broader analysis of
the linguistic consistencies and inconsistencies throughout the texts they
copied. The sociohistorical circumstances in which the Auchinleck was
produced suggest that at least some of the scribes roles may have been
quite complex. In spite of the fact that it contains dozens of texts and has
been produced through the combined eorts of six scribes, the Auchinleck
is remarkably coherent and elegant in its mise-en-page and program of
textual arrangement and illuminations, most of which unfortunately have
been excised. Textual scholars have also remarked upon the occurrence of
similar passages in multiple Auchinleck texts and postulated that these
repetitions could be the result of scribal intervention. Given the probable
complexity of Scribe 1s involvement in the Auchinlecks production, and
to some extent of Scribe 3s as well, I hope that continued study of their
complete corpora may add to what is known about their practices.
References
Mooney, Linne R.
2006 Chaucers Scribe. Speculum 81: 97138.
Parkes, M.B. and A.I. Doyle
1991 [1978] The Production of Copies of the Canterbury Tales and the Con-
fessio Amantis in the Early Fifteenth Century. In Scribes, Scripts,
and Readers: Studies in the Communication, Presentation, and
Dissemination of Medieval Texts, by M.B. Parkes, 20148. Lon-
don: Hambledon Press [rst publ.: 1978].
292 Emily Runde
How Medium Shapes Language Development:
The Emergence of Quotative Re Online
Stefanie Kuzmack
1. Introduction
Due to the inuence of the Internet, written language has become increas-
ingly a part of everyday communication. It should not be surprising,
therefore, that the Internet has become a potential environment for lan-
guage change not merely for the coining of new nouns and verbs, but
for grammaticalization as well.
1
Recently, the Internet has been the setting
for the emergence of a new quotative complementizer, re, which reects
the impact of the medium in which it evolved in several ways. In particu-
lar, the online medium led it to acquire a unique use: bringing quotations
(often taken from earlier in the same conversation) back into the discourse
in order to set up responses to those statements. This usage stems from the
nature of threaded discussions, where the long turns make it useful to
quote previous statements in order to clarify the object of the response.
Quotative re stems from the English preposition
2
re about, regarding,
often seen in the subject lines of memoranda and electronic messages.
3
(1) Re: Denitive Proxy Statement
(2) Re: Using Microsoft Outlook
(3) I would suggest that you again read what I initially wrote re:
that topic.
Quotative re diers from the preposition re syntactically, in that its
complements are clauses rather than noun phrases, and pragmatically, in
1. I refer to res shift from preposition to quotative complementizer as gramma-
ticalization following Romaine and Langes (1991) analysis of the preposition
like making the same transition (although with dierent intermediate steps).
2. See the rst paragraph of Section 2 for why re should be considered an
English preposition, rather than a Latin noun borrowed into English.
3. The data for this paper were collected primarily using Googles Usenet ar-
chives; neither the orthography nor punctuation has been altered. See Appen-
dix for the data collection method.
that it has a new quotative function. Semantically, quotative re and pre-
position re are much the same. Quotative res function entails that it is
accompanied by a matrix clause that addresses that is about the quo-
tation that re introduces, and that preserves the connection between quo-
tative res function and preposition res meaning.
(4) [Re: Who wants a fantasy land thats just like the real world]
I think that would be more intriguing in some ways.
There are some instances, however, where quotative res meaning is not
very salient; in (56), the meaning of the sentence is relatively unchanged
if re is replaced with that. Semantic bleaching has begun, even though it
can only be seen in certain cases.
(5) My post was in response to your statement re: you dont know if
eyesight would come into play during a dogght.
(6) My post was in response to your statement that you dont know if
eyesight would come into play during a dogght.
Re has unusual characteristics for a quotative complementizer, reect-
ing the inuence of the online medium on its development. This paper will
discuss each of the following traits in turn, showing how the online
medium promoted each one of those traits in re.
For example, quotative re is used in two structures, neither of which are
used with any other English quotative. The rst is adjoint complementa-
tion, as seen in (4), where re and its complement are attached to one end
of a matrix clause. The second is noun phrase complementation, seen in
(5), where re is the object of a noun phrase (your statement). Interest-
ingly, re is not used in verb complementation, the structure in which quo-
tative verbs and the quotative complementizers like and all are used.
4
(7) She said, I was late. / She said (that) she was late.
(8) He was like/all, What should I do?
Re is also relatively unusual in that the quotations that it takes as com-
plements can be either direct (9) or indirect (10) speech. That ability is
common with quotative verbs, as (7) illustrates, but the quotative comple-
mentizers like and all are limited to introducing direct quotations.
(9) You
i
made a statement above re: Im
i
frequently criticized . . ..
(10) Hence, his
j
argument re: I
k
dont talk football is kinda shot down.
4. See Bresnan (1970) for a discussion of the dierent types of complementation.
294 Stefanie Kuzmack
Re is for the most part limited to quoting actual statements, but rare
instances do exist where it is used to quote thoughts:
(11) Also his arrogance re: I can be opener, wicketkeeper and captain
at the same time, Im wonderful arent I? drives me mad.
(12) Your attitude re: if you are not for us, then you must be against
us is too simplistic a formulation.
Thus, re does not t the same mold as either Englishs quotative verbs
or its quotative complementizers; this paper will examine how the online
medium caused this to come about. The case of re demonstrates that
language can evolve within the written medium, and that the nature of
written language can play an important role in language change.
2. The emergence of quotative re
The preposition re came from the ablative form of the Latin noun res
thing, object, matter (Marchant and Charles 1952: 483). According to
the OED, the ablative re meant in the matter of and was borrowed into
English in the 1700s, but in the process its nominal meaning, already
abstract, was lost, replaced by the case meaning. Examples (1314) dem-
onstrate this loss; the speakers who produced them did not consider the
phrase the matter of to be conveyed by re, even though matter is the
original meaning of res.
(13) The superintendent spoke re the matter of inadequate resources.
(14) Re: the matter of production by freely associated laborers,
I disagree.
Thus, re has developed a use in English markedly dierent from the origi-
nal Latin. While some instances of re in English, produced by knowledge-
able speakers, may be considered the insertion of Latin into an otherwise
English sentence, for many people re is simply an English preposition with
Latin origins.
5
5. In fact, there is quite a bit of folk etymology concerning the preposition re, in
large part due to the disconnect between its older use in memoranda and its
new use in electronic messages. Although in memoranda re marks the subject
of the message, on the Internet it occurs solely in the subject lines of reply
How Medium Shapes Language Development 295
Online, the use of re was encouraged by its presence in the headers of
electronic messages (e.g., Re: Tech support question). In fact, the use
of the word re has been so strongly inuenced by its use in the subject
line that the colon which always follows that use of re has become part of
the way re is spelled for many people. Most of the examples of quotative
re presented in this paper are followed by a colon, and those colons are
more likely intended to be part of the word than they are to be intended
as punctuation. Res use in subject lines has made it omnipresent online,
constantly reminding Internet users of its existence. Internet users began
to use the preposition re in front of block quotes, then came to use it as a
quotative complementizer, rst in adjoint complementation, then noun
phrase complementation.
Unfortunately, this path of development cannot be corroborated by
means of the dates of the messages in which re occurs, due to the role
that false positives play in collecting data on re (see Appendix). Since
<re> is a very common string on Usenet, there is a vast number of false
positives that must be ltered out. Too many examples of quotative re
are unavoidably eliminated, along with the false positives, to use the dates
of the known occurrences to shed light on the chronology.
The earliest two known uses of quotative re that do not involve block
quotes, seen in (1516), illustrate the problem. They were both produced
in November of 1990, on the 11th and 13th, respectively, by dierent
speakers in dierent newsgroups (sci.skeptic and rec.music.beatles). In the
former, re is used in noun phrase complementation, and in the latter, in
adjoint complementation. With only two days separating the two exam-
ples, the dates provide no support for either structure having preceded
the other. Earlier uses of quotative re in one of the structures must exist,
but it has not been possible to locate them.
messages, and subject marks the subject line. The redundancy of marking
the subject twice, coupled with re appearing only in the subject lines of reply
messages, has led many speakers to reanalyze re as an abbreviation of reply or
response. Even apart from that motivation, some speakers have concluded
that re is an abbreviation of regarding. In short, res origin is a point of
considerable confusion, having been discussed in newsgroups as diverse
as alt.folklore.urban, alt.games.elder-scrolls, alt.music.s-mclachlan, alt.tv.er,
comp.mail.misc, comp.mail.pine, microsoft.public.outlook.general, rec.audio.
opinion, rec.arts.mystery, rec.games.roguelike.adom, rec.photo.digital, and
alt.usage.english. However, since the re in memoranda is from Latin (certainly
not from reply or response), and since that use parallels the use of re in subject
lines, the Latin source remains the most likely one for both.
(15) Your implication re you can do absolutely *anything* if you
only try often enough appears to me to be completely without
foundation.
(16) I doubt if there was a lot of questioning among the Beatles re:
you cant put that on a Beatles album.
The most probable rst step on res path to becoming a quotative com-
plementizer was a use in which it introduced block quotes. At this point,
the prepositional meaning was still essential to how re was used, but the
complements that re took were quotations, and had more in common
with clauses than with noun phrases.
Block quotes from previous messages are common online, since many
e-mail programs generate them automatically. It is not unusual for Inter-
net users to intersperse their own words between block quotes, as in (17),
in order to remind readers of what was said in previous messages, and to
set up their own replies. This use of block quotes serves a useful function;
due to the delays between messages, it is often dicult to remember what
a previous message said. As we will see, the existence of this problem was
crucial to res grammaticalization into a quotative, because re evolved in
response to it.
(17) > Dusty da baker wrote:
>> Its probably just me . . . but the SD [sourdough] critters dont
> eat sugar. . .
> Where do you get this from?
Probably a couple of decades of feeding em. Why? Do you know
something else. . .?
> Maybe it is just you?
Or, maybe not. . .
In the new use of re, re was added before these block quotes, to make
explicit the connection between the quotation and the new material writ-
ten below. Examples (1820) provide some typical examples of this usage.
(18) re:
<< Looks like someone broke into the Team Saturn vans and took
about $60K of bikes and equipment. Lots of it was Mt. bikes from
the Volvo team. It was all high end stu, and lots of it.
Dont buy the hot stu. Contact Team Saturn and bust these
guys. >>
Hey thats major bummer to anyone, and if I found the thiefs
Id turn them in.
(19) Re:-
> I enjoyed the sci- excerpt on dolphins, but did not recognize the
> source. Where is it from?
Its not surprising you dont recognise it Erich, its from a totally
unknow and obscure source, namely me.
(20) RE: But please respect that I DO belive WT to be the best system
FOR ME (to t my needs). Im not going to appologize for that..
I, for one, certainly do respect that and you will not be asked to
apologize for it.
However, not all uses of re before block quotes are as simple as those
above, with re followed by a single quotation. The use of re that led into
block quote re was one where it could precede any kind of text, as in
(2122). In (21), re is used to quote the entire previous message, including
the signature, and in (22), it introduces multiple quotations by dierent
speakers.
(21) Yes Ive had that same problem. Removing the dust from around
the speaker contacts will help.
[. . .]
RE:
> Ive got a Mac IIsi running system 7.5 (with update 7.5.2).
> Sometimes
> the sound shuts o for no apparent reason. I can usually get
> the sound
> to switch back on by cranking the sound level up to 5 or 6.
> Anyone had this problem or know how to x it?
Brian
[name and address of sender] (quoted portion in italics)

(22) re:
>>> Are they up to their usual tricks. . .
>> You say you arent trolling?
> Correct.
> Tell me, why cant MSFT answer a single one of my valid
> questions?
Are they valid questions?
The fact that re introduces the entire message or exchange in these exam-
ples is not characteristic of a quotative, and illustrates the intermediacy of
block quote re as a stage in res development. Uses like (2122) are the
exception rather than the rule, but they show how speakers interpreted re
at the beginning of the block quote stage, not as a quotative complemen-
tizer but rather as a preposition that could precede anything.
In the more typical examples, like (1820), block quote re functions
structurally like a complementizer in that it introduces full clauses, but it
is somewhat unusual because non-quotative complementizers introduce
either a single clause or conjoined clauses. However, introducing multi-
sentence quotations is not unusual for an established quotative comple-
mentizer, as (2325) illustrate. This ability is not unique to re, nor to writ-
ten language. The dierence with block quote re is primarily one of
degree; it introduces longer quotations than in spoken language, and it
introduces multi-sentence quotations most of the time. Example (23)
shows that block quote re is also not unique in its ability to introduce a
quotation in isolation, without occurring in a full matrix clause.
(23) Like, Oh my god! You cut your bangs! They look great, Jane!
Great, Jane, great! (Singler 2001: 261)
(24) And shes like, shes like, Now Im not even sure if I like him. Now
when I look at him his face is kind of deformed and everything.
Like you start seeing little aws.
(Romaine and Lange 1991: 250)
(25) Hes like, Why, whats wrong? Why you still sitting up? [. . .] And
he was like, Well, I just got stuck with the guys. They wouldnt let
me, take me to my car or anything. (Ferrara and Bell 1995: 266)
There is no break in the transition from block quote re to adjoint
complementation; the two are points on a continuum. In some uses of
block quote re, the quotation is only a single sentence, albeit formatted
as a block quote. These cases are essentially no dierent from quotative re
in adjoint complementation. Only the punctuation and the presence of
line breaks show that the writer thought of the quotation as a block
quote rather than part of the following sentence. (Examples (2627)
contain block quote re; (2829) contain quotative re in adjoint comple-
mentation.)
(26) RE: You will not be able to download the same message to more
than one of your clients.
When I switched over to an Exchange Server, that was one of the
issues I was having.
(27) re: I stopped by an appliance store
What is your denition of an appliance store?
(28) Re, Dont take it out of my pocket, please consider the following:
[. . .]
(29) However, RE: Then again I realize thats asking way too much of
anyone today., asking that is irrelevant if that is not the given
martial artists objective.
In eect, block quote re and quotative re overlap; res use in adjoint
complementation is a straightforward development, emerging from the
simplication of block quote re.
3. Noun phrase complementation vs. verb complementation
The use of quotative re in noun phrase complementation is a separate
development, prompted by the existence of quotative re in adjoint comple-
mentation,
6
but not stemming directly from it. This use of re is most likely
based on a parallel structure with the preposition re, seen in (3031). In
these examples, the preposition re is distinguished from quotative re in
noun complementation (3233) only by the fact that res complements
here are noun phrases, not clauses.
6. Even the existence of block quote re alone may have been sucient to
prompt speakers to use re in noun phrase complementation. This is a ne
distinction, however, since block quote re is not truly distinct from re in
adjoint complementation.
(30) His answer re: color support was of course to mention the Pixar
board.
(31) I would like to give a special thanks to Bridger at RAND-UNIX
for his comments re the bugs in the previous release.
(32) Your comments re: we dont know how to ght in one of these
wars is also true.
(33) Can you supply the facts to back up your comment Re:
We wouldnt even have got this far without him
Quotative res use in this structure would have been aided by the fact
that many of the noun phrases that take the preposition re as a comple-
ment are equally capable of taking prepositions and complementizers as
complements.
(34) His answer that the manual should have the instructions wasnt very
helpful.
(35) I would like to thank Bridger for his comments that the bugs can be
found by. . .
However, this source for the structure raises a question: why is quota-
tive re not used in verb complementation? After all, the other English quo-
tative complementizers, like and all, occur in that structure in their
cases, always as complements of the verb be (see 2425). Moreover, the
preposition re does occur in verb complementation (3637), as well as in
noun phrase complementation (3031).
(36) [. . .] recently one of the MDs and I spoke re: butter and margarine.
(37) None of them have so far commented re that book.
If speakers could use preposition re as a template
7
for noun phrase com-
plementation, then they would be expected to do so for verb complemen-
tation as well.
Part of the reason that they did not do so is that cases like (3637) do
not function quite as well as (3031) as templates. The noun phrases that
the preposition re occurs with can uniformly take either a preposition or a
7. It should be pointed out that using as templates the structures that the pre-
position re occurs in is entirely dierent from reanalyzing those structures.
The prepositions complements in these cases were always noun phrases, and
not simultaneously interpretable as clauses.
clause, so that speakers can easily imagine using re as a quotative comple-
mentizer where it had previously only been used as a preposition. The
verbs that the preposition re occurs with, however, are less exible in their
complements. Some verbs related to speech, such as speak and talk, can
take prepositions as complements, but not clauses. As a result, these verbs
cannot be used with quotative re, and cannot contribute to the use of quo-
tative re in verb complementation.
(38) We spoke/talked about/re butter and margarine.
*(39) We spoke/talked that/re margarine isnt as healthy as people think.
Say, the most generic quotative verb in English, also fails to provide a
suitable template, although for a dierent reason: it cannot have a pre-
positional phrase as its only complement. As (4042) demonstrate, it can
take a clausal complement, and it can take both a clause and a preposi-
tional phrase as complements simultaneously, but it cannot have a pre-
positional phrase as its only complement.
*(40) You said re Arnold.
(41) You said that we couldnt trust the records.
(42) You said re: Arnold that we couldnt trust the records.
Thus, say could theoretically take quotative re as a complement, unlike
speak and talk. However, say provides only a awed template for verb
complementation, because it only occurs with the preposition re when
there is already a clausal constituent present, highlighting the fact that re
is a preposition, not a complementizer. Since say is the most generic
quotative verb, and accordingly a commonly used one, it would have had
considerable power to promote quotative re in verb complementation.
That it does not promote that usage reduces the likelihood that speakers
will use it as a complementizer with other verbs.
Nevertheless, there are some quotative verbs that can take both clauses
and prepositional phrases as complements, individually, and therefore
could provide good templates:
(43) He wrote/commented that he agreed with the rst message in
the thread.
(44) He wrote/commented on the subject.
Although write and comment are less generic than say, their meanings are
not so specic as to be a barrier to using them with re. Write is applicable
to nearly all online communication, and the noun comment is the most
frequent noun to take quotative re as its complement. These verbs could
provide the template for using re in verb complementation, and once
speakers became accustomed to seeing quotative re being used with these
verbs, extending quotative res use to say would be easier.
Even with these verbs, however, re is not used as a quotative comple-
mentizer. Therefore, while the structures that quotative re is used in are
probably inuenced by the types of complements that these noun phrases
and verbs can take, these syntactic factors do not entirely explain why re is
not used in verb complementation.
The key factor is the use to which re is put. Both block quote re and
quotative re are used to bring quotations from earlier in a discussion back
into the current discourse in order to set up responding to them, to alle-
viate the potential confusion caused by the delays between messages that
are inherent to the medium. Noun phrase complementation allows the
quotation to be embedded within a noun phrase, saving the sentences
matrix clause for responding to the quote.
(45) I disagree with your statement re We should start a new,
moderated newsgroup.
Using verb complementation for this task would require two sentences,
one to report what was said and one to include the response.
(46) You said/were like, We should start a new, moderated
newsgroup. I disagree.
This is because when speech is reported using verb complementation,
the matrix clause is used to indicate what was said, and by whom. That
property makes verb complementation appropriate for situations where
the primary purpose of a sentence is to report who said what, as in a
narrative. Since quotative like is used in telling narratives, verb comple-
mentation is a suitable structure for it. In the contexts where re is used,
on the other hand, responding to what was said is more important than
who said it, and so speakers chose noun phrase complementation over
verb complementation because it was better suited to their purpose and
to the medium.
4. Direct speech and indirect speech
The nature of the online medium also inuenced res ability to introduce
direct and indirect quotations. Re is unusual in that it can introduce
both, with no visible dierences in sentence structure. In (47), the prono-
minal deixis doesnt change; in (48), the quotation is indirect, and we is
changed to you. The deixis is the only clue; without context, it would be
impossible to tell whether these quotations were direct or indirect.
(47) > YOU
i
ARE TOO YOUNG TO REMEMBER ANY REAL
> CARS ANYWAY
[. . .]
Now as for your
j
comment re: you
i
are too young . . . yada yada
yada. . .
(48) Message A: I think you will nd we
k
dont advise to use the feed
and kill insects type of systemic that is put on the ground. [. . .]
Message B: And your
k
comment re: you
k
dont use the ground
kind only serves further to point out the general and widespread
ignorance over their use. . .
Direct and indirect quotation in identical constructions creates ambiguity,
but res function and the medium in which it is used reduce the poten-
tial for confusion. Because re is generally used to quote statements from
earlier in the same discussion, the addressees were also present for the
original utterance. Moreover, there are records online which allow the
addressees to conrm the intended reading, if necessary.
In spoken language this kind of exibility could produce confusion,
since quoted speech is often entirely new to the addressee, and there are
no records to consult. Quotative like, all, and go are all limited to intro-
ducing direct quotations. Schourup (1982: 1489) suggested that quotative
go is restricted in this way in order to avoid ambiguity. Most quotative
verbs can introduce both direct and indirect quotations, but there the
ambiguity can be reduced by adding the complementizer that if the quota-
tion is indirect.
(49) John
j
said, I
j
was responsible for Laurens failure.
(Schourup 1982: 148)
(50) John
j
said I
k
(Schourup 1982: 148)
*(51) John
j
said that I
j
(52) John
j
said that I
k
Res ability to take both direct and indirect speech complements is
clearly not due solely to the online environment, since quotative verbs
used in spoken language do have the potential to be similarly ambiguous.
At the same time, the nature of the Internet and newsgroups undoubtedly
makes it easier for sentences with re to be understood, despite the absence
of any signs
8
that direct or indirect quotation is intended.
5. Speech and thought
Res sharply limited ability to quote thoughts is a result both of the struc-
tures in which it occurs, and of its function. My sample contains only two
instances where re quotes thoughts, as opposed to statements:
(53) Also his arrogance re: I can be opener, wicketkeeper and captain
at the same time, Im wonderful arent I? drives me mad.
(54) Your attitude re: if you are not for us, then you must be against
us is too simplistic a formulation.
In the rst case, an author describes the general attitude of a cricket player
(who is not a participant in the newsgroup). The exaggeration and overall
tone of the quotation make it fairly clear that the speaker in (53) is attri-
buting unvoiced thoughts to the cricket player, and a portion of a reply
message conrms that reading:
(55) I dont think he has made any great claims to being able to captain,
keep, and open all at once. [. . .] Ill give you that he hasnt made a
lot of public noise saying I cant do all three
In the latter example, the speaker in (54) quoted another participant in the
discussion, whose actual words are presented in (56).
(56) You have been arguing in the past that Maoist METHODS are
WRONG. Now you have come to express pretty explicitly your
mind saying that the Maoist reasons are WRONG! This clearly
leaves us to believe that Governments REASONS and METHODS
of killing innocent civilians in the name of containing Maoist
terror is right!
8. Although quotation marks could potentially be used for this purpose, Internet
users do not use them consistently according to the standard rules of punctua-
tion. Not only may a direct quotation have no quotation marks, as in (47), but
an indirect quotation may be contained within quotation marks, as in (48).
The use of quotation marks in (48) is not necessarily random or a simple
In this case, the quotation conveys the other speakers essential idea accu-
rately, but the words are too dierent to consider this even an extremely
exible paraphrase (particularly given that the author of (54) had as
much access to the exact words as we do), and the fact that the author
chose the noun attitude shows that he saw this quotation as representing
a mental state, not words.
9
However, res ability to quote thoughts is restricted by the structures in
which it is used. In adjoint complementation, the identity of the person
being quoted cannot be specied explicitly. The contexts in which re is
used make this construction work when actual statements are quoted,
since speakers can either remember or look up the quotations, but it
would be challenging at best with quoted thoughts. Noun phrase com-
plementation is more open to quoting thoughts, but the structure is still
a complicating factor. When re introduces the complement of a noun
phrase, the noun of the noun phrase always characterizes the quotation
in some way. The most common noun is comment, seen in (32), (33),
(47), and (48), but other nouns are also used, such as statement (5), argu-
ment (10), implication (15), etc.
10
Choosing a noun to characterize quoted
speech is simple, because there are nouns that do no more than charac-
terize the quotation as an utterance (or as a kind of utterance), and
calling the quotation an utterance is not controversial. In order to quote
thoughts, dierent nouns must be chosen, like arrogance and attitude in
(53) and (54). Choosing a suitable noun to characterize thought requires
error; it may have been motivated by the fact that the quotation is approxi-
mate rather than exact. Nevertheless, examples like these show that neither
the presence nor the absence of quotation marks can be used to reliably pre-
dict whether a quotation is direct or indirect.
9. The choice of noun, as it quite explicitly categorizes the quotation as an
attitude or a general feeling, indicates that this example meets one of
Tagliamonte & Hudsons (1999: 156) criterions for quoted thought. Their
other test for distinguishing between quoted speech and quoted thought is
inapplicable to re, since it states that a quotation should be taken to have
quoted speech if it advanced the story-line, or was part of an utterance to
which the protagonists responded (1999: 156), and re is not used in telling
narratives.
10. The relative frequency of comment and the other nouns is not the result of the
search strings used. In these cases, a noun phrase before re was stipulated in
the search with a specic determiner ( your, his, her) followed by a wildcard,
allowing any noun to head the phrase. Accordingly, the range of nouns found
to be used with quotative re should be representative of the actual patterns
of use.
more eort, because the nouns to choose from have more specic mean-
ings than comment or statement, which are neutral in tone and can char-
acterize most quoted speech (unlike arrogance and attitude). Even the
generic thought could well be problematic, since it would make explicit
the fact that the author is claiming to know another persons thoughts.
The lack of a generic noun to serve as a default in quoting thoughts
reduces the likelihood that speakers will quote thoughts using re.
Furthermore, quoting thoughts is extraneous to res usual function.
11
In telling a narrative, including peoples internal reactions and thoughts
is valuable, and presenting those thoughts as dialogue is more vivid than
describing them, or presenting them as indirect speech. In that context,
reporting thoughts and reporting speech are both ways of achieving the
goal: telling a story. But when the goal is to bring statements back into
the discourse in order to make clear that they are the object of the
response, it is necessary to keep the quotation similar enough to the origi-
nal that it is recognized as a previously made statement. Insofar as quoted
thoughts dier from what another person actually said, they stand to con-
fuse the issue of what one is responding to, rather than clarifying it.
Thus, re is rarely used to quote thoughts, as a direct result of its func-
tion and the structures in which it occurs. However, those structures are
themselves a result of res function, and its function is a result of the online
environment. Even though that environment has no direct impact on res
ability to quote thoughts, it indirectly caused that ability to be limited in
two separate ways.
6. Conclusion
Every aspect of quotative re has been shaped, either directly or indirectly,
by the medium in which it evolved. The driving force behind quotative res
development has been the need to remind the addressees of previous state-
ments, before responding to those statements. Meeting that need became
res primary function, and res function in turn shaped its other charac-
teristics. Crucially, the need to bring statements back into the current
11. Note that in (53) and (54), the authors did not use re for its usual purpose. In
(53), the author was quoting someone outside the discussion entirely. Res use
in (54) is similar to its usual function, but the author of (54) had already
reproduced the previous message in a block quote, making it clear what he
was responding to. Re was not needed to do the same.
discourse is a direct result of the nature of e-mail and newsgroups. Con-
versations in e-mail and newsgroups do not occur in real-time, and the
delays between messages make it helpful to quote the previous message.
Also as an eect of the delays, messages are often much longer than turns
in a real-time conversation are. As a result, it is also useful to point out
exactly to which part of the previous message a sentence or paragraph is
responding. The fact that this is a written medium is also essential, since
otherwise the delays between messages would not exist.
Of course, correspondence has always involved delays, and the delays
were signicantly longer, before the Internet. However, there are two fac-
tors that favor online correspondence giving rise to a quotative like re,
rather than oine correspondence. First, the fact that online messages
are electronic makes extensive quoting of previous messages both practical
and easy, which encourages people to quote them more often. Second,
correspondence on newsgroups involves far more people per message
than oine correspondence, allowing linguistic innovations to spread
much faster. These factors made it much easier for a quotative like re to
develop.
Thus, the nature of the medium shaped the uses of the emerging quota-
tive re, which in turn inuenced the structures it occurs in. Those struc-
tures in their own turn, combined with res typical function, form the basis
for res limited use for quoting thoughts. The written medium also enabled
re to take both direct and indirect quotations as complements, with com-
paratively little confusion. The case of re demonstrates the importance of
the role that context of use plays in shaping change: due to the nature of
the online environment, the preposition re grammaticalized into a quota-
tive complementizer that diers from all other English quotatives in both
structure and function, and rather than competing with them, comple-
ments them.
Appendix: Data collection
All of the data presented here was collected from Googles Usenet
archives, which date back to 1981. Instances of quotative re can be di-
cult to locate, since a specialized use of re is present in the subject line of
every reply message (e.g., Re: Tech support question), and since the
preposition re is used outside of the subject line, as well. Google unfortu-
nately does not provide a way to automatically limit a search to the bodies
of messages, but an adequate solution is to use searches that specify at
least one word before re. This technique screens out occurrences of re in
subject lines, since re occurs at the beginning of the subject line. Words
and phrases such as however, above, and your/ his/her (noun) occur before
re with some frequency, and can be used in the search string to eliminate
instances of subject-line re.
Similarly, a higher proportion of hits with quotative re can be obtained
when the environment following re is specied. For instance, if the search
string species a nominative pronoun after re (e.g., <re I>), the con-
stituent following re will be a clause, making that instance of re a comple-
mentizer. If the search string specied an accusative or genitive pronoun
after re (<re me>, <re my>), on the other hand, the constituent following
re would be a noun phrase, and that instance of re would be a preposition.
(a) [. . .] Marys comment re: I cant do this anymore brings back some
memories.
(b) Ok, so here is Michael Greenbergs latest post re me, which truly
shows his colors [. . .]
(c) But the comment re my way of listening to Schoenberg implies I still
havent made myself clear.
The consequence of having to specify portions of res environment in this
way is that the more that is specied in the search, the less of the full range
of res uses will appear in the search results. Inevitably, some instances of
quotative re are ltered out along with the false positives. Fortunately,
though, it is still possible to obtain a wide variety of uses.
References
Bresnan, Joan W.
1970 On Complementizers: Toward a Syntactic Theory of Comple-
ment Types. Foundations of Language 6: 297321.
Ferrara, Kathleen and Barbara Bell
1995 Sociolinguistic Variation and Discourse Function of Constructed
Dialogue Introducers: The Case of be like. American Speech
70(3): 265290.
Marchant, J. R. V., and Joseph F. Charles, eds
[1952] Cassells Latin-English, English-Latin Dictionary. New York:
Funk & Wagnalls Company.
Oxford English Dictionary, 2nd ed
1989 Prepared by J. A. Simpson and E.S.C. Weiner.
http://www.oed.com (accessed August, 2006).
Romaine, Suzanne, and Deborah Lange
1991 The Use of Like as a Marker of Reported Speech and Thought:
A Case of Grammaticalization in Progress. American Speech
66(3): 22779.
Schourup, Lawrence
1982 Quoting with Go Say. American Speech 57(2): 148149.
Singler, John Victor
2001 Why You Cant Do a VARBRUL Study of Quotatives and
What Such a Study Can Show Us. U. Penn Working Papers in
Linguistics 7(3): 257278.
Tagliamonte, Sali and Rachel Hudson
1999 Be like et al. beyond America: The Quotative System in British
and Canadian youth. Journal of Sociolinguistics 3(2): 147172.
Commentary on Kuzmack, How Medium
Shapes Language Development:
The Emergence of Quotative Re Online
Anatoly Liberman
Stefanie Kuzmacks paper is devoted to a small event in the development
of English. Yet its material poses several general questions. I would like to
dwell on three of them.
Terms like Old English and Middle English come naturally to language
historians. Both periods lasted several centuries and ended long before we
were born. Even late, to say nothing of early, Modern English did not
begin yesterday. We accept the fact that numerous cataclysms happened
between the settlement of Britain and the days of King Alfred, between
the Norman Conquest and Chaucers epoch, and so on. We express little
surprise even at the relatively recent Great Vowel Shift, which gave the
vocalic system of English its unique appearance. But how often do we
witness the birth of a new construction or a new phoneme? Kuzmacks
case is rare: the object of her investigation is an event that occurred before
our eyes, and we know both its environment and its causes. Yet there is a
good deal to be said about the phenomenon that attracted her attention.
Moreover, we realize that the history of English need not be about the
past. Synchrony, as Roman Jakobson never tired of repeating, is dynamic.
The distinction between oral and written language is so familiar as to
be trivial, and we forget that, although oral language is primary, writing
must not be identied with its well-edited transcript. No one has done
more for investigating the relations between oral speech and writing than
Josef Vachek (see his main works collected in two books: Vachek 1973
and Vachek 1989; both include exhaustive bibliography). In conversation,
we lose no time reacting to what is said. The reward for the immediacy of
speech is its naturalness; the punishment is its evanescence. Written texts
allow people to preserve information forever and recall it at any time
in the future. Therefore, in literate societies oral speech and writing are
equally important. The Internet and the chatroom have partly wiped out
the dierence between the two media. Emails y back and forth with the
speed of remarks in a telephone exchange. When we speak, we may aord
the luxury of using an imprecise word and shaky syntax (our inaccuracies
and incoherence will probably not be noticed). By contrast, good writing
is an art, but nowadays most people do not reread their emails and do
not mind looking spontaneous in them. This type of writing is indeed
a transcript of oral speech a situation unthinkable thirty years ago.
Kuzmack has found herself on a linguistic planet whose existence would
have surprised Vachek and his contemporaries.
The main material of language historians has always been manuscripts
and books. Those are sources of the same order, for manuscripts were pro-
duced with care, could be very expensive, and, like books, were expected
to have a long lifespan. At one time, researchers examined private letters
(among other things) for the sake of spelling mistakes and the degree of
variation among the literate and semiliterate writers. They knew that they
were reading documents meant for one recipient. Today, as this article
shows, the contours of privacy have become blurred, and any number of
outsiders may claim our innermost thoughts: once the Internet gets hold of
our words, they end up in public domain. Anyone may put them to use,
and linguists who analyze the written data at their disposal are once
again invited to draw conclusions from the chaos that was typical of the
private documents of the remote past. Phoneticians have been studying
the patterns of individual speech ever since phonetics emerged as a branch
of scholarship. Likewise, our knowledge of modern usage depends to a
considerable extent on the study of recorded and overheard conversations.
Now written samples are being studied by comparable methods.
The paper opens with an introduction and an overview, looks at the
emergence of quotative re, and goes on to examine the use of re in noun
phrase complementation (as opposed to verb complementation) and in
direct speech (as opposed to indirect speech). Then Kuzmack concentrates
on the ability of re to introduce actual statements, as opposed to thoughts.
The paper ends with a conclusion, a note on data collection, a predictably
small bibliography, and notes. The most amazing note deals with the folk
etymology of re. It would seem that the origin of re is the least controver-
sial question one can imagine. Yet some people believe that re goes back
to the rst syllable of reply, response, or regarding. This says something
about the level of our education.
Like every other language phenomenon of this type, quotative re has its
syntax and distribution; both have been described in the paper. Above,
I have referred to a predictably small bibliography. The phenomenon in
question has not existed long enough to become a popular subject of
research, but Kuzmack had a few predecessors. The time-honored quota-
tive verb has been say (he says . . . I says, etc.). Then go appeared
(he goes, she goes) and like (She like: No, thats not true). Neither go
nor like will win our admiration, but they bloom on the rich garbage of
language creativity indierent to our praise and disdainful of our dis-
approval. Four articles in Kuzmacks bibliography are devoted to them;
one of them deals with re, the Internet counterpart of like and go. The
computer changed our life in many unpredictable ways. It is no wonder
that language, which reects everything in human experience, has reacted
to this momentous change. We now have an addition to the house of gen-
eral and, as it turns out, historical linguistics, namely, Language and the
Internet. Welcome to the housewarming party.
References
Vachek, Josef
1973 Written Language: General Problems and Problems of English.
Janua Linguarum. Series critica 14. The Hague [and] Paris:
Mouton.
Vachek, Josef
1989 Written Language Revisited. Selected, edited and introduced
by Philip A. Luelsdor. Amsterdam [and] Philadelphia: John
Benjamins.
Commentary on Kuzmack 313
Response to Commentary by Liberman
Stefanie Kuzmack
As Liberman says, the Internet has brought written language closer to
spoken language. In chatrooms and in text messaging, writing has even
become a practical means of real-time communication. And yet, as the
case of re shows, the fact that this is written language still has an impact
on the utterances that are produced. Much of online communication is
still asynchronous, and that fact was crucial to res development. If
threaded discussions were not asynchronous, and did not involve lengthy
delays, re would never have been needed to refresh participants memories
of what had been said in the last turn.
Still, these discussions do also possess some characteristics of oral com-
munication. Participants in these conversations could briey cite previous
messages instead of quoting from them as they do (often extensively), and
could force each other to check previous messages for context. This is
particularly noticeable since the previous messages are easily accessed; it
is easier to locate an earlier message in a thread than it is to follow up on
a citation in an academic work. However, since following up on citations
is not a normal part of conversation, participants provide the context that
the addressees need. Thus, the oral qualities of Internet language are
worth taking note of, as Liberman does, although it is still a written
register.
The fact that many people believe that re has its origins in the rst
syllable of reply, response, or regarding may in part reect changes in edu-
cation, particularly with respect to the role of Latin. However, it may also
be due to trends in the use of Latin words in English, and in the use of
abbreviation. Latin words and phrases in general are less commonly used
than they once were (although that in itself may also be a result of changes
in education). Re is still used to mark the subject in memoranda, but the
parallel online use of re is distinctly dierent, and people who are not
familiar with re could overlook the connection. At the same time, new
abbreviations are extremely common, especially online. Even speakers
who know the Latin might conclude that re is a new abbreviation, given
that its use in subject lines is so dierent from previous uses.
This paper was devoted specically to re, but as Liberman noted, the
development of new quotatives is ongoing. Re may be the only currently
used quotative that developed in a written context, but it is not the
rst quotative to do so. Moore (2006) discusses a quotative use of Latin
videlicet (abbreviated viz.) that developed in legal documents in Early
Modern English. The quotative uses of re and videlicet have somewhat
similar origins: they both developed in the written medium and in specic
genres, and more supercially, both came from Latin. However, the quo-
tative videlicet was essentially restricted to the legal register, and that use
has disappeared (2006: 257). Re may share the same fate, since it too
appears to be conned to a single genre, but the number of participants
in the online register provides hope that even if it does not expand to other
contexts, res quotative use may stabilize.
Reference
Moore, Colette
2006 The Use of Videlicet in Early Modern Slander Depositions: A
Case of Genre-specic Grammaticalization. Journal of Historical
Pragmatics 7: 245263.
Response to Commentary by Liberman 315
Author Index
Listings do not include authors cited for their linguistic usage or brief exemplary
citations of language.
Adams, Valerie 111112, 138
Aitchison, Jean 187
Albright, Adam 101102, 106, 108
Allen, Cynthia 43, 85
Arnon, Inbal 53
Arono, Mark 117
Ayres, Alfred 143145, 147148, 150,
152
Baker, Peter 67
Baker, Robert 143145, 149
Bakhtin, Mikhail 15
Ball, Catherine 17
Barlow, Michael 82
Barnhart, Robert 171
Bassett, Molly 111
Bauer, Laurie 28, 113, 115
Beecher, Henry 65
Bell, Allan 246
Bennett, J. A. W. 245
Benskin, Michael 270, 278, 289
Benveniste, Emile 34
Berg, Thomas 12
Bernstein, Theodore 143144, 149,
159
Biber, Douglas 21, 61, 63, 232233
Biese, Y. M. 28
Blake, Norman 196
Bloomeld, Leonard 111
Boey, Julia 262
Bopp, Franz 170
Borer, Hagit 119
Bosworth, Joseph 166
Braaten, B. 208
Bradley, Henry 167, 169, 171
Branchaw, Sherrylyn 3, 4, 8, 87109,
288292
Bresnan, Joan 294
Brians, Paul 143144
Brinton, Laurel 16
Buchstaller, Isabelle 60
Burcheld, Robert 143144, 169, 173
Burnley, David 257, 266268
Burzio, Luigi 124
Butler, Christopher 13
Buyssens, Eric 174
Bybee, Joan 66, 82, 9192, 101, 106,
108
Campbell, Lyle 53
Capelli, C. 209210, 226
Carlson, Lauri 17, 21
Casaubon, Meric 162
Chambers, J. K. 61
Chapman, Don 5, 7, 141159, 202
206
Charles, Joseph 295
Cherewatuk, Karen 248249
Chomsky, Noam 12, 137
Chung, Sandra 40
Cienki, Alan 68
Clark, Herbert 12
Coleridge, Samuel 164
Collins, Peter 17
Cooper, Helen 244, 258
Copperud, Roy 143144
Coseriu, Eugenio 232
Couper-Kuhlen, Elizabeth 16
Coventry, Kenny 68
Craigie, William 169
Croft, William 13, 82
Crystal, David 202
Culicover, Peter 37, 4041, 51
Culpeper, Jonathan 6162
Cunningham, I. C. 267
Cuyckens, Hubert 12, 68, 83
Dal, Ingrid 208, 212, 220
Dalton-Puer, Christiane 125, 127
128
Dasher, Richard 13, 204
Delin, Judy 17
den Diken, Marcel 17
Denison, David 213214, 227, 229
De Smet, Hendrik 82
Detges, Ulrich 11, 1314, 16
Diefenbach, Lorenz 166
Dirven, Rene 12
Dolezal, Frederic 164, 171
Downes, William 217
Downing, Pamela 138
Doyle, A. I. 291
Drinka, Bridget 240, 243
Du Bois, John 1213
Ducrot, Oswald 14, 34
Eckert, Penelope 233234, 250
Eitler, Tamas 246
Ekwall, Eilert 188
Ellegard, Alvar 213214, 217220,
227229
Ellis, Alexander 217, 227
Elman, J. L. 108
Ettmu ller, Ludovicus 166
Evans, Vivian 6768
Feist, Sigmund 168, 171
Fennell, Barbara 188
Field, Frederic 244245
Fiengo, Robert 40
Fillmore, Charles 71, 234
Filppula, Markku 4, 7, 17, 105109,
207230
Finnegan, Edward 62
Fischer, Olga 11, 228229
Fitzmaurice, Susan 61
Flemming, Edward 102
Ford, Cecilia 16
Fowler, H. W. 143144, 152, 159
Freeman, Edward 208, 226
Galloway, Andrew 244246, 258
Garner, Bryan 145152, 158
Geckeler, Horst 232
Genee, Inge 208, 212213, 221
Gergel, Remus 49
German, Gary 212
Gerritsen, Marinel 12
Geurts, Bart 15
Ginzburg, Jonathan 37, 4041, 51
Givo n, Talmy 15, 62
Goldberg, Adele 82
Grice, H. Paul 12
Grimm, Jacob 166, 170, 184
Grimshaw, Jane 117118, 122, 137
Haiman, John 12
Hamerow, Helena 209
Hankamer, Jorge 37, 40, 48
Hanna, Ralph 265, 268
Hardt, Daniel 37
Hare, M. 108
Harke, Heinrich 209, 226
Harma, Juhani 15
Harris, Alice 52
Haspelmath, Martin 13, 211212
Hayes, Bruce 101102, 106, 108
Helquist, Elof 187
Helvigius, Andrae 165166
Hering, Ju rgen 6, 187206
Hickey, Raymond 208, 226
Higgins, Francis 1617
Higham, Nick 209, 226
Hoad, T. F. 171
Hodgson, William 143
Hofmeister, Philip 53
Holquist, Michael 15
Holthausen, Ferdinand 71, 75
Hopper, Paul 13, 16, 31, 66
Horn, Laurence 34
Huddleston, Rodney 2931, 213
Hudson, Rachel 306
Ihalainen, Ossi 218
Ihre, Johan 166
Jackendo, Ray 37, 4041, 5152
318 Author Index
Jackson, H. J. 164
Jager, Andreas 229
Jamobson, Roman 311
Jesperson, Otto 2829, 207, 211,
226
Johnson, Edward 164
Jordan, Richard 279
Joseph, Brian 13
Junius, Franciscus 161, 163, 165, 167,
171
Kageyama, Taro 116
Kaltschmidt, Jakob 167
Kastovsky, Dieter 116117, 119, 121,
127128, 136, 232
Kaufman, Terrence 210211
Kehler, Andrew 37, 40, 51
Keller, Rudi 12
Keller, W. 207, 226
Kemmer, Suzanne 82
Kemmerer, David 68
Kempson, Ruth 11
Kennedy, Arthur 163
Kiliaen, Cornelius 161, 166
Kilpio , Matti 39
Kim, Kyu-Hyun 17
Kiparsky, Paul 12
Kiparsky, Valentin 211
Kitigawa, Yoshihisha 40
Klein, Ernst 170171
Klemola, Juhani 4, 7, 105109, 207
230
Kluge, Friedrich 167168, 170, 174
Knobloch, Johan 174
Koch, Peter 233, 242, 258
Kohnen, Thomas 233
Koma, Osamu 119
Ko nig, Ekkehard 13, 15, 31, 212
Korhonen, Jarmo 15
Kortmann, Bernd 16
Krygier, Marcin 81, 8788, 9294, 98,
100, 106
Kuzmack, Stephanie 1, 5, 8, 156159,
293315
Kyto , Merja 6162
Labov, William 61, 219, 231233,
249, 262
Laftman, Emil 173174, 184
Laing, Jennifer 209, 226
Laing, Lloyd 209, 226
Laing, Margaret 270, 289
Lambrecht, Knud 17
Langacker, Ronald 12, 38, 61, 82
Lange, Deborah 293
Lasnik, Howard 39
Lass, Roger 91, 94
Leech, Georey 15
Lehmann, Christian 13, 18
Leibnitz, Gottfried 163, 165
Leith, Dick 9394
Lemon, G. W. 166
Levinson, Stephen 68
Lewis, Henry 215
Liberman, Anatoly 1, 6, 9, 161186,
311315
Lieber, Rochelle 111, 113
Lightfoot, David 12, 38
Locke, John 163
Luraghi, Silvia 6769
Lutz, Angelika 208, 212
Lynch, Jack 143144
Lyons, John 15, 187, 194, 198
MacDonald, Fiona 231
Mair, Christian 62
Mann, William 16
Marchand, Hans 28, 111, 115116,
136
Marchant, J. R. V. 295
Matzner, Eduard 166
May, Robert 40
McMahon, April 13
McNeill, George 282
McWhorter, John 208, 211, 213, 220
221, 226, 228
Merchant, Jason 3941, 5153, 55
Messing, Gordon 174
Meurman-Solin, Anneli 219
Milroy, James 13, 61
Milroy, Lesley 233234, 250
Author Index 319
Minkova, Donka 93, 103
Minsheu, John 6, 161163, 165, 167
Mittendorf, Ingo 208
Moder, Carol 101
Mooney, Linne 291
Moore, Colette 315
Mosse, Fernand 273, 279
Mu ller, Eduard 167
Murray, James 169, 171
Mustanoja, Tauno 129, 136, 219, 227
Nagano, Akiko 2, 45, 2835, 111
139
Nagle, Stephen 52
Nakau, Minoru 31
Nevalainen, Terttu 16, 187, 202, 204,
231233, 262
Nunberg, Georey 142
Nlke, Henning 15
Nykiel, Joanna 23, 3766, 8186
Oberlander, Jon 17
Oesterreicher, Wulf 233, 242, 258
Ohler, Norbert 231
Onions, Charles 169
Oppenheimer, Stephen 209210, 226
Oshita, Hiroyuki 122
Panther, Klaus-Uwe 1112
Parkes, Malcolm 268, 291
Partridge, Eric 170171
Patten, Amanda 17
Paulasto, Heli 212
Pearsall, Derek 265, 267
Pedersen, Holger 215
Pennanen, Esko 28
Perlmutter, David 124
Pesetsky, David 53
Peters, Pam 142, 158
Pitkanen, Heli 208
Pfeier, Wolfgang 187
Plag, Ingo 28
Plato 161
Poppe, Erich 208, 212
Poussa, Patricia 208, 221, 226
Poutsma, Henry 16
Preusler, Walther 208, 215216, 220
221, 226227
Prince, Ellen 17
Pullum, Georey 2931, 48, 53
Putter, Ad 267
Quirk, Randolph 30, 87, 108
Radden, Gu nter 1112
Rask, Rasmus 170, 184
Raumolin-Brunberg, Helena 61, 231
233
Renouf, Antoinette 113
Reynolds, Susan 191
Richardson, Charles 165
Rissanen, Matti 62
Roeper, Thomas 112, 137
Romaine, Suzanne 61, 231, 233, 293
Room, Adrian 188, 192
Ross, John 3738, 51, 55
Rothwell, William 236, 257
Roulet, Eddy 14
Rudanko, Juhani 68
Runde, Emily 8, 257292
Rutherford, William 29, 31
Ryder, Mary Ellen 138
Sag, Ivan 37, 4041, 51, 53
Sakahara, Shigeru 31
Sandved, Arthur 269
Samuels, M. L. 8, 268, 276, 289
Schendl, Herbert 234, 236, 238, 257
Schourup, Lawrence 304
Schwenck, Konrad 167
Schwenter, Scott 11, 1316, 21
Segen, Bazyl 67
Seibicke, Wilfried 174
Selkirk, Elizabeth 112
Shimada, Masaharu 28
Shizawa, Takashi 31
Shonk, Timothy 268
Short, Michael 15
Siegel, Muy 112
Sievers, Eduard 166
320 Author Index
Sihler, A. L. 134, 136
Skeat, Walter 161, 167171,
183
Skinner, Stephen 163, 165, 167
Slack, Jon 68
Slobin, Dan 12
Smith, A. H. 187188
Snyder, William 137
Sommer, Wililam 166
Srensen, Knud 240, 243
Spurlock, Kurt 111
Stainton, Robert 37, 4041, 48, 5153
Stein, Dieter 12
Stenton, Doris 193
Stokes, Myra 267
Strang, Barbara 207
Stratmann, Francis 166167
Stubbs, Michael 35
Stubbs, William 208, 226
Svensson, Ann Marie 67, 183206
Sweetser, Eve 29, 31
Sykes, Bryan 210, 226
Szemerenyi, Oswald 134
Taavitsainen, Irma 15, 61, 233, 241
242
Tacho, Elizabeth 78, 226264
Tagliamonte, Sali 306
Tajima, Matsuji 116
Taylor, John 12
Taylor, Joseph 175
Thomason, Olga 35, 6986, 132139
Thomason, Sarah 210211
Thompson, Sandra 1516
Timberlake, Alan 38, 61
Timberlake, Henry 231
Tolkien, J. R. R. 208, 212
Tooke, Horne 163164, 167
Tottie, Gunnel 15
Traugott, Elizabeth 23, 1136, 60
66, 83, 111, 204
Tristram, Hildegard 208, 212, 221
Trousdale, Graeme 83
Tyler, Andrea 6768
Vachek, Josef 311
van der Auwera, Johan 208, 212213,
221
van der Wur, Wim 228229
Van der Zee, Emile 68
Vennemann, Theo 208, 212
Verdon, Jean 231
Vezzosi, Letizia 212
Vidrine, Rachel 143144
Visser, Gerald 208
Vogel, Bertram 282, 290
Wagner, Heinrich 221
Waksler, Rachelle 60
Waltereit, Richard 11, 1314, 16
Ward, Gregory 51
Webber, Bonnie 37
Webster, Noah 165, 167
Wedgwood, Hensleigh 167169, 171
Weekley, Ernest 169171, 175
Whitelock, Dorothy 190191, 197
Wiggins, Alison 266268
Williams, Edwin 40
Wilson, Kenneth 143144
Yonekura, Hiroshi 121
Young, Wendy 142
Zwicky, Arnold 60
Author Index 321
Subject Index
ablative 295
ablaut 34, 87, 89, 9192, 96, 98, 100,
102, 105, 108, 174
accommodation 246
acculturation 7, 209, 226227
accusative 3, 6971, 73, 76, 8183, 85,
309
ad to 236
adjoint complementation 9, 294, 296,
299300, 306
adripare 236
adventus Saxonum 208, 210, 226
adverbial clauses 3031
adversatives 15
agentive noun suxes 127
ALL-cleft 2, 17, 19
American English 107, 109
analogy 93, 101102, 106108, 147
anaphor(a) 3, 3738, 40, 52, 65
Anglo Norman Dictionary (AND)
234, 236
Anglo-Norman 7, 232, 236, 243245,
249, 257, 259260, 271
Anglo-Saxons 7, 100, 166, 207210,
226, 236, 258, 271
antecedent structure 37, 47, 5152
antonymy 232
arbitrary justication 5, 146148, 154,
157
archaeological evidence 7, 208209,
221, 226
areal-typological evidence 7, 208,
211213, 221, 227
argument structure 4, 39, 41, 51, 117
119, 122124, 134, 136
ariven/arrive 231
arrival 236
arriver 234
asynchronous correspondence 9, 314
Auchinleck Manuscript 8, 265, 266
268, 271, 276, 278, 283, 288, 291
292
audience design 246
authorship 259, 279, 282
Avestan 75
bad data problem 8, 262
Bare Argument Ellipsis 5354
bigot 168
bilingualism 7, 210, 226
biography 233, 242, 261
Blanchardyn and Eglantine 242, 246,
261
block quote (re) 296300, 303
blow 107
borough/ burh 6, 188, 190194, 198,
206
borrowing 7, 174, 187, 194, 215, 219,
227228, 232, 234, 236, 241, 249,
257258
bow 94, 96
Breton 215
British English 107
Britons 7, 207, 209210, 226
Brythonic languages 208, 215, 221
Canon/canonical 141143, 149, 153
154, 156, 158
Canterbury Tales 195, 242
case-assigner 137
causative do 213214, 227
ceaster 188
Celtic 7, 166, 187, 207215, 220221,
226228
change from above 219, 249
change, diachronic 25, 12, 16, 28, 31,
42, 67, 86, 105, 129, 158, 164, 234,
258
chanson de geste 244
chide 167
chilvaric literature 248249
chronicle 188, 192, 242245, 247250,
258259, 261
city 190, 194195, 198, 203204
clause 19, 3031, 6263, 76, 150, 294,
299, 302303, 309
cockney 162
cocktail 172175
collocation 71, 78, 204
comment 301302, 304, 306307,
309
complex event nominals 117
compounding 45, 111116, 122125,
128, 132134, 136138, 271, 273
concessives 2, 15
Confessio Amantis 242
conservatism 157
constituent transparency 83
contact 7, 208, 210211, 220221, 228
containment 69, 70, 82
context 2, 7, 1421, 2831, 3435, 37,
41, 202204, 206, 246, 304, 308,
314315
conversation 1617, 242, 293, 308,
311, 314
conversion nominals 118119, 121,
125, 133, 137
conversion 2, 2829, 3435, 113, 115
116, 118119, 121122, 124125,
132133, 137
copying practice(s) 266, 291
Cornish 215
corpora 8, 265, 283284, 290
Corpus of Middle English Prose and
Verse (CME) 235, 241, 259, 261
Corpus of Older Scots 219
correspondence 43, 46, 49, 243, 258,
261262, 308
Cratyllus 161
dative case 6971, 7375, 8183, 85
daughter 176
Delta Scribe 291
demographic evidence 7, 208210,
221
Denmark 209
denominal 91, 236
dental 91, 100, 109
departure 234
derivational ax 1, 45, 111112,
115117, 119, 121122, 125129,
135137
deverbal compound nouns 113, 124,
132
dialect 106, 214, 217220, 227, 291
dialogicity 2, 11, 1421, 2831, 3435
dialogue 17, 29, 4546, 61, 307
Dictionary of Old English Corpus 88,
105
Dictionnaire du Moyen Francais
(DMF) 234
dig 91, 102
direct speech 303304, 312
direction(al(ity)) 3, 67, 6978, 8183,
8586
discourse 1, 9, 1315, 17, 21, 37, 41,
45, 48, 5255, 62, 66, 149, 293, 303,
307308
dive 87, 94, 96
document 8, 211, 215, 217218, 220,
242, 312, 315
donor language 249
drag 92, 107
draw 95, 107
Dutch 163, 165, 176, 178, 187, 213
Early Middle English 4, 9192, 100,
188, 190, 213, 262
Early Modern English 7, 37, 62, 102,
218219, 235, 260, 315
Early Old English 187
East Midland 276, 279
economic change 6, 187188, 198, 206
Edward I 193
Edward IV 248
electronic edition 268
electronic messages 9, 293, 295296
ellipsis 37, 39, 41, 44, 65
e-mail 9, 297, 308
-ende 136, 269
Epea pteroenta 164
epistemic modality 13, 15, 3031
etan/aet 86, 98
ethnic cleansing 209, 226
Subject Index 323
etiquette rules 5, 142, 156
etymological dictionary 6, 163178,
183186
etymology 1, 6, 9, 146, 150, 154, 157,
159, 161179, 183186, 235236,
257, 295, 312
event nominals 4, 117118, 121122,
124, 133134, 137
exemplar 82, 266267, 270, 275, 278
280, 282, 288289
extra-linguistic evidence 208221,
226228
face-to-face interaction 233234,
250
false positives 296, 309
fare 9495
ction 4650, 6162, 242
eld/ feld 196, 197
nal velar 91, 108
Finnish 166167, 178, 211
First Projection Principle 112113
First Sister Principle 112113
ow 96, 97
focus particle 15, 30
folk etymology 9, 295, 312
four principal parts 2, 88, 89
free variation 73, 75, 78
French 7, 1314, 19, 34, 100, 168
169, 172174, 178, 184, 194, 198,
228229, 236, 240, 242246, 249,
258260, 271273
frequency study 235, 241, 244245,
261
functional pull 238, 257
galoot 176
gender variation 232
genitive case 73, 133, 309
genre 21, 4546, 50, 6163, 65, 175,
227, 232233, 240, 258259, 265,
315
gentry 244, 248249
geographical distribution 214, 216
219, 227
German 3839, 161162, 164167,
176, 178, 187, 212213
Germanic 67, 70, 125, 127, 165166,
169, 175176, 178, 184, 186188,
206207, 212213
gerundive sux 128129, 137
Gloucestershire 276
god 165, 170
Gothic 161, 166, 169, 171, 175, 178
Gothic 161, 166, 169, 171, 175
grammar 1, 100, 207208, 211, 226
grammaticalization 1314, 16, 18, 30
31, 293, 297
Great Britain 249
Greek 161163, 166, 172, 178
Grices Maxims 12
grow 9697
hand 166, 171, 279282
have 211, 273275, 291
Hebrew 161162, 166
Helsinki Corpus of English Texts
(HC) 60, 233, 235, 239242, 258
Hittite 172, 178
honor 35, 271273
Horn Childe & Maiden Rimnild 8, 279,
281283, 290
host 271273
hostility 7478
how-mismatch 41, 4344, 4749, 62
h-retention 270272, 274275
hyponomy 232
Icelandic 161, 166, 178, 212
iconicity 1112
i-mutation 236
indirect speech 15, 303304, 307, 312
Indo-European 6, 7071, 85, 134136,
162, 166, 169, 174, 176178, 184,
186, 213
informative wh-phrases 53
-ing 45, 111116, 118129, 132138
initial <h> 8, 270271, 273, 275, 283
interaction 1216, 21, 28, 32, 208,
232234, 250
324 Subject Index
internal possessor construction 208,
212, 220
Internet 293, 295297, 305, 308, 311
314
Ireland 209210, 213, 263
Isle of Man 210
it 273275
Italian 13, 176, 178
IT-cleft 1718, 212, 220, 226
King Horn 238, 261
lad 162
land 8, 236, 249, 279282, 291
landen 238, 257
Langtofts Chronicle 245, 246247,
258259, 261262
language acquisition 12
language change 2, 8, 1213, 232, 240,
293, 295
language development 67, 73
language internal shift 233, 236
Late Latin 236
Late Middle English 43, 44, 47, 62,
194196, 243, 248, 288
Late Modern English 37
Late Old English vowels 279
Late Old English 52, 213
Latin 9, 19, 34, 47, 76, 161163, 165,
169, 172, 178, 188, 236, 240, 242,
244246, 249, 258, 260, 293, 295
296, 314315
Layamons Brut 188, 240, 245, 258, 261
lenden 8, 232, 234, 236238, 241, 243,
245249, 257258, 260, 263
let 99, 100
letters 219, 233, 242, 248, 258259,
261262, 264, 312
lexeme 187, 194, 232, 234, 236238,
243, 245, 248249
lexical borrowing 234
lexical change 7, 233234, 250
lexical gap 198, 203
lexical practice(s) 267268, 291
lexical restructuring 258
lexicography 142, 161162, 164165,
168, 171
lexicon 1, 59, 101, 194, 206, 231,
234, 236, 271
licensing context 37, 41
linguistic aspect 236
Linguistic Atlas of Late Mediaevel
English (LALME) 8, 267268, 273,
276, 278279, 283, 288289, 291
linguistic prole(s) 8, 267, 269, 291
liquid-consonant cluster 98
Lithuanian 178
loanword 7, 169, 188, 194, 198, 207,
211, 228, 229, 234, 236, 237, 239,
240, 241, 243246, 248, 249, 257,
261, 262
location 6, 5354, 69, 7178, 8183,
8586
location-to-direction semantic devel-
opment 71, 75
Logic 146, 148149, 154, 156157
London 192, 194, 219, 265, 268, 269,
276, 279, 283, 290
man 163, 165, 170, 175
Mannyngs Chronicle 258259, 262
manuscript miscellanies 291
matrix clause 294, 299, 303
meaning mappings 125, 127
meaning variation 234, 247
medieval England 236, 258
medium-distinction 233
memoranda 9, 293, 295296, 314
merchant 231, 244, 249
merger 4044, 4648, 50, 6062, 65
Merlin 246
metalinguistic negation 34
meter 260, 262, 270, 273
Middle Breton 215
Middle Cornish 215
Middle English Dictionary (MED)
197, 234
Middle English 4, 68, 37, 6162, 65,
67, 87, 9192, 9495, 100, 102103,
107, 111, 164, 166, 177, 184, 187188,
Subject Index 325
190, 195197, 202, 206, 213214,
218219, 228229, 231232, 235,
240241, 243, 248249, 258, 261
262, 266, 271, 279, 283, 288, 291, 311
Middle English 43, 45, 6162, 65, 67,
87, 9192, 95, 100, 102103, 107,
111, 115116, 119128, 136, 166,
184, 188, 190, 194, 196197, 202,
206, 213214, 219, 228229, 231
232, 240241, 243, 248249, 258,
261262, 266, 271275, 277283,
286287, 289, 291
Middle High German 176
Middle Persian 211
Middle Scots 219
Middle Welsh 215
Midlands 276, 278279
mobility 231
Modern English 3, 4, 7, 37, 62, 87, 89,
92, 95, 102, 105, 108, 163, 169, 183,
188, 190, 198, 206, 218219, 235,
238, 260, 311, 315
Moderna sprak 173
monologicity 2, 15
Moroccan Arabic 211
morphological restriction 115
Morte dArthur 242, 246248, 261
motivation 1114, 16, 38, 228
multiple analogy 101, 106108
naming sux 117, 119, 127129, 134,
136
naming 4, 116117, 119, 121122,
125, 127129, 134, 136138
narrative 45, 202, 303, 307
negation 15, 20, 34, 213
Neogrammarians 166
-ness 117, 127
newfangled words 146147, 157, 159
N-N compounding 123125, 137138
nominal gerund 129
nominalization 4, 112113, 117119,
122, 124128, 133, 136137
non-linguistic antecedent 48
non-productive axes 115
non-standard dialect 4, 105
Norman French speakers 100
Norse 91, 169
North Germany 209
Northern dialect 8, 219, 279, 282283,
290
Norway 209
noun phrase 9, 294, 296, 300301,
303, 306, 309, 312
Null Complement Anaphora
(NCA) 40
object compounding 113
Of Arthour & of Merlin 281
Old English 35, 17, 28, 37, 38, 60,
62, 65, 6771, 73, 7576, 79, 81, 83,
8589, 9192, 9495, 101102, 105,
107, 111, 133, 166, 187188, 190
191, 197198, 206, 210, 213, 236,
257, 279, 311
Old English 35, 17, 28, 38, 42, 60,
62, 65, 6771, 73, 7576, 79, 83, 85
86, 8789, 9192, 9496, 98, 101
102, 107, 111, 115116, 119125,
127128, 133, 136137, 166, 187
188, 190191, 197198, 206, 212
213, 236237, 257, 271, 279
Old French 236, 257
Old French-English Dictionary 234
Old Icelandic 166, 178
Old Irish 178
Old Norse 98, 169
old 276279
ongean 3, 67, 70, 75, 7778, 81
online medium 9, 293295, 303
oral, orality 228, 233, 242, 258
orthographic practice(s) 265, 267271,
275276, 279, 282283, 289291
Oxford Dictionary of English
Etymology 171
Oxford English Dictionary (OED)
56, 34, 47, 94, 107, 162, 167, 169,
172175, 178, 187, 190191, 197,
202, 234237, 257, 295
Oxford Genetic Atlas Project 210
326 Subject Index
participles 89, 92, 95, 100, 105106,
134, 136, 164, 271
Paston family 231, 243, 248250
perceptual distinctness 100
periphrastic do 7, 208, 211221,
226229
phonology 102, 151, 207208, 210
211, 217
Phrygian 161
placename 194
Polish 178
political change 6, 188, 198, 206
Polychronicon Ranulphi Higden 245
247, 258, 259
polysemy 187, 232
pre-deletion structure 38, 40, 47, 51,
55
preposition stranding 39, 55, 212
preposition 23, 9, 39, 42, 5052, 55,
6768, 7071, 7379, 8183, 85, 88,
148, 156, 212, 236, 293296, 299
302, 308309
prepositional phrase 2, 6773, 7579,
83, 86, 302
prescription 5, 141154, 156159
Present-Day English 18, 28, 37, 47
48, 67, 81, 105, 111116, 118119,
121125, 127, 133134, 136138,
213, 272275, 277278, 280282,
286287
preterite 4, 87, 89, 9192, 9496, 98
102, 105107, 109
private correspondance 242243, 246,
258, 261262, 312
productivity 28, 54, 76, 101, 113, 116,
127128, 132
progressive 207208, 212, 226
pronominal deixis 304
proximity 69, 7276, 79, 86
pseudo-cleft 18, 20, 28
qualitative research 2, 158159, 232
quantitative research 1, 2, 7, 9, 158,
232, 235, 238, 240, 261
quotative all 304
quotative complementizer 9, 293297,
299, 301303, 308
quotative go 304
quotative like 303304
quotative re 9, 293309, 311312
quotative verb 302
re 1, 9, 293311, 313315
read 99, 100, 102
recategorization 4, 115117, 119, 122,
127129, 137
Recency Illusion 2, 60
Redundancy 149150, 157, 296
regarding 9, 293, 296, 312, 314
Renaissance 231
reply 295296, 305, 308, 312, 314
res 9, 295
response 296, 312, 314
result nominals 45, 117119, 121
122, 124125, 133134, 136137
retort 2, 29, 34
rhyme 108, 260, 262, 270, 276, 281
283
ripa shore 236
Romance suxes 125, 127128
romance 189, 242246, 248250, 258
259, 261, 265
root 3, 87, 9093, 96, 98, 100, 101,
105106
Russian 178, 211
Sanskrit 177, 178
say 302303
Scandinavian 162, 175
Scotland 210211, 268, 282
scribal practice(s) 8, 266268, 270
271, 283, 291292
semantic bleaching 9, 294
semantic change 7, 13, 82, 125, 127,
187188, 198, 202204, 206, 234,
257
semantic eld 7, 194, 196
semantic structure 68
semantically empty auxiliary 214
semantics of case 69
Subject Index 327
semasiological account 237239, 241,
248
Semitic 162
shit 90, 94, 101, 106
Sir Tristrem 8
situational antecedent 37
situational context 41, 53
sluicing 2, 3748, 5055, 6063, 65
sneak 92, 107
social change 6, 188, 198, 204, 206,
233
social network 233, 250
sociolinguistic variation 61, 93
sociolinguistics 1, 9
Socrates 161
Somerset 216
southern forms 219, 282283, 290
Spanish 1415, 178, 211
spatial meaning 68, 73
speak 34, 9394, 302, 311
speech act 2, 3031, 34
speech community/-ies 234, 250
spelling repertoire 270, 275
spit 101, 106, 108
spoken language 9, 41, 61, 232, 258,
271, 299, 304305, 314
sprouting 4152, 6062, 65
S-shaped curve 240
stable variation 3, 6162
stance 11
standard English 228, 268
step 98, 99, 132
stick 91
Stonor family 243, 248, 258, 262
strike 9091, 102103
stripping 53
strong verb inection 4, 87103, 105
109
strumpet 162
stubborn 161162
subject compounding 45, 111116,
122125, 128, 133, 136138
subject line 296, 308309
substrate 211
superlative 2, 2930, 34
supralocal change 234
surface anaphor 2, 3, 37, 38, 40, 48,
52, 65
Survey of English Dialects 216
Swedish 166, 187
syntax 13, 11, 4042, 47, 62, 115
117, 132, 207208, 210, 219, 312
synthetic compounds 4, 111
talk 302
text type 78, 41, 45, 46, 4850, 60,
227, 232, 233, 241244, 246, 248,
249, 256, 258, 261262
that-deletion 62
The American Heritage Dictionary of
the English Language 143144, 174
The Century 162
The New Oxford American Dictionary
175
theory of constrained selection 270,
289
threaded discussions 9, 293, 314
throw 96, 97
to# 3, 67, 6975, 7879, 8182, 85
togean 3, 67, 70, 7779, 81
token frequency 3, 4, 8789, 91, 94,
96, 98, 99102, 105, 165, 235, 240,
244, 245, 248, 261, 262
town/tun 6, 7, 187199
Transactions of the Philological
Society 167
translation 76, 190191, 194, 197
198, 240, 242247, 249, 258261
transposition 117
travelogue 233, 242, 246, 262, 264
turn-taking 11, 13, 1516, 34
type frequency 3, 4, 87, 89, 9092,
9496, 98102, 105, 106
Type II (LALME) 8, 268, 269, 275
279, 283, 289
Type III (LALME) 8, 268, 269, 275
279, 283, 289
unaccusative verbs 124
under the counter change 234
328 Subject Index
usage dictionaries 145
usage rules 5, 142, 156
usage-based theory 29, 82
Usenet 293, 296, 308
utterance 2, 15, 2830, 34, 304, 306,
314,
variation in form 105, 239
variation in meaning 234, 239, 248
verb complementation 302303, 312
verb forms 19, 2829, 129
Verb Phrase Ellipsis (VPE) 48
videlicet 315
village 190191, 195
vowel alternation 113
vowel distinctness 92, 98100
wake 9395
Wales 210, 213, 216
wear 93
weave 93, 98
Welsh 212, 215216, 220
West Germanic 175
WH-cleft 2, 17
wh-movement 39
wife 170, 175
Wiltshire 216
wi 3, 67, 70, 7379, 81, 85
word formation 2829, 111, 113, 238,
257
world 269, 277279
wreak 9294
write 302
Years Work 163
yeoman 176
zero forms 28, 62, 119
Subject Index 329

Variation and Change in English Grammar and Lexicon - Contemporary Approaches (Eds. R.a.cloutier&a M Hamilton-Brehm&W.a.kretzschmar, JR)

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Studies in the History of the English Language V

Topics in English Linguistics

tekauer and Rochelle Lieber, 375427.

quipe Moyen francais et francais preclassique, 20032005,

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