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HANDBOL'ND 
AT  THE 


THE 
AMERICAN  LANGUAGE 


OF  THE  FIRST  EDITION  OF 
THIS  BOOK  FIFTEEN  HUNDRED 
COPIES  HAVE  BEEN  PRINTED 
AND  THE  TYPE  DISTRIBUTED 
THIS  IS  NUMBER  I 


THE 
AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

A  Preliminary  Inquiry  into  the  Develop- 
ment of  English  in  the    United   States 


BY 
H.  L.  MENCKEN 


NEW  YORK 

ALFRED  •  A  •  KNOPF 

MCMXIX 


COPYRIGHT,  1919,  BY 
ALFRED  A.  KNOPF,  INC. 


2.808 

A/4 


FEINTED    IN    THE    UNITED    STATES    OF    AMEEICA 


PREFACE 

The  aim  of  this  book  is  best  exhibited  by  describing  its  origin. 
I  am,  and  have  been  since  early  manhood,  an  editor  of  news- 
papers, magazines  and  books,  and  a  critic  of  the  last  named. 
These  occupations  have  forced  me  into  a  pretty  wide  familiarity 
with  current  literature,  both  periodical  and  within  covers,  and 
in  particular  into  a  familiarity  with  the  current  literature  of 
England  and  America,  It  was  part  of  my  daily  work,  for  a 
good  many  years,  to  read  the  principal  English  newspapers  and 
reviews;  it  has  been  part  of  my  work,  all  the  time,  to  read  the 
more  important  English  novels,  essays,  poetry  and  criticism. 
An  American  born  and  bred,  I  early  noted,  as  everyone  else  in 
like  case  must  note,  certain  salient  differences  between  the  Eng- 
lish of  England  and  the  English  of  America  as  practically 
spoken  and  written — differences  in  vocabulary,  in  syntax,  in  the 
shades  and  habits  of  idiom,  and  even,  coming  to  the  common 
speech,  in  grammar.  And  I  noted  too,  of  course,  partly  during 
visits  to  England  but  more  largely  by  a  somewhat  wide  and 
intimate  intercourse  with  English  people  in  the  United  States, 
the  obvious  differences  between  English  and  American  pronun- 
ciation and  intonation. 

Greatly  interested  in  these  differences — some  of  them  so  great 
that  they  led  me  to  seek  exchanges  of  light  with  Englishmen — 
I  looked  for  some  work  that  would  describe  and  account  for 
them  with  a  show  of  completeness,  and  perhaps  depict  the 
process  of  their  origin.  I  soon  found  that  no  such  work  existed, 
either  in  England  or  in  America — that  the  whole  literature  of 
the  subject  was  astonishingly  meagre  and  unsatisfactory.  There 
were  several  dictionaries  of  Americanisms,  true  enough,  but 
only  one  of  them  made  any  pretension  to  scientific  method,  and 
even  that  one  was  woefully  narrow  and  incomplete.  The  one 
more  general  treatise,  the  work  of  a  man  foreign  to  both  Eng- 


vi  PREFACE 

land  and  America  in  race  and  education,  was  more  than  40 
years  old,  and  full  of  palpable  errors.  For  the  rest,  there  was 
only  a  fugitive  and  inconsequential  literature — an  almost  use- 
less mass  of  notes  and  essays,  chiefly  by  the  minor  sort  of  peda- 
gogues, seldom  illuminating,  save  in  small  details,  and  often 
incredibly  ignorant  and  inaccurate.  On  the  large  and  impor- 
tant subject  of  American  pronunciation,  for  example,  I  could 
find  nothing  save  a  few  casual  essays.  On  American  spelling, 
with  its  wide  and  constantly  visible  divergences  from  English 
usages,  there  was  little  more.  On  American  grammar  there  was 
nothing  whatever.  Worse,  an  important  part  of  the  poor  litera- 
ture that  I  unearthed  was  devoted  to  absurd  efforts  to  prove  that 
no  such  thing  as  an  American  variety  of  English  existed — that 
the  differences  I  constantly  encountered  in  English  and  that 
my  English  friends  encountered  in  American  were  chiefly  imag- 
inary, and  to  be  explained  away  by  denying  them. 

Still  intrigued  by  the  subject,  and  in  despair  of  getting  any 
illumination  from  such  theoretical  masters  of  it,  I  began  a  col- 
lection of  materials  for  my  own  information,  and  gradually  it 
took  on  a  rather  formidable  bulk.  My  interest  in  it  being  made 
known  by  various  articles  in  the  newspapers  and  magazines,  I 
began  also  to  receive  contributions  from  other  persons  of  the 
same  fancy,  both  English  and  American,  and  gradually  my  col- 
lection fell  into  a  certain  order,  and  I  saw  the  workings  of  gen- 
eral laws  in  what,  at  first,  had  appeared  to  be  mere  chaos.  The 
present  book  then  began  to  take  form — its  preparation  a  sort 
of  recreation  from  other  and  far  different  labor.  It  is  anything 
but  an  exhaustive  treatise  upon  the  subject;  it  is  not  even  an 
exhaustive  examination  of  the  materials.  All  it  pretends  to  do 
is  to  articulate  some  of  those  materials — to  get  some  approach  to 
order  and  coherence  into  them,  and  so  pave  the  way  for  a  better 
work  by  some  more  competent  man.  That  work  calls  for  the 
equipment  of  a  first-rate  philologist,  which  I  am  surely  not.  All 
I  have  done  here  is  to  stake  out  the  field,  sometimes  borrowing 
suggestions  from  other  inquirers  and  sometimes,  as  in  the  case 
of  American  grammar,  attempting  to  run  the  lines  myself. 

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


PREFACE  vii 

and  exhibit  the  constantly  growing  differences  between  Eng- 
lish and  American,  as  certain  American  pedants  argue  sharply — 
this  doctrine  is  quite  beyond  my  understanding.  All  it  indi- 
cates, stripped  of  sophistry,  is  a  somewhat  childish  effort  to  gain 
the  approval  of  Englishmen — a  belated  efflorescence  of  the  co- 
lonial spirit,  often  commingled  with  fashionable  aspiration.  The 
plain  fact  is  that  the  English  themselves  are  not  deceived,  nor 
do  they  grant  the  approval  so  ardently  sought  for.  On  the  con- 
trary, they  are  keenly  aware  of  the  differences  between  the  two 
dialects,  and  often  discuss  them,  as  the  following  pages  show. 
Perhaps  one  dialect,  in  the  long  run,  will  defeat  and  absorb  the 
other ;  if  the  two  nations  continue  to  be  partners  in  great  adven- 
tures it  may  very  well  happen.  But  even  in  that  case,  some- 
thing may  be  accomplished  by  examining  the  differences  which 
exist  today.  In  some  ways,  as  in  intonation,  English  usage  is 
plainly  better  than  American.  In  others,  as  in  spelling,  Ameri- 
can usage  is  as  plainly  better  than  English.  But  in  order  to 
develop  usages  that  the  people  of  both  nations  will  accept  it  is 
obviously  necessary  to  study  the  differences  now  visible.  This 
study  thus  shows  a  certain  utility.  But  its  chief  excuse  is  its 
human  interest,  for  it  prods  deeply  into  national  idiosyncrasies 
and  ways  of  mind,  and  that  sort  of  prodding  is  always  entertain- 
ing. < 

I  am  thus  neither  teacher,  nor  prophet,  nor  reformer,  but 
merely  inquirer.  The  exigencies  of  my  vocation  make  me  almost 
completely-bilingual ;  I  can  write  English,  as  in  this  clause,  quite 
as  readily  as  American,  as  in  this  here  one.  Moreover,  I  have 
a  hand  for  a  compromise  dialect  which  embodies  the  common 
materials  of  both,  and  is  thus  free  from  offense  on  both  sides  of 
the  water — as  befits  the  editor  of  a  magazine  published  in  both 
countries.  But  that  compromise  dialect  is  the  living  speech  of 
neither.  What  I  have  tried  to  do  here  is  to  make  a  first  sketch 
of  the  living  speech  of  These  States.  The  work  is  confessedly 
incomplete,  and  in  places  very  painfully  so,  but  in  such  enter- 
prises a  man  must  put  an  arbitrary  term  to  his  labors,  lest  some 
mischance,  after  years  of  diligence,  take  him  from  them  too  sud- 
denly for  them  to  be  closed,  and  his  laborious  accumulations,  as 


viii  PREFACE 

Ernest   Walker    says    in   his   book    on    English    surnames,    be 
"doomed  to  the  waste-basket  by  harassed  executors." 

If  the  opportunity  offers  in  future  I  shall  undoubtedly  return 
to  the  subject.  For  one  thing,  I  am  eager  to  attempt  a  more 
scientific  examination  of  the  grammar  of  the  American  vulgar 
speech,  here  discussed  briefly  in  Chapter  VI.  For  another  thing, 
I  hope  to  make  further  inquiries  into  the  subject  of  American 
surnames  of  non-English  origin.  Various  other  fields  invite. 
No  historical  study  of  American  pronunciation  exists ;  the  influ- 
ence of  German,  Irish-English,  Yiddish  and  other  such  immi- 
grant dialects  upon  American  has  never  been  investigated; 
there  is  no  adequate  treatise  on  American  geographical  names. 
Contributions  of  materials  and  suggestions  for  a  possible  revised 
edition  of  the  present  book  will  reach  me  if  addressed  to  me  in 
care  of  the  publisher  at  220  West  Forty-second  Street,  New  York. 
I  shall  also  be  very  grateful  for  the  correction  of  errors,  some 
perhaps  typographical  but  others  due  to  faulty  information  or 
mistaken  judgment. 

In  conclusion  I  borrow  a  plea  in  confession  and  avoidance  from 
Ben  Jonson's  pioneer  grammar  of  English,  published  in  incom- 
plete form  after  his  death.  ' '  We  have  set  down, ' '  he  said,  ' '  that 
that  in  our  judgment  agreeth  best  with  reason  and  good  order. 
Which  notwithstanding,  if  it  seem  to  any  to  be  too  rough  hewed, 
let  him  plane  it  out  more  smoothly,  and  I  shall  not  only  not  envy 
it,  but  in  the  behalf  of  my  country  most  heartily  thank  him  for 
so  great  a  benefit ;  hoping  that  I  shall  be  thought  sufficiently  to 
have  done  my  part  if  in  tolling  this  bell  I  may  draw  others  to 
a  deeper  consideration  of  the  matter;  for,  touching  myself,  I 
must  needs  confess  that  after  much  painful  churning  this  only 
would  come  which  here  we  have  devised." 

MENCKEN. 

Baltimore,  January  1,  1919. 


CONTENTS 

I.    BY  WAY  OF  INTRODUCTION,  1 

1.  The  Diverging  Streams,  1 

2.  The  Academic  Attitude,  4 

3.  The  View  of  Writing  Men,  12 

4.  Foreign  Observers,  18 

-5.  The  Characters  of  American,  19 
6.  The  Materials  of  American,  29 

l  \4 

II.    THK  BEGINNINGS  OF  AMERICAN,  36 

1.  In  Colonial  Days,  36   *^ 

2.  Sources  of  Early  Americanisms,  40 

3.  New  Words  of  English  Material,  44  ^ 

*  4.  Changed  Meanings,  51  - 

5.  Archaic  English  Words,  54 

6.  Colonial  Pronunciation,  58 

III.  THE  PERIOD  OF  GROWTH,  63 

1.  The  New  Nation,  63 

2.  The  Language  in  the  Making,  72  v  ' 

3.  The  Expanding  Vocabulary,  76  1 

4.  Loan- Words,  86 

-  5.  Pronunciation,  94  >-  - 

IV.  AMERICAN  AND  ENGLISH  TODAY,  97 

1.  The  Two  Vocabularies,  97  '  , 

2.  Differences  in  Usage,  102 

3.  Honorifics,  117 

4.  Euphemisms  and  Forbidden  Words,  124 

V.    TENDENCIES  IN  AMERICAN,  131 

1.  International  Exchanges,  131 

2.  Points  of  Difference,  138  ^ 

3.  Lost  Distinctions,  143 

4.  Foreign  Influences  Today,  149 

5.  Processes  of  Word  Formation,  159 
—  6.  Pronunciation,  166 


x  CONTENTS 

VI.    THE  COMMON  SPEECH,  177 

1.  Grammarians  and  Their  Ways,  177 

2.  Spoken  American  As  It  Is,  184 

3.  The  Verb,  192 

4.  The  Pronoun,  212 

5.  The  Adverb,  226 

6.  The  Noun  and  Adjective,  229 

7.  The  Double  Negative,  231 

8.  Pronunciation,  234 

VII.    DIFFERENCES  IN  SPELLING,  242 

1.  Typical  Forms,  242 

2.  General  Tendencies,  245 

3.  The  Influence  of  Webster,  247    t^- 

4.  Exchanges,  255 

5.  Simplified  Spelling,  261 

6.  Minor  Differences,  264 

VIII.    PROPER  NAMES  IN  AMERICA,  268. 

1.  Surnames,  268 

2.  Given  Names,  283 

3.  Geographical  Names,  286 

4.  Street  Names,  298 

IX.    MISCELLANEA,  301 

1.  Proverb  and  Platitude,  301 

2.  American  Slang,  304   c"" 

3.  The  Future  of  the  Language,  312 

BIBLIOGRAPHY,  323 

LIST  OF  WORDS  AND  PHRASES,  340 

GENERAL  INDEX,  368 


By  Way  of  Introduction 

§1 

The  Diverging  Streams — Thomas  Jefferson,  with  his  usual 
prevision,  saw  clearly  more  than  a  century  ago  that  the  Ameri- 
can people,  as  they  increased  in  numbers  and  in  the  diversity  of 
their  national  interests  and  racial  strains,  would  make  changes 
in  their  mother  tongue,  as  they  had  already  made  changes  in  the 
political  institutions  of  their  inheritance.  ("The  new  circum- 
stances under  which  we  are  placed,"  he  wrote  to  John  "Waldo 
from  Montieello  on  August  16,  1813,  "call  for  new  words,  new 
phrases,  and  for  the  transfer  of  old  words  to  new  objects.  An 
American  dialect  will  therefore  be  formed. ' ' 

Nearly  a  quarter  of  a  century  before  this,  another  great  Amer- 
ican, and  one  with  an  expertness  in  the  matter  that  the  too  ver- 
satile Jefferson  could  not  muster,  had  ventured  upon  a  prophecy 
even  more  bold  and  specific.  He  was  Noah  Webster,  then  at  the 
beginning  of  his  stormy  career  as  a  lexicographer.  In  his  little 
volume  of  "Dissertations  on  the  English  Language,"  printed  in 
1789  and  dedicated  to  "His  Excellency,  Benjamin  Franklin, 
Esq.,  LL.D.,  F.R.S.,  late  President  of  the  Commonwealth  of 
Pennsylvania,"  Webster  argued  that  the  time  for  regarding 
English  usage  and  submitting  to  English  authority  had  already 
passed,  and  that  "a  future  separation  of  the  American  tongue 
from  the  English"  was  "  necessary  and  unavoidable."  "Nu- 
merous local  causes, ' '  he  continued, ' '  such  as  a  new  country,  new 
associations  of  people,  new  combinations  of  ideas  in  arts  and 
sciences,  and  some  intercourse  with  tribes  wholly  unknown  in 
Europe,  will  introduce  new  words  into  the  American  tongue. 
These  causes  will  produce,  in  a  course  of  time,  a  language  in 

1 


2  THE   AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

North  America  as  different  from  the  future  language  of  Eng- 
land as  the  modern  Dutch,  Danish  and  Swedish  are  from  the 
German,  or  from  one  another. ' '  x\ 

Neither  Jefferson  nor  Webster  put  a  term  upon  his  prophecy. 
They  may  have  been  thinking,  one  or  both,  of  a  remote  era,  not 
yet  come  to  dawn,  or  they  may  have  been  thinking,  with  the 
facile  imagination  of  those  days,  of  a  period  even  earlier  than 
our  own.  In  the  latter  case,  they  allowed  far  too  little  (and 
particularly  Webster)  for  factors  that  have  worked  powerfully 
against  the  influences  they  saw  so  clearly  in  operation  about 
them.  One  of  these  factors,  obviously,  has  been  the  vast  im- 
provement in  communications  across  the  ocean,  a  change  scarcely 
in  vision  a  century  ago.  It  has  brought  New  York  relatively 
nearer  to  London  today  than  it  was  to  Boston,  or  even  to  Phila- 
delphia, during  Jefferson's  presidency,  and  that  greater  prox- 
imity has  produced  a  steady  interchange  of  ideas,  opinions,  news 
and  mere  gossip.  We  latter-day  Americans  know  a  great  deal 
more  about  the  everyday  affairs  of  England  than  the  early  Amer- 
icans, for  we  read  more  English  books,  and  have  more  about  the 
English  in  our  newspapers,  and  meet  more  Englishmen,  and  go 
to  England  much  oftener.  The  effects  of  this  ceaseless  traffic  in 
ideas  and  impressions,  so  plainly  visible  in  politics,  in  ethics  and 
aesthetics,  and  even  in  the  minutae  of  social  intercourse,  are  also 
to  be  seen  in  the  language.  On  the  one  hand  there  is  a  swift 
exchange  of  new  inventions  on  both  sides,  so  that  much  of  our 
American  slang  quickly  passes  to  London  and  the  latest  Eng- 
lish fashions  in  pronunciation  are  almost  instantaneously  imi- 
tated, at  least  by  a  minority,  in  New  York ;  and  on  the  other  hand 
the  English,  by  so  constantly  having  the  floor,  force  upon  us,  out 
of  their  firmer  resolution  and  certitude,  a  somewhat  sneaking 
respect  for  their  own  greater  conservatism  of  speech,  so  that  our 
professors  of  the  language,  in  the  overwhelming  main,  combat 
all  signs  of  differentiation  with  the  utmost  diligence,  and  safe- 
guard the  doctrine  that  the  standards  of  English  are  the  only 
reputable  standards  of  American. 

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

i  Pp.  22-23. 


BY   WAY   OF   INTRODUCTION  3 

language,  nor  has  it  prevented  the  large  divergences  that  we 
shall  presently  examine,  but  all  the  same  it  has  worked  steadily 
toward  a  highly  artificial  formalism,  and  as  steadily  against  the 
investigation  of  the  actual  national  speech.  Such  grammar,  so- 
called,  as  is  taught  in  our  schools  and  colleges,  is  a  grammar 
standing  four-legged  upon  the  theorizings  and  false  inferences 
of  English  Latinists,  eager  only  to  break  the  wild  tongue  of 
Shakespeare  to  a  rule;  and  its  frank  aim  is  to  create  in  us  a 
high  respect  for  a  book  language  which  few  of  us  ever  actually 
speak  and  not  many  of  us  even  learn  to  write.  That  language, 
heavily  artificial  though  it  may  be,  undoubtedly  has  notable 
merits.  It  shows  a  sonority  and  a  stateliness  that  you  must  go 
to  the  Latin  of  the  Golden  Age  to  match;  its  "highly  charged 
and  heavy-shotted"  periods,  in  Matthew  Arnold's  phrase,  serve 
admirably  the  obscurantist  purposes  of  American  pedagogy  and 
of  English  parliamentary  oratory  and  leader- writing ;  it  is  some- 
thing for  the  literary  artists  of  both  countries  to  prove  their  skill 
upon  by  flouting  it.  But  to  the  average  American,  bent  upon 
expressing  his  ideas,  not  stupendously  but  merely  clearly,  it 
must  always  remain  something  vague  and  remote,  like  Greek 
history  or  the  properties  of  the  parabola,  for  he  never  speaks  it 
or  hears  it  spoken,  and  seldom  encounters  it  in  his  everyday 
reading.  If  he  learns  to  write  it,  which  is  not  often,  it  is  with  a 
rather  depressing  sense  of  its  artificiality.  He  may  master  it  as 
a  Korean,  bred  in  the  colloquial  Onmun,  may  master  the  literary 
Korean- Chinese,  but  he  never  thinks  in  it  or  quite  feels  it. 

This  fact,  I  daresay,  is  largely  responsible  for  the  notorious 
failure  of  our  schools  to  turn  out  students  who  can  put  their 
ideas  into  words  with  simplicity  and  intelligibility.  What  their 
professors  try  to  teach  is  not  their  mother-tongue  at  all,  but  a  dia- 
lect that  stands  quite  outside  their  common  experience,  and  into 
which  they  have  to  translate  their  thoughts,  consciously  and 
painfully.  Bad  writing  consists  in  making  the  attempt,  and  fail- 
ing through  lack  of  practise.  Good  writing  consists,  as  in  the 
case  of  Howells,  in  deliberately  throwing  overboard  the  principles 
so  elaborately  inculcated,  or,  as  in  the  case  of  Lincoln,  in  stand- 
ing unaware  of  them.  Thus  the  study  of  the  language  he  is 


4  THE   AMERICAN  LANGUAGE 

supposed  to  use,  to  the  average  American,  takes  on  a  sort  of 
bilingual  character.  On  the  one  hand,  he  is  grounded  abominably 
in  a  grammar  and  syntax  that  have  always  been  largely  arti- 
ficial, even  in  the  country  where  they  are  supposed  to  prevail, 
and  on  the  other  hand  he  has  to  pick  up  the  essentials  of  his  ac- 
tual speech  as  best  he  may.  ' '  Literary  English, ' '  says  Van  Wyck 
Brooks,2  "with  us  is  a  tradition,  just  as  Anglo-Saxon  law  with  us 
is  a  tradition.  They  persist,  not  as  the  normal  expressions  of 
a  race,  .  .  .  but  through  prestige  and  precedent  and  the  will  and 
habit  of  a  dominating  class  largely  out  of  touch  with  a  national 
fabric  unconsciously  taking  form  out  of  school."  What  thus 
goes  on  out  of  school  does  not  interest  the  guardians  of  our  lin- 
guistic morals.  No  attempt  to  deduce  the  principles  of  Ameri- 
can grammar,  or  even  of  American  syntax,  from  the  everyday 
speech  of  decently  spoken  Americans  has  ever  been  made.  There 
is  no  scientific  study,  general  and  comprehensive  in  scope,  of  the 
American  vocabulary,  or  of  the  influences  lying  at  the  root  of 
American  word-formation.  No  American  philologist,  so  far  as  I 
know,  has  ever  deigned  to  give  the  same  sober  attention  to  the 
sermo  plebeius  of  his  country  that  he  habitually  gives  to  the 
mythical  objective  case  in  theoretical  English,  or  to  the  pro- 
nunciation of  Latin,  or  to  the  irregular  verbs  in  French. 

§2 

The  Academic  Attitude — This  neglect  of  the  vulgate  by  those 
professionally  trained  to  investigate  it,  and  its  disdainful  dis- 
missal when  it  is  considered  at  all,  are  among  the  strangest  phe- 
nomena of  American  scholarship.  In  all  other  countries  the 
everyday  speech  of  the  people,  and  even  the  speech  of  the  il- 
literate, have  the  constant  attention  of  philologists,  and  the  laws 
of  their  growth  and  variation  are  elaborately  studied.  In 
France,  to  name  but  one  agency,  there  is  the  Societe  des  Parlers 
de  France,  with  its  diligent  inquiries  into  changing  forms; 
moreover,  the  Academic  itself  is  endlessly  concerned  with  the 

2  America's  Coming  of  Age;  New  York,  1915,  p.  15.  See  also  the  preface 
to  Every-Day  English,  by  Richard  Grant  White;  Boston,  1881,  p.  xviii. 


BY  WAY   OF   INTRODUCTION  5 

subject,  and  is  at  great  pains  to  observe  and  note  every  fluctua- 
tion in  usage.3  In  Germany,  amid  many  other  such,  works,  there 
are  the  admirable  grammars  of  the  spoken  speech  by  Dr.  Otto 
Bremer.  In  Sweden  there  are  several  journals  devoled  to  the 
study  of  the  vulgate,  and  the  government  has  recently  granted  a 
subvention  of  7500  kronen  a  year  to  an  organization  of  scholars 
called  the  Undersokningen  av  Svenska  Folkmaal,  formed  to  in- 
vestigate it  systematically.4  In  Norway  there  is  a  widespread 
movement  to  overthrow  the  official  Dano-Norwegian,  and  substi- 
tute a  national  language  based  upon  the  speech  of  the  peasants.5 
In  Spain  the  Academia  is  constantly  at  work  upon  its  great 
Diccionario,  Ortografia  and  Gramatica,  and  revises  them  at  fre- 
quent intervals  (the  last  time  in  1914),  taking  in  all  new  words 
as  they  appear  and  all  new  forms  of  old  ones.  And  in  Latin- 
America,  to  come  nearer  to  our  own  case,  the  native  philologists 
have  produced  a  copious  literature  on  the  matter  closest  at  hand, 

s  The  common  notion  that  the  Academic  combats  changes  is  quite  erro- 
neous. In  the  preface  to  the  first  edition  of  its  dictionary  (1694)  it  dis- 
claimed any  purpose  "to  make  new  words  and  to  reject  others  at  its  pleas- 
ure." In  the  preface  to  the  second  edition  (1718)  it  confessed  that  "ig- 
norance and  corruption  often  introduce  manners  of  writing"  and  that  "con- 
venience establishes  them."  In  the  preface  to  the  third  edition  (1740) 
it  admitted  that  it  was  "forced  to  admit  changes  which  the  public  has 
made."  And  so  on.  Says  D.  M.  Robertson,  in  A  History  of  the  French 
Academy  (London,  1910):  "The  Academy  repudiates  any  assumption  of 
authority  over  the  language  with  which  the  public  in  its  own  practise  has 
not  first  clothed  it.  So  much,  indeed,  does  it  confine  itself  to  an  interpre- 
tation merely  of  the  laws  of  language  that  its  decisions*  are  sometimes  con- 
trary to  its  own  judgment  of  what  is  either  desirable  or  expedient." 

*  Cf.  Scandinavian  Studies  and  Notes,  vol.  iv,  no.  3,  Aug.  1917,  p.  258. 

5  This  movement  won  official  recognition  so  long  ago  as  1885,  when  the 
Storting  passed  the  first  of  a  series  of  acts  designed  to  put  the  two  lan- 
guages on  equal  footing.  Four  years  later,  after  a  campaign  going  back  to 
1874,  provision  was  made  for  teaching  the  landsmaal  in  the  schools  for  the 
training  of  primary  teachers.  In  1899  a  professorship  of  the  landsmaal  was 
established  in  the  University  of  Christiania.  The  school  boards  in  the  case 
of  primary  schools,  and  the  pupils  in  the  case  of  middle  and  high  schools 
are  now  permitted  to  choose  between  the  two  languages,  and  the  landsmaal 
has  been  given  official  status  by  the  State  Church.  The  chief  impediment 
to  its  wider  acceptance  lies  in  the  fact  that  it  is  not,  as  it  stands,  a  natural 
language,  but  an  artificial  amalgamation  of  peasant  dialects.  It  was  de- 
vised in  1848-50  by  Ivar  Aasen.  Vide  The  Language  Question,  London 
Times  Norwegian  Supplement,  May  18,  1914. 


6  THE    AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

and  one  finds  in  it  very  excellent  works  upon  the  Portuguese 
dialect  of  Brazil,  and  the  variations  of  Spanish  in  Mexico,  the 
Argentine,  Chili,  Peru,  Ecuador,  Uraguay  and  even  Honduras 
and  Costa  Rica."  But  in  the  United  States  the  business  has  at- 
tracted little  attention,  and  less  talent.  The  only  existing  formal 
treatise  upon  the  subject 7  was  written  by  a  Swede  trained  in 
Germany  and  is  heavy  with  errors  and  omissions.  And  the  only 
usable  dictionary  of  Americanisms  8  was  written  in  England,  and 
is  the  work  of  an  expatriated  lawyer.  Not  a  single  volume  by  a 
native  philologist,  familiar  with  the  language  by  daily  contact 
and  professionally  equipped  for  the  business,  is  to  be  found  in 
the  meagre  bibliography. 

I  am  not  forgetting,  of  course,  the  early  explorations  of  Noah 
Webster,  of  which  much  more  anon,  nor  the  labors  of  our  later 
dictionary  makers,  nor  the  inquiries  of  the  American  Dialect  So- 
ciety,9 nor  even  the  occasional  illuminations  of  such  writers  as 
Richard  Grant  White,  Thomas  S.  Lounsbury  and  Brander  Mat- 
thews. But  all  this  preliminary  work  has  left  the  main  field 
almost  uncharted.  Webster,  as  we  shall  see,  was  far  more  a 
reformer  of  the  American  dialect  than  a  student  of  it.  He  in- 
troduced radical  changes  into  its  spelling  and  pronunciation,  but 
he  showed  little  understanding  of  its  direction  and  genius.  One 
always  sees  in  him,  indeed,  the  teacher  rather  than  the  scientific 
inquirer;  the  ardor  of  his  desire  to  expound  and  instruct  was 
only  matched  by  his  infinite  capacity  for  observing  inaccurately, 
and  his  profound  ignorance  of  elementary  philological  princi- 
ples. In  the  preface  to  the  first  edition  of  his  American  Dic- 
tionary, published  in  1828 — the  first  in  which  he  added  the  quali- 
fying adjective  to  the  title — he  argued  eloquently  for  the  right 
of  Americans  to  shape  their  own  speech  without  regard  to  Eng- 

e  A  few  such  works  are  listed  in  the  bibliography.  More  of  them  are  men- 
tioned in  Americanismos,  by  Miguel  de  Toro  y  Gisbert;  Paris,  n.  d. 

7  Maximilian  Schele  de  Vere :  Americanisms :  The  English  of  the  New 
World;  New  York,  1872. 

s  Richard  H.  Thornton :  An  American  Glossary.  .  .  .,  2  volb. ;  Phila. 
and  London,  1912. 

»  Organized  Feb.  19,  1889,  with  Dr.  ,T.  J.  Child,  of  Harvard,  as  its  first 
president. 


BY   WAY    OF    INTRODUCTION  7 

lish  precedents,  but  only  a  year  before  this  he  had  told  Captain 
Basil  Hall 10  that  he  knew  of  but  fifty  genuine  Americanisms — 
a  truly  staggering  proof  of  his  defective  observation.  Webster 
was  the  first  American  professional  scholar,  and  despite  his  fre- 
quent engrossment  in  public  concerns  and  his  endless  public  con- 
troversies, there  was  always  something  sequestered  and  almost 
medieval  about  him.  The  American  language  that  he  described 
and  argued  for  was  seldom  the  actual  tongue  of  the  folks  about 
him,  but  often  a  sort  of  Volapiik  made  up  of  one  part  faulty  re- 
porting and  nine  parts  academic  theorizing.  In  only  one  de- 
partment did  he  exert  any  lasting  influence,  and  that  was  in  the 
department  of  orthography.  The  fact  that  our  spelling  is  sim- 
pler and  usually  more  logical  than  the  English  we  chiefly  owe  to 
him.  But  it  is  not  to  be  forgotten  that  the  majority  of  his  in- 
novations, even  here,  were  not  adopted,  but  rejected,  nor  is  it  to 
be  forgotten  that  spelling  is  the  least  of  all  the  factors  that  shape 
and  condition  a  language. 

The  same  caveat  lies  against  the  work  of  the  later  makers  of 
dictionaries ;  they  have  gone  ahead  of  common  usage  in  the  mat- 
ter of  orthography,  but  they  have  hung  back  in  the  far  more 
important  matter  of  vocabulary,  and  have  neglected  the  most 
important  matter  of  idiom  altogether.  The  defect  in  the  work  of 
the  Dialect  Society  lies  in  a  somewhat  similar  circumscription 
of  activity.  Its  constitution,  adopted  in  1889,  says  that  "its 
object  is  the  investigation  of  the  spoken  English  of  the  United 
States  and  Canada, ' '  but  that  investigation,  so  far,  has  got  little 
beyond  the  accumulation  of  vocabularies  of  local  dialects,  such 
as  they  are.  Even  in  this  department  its  work  is  very  far  from 
finished,  and  the  Dialect  Dictionary  announced  years  ago  has  not 
yet  appeared.  Until  its  collections  are  completed  and  synchro- 
nized, it  will  be  impossible  for  its  members  to  make  any  profitable 
inquiry  into  the  general  laws  underlying  the  development  of 
American,  or  even  to  attempt  a  classification  of  the  materials 
common  to  the  whole  speech.  The  meagreness  of  the  materials 
accumulated  in  the  five  slow-moving  volumes  of  Dialect  Notes 
shows  clearly,  indeed,  how  little  the  American  philologist,  is  in- 

10  Author  of  Travels  in  North  America;  London,  1829. 


8  THE    AMERICAN    LANGUAGE 

terested  in  the  language  that  falls  upon  his  ears  every  hour  of 
the  day.  And  in  Modern  Language  Notes  that  impression  is  re- 
inforced, for  its  bulky  volumes  contain  exhaustive  studies  of  all 
the  other  living  languages  and  dialects,  but  only  an  occasional 
essay  upon  American. 

Now  add  to  this  general  indifference  a  persistent  and  often 
violent  effort  to  oppose  any  formal  differentiation  of  English  and 
American,  initiated  by  English  purists  but  heartily  supported  by 
various  Americans,  and  you  come,  perhaps,  to  some  understand- 
ing of  the  unsatisfactory  state  of  the  literature  of  the  subject. 
The  pioneer  dictionary  of  Americanisms,  published  in  1816  by 
John  Pickering,  a  Massachusetts  lawyer,11  was  not  only  criti- 
cized unkindly;  it  was  roundly  denounced  as  something  subtly 
impertinent  and  corrupting,  and  even  Noah  Webster  took  a  for- 
midable fling  at  it.12  Most  of  the  American  philologists  of  the 
early  days — Witherspoon,  Worcester,  Fowler,  Cobb  and  their 
like — were  uncompromising  advocates  of  conformity,  and  corn- 
batted  every  indication  of  a  national  independence  in  speech  with 
the  utmost  vigilance.  One  of  their  company,  true  enough,  stood 
out  against  the  rest.  He  was  George  Perkins  Marsh,  and  in  his 
j  "Lectures  on  the  English  Language"  13  he  argued  that  "in  point 
of  naked  syntactical  accuracy,  the  English  of  America  is  not  at 
all  inferior  to  that  of  England. ' '  But  even  Marsh  expressed  the 
hope  that  Americans  would  not,  ' '  with  malice  prepense,  go  about 
to  republicanize  our  orthography  and  our  syntax,  our  grammars 
and  our  dictionaries,  our  nursery  hymns  (sic)  and  our  Bibles" 
to  the  point  of  actual  separation.14  Moreover,  he  was  a  philolo- 
gist only  by  courtesy ;  the  regularly  ordained  school-masters  were 
all  against  him.  The  fear  voiced  by  William  C.  Fowler,  pro- 
fessor of  rhetoric  at  Amherst,  that  Americans  might  "break 
loose  from  the  laws  of  the  English  language"15  altogether,  was 

11  A  Vocabulary  or  Collection  of  Words  and  Phrases  which  Have  Been 
Supposed  to  be  Peculiar  to  the  United  States  of  America;  Boston,  1810. 

12  A  Letter  to  the  Hon.  John  Pickering  on  the  Subject  of  His  Vocabu- 
lary; Boston,  1817. 

is  4th  ed.,  New  York,  1870,  p.  669. 
I*  Op.  cit.  p.  676. 

is  The   English   Language;    New   York    1850;    rev.   ed.,    1835.     This   was 
the  first   American   text-book   of   English   for   use   in   colleges.     P>efore   its 


BY   WAY    OF    INTRODUCTION  9 

echoed  by  the  whole  fraternity,  and  so  the  corrective  bastinado 
was  laid  on. 

It  remained,  however,  for  two  professors  of  a  later  day  to 
launch  the  doctrine  that  the  independent  growth  of  American 
was  not  only  immoral,  but  a  sheer  illusion.  They  were  Richard 
Grant  White,  for  long  the  leading  American  writer  upon  lan- 
guage questions,  at  least  in  popular  esteem,  and  Thomas  S. 
Lounsbury,  for  thirty-five  years  professor  of  the  English  lan- 
guage and  literature  in  the  Sheffield  Scientific  School  at  Yale,  and 
an  indefatigable  controversialist.  Both  men  were  of  the  utmost 
industry  in  research,  and  both  had  wide  audiences.  White's 
1 '  Words  and  Their  Uses, ' '  published  in  1872,  was  a  mine  of  eru- 
dition, and  his  ' '  Everyday  English, ' '  following  eight  years  later, 
was  another.  True  enough,  Fitzedward  Hall,  the  Anglo-Indian- 
American  philologist,  disposed  of  many  of  his  etymologies  and 
otherwise  did  execution  upon  him,16  but  in  the  main  his  conten- 
tions held  water.  Lounsbury  was  also  an  adept  and  favorite 
expositor.  His  attacks  upon  certain  familiar  pedantries  of  the 
grammarians  were  penetrating  and  effective,  and  his  two  books, 
"The  Standard  of  Usage  in  English"  and  "The  Standard  of 
Pronunciation  in  English,"  not  to  mention  his  excellent  "His- 
tory of  the  English  Language"  and  his  numerous  magazine  ar- 
ticles, showed  a  profound  knowledge  of  the  early  development  of 
the  language,  and  an  admirable  spirit  of  free  inquiry.  But 
both  of  these  laborious  scholars,  when  they  turned  from  English 
proper  to  American  English,  displayed  an  unaccountable  desire 
to  deny  its  existence  altogether,  and  to  the  support  of  that  denial 
they  brought  a  critical  method  that  was  anything  but  unpreju- 
diced. White  devoted  not  less  than  eight  long  articles  in  the 
Atlantic  Monthly  1T  to  a  review  of  the  fourth  edition  of  John 

publication,  according  to  Fowler  himself  (rev.  ed.,  p.  xi),  the  language  was 
studied  only  "superficially"  and  "in  the  primary  schools."  He  goes  on: 
"Afterward,  when  older,  in  the  academy,  during  their  preparation  for  col- 
lege, our  pupils  perhaps  despised  it,  in  comparison  with  the  Latin  and 
the  Greek ;  and  in  the  college  they  do  not  systematically  study  the  language 
after  they  come  to  maturity." 

i«  In  Recent  Exemplifications  of  False  Philology;  London,  1872. 

IT  Americanisms,  parts  I- VIII,  April,  May,  July,  Sept.,  Nov.,  1878;  Jan., 
March,  May,  1879. 


10  THE   AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

Russell  Bartlett's  American  Glossary,18  and  when  he  came  to  the 
end  he  had  disposed  of  nine-tenths  of  Bartlett's  specimens  and 
called  into  question  the  authenticity  of  at  least  half  of  what  re- 
mained. And  no  wonder,  for  his  method  was  simply  that  of 
erecting  tests  so  difficult  and  so  arbitrary  that  only  the  excep- 
tional word  or  phrase  could  pass  them,  and  then  only  by  a  sort 
of  chance.  ' '  To  stamp  a  word  or  a  phrase  as  an  Americanism, ' ' 
he  said,  "it  is  necessary  to  show  that  (1)  it  is  of  so-called  'Amer- 
ican' origin — that  is,  that  it  first  came  into  use  in  the  United 
States  of  North  America,  or  that  (2)  it  has  been  adopted  in  those 
States  from  some  language  other  than  English,  or  has  been  kept 
in  use  there  while  it  has  wholly  passed  out  of  use  in  England." 
Going  further,  he  argued  that  unless  "the  simple  words  in  com- 
pound names"  were  used  in  America  "in  a  sense  different  from 
that  in  which  they  are  used  in  England"  the  compound  itself 
could  not  be  regarded  as  an  Americanism.  The  absurdity  of  all 
this  is  apparent  when  it  is  remembered  that  one  of  his  rules 
would  bar  out  such  obvious  Americanisms  as  the  use  of  sick  in 
place  of  HI,  of  molasses  for  treacle,  and  of  fall  for  autumn,  for 
all  of  these  words,  while  archaic  in  England,  are  by  no  means 
L  wholly  extinct ;  and  that  another  would  dispose  of  that  vast  cate- 
*  gory  of  compounds  which  includes  such  unmistakably  character- 
istic Americanisms  as  joy-ride,  rake-off,  show-down,  up-lift,  out- 
house, rubber-neck,  chair-warmer,  fire-eater  and  back-talk. 

Lounsbury  went  even  further.  In  the  course  of  a  series  of  ar- 
ticles in  Harper's  Magazine,  in  1913,19  he  laid  down  the  dogma 
that  "cultivated  speech  .  .  .  affords  the  only  legitimate  basis 
of  comparison  between  the  language  as  used  in  England  and  in 
America, ' '  and  then  went  on : 

In  the  only  really  proper  sense  of  the  term,  an  Americanism  is  a 
word  or  phrase  naturally  used  by  an  educated  American  which  under 
similar  conditions  would  not  be  used  by  an  educated  Englishman.  The 
emphasis,  it  will  be  seen,  lies  in  the  word  "educated." 

This  curious  criterion,  fantastic  as  it  must  have  seemed  to 

is  A  Glossary  of  Words  and  Phrases  Usually  Regarded  as  Peculiar  to  the 
United  States,  4th  ed.;  Boston,  1877. 
is  Feb.,  March,  June,  July,  Sept. 


BY   WAY   OF   INTRODUCTION  11 

European  philologists,  was  presently  reinforced,  for  in  his  fourth 
article  Lounsbury  announced  that  his  discussion  was  "restricted 
to  the  written  speech  of  educated  men."  The  result,  of  course, 
was  a  wholesale  slaughter  of  Americanisms.  If  it  was  not  impos- 
sible to  reject  a  word,  like  White,  on  the  ground  that  some  stray 
English  poet  or  other  had  once  used  it,  it  was  almost  always  pos- 
sible to  reject  it  on  the  ground  that  it  was  not  admitted  into  the 
vocabulary  of  a  college  professor  when  he  sat  down  to  compose 
formal  book-English.  What  remained  was  a  small  company,  in- 
deed— and  almost  the  whole  field  of  American  idiom  and  Ameri- 
can grammar,  so  full  of  interest  for  the  less  austere  explorer, 
was  closed  without  even  a  peek  into  it. 

White  and  Lounsbury  dominated  the  arena  and  fixed  the 
fashion.  The  later  national  experts  upon  the  national  language, 
with  a  few  somewhat  timorous  exceptions,  pass  over  its  peculiari- 
ties without  noticing  them.  So  far  as  I  can  discover,  there  is  not 
a  single  treatise  in  type  upon  one  of  its  most  salient  characters — 
the  wide  departure  of  some  of  its  vowel  sounds  from  those  of 
orthodox  English.  Marsh,  C.  H.  Grandgent  and  Robert  J.  Men- 
ner  have  printed  a  number^of  valuable  essays  upon  the  subject, 
but  there  is  no  work  that  co-ordinates  their  inquiries  or  that  at- 
tempts otherwise  to  cover  the  field.  When,  in  preparing  mate- 
rials for  the  following  chapters,  I  sought  to  determine  the  his- 
tory of  the  a-sound  in  America,  I  found  it  necessary  to  plow 
through  scores  of  ancient  spelling-books,  and  to  make  deductions, 
perhaps  sometimes  rather  rash,  from  the  works  of  Franklin, 
Webster  and  Cobb.  Of  late  the  National  Council  of  Teachers  of 
English  has  appointed  a  Committee  on  American  Speech  and 
sought  to  let  some  light  into  the  matter,  but  as  yet  its  labors  are 
barely  begun  and  the  publications  of  its  members  get  little  beyond 
preliminaries.  Such  an  inquiry  involves  a  laboriousness  which 
should  have  intrigued  Lounsbury:  he  once  counted  the  number 
of  times  the  word  female  appears  in  "Vanity  Fair."  But  you 
will  find  only  a  feeble  dealing  with  the  question  in  his  book  on 
pronunciation.  Nor  is  there  any  adequate  work  (for  Schele  de 
Vere's  is  full  of  errors  and  omissions)  upon  the  influences  felt 
by  American  through  contact  with  the  languages  of  our  millions 


12  THE   AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

of  immigrants,  nor  upon  our  peculiarly  rich  and  characteristic 
slang.  There  are  several  excellent  dictionaries  of  English  slang, 
and  many  more  of  French  slang,  but  I  have  been  able  to  find  but 
one  devoted  exclusively  to  American  slang,  and  that  one  is  a 
very  bad  one. 

§3 

The  View  of  Writing  Men — But  though  the  native  Gelehrten 
thus  neglect  the  vernacular,  or  even  oppose  its  study,  it  has  been 
the  object  of  earnest  lay  attention  since  an  early  day,  and  that 
attention  has  borne  fruit  in  a  considerable  accumulation  of  mate- 
rials, if  not  in  any  very  accurate  working  out  of  its  origins  and 
principles.  The  English,  too,  have  given  attention  to  it — often, 
alas,  satirically,  or  even  indignantly.  For  a  long  while,  as  we 
shall  see,  they  sought  to  stem  its  differentiation  by  heavy  denun- 
ciations of  its  vagaries,  and  so  late  as  the  period  of  the  Civil 
War  they  attached  to  it  that  quality  of  abhorrent  barbarism 
which  they  saw  as  the  chief  mark  of  the  American  people.  But 
in  later  years  they  have  viewed  it  with  a  greater  showing  of  sci- 
entific calm,  and  its  definite  separatiin  from  correct  English,  at 
least  as  a  spoken  tongue,  is  now  quite  frankly  admitted.  The 
Cambridge  History  of  English  Literature,  for  example,  says  that 
English  and  American  are  now  "notably  dissimilar"  in  vocab- 
ulary, and  that  the  latter  is  splitting  off  into  a  distinct  dialect.20 
The  Eleventh  Edition  of  the  Encyclopaedia  Britannica,  going 
further,  says  that  the  two  languages  are  already  so  far  apart  that 
"it  is  not  uncommon  to  meet  with  [American]  newspaper  articles 
of  which  an  untravelled  Englishman  would  hardly  be  able  to 
understand  a  sentence. " 21  A  great  many  other  academic  au- 
thorities, including  A.  H.  Sayce  and  H.  W.  and  F.  G.  Fowler, 
bear  testimony  to  the  same  effect. 

On  turning  to  the  men  actually  engaged  in  writing  English, 
and  particularly  to  those  aspiring  to  an  American  audience,  one 
finds  nearly  all  of  them  adverting,  at  some  time  or  other,  to  the 
growing  difficulties  of  intercommunication.  William  Archer, 

20  Vol.  xiv,  pp.  484-5;  Cambridge,  1917. 

21  Vol.  xxv,  p.  209. 


BY  WAY    OF   INTRODUCTION  13 

Arnold  Bennett,  H.  G.  Wells,  Sidney  Low,  the  Chestertons  and 
Kipling  are  some  of  those  who  have  dealt  with  the  matter  at 
length.  Low,  in  an  article  in  the  Westminster  Gazette  22  iron- 
ically headed  "Ought  American  to  be  Taught  in  our  Schools?" 
has  described  how  the  latter-day  British  business  man  is  "puz- 
zled by  his  ignorance  of  colloquial  American"  and  "painfully 
hampered ' '  thereby  in  his  handling  of  American  trade.  He  con- 
tinues : 

In  the  United  States  of  North  America  the  study  of  the  English 
tongue  forms  part  of  the  educational  scheme.  I  gather  this  because  I 
find  that  they  have  professors  of  the  English  language  and  literature 
in  the  Universities  there,  and  I  note  that  in  the  schools  there  are  certain 
hours  alloted  for  "English"  under  instructors  who  specialize  in  that 
subject.  This  is  quite  right.  English  is  still  far  from  being  a  dead 
language,  and  our  American  kinsfolk  are  good  enough  to  appreciate 
the  fact. 

But  I  think  we  should  return  the  compliment.  We  ought  to  learn 
the  American  language  in  our  schools  and  colleges.  At  present  it  is 
strangely  neglected  by  the  educational  authorities.  They  pay  attention 
to  linguistic  attainments  of  many  other  kinds,  but  not  to  this.  How 
many  thousands  of  youths  are  at  this  moment  engaged  in  puzzling  their 
brains  over  Latin  and  Greek  -grammar  only  Whitehall  knows.  Every 
well-conducted  seminary  has  some  instructor  who  is  under  the  delusion 
that  he  is  teaching  English  boys  and  girls  to  speak  French  with  a  good 
Parisian  accent.  We  teach  German,  Italian,  even  Spanish,  Russian, 
modern  Greek,  Arabic,  Hindustani.  For  a  moderate  fee  you  can  ac- 
quire a  passing  acquaintance  with  any  of  these  tongues  at  the  Berlitz 
Institute  and  the  Gouin  Schools.  But  even  in  these  polyglot  establish- 
ments there  is  nobody  to  teach  you  American.  I  have  never  seen  a 
grammar  of  it  or  a  dictionary.  I  have  searched  in  vain  at  the  book- 
sellers for  "How  to  Learn  American  in  Three  Weeks"  or  some  similar 
compendium.  Nothing  of  the  sort  exists.  The  native  speech  of  one 
hundred  millions  of  civilized  people  is  as  grossly  neglected  by  the  pub- 
lishers as  it  is  by  the  schoolmasters.  You  can  find  means  to  learn 
Hausa  or  Swahili  or  Cape  Dutch  in  London  more  easily  than  the  ex- 
pressive, if  difficult,  tongue  which  is  spoken  in  the  office,  the  bar-room, 
the  tram-car,  from  the  snows  of  Alaska  to  the  mouths  of  the  Missis- 
sippi, and  is  enshrined  in  a  literature  that  is  growing  in  volume  and 
every  day. 

Low  then  quotes  an  extract  from  an  American  novel  appear- 
as  July  18,  1913. 


\ 


14  THE   AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

ing  serially  in  an  English  magazine — an  extract  including  such 
Americanisms  as  side-stepper,  saltwater-taffy,  Prince-Albert 
(coat),  boob,  bartender  and'  kidding,  and  many  characteristically 
American  extravagances  of  metaphor.  It  might  be  well  argued, 
he  goes  on,  that  this  strange  dialect  is  as  near  to  "the  tongue 
that  Shakespeare  spoke"  as  "the  dialect  of  Bayswater  or  Brix- 
ton,"  but  that  philological  fact  does  not  help  to  its  understand- 
ing. "You  might  almost  as  well  expect  him  [the  British  busi- 
ness man]  to  converse  freely  with  a  Portuguese  railway  porter 
because  he  tried  to  stumble  through  Caesar  when  he  was  in  the 
Upper  Fourth  at  school. ' ' 

In  the  London  Daily  Mail,  W.  G.  Faulkner  lately  launched  this 
proposed  campaign  of  education  by  undertaking  to  explain  vari- 
ous terms  appearing  in  American  moving-pictures  to  English 
spectators.  Mr.  Faulkner  assumed  that  most  of  his  readers 
would  understand  sombrero,  sidewalk,  candy-store,  freight -car, 
boost,  elevator,  boss,  crook  and  fall  (for  autumn}  without  help, 
but  he  found  it  necessary  to  define  such  commonplace  Ameri- 
canisms as  hoodlum,  hobo,  bunco-steerer,  rubber-neck,  drummer, 
sucker,  dive  (in  the  sense  of  a  thieves'  resort),  clean-up,  graft 
and  to~Jeafure.  Curiously  enough,  he  proved  the  reality  of  the 
difficulties  he  essayed  to  level  by  falling  into  error  as  to  the  mean- 
ings of  some  of  the  terms  he  listed,  among  them  dead-beat,  flume, 
dub  and  stag.  Another  English  expositor,  apparently  following 
him,  thought  it  necessary  to  add  definitions  of  hold-up,  quitter, 
rube,  shack,  road-agent,  cinch,  live-wire  and  scab,23  but  he,  too, 
mistook  the  meaning  of  dead-beat,  and  in  addition  he  misdefined 
band-wagon  and  substituted  get-out,  seemingly  an  invention  of 
his  own,  for  get-away.  Faulkner,  somewhat  belated  in  his  ani- 
mosity, seized  the  opportunity  to  read  a  homily  upon  the  vulgar- 
ity and  extravagance  of  the  American  language,  and  argued  that 
the  introduction  of  ite  coinages  through  the  moving-picture 
theatre  (Anglais,  cinema)  "cannot  be  regarded  without  serious 

23  Of  the  words  cited  as  still  unfamiliar  in  England,  Thornton  has 
traced  hobo  to  1891,  hold-up  and  bunco  to  1887,  dive  to  1882,  dead-beat  to 
1877,  hoodlum  to  1872,  road-agent  to  1866,  stag  to  1856,  drummer  to  1836 
and  flume  to  1792.  All  of  them  are  probably  older  than  these  references  in- 
dicate. 


BY   WAY    OF   INTRODUCTION  15 

misgivings,  if  only  because  it  generates  and  encourages  mental 
indiscipline  so  far  as  the  choice  of  expressions  is  concerned." 
In  other  words,  the  greater  pliability  and  resourcefulness  of 
American  is  a  fault  to  be  corrected  by  the  English  tendency  to 
hold  to  that  which  is  established. 

Cecil  Chesterton,  in  the  New  Witness,  recently  called  atten- 
tion to  the  increasing  difficulty  of  intercommunication,  not  only 
verbally,  but  in  writing.  The  American  newspapers,  he  said, 
even  the  best  of  them,  admit  more  and  more  locutions  that  puzzle 
and  dismay  an  English  reader.  After  quoting  a  characteristic 
headline  he  went  on : 

I  defy  any  ordinary  Englishman  to  say  that  that  is  the  English  lan- 
guage or  that  he  can  find  any  intelligible  meaning  in  it.  Even  a  dic- 
tionary will  be  of  no  use  to  him.  He  must  know  the  language  collo- 
quially or  not  at  all.  .  .  .  No  doubt  it  is  easier  for  an  Englishman  to  ; 
understand  American  than  it  would  be  for  a  Frenchman  to  do  the  same, 
just  as  it  is  easier  for  a  German  to  understand  Dutch  than  it  would  be 
for  a  Spaniard.  But  it  does  not  make  the  American  language  identical 
with  the  English.2* 

Chesterton,  however,  refrained  from  denouncing  this  lack  of 
identity ;  on  the  contrary,  he  allowed  certain  merits  to  American. 
"I  do  not  want  anybody  to  suppose,"  he  said,  "that  the  Ameri- 
can language  is  in  any  way  inferior  to  ours.  In  some  ways  it  has 
improved  upon  it  in  vigor  and  raciness.  In  other  ways  it  ad- 
heres more  closely  to  the  English  of  the  best  period."  Testi- 
mony to  the  same  end  was  furnished  before  this  by  William 
Archer.  "New  words,"  he  said,  "are  begotten  by  new  condi- 
tions of  life ;  and  as  American  life  is  far  more  fertile  of  new  con- 
ditions than  ours,  the  tendency  toward  neologism  cannot  but 
be  stronger  in  America  than  in  England.  America  has  enor- 
mously enriched  the  language,  not  only  with  new  words,  but 
(since  the  American  mind  is,  on  the  whole,  quicker  and  wittier 
than  the  English)  with  apt  and  luminous  colloquial  meta- 
phors."25 

The  list  of  such  quotations  might  be  indefinitely  prolonged. 

24  Summarized  in  Literary  Digest,  June  19,  1915. 
26  America  Today,  Berliner's,  Feb.  1899,  p.  218. 


16  THE    AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

There  is  scarcely  an  English  book  upon  the  United  States  which 
does  not  offer  some  discussion,  more  or  less  profound,  of  Ameri- 
can peculiarities  of  speech,  both  as  they  are  revealed  in  spoken 
discourse  (particularly  pronunciation  and  intonation)  and  as 
they  show  themselves  in  popular  literature  and  in  the  news- 
papers, and  to  this  discussion  protest  is  often  added,  as  it  very 
often  is  by  the  reviews  and  newspapers.  "The  Americans," 
says  a  typical  critic,  "have  so  far  progressed  with  their  self-ap- 
pointed task  of  creating  an  American  language  that  much  of 
their  conversation  is  now  incomprehensible  to  English  people. ' ' 2* 
On  our  own  side  there  is  almost  equal  evidence  of  a  sense  of  dif- 
ference, despite  the  fact  that  the  educated  American  is  presum- 
ably trained  in  orthodox  English,  and  can  at  least  read  it  without 
much  feeling  of  strangeness.  "The  American,"  says  George 
Ade,  in  his  book  of  travel,  "In  Pastures  New,"  "must  go  to 
England  in  order  to  learn  for  a  dead  certainty  that  he  does  not 
speak  the  English  language.  .  .  .  This  pitiful  fact  comes  home 
to  every  American  when  he  arrives  in  London — that  there  are 
two  languages,  the  English  and  the  American.  One  is  correct; 
the  other  is  incorrect.  One  is  a  pure  and  limpid  stream;  the 
other  is  a  stagnant  pool,  swarming  with  bacilli. ' ' 2T  This  was 
written  in  1906.  Twenty-five  years  earlier  Mark  Twain  had 
made  the  same  observation.  "When  I  speak  my  native  tongue 
in  its  utmost  purity  in  England,"  he  said,  "an  Englishman 
can 't  understand  me  at  all. ' ' 28  The  languages,  continued 
Mark,  "were  identical  several  generations  ago,  but  our  changed 
conditions  and  the  spread  of  our  people  far  to  the  south  and  far 
to  the  west  have  made  many  alterations  in  our  pronunciation, 
and  have  introduced  new  words  among  us  and  changed  the 
meanings  of  old  ones."  Even  before  this  the  great  humorist 
had  marked  and  hailed  these  differences.  Already  in  "Rough- 
ing It"  he  was  celebrating  "the  vigorous  new  vernacular  of  the 

26  London  Court  Journal,  Aug.  28,  1892. 

ZT  In  Pastures  New ;  New  York,  1906,  p.  6. 

28  Concerning  the  American  Language,  in  The  Stolen  White  Elephant ; 
Boston,  1882.  A  footnote  says  that  the  essay  is  "part  of  a  chapter  crowded, 
out  of  A  Tramp  Abroad."  (Hartford,  1880.) 


BY   WAY    OF   INTRODUCTION  17 

occidental  plains  and  mountains, ' ' 20  and  in  all  his  writings,  even 
the  most  serious,  he  deliberately  engrafted  its  greater  liberty 
and  more  fluent  idiom  upon  the  stem  of  English,  and  so  lent  the 
dignity  of  his  high  achievement  to  a  dialect  that  was  as  unmistak- 
ably American  as  the  point  of  view  underlying  it. 

The  same  tendency  is  plainly  visible  in  William  Dean  Howells. 
His  novels  are  mines  of  American  idiom,  and  his  style  shows  an 
undeniable  revolt  against  the  trammels  of  English  grammarians. 
In  1886  he  made  a  plea  in  Harper's  for  a  concerted  effort  to  put 
American  on  its  own  legs.  "If  we  bother  ourselves,"  he  said, 
"to  write  what  the  critics  imagine  to  be  'English/  we  shall  be 
priggish  and  artificial,  and  still  more  so  if  we  make  our  Ameri- 
cans talk  'English.'  .  .  .  On  our  lips  our  continental  English 
will  differ  more  and  more  from  the  insular  English,  and  we  be- 
lieve that  this  is  not  deplorable  but  desirable. ' ' 30  Howells  then 
proceeded  to  discuss  the  nature  of  the  difference,  and  described 
it  accurately  as  determined  by  the  greater  rigidity  and  formality 
of  the  English  of  modern  England.  In  American,  he  said,  there 
was  to  be  seen  that  easy  looseness  of  phrase  and  gait  which  char- 
acterized the  English  of  the  Elizabethan  era,  and  particularly 
the  Elizabethan  hospitality  to  changed  meanings  and  bold  meta- 
phors. American,  he  argued,  made  new  words  much  faster  than 
English,  and  they  were,  in  the  main,  words  of  much  greater 
daring  and  savor. 

The  difference  between  the  two  tongues,  thus  noted  by  the 
writers  of  both,  was  made  disconcertingly  apparent  to  the  Amer- 
ican troops  when  they  first  got  to  France  and  came  into  contact 
with  the  English.  Fraternizing  was  made  difficult  by  the  wide 
divergence  in  vocabulary  and  pronunciation — a  divergence  in- 
terpreted by  each  side  as  a  sign  of  uncouthness.  The  Y.  M.  C.  A. 
made  a  characteristic  effort  to  turn  the  resultant  feeling  of 
strangeness  and  homesickness  among  the  Americans  to  account. 
In  the  Chicago  Tribune's  Paris  edition  of  July  7,  1917,  I  find  a 
large  advertisement  inviting  them  to  make  use  of  the  Y.  M.  C.  A. 

29  Hartford,  1872,  p.  45. 

so  The  Editor's  Study,  Harper's  Magazine,  Jan.  1886. 


18  THE    AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

clubhouse  in  the  Avenue  Montaigue,  "where  American  is 
spoken."  Earlier  in  the  war  the  Illinoiser  Staats  Zeitung,  no 
doubt  seeking  to  keep  the  sense  of  difference  alive,  advertised 
that  it  would  ' '  publish  articles  daily  in  the  American  language. ' ' 

§  4 

Foreign  Observers — What  English  and  American  laymen  have 
thus  observed  has  not  escaped  the  notice  of  continental  philolo- 
gists. The  first  edition  of  Bartlett,  published  in  1848,  brought 
forth  a  long  and  critical  review  in  the  Archiv  fur  das  Studium 
der  neueren  Sprachen  und  Literaturen  by  Prof.  Felix  Fliigel,21 
and  in  the  successive  volumes  of  the  Archiv,  down  to  our  own 
day,  there  have  been  many  valuable  essays  upon  Americanisms, 
by  such  men  as  Herrig,  Koehler  and  Koeppel.  Various  Dutch 
philologists,  among  them  Barentz,  Keijzer  and  Van  der  Voort, 
have  also  discussed  the  subject,  and  a  work  in  French  has  been 
published  by  G.  A.  Barringer.32  That,  even  to  the  lay  Continen- 
tal, American  and  English  now  differ  considerably,  is  demon- 
strated by  the  fact  that  many  of  the.  popular  German  Sprach- 
fuhrer  appear  in  separate  editions,  Amerikanisch  and  Englisch. 
This  is  true  of  the  "Metoula  Sprachf iihrer "  published  by  Prof. 
F.  Lan^nscheidt 33  and  of  the  "Polyglott  Kuntz"  books.34  The 
American  edition  of  the  latter  starts  off  with  the  doctrine  that 
"Jeder,  der  nach  Nord-Amerika  oder  Australien  will,  muss  Eng- 
lisch ko'nnen,"  but  a  great  many  of  the  words  and  phrases  that 
appear  in  its  examples  would  be  unintelligible  to  many  English- 
men— e.  g.,  free-lunch,  real-estate  agent,  buckwheat,  corn  (for 
maize),  conductor,  pop-corn  and  drug-store — and  a  number  of 
others  would  suggest  false  meanings  or  otherwise  puzzle — e.  g., 
napkin,  saloon,  wash-stand,  water-pitcher  and  apple-pie.35  To 

si  Die  englische  Sprache  in  Nordamerika,  band  iv,  heft  i ;  Braunschweig, 
1848. 

32  fitude  sur  1'Anglais  Parle"  aux  Etats  Unis    (la  Langue  Americaine), 
Actes  de  la  Societe  Philologique  de  Paris,  March,  1874. 

33  Metoula-Sprachf iihrer.  .  .  .  Englisch  von  Karl  Blattner;   Ausgabe  fur 
Amerika;   Berlin-Schoneberg,  1912. 

3*  Polyglott  Kuntze ;  Schnellste  Erlernung  jeder  Sprache  ohne  Lehrer ; 
Amerikanisch;  Bonn  a.  Rh.,  n.  d. 

SB  Like  the  English  expositors  of  American  slang,  this  German  falls  int« 


BY   WAY    OF   INTRODUCTION  19 

these  pedagogical  examples  must  be  added  that  of  Baedeker,  of 
guide-book  celebrity.  In  his  guide-book  to  the  United  States, 
prepared  for  Englishmen,  he  is  at  pains  to  explain  the  meaning 
of  various  American  words  and  phrases. 

A  philologist  of  Scandinavian  extraction,  Elias  Molee,  has 
gone  so  far  as  to  argue  that  the  acquisition  of  correct  English,  to 
a  people  grown  so  mongrel  in  blood  as  the  Americans,  has  be- 
come a  useless  burden.  In  place  of  it  he  proposes  a  mixed 
tongue,  based  on  English,  but  admitting  various  elements  from 
the  other  Germanic  languages.  His  grammar,  however,  is  so 
much  more  complex  than  that  of  English  that  most  Americans 
would  probably  find  his  artificial  " American"  very  difficult  of 
acquirement.  At  all  events  it  has  made  no  progress.36 

§5 

The  Characters  of  American — The  characters  chiefly  noted  in 
American  speech  by  all  who  have  discussed  it  are,  first,  its  gen-  -> 
eral  uniformity  throughout  the  country,  so  that,  dialects,  prop-  ^ 
erly  speaking,  are  confined  to  recent  immigrants,  to  the  native    ' 
whites  of  a  few  isolated  areas  and  to  the  negroes  of  the  South ; 
and,  secondly,  its  impatient  disdain  of  rule  and  precedent,  and 
hence  its  large  capacity  (distinctly  greater  than  that  of  the  Eng- 
lish of  England)  for  taking  in  new  words  and  phrases  and  for 
manufacturing  new  locutions  out  of  its  own  materials.     The  first 
of  these  characters  has  struck  every  observer,  native  and  for- 
eign.    In  place  of  the  local  dialects  of  other  countries  we  have  a 
general  Volkssprache  for  the  whole  nation,  and  if  it  is  condi- 

several  errors.  For  example,  he  gives  cock  for  rooster,  boots  for  shoes, 
braces  for  suspenders  and  postman  for  letter-carrier,  and  lists  iron-monger, 
joiner  and  linen-draper,  as  American  terms.  He  also  spells  wagon  in  the 
English  manner,  with  two  g's,  and  translates  Schweinefusse  as  pork-feet. 
But  he  spells  such  words  as  color  in  the  American  manner  and  gives  the 
pronunciation  of  clerk  as  the  American  klork,  not  as  the  English  Mark. 

•  as  Molee's  notions  are  set  forth  in  Plea  for  an  American  Language  .  .  . ; 
Chicago,  1888;  and  Tutonish;  Chicago,  1902.  He  announced  the  prepara- 
tion of  A  Dictionary  of  the  American  Language  in  1888,  but  so  far  as  I 
know  it  has  not  been  published.  He  was  born  in  Wisconsin,  of  Norwegian 
parents,  in  1845,  and  pursued  linguistic  studies  at  the  University  of  Wis- 
consin, where  he  seems  to  have  taken  a  Ph.  B. 


20  THE   AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

tioned  at  all  it  is  only  by  minor  differences  in  pronunciation  and 
by  the  linguistic  struggles  of  various  groups  of  newcomers. 
"The  speech  of  the  United  States,"  said  Gilbert  M.  Tucker,  "is 
quite  unlike  that  of  Great  Britain  in  the  important  particular 
that  here  we  have  no  dialects.37  "We  all,"  said  Mr.  Taft  dur- 
ing his  presidency,  ' '  speak  the  same  language  and  have  the  same 
ideas."  "Manners,  morals  and  political  views,"  said  the  New 
York  World,  commenting  upon  this  dictum,  ' '  have  all  undergone 
a  standardization  which  is  one  of  the  remarkable  aspects  of 
American  evolution.  Perhaps  it  is  in  the  uniformity  of  lan- 
guage that  this  development  has  been  most  noteworthy.  Outside 
of  the  Tennessee  mountains  and  the  back  country  of  New  Eng- 
land there  is  no  true  dialect. " 38  "  While  we  have  or  have  had 
single  counties  as  large  as  Great  Britain,"  says  another  Ameri- 
can observer,  "and  in  some  of  our  states  England  could  be  lost, 
there  is  practically  no  difference  between  the  American  spoken 
in  our  4,039,000  square  miles  of  territory,  except  as  spoken  by 
foreigners.  We,  assembled  here,  would  be  perfectly  understood 
by  delegates  from  Texas,  Maine,  Minnesota,  Louisiana,  or  Alaska, 
or  from  whatever  walk  of  life  they  might  come.  We  can  go  to 
any  of  the  75,000  postoffices  in  this  country  and  be  entirely  sure 
we  will  be  understood,  whether  we  want  to  buy  a  stamp  or  bor- 
row a  match. " 39  "  From  Portland,  Maine,  to  Portland,  Ore- 
gon," agrees  an  English  critic,  "no  trace  of  a  distinct  dialect  is 
to  be  found.  The  man  from  Maine,  even  though  he  may  be  of 
inferior  education  and  limited  capacity,  can  completely  under- 
stand the  man  from  Oregon. ' ' 40 

No  other  country  can  show  such  linguistic  solidarity,  nor  any 
approach  to  it — not  even  Canada,  for  there  a  large  part  of  the 
population  resists  learning  English  altogether.  The  Little  Rus- 
sian of  the  Ukraine  is  unintelligible  to  the  citizen  of  Petrograd ; 

87  American  English,  North  American  Review,  Jan.  1883. 
ss  Oct.  1,  1909. 

39  J.   F.  Healy,  general  manager  of  the  Davis  Colliery  Co.  at  Elkins, 
W.  Va.,  in  a  speech  before  the  West  Virginia  Coal  Mining  Institute,  at 
Wheeling,  Dec.   1910;    reprinted  as  The  American  Language;   Pittsburgh, 
1911. 

40  Westminster  Review,  July,  1888,  p.  35. 


BY   WAY    OF    INTRODUCTION  21 

the  Northern  Italian  can  scarcely  follow  a  conversation  in  Sici- 
lian ;  the  Low  German  from  Hamburg  is  a  foreigner  in  Munich ; 
the  Breton  flounders  in  Gascony.  Even  in  the  United  Kingdom 
there  are  wide  divergences.41  "When  we  remember,"  says  the 
New  International  Encyclopaedia42  "that  the  dialects  of  the 
countries  (sic)  in  England  have  marked  differences — so  marked, 
indeed  that  it  may  be  doubted  whether  a  Lancashire  miner  and  a 
Lincolnshire  farmer  could  understand  each  other — we  may  well 
be  proud  that  our  vast  country  has,  strictly  speaking,  only  one 
language."  This  uniformity  was  noted  by  the  earliest  observ- 
ers ;  Pickering  called  attention  to  it  in  the  preface  to  his  Vocab- 
ulary and  ascribed  it,  no  doubt  accurately,  to  the  restlessness  of 
the  Americans,  their  inheritance  of  the  immigrant  spirit,  "the 
frequent  removals  of  people  from  one  part  of  our  country  to 
another."  It  is  especially  marked  in  vocabulary  and  gram- 
matical formsrythe  foundation  stones  of  a  living  speech.  There 
may  be  alight* differences  in  pronunciation  and  intonation — a 
Southern  softness,  a  Yankee  drawl,  a  Western  burr — but  in  the 
words  they  use  and  the  way  they  use  them  all  Americans,  even 
the  least  tutored,  follow  the  same  line.  One  observes,  of  course, 
a  polite  speech  and  a  common  speech,  but  the  common  speech  is 
everywhere  the  same,  and  its  uniform  vagaries  take  the  place  of 
the  dialectic  variations  of  other  lands.  A  Boston  street-car  con- 
ductor could  go  to  work  in  Chicago,  San  Francisco  or  New  Or- 
leans without  running  the  slightest  risk  of  misunderstanding  his 
new  fares.  Once  he  had  picked  up  half  a  dozen  localisms,  he 
would  be,  to  all  linguistic  intents  and  purposes,  fully  naturalized. 
Of  the  intrinsic  differences  that  separate  American  from  Eng- 
lish the  chief  have  their  roots  in  the  obvious  disparity  between 
the  environment  and  traditions  of  the  American  people  since  the 
seventeenth  century  and  those  of  the  English.  The  latter  have 
lived  under  a  stable  social  order,  and  it  has  impressed  upon  their 

»  souls  their  characteristic  respect  for  what  is  customary  and  of 
4i  W.  W.  Skeat  distinguishes  no  less  than  9  dialects  in  Scotland,  3  in 
Ireland  and  30  in  England  and  Wales.     Vide  English  Dialects  From  the 
Eighth  Century  to  the  Present  Day;  Cambridge,  1911,  p.  107  et  seq. 
42  Art.    Americanisms,  2nd  ed. 


22  THE   AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

good  report.  Until  the  war  brought  chaos  to  their  institutions, 
their  whole  lives  were  regulated,  perhaps  more  than  those  of  any 
other  people  save  the  Spaniards,  by  a  regard  for  precedent. 
The  Americans,  though  largely  of  the  same  blood,  have  felt  no 
such  restraint,  and  acquired  no  such  habit  of  conformity.  On 
the  cbntraiy,  they  have  plunged  to  the  other  extreme,  for  the 
conditions  of  life  in  their  new  country  have  put  a  high  value 
upon  the  precisely  opposite  qualities  of  curiosity  and  daring, 
and  so  they  have  acquired  that  character  of  restlessness,  that  im- 
patience of  forms,  that  disdain  of  the  dead  hand,  which  now 
broadly  marks  them.  From  the  first,  says  a  recent  literary  his- 
torian, they  have  been  "less  phlegmatic,  less  conservative  than 
the  English.  There  were  climatic  influences,  it  may  be;  there 
was  surely  a  spirit  of  intensity  everywhere  that  made  for  short 
effort. ' ' 43  Thus,  in  the  arts,  and  thus  in  business,  in  politics,  in 
daily  intercourse,  in  habits  of  mind  and  speech.  The  American 
is  not,  in  truth,  lacking  in  a  capacity  for  discipline;  he  has  it 
highly  developed;  he  submits  to  leadership  readily,  and  even  to 
tyranny.  But,  by  a  curious  twist,  it  is  not  the  leadership  that 
is  old  and  decorous  that  fetches  him,  but  the  leadership  that  is 
new  and  extravagant.  He  will  resist  dictation  out  of  the  past, 
but  he  will  follow  a  new  messiah  with  almost  Russian  willing- 
ness, and  into  the  wildest  vagaries  of  economics,  religion,  morals 
and  speech.  A  new  fallacy  in  politics  spreads  faster  in  the 
United  States  than  anywhere  else  on  earth,  and  so  does  a  new 
fashion  in  hats,  or  a  new  revelation  of  God,  or  a  new  means  of 
killing  time,  or  a  new  metaphor  or  piece  of  slang. 

Thus  the  American,  on  his  linguistic  side,  likes  to  make  his 
language  as  he  goes  along,  and  not  all  the  hard  work  of  his 
grammar  teachers  can  hold  the  business  back.  A  novelty  loses 
nothing  by  the  fact  that  it  is  a  novelty;  it  rather  gains  some- 
thing, and  particularly  if  it  meet  the  national  fancy  for  the  terse, 
the  vivid,  and,  above  all,  the  bold  and  imaginative.  The  char- 
acteristic American  habit  of  reducing  complex  concepts  to  the 
starkest  abbreviations  was  already  noticeable  in  colonial  times, 

*3  F.  L.  Pattee:  A  History  of  American  Literature  Since  1870;  New 
York,  1916. 


BY   WAY    OF    INTRODUCTION  23 

and  such,  highly  typical  Americanisms  as  0.  K.,  N.  G.,  and  P. 
D.  Q.,  have  been  traced  back  to  the  first  days  of  the  republic. 
Nor  are  the  influences  that  shaped  these  early  tendencies  in- 
visible today,  for  the  country  is  still  in  process  of  growth,  and 
no  settled  social  order  has  yet  descended  upon  it.  Institution- 
making  is  still  going  on,  and  so  is  language-making.  In  so  mod- 
est an  operation  as  that  which  has  evolved  bunco  from  buncombe 
and  bunk  from  bunco  there  is  evidence  of  a  phenomenon  which 
the  philologist  recognizes  as  belonging  to  the  most  primitive  and 
lusty  stages  of  speech.  The  American  vulgate  is  not  only  con- 
stantly making  new  words,  it  is  also  deducing  roots  from  them, 
and  so  giving  proof,  as  Prof.  Sayce  says,  that ' '  the  creative  pow- 
ers of  language  are  even  now  not  extinct. ' ' 44 

But  of  more  importance  than  its  sheer  inventions,  if  only  be- 
cause much  more  numerous,  are  its  extensions  of  the  vocabulary, 
both  absolutely  and  in  ready  workableness,  by  the  devices  of 
rhetoric.  The  American,  from  the  beginning,  has  been  the  most 
ardent  of  recorded  rhetoricians.  His  politics  bristles  with  pun- 
gent epithets;  his  whole  history  has  been  bedizened  with  tall 
talk;  his  fundamental  institutions  rest  as  much  upon  brilliant 
phrases  as  upon  logical  ideas.  And  in  small  things  as  in  large 
he  exercises  continually  an  incomparable  capacity  for  projecting 
hidden  and  often  fantastic  relationships  into  arresting  parts  of 
speech.  Such  a  term  as  rubber-neck  is  almost  a  complete  treat- 
ise on  American  psychology;  it  reveals  the  national  habit  of 
mind  more  clearly  than  any  labored  inquiry  could  ever  reveal  it. 
It  has  in  it  precisely  the  boldness  and  disdain  of  ordered  forms 
that  are  so  characteristically  American,  and  it  has  too  the  gro- 
tesque humor  of  the  country,  and  the  delight  in  devastating 
opprobriums,  and  the  acute  feeling  for  the  succinct  and  sav- 
ory. The  same  qualities  are  in  rough-house,  water-wagon, 
near-silk,  has-been,  lame-duck  and  a  thousand  other  such  racy 
substantives,  and  in  all  the  great  stock  of  native  verbs  and  ad- 
jectives. There  is,  indeed,  but  a  shadowy  boundary  in  these  new 
coinages  between  the  various  parts  of  speech.  Corral,  borrowed 

**  A.  H.  Sayce :  Introduction  to  the  Science  of  Language,  2  vols. ;  London, 
1900.  See  especially  vol.  ii,  ch.  vi. 


24  THE    AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

from,  the  Spanish,  immediately  becomes  a  verb  and  the  father  of 
an  adjective.  Bust,  carved  out  of  burst,  erects  itself  into  a  noun. 
Bum,  coming  by  way  of  an  earlier  bummer  from  the  German 
bummler,  becomes  noun,  adjective,  verb  and  adverb.  Verbs 
are  fashioned  out  of  substantives  by  the  simple  process  of  pre- 
fixing the  preposition:  to  engineer,  to  chink,  to  stump,  to  hog. 
Others  grow  out  of  an  intermediate  adjective,  as  to  boom.  Others 
are  made  by  torturing  nouns  with  harsh  affixes,  as  to  burglarize 
and  to  itemize,  or  by  groping  for  the  root,  as  to  resurrect.  Yet 
others  are  changed  from  intransitive  to  transitive:  a  sleeping- 
car  sleeps  thirty  passengers.  So  with  the  adjectives.  They  are 
made  of  substantives  unchanged:  codfish,  jitney.  Or  by  bold 
combinations:  down-and-out,  up-state,  flat-footed.  Or  by  shad- 
ing down  suffixes  to  a  barbaric  simplicity:  scary,  classy,  tasty. 
Or  by  working  over  adverbs  until  they  tremble  on  the  brink  be- 
tween adverb  and  adjective :  right  and  near  are  examples. 

All  of  these  processes,  of  course,  are  also  to  be  observed  in  the 
English  of  England ;  in  the  days  of  its  great  Elizabethan  growth 
they  were  in  the  lustiest  possible  being.  They  are,  indeed, 
common  to  all  languages ;  they  keep  language  alive.  But  if  you 
will  put  the  English  of  today  beside  the  American  of  today  you 
will  see  at  once  how  much  more  forcibly  they  are  in  operation 
in  the  latter  than  in  the  former.  English  has  been  arrested  in 
its  growth  by  its  purists  and  grammarians.  It  shows  no  living 
change  in  structure  and  syntax  since  the  days  of  Anne,  and  very 
little  modification  in  either  pronunciation  or  vocabulary.  Its 
tendency  is  to  conserve  that  which  is  established ;  to  say  the  new 
thing,  as  nearly  as  possible,  in  the  old  way;  to  combat  all  that 
expansive  gusto  which  made  for  its  pliancy  and  resilience  in  the 
days  of  Shakespeare.  In  place  of  the  old  loose-footedness  there 
is  set  up  a  preciosity  which,  in  one  direction,  takes  the  form  of 
unyielding  affectations  in  the  spoken  language,  and  in  another 
form  shows  itself  in  the  heavy  Johnsonese  of  current  English 
writing — the  Jargon  denounced  by  Sir  Arthur  Quiller-Couch  in 
hit  Cambridge  lectures.  This  "infirmity  of  speech"  Quiller- 
Couch  finds  "in  parliamentary  debates  and  in  the  newspapers"; 


BY   WAY    OF   INTKODUCTION  25 

.  .  .  "it  has  become  the  medium,  through  which  Boards  of  Gov- 
ernment, County  Councils,  Syndicates,  Committees,  Commercial 
Firms,  express  the  processes  as  well  as  the  conclusions  of  their 
thought,  and  so  voice  the  reason  of  their  being. ' '  Distinct  from 
journalese,  the  two  yet  overlap,  "and  have  a  knack  of  assimi- 
lating each  other's  vices."  45 

American,  despite  the  gallant  efforts  of  the  professors,  has  so 
far  escaped  any  such  suffocating  formalization.  We,  too,  of 
course,  have  our  occasional  practitioners  of  the  authentic  Eng- 
lish Jargon;  in  the  late  Grover  Cleveland  we  produced  an 
acknowledged  master  of  it.  But  in  the  main  our  faults  in  writ- 
ing lie  in  precisely  the  opposite  direction.  That  is  to  say,  we 
incline  toward  a  directness  of  statement  which,  at  its  greatest, 
lacks  restraint  and  urbanity  altogether,  and  toward  a  hospitality 
which  often  admits  novelties  for  the  mere  sake  of  their  novelty, 
and  is  quite  uncritical  of  the  difference  between  a  genuine  im- 
provement in  succinctness  and  clarity,  and  mere  extravagant  raci- 
ness.  "The  tendency,"  says  one  English  observer,  "is  ...  to 
consider  the  speech  of  any  man,  as  any  man  himself,  as  good  as 
any  other."46  "All  beauty  and  distinction,"  says  another,47 
"are  ruthlessly  sacrificed  to  force."  Moreover,  this  strong  re- 
volt against  conventional  bonds  is  by  no  means  confined  to  the 
folk-speech,  nor  even  to  the  loose  conversational  English  of  the 
upper  classes;  it  also  gets  into  more  studied  discourse,  both 
spoken  and  written.  I  glance  through  the  speeches  of  Dr. 
Woodrow  Wilson,  surely  a  purist  if  we  have  one  at  all,  and  find, 
in  a  few  moments,  half  a  dozen  locutions  that  an  Englishman  in 
like  position  would  never  dream  of  using,  among  them  we  must 
get  a  move  <m,48  hog  as  a  verb,49  gum-shoe  as  an  adjective  with 

45  Cf.  the  chapter,  Interlude :  On  Jargon,  in  Quiller-Couch's  On  the  Art 
of  Writing;  New  York,  1916.     Curiously  enough,  large  parts  of  the  learned 
critic's  book  are  written  in  the  very  Jargon  he  attacks. 

46  Alexander  Francis:     Americans:     an  Impression;  New  York,  1900. 

47  G.  Lowes  Dickinson,  in  the  English  Review,  quoted  by  Current  Litera- 
ture, April,  1910. 

48  Speech  before  the  Chamber  of  Commerce  Convention,  Washington,  Feb. 
19,  1916. 

4»  Speech  at  workingman's  dinner,  New  York,  Sept.  4,  1912. 


26  THE   AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

verbal  overtones,50  onery  in  place  of  ordinary,^  and  that  is  going 
some.52  From  the  earliest  days,  indeed,  English  critics  have 
found  this  gipsy  tendency  in  our  most  careful  writing.  They 
denounced  it  in  Marshall,  Cooper,  Mark  Twain,  Poe,  Lossing, 
Lowell  and  Holmes,  and  even  in  Hawthorne  and  Thoreau ;  and  it 
was  no  less  academic  a  work  than  W.  C.  Brownell's  "French 
Traits"  which  brought  forth,  in  a  London  literary  journal,  the 
dictum  that ' '  the  language  most  depressing  to  the  cultured  Eng- 
lishman is  the  language  of  the  cultured  American."  Even 
' '  educated  American  English, ' '  agrees  the  chief  of  modern  Eng- 
lish grammarians,  "is  now  almost  entirely  independent  of  Brit- 
ish influence,  and  differs  from  it  considerably,  though  as  yet  not 
enough  to  make  the  two  dialects — American  English  and  British 
English — mutually  unintelligible. ' ' 53 

American  thus  shows  its  character  in  a  constant  experimenta- 
tion, a  wide  hospitality  to  novelty,  a  steady  reaching  out  for 
new  and  vivid  forms.  No  other  tongue  of  modern  times  admits 
foreign  words  and  phrases  more  readily;  none  is  more  careless 
of  precedents ;  none  shows  a  greater  fecundity  and  originality  of 
fancy.  It  is  producing  new  words  every  day,  by  trope,  by  ag- 
glutination, by  the  shedding  of  inflections,  by  the  merging  of 
parts  of  speech,  and  by  sheer  brilliance  of  imagination.  It  is 
full  of  what  Bret  Harte  called  the  "sabre-cuts  of  Saxon";  it 
meets  Montaigne's  ideal  of  "a  succulent  and  nervous  speech, 
short  and  compact,  not  as  much  delicated  and  combed  out  as 
vehement  and  brusque,  rather  arbitrary  than  monotonous,  not 
pedantic  but  soldierly,  as  Suetonius  called  Caesar's  Latin." 
One  pictures  the  common  materials  of  English  dumped  into  a 
pot,  exotic  flavorings  added,  and  the  bubblings  assiduously  and 
expectantly  skimmed.  What  is  old  and  respected  is  already  in 
decay  the  moment  it  comes  into  contact  with  what  is  new  and 
vivid.  Let  American  confront  a  novel  problem  alongside  Eng- 

BO  Wit  and  Wisdom  of  Woodrow  Wilson,  comp.  by  Richard  Linthicum ; 
New  York,  1916,  p.  54. 

si  Speech  at  Ridgewood,  N.  J.,  April  22,  1910. 

62  Wit  and  Wisdom  .  .  .,  p.  56. 

S3  Henry  Sweet :  A  New  English  Grammar,  Logical  and  Historical,  2 
parts;  Oxford,  1900-03,  part  i,  p.  224. 


BY  WAY    OF   INTRODUCTION  27 

lish,  and  immediately  its  superior  imaginativeness  and  resource- 
fulness become  obvious.  Movie  is  better  than  cinema;  it  is  not 
only  better  American,  it  is  better  English.  Bill-board  is  better 
than  hoarding.  Office-holder  is  more  honest,  more  picturesque, 
more  thoroughly  Anglo-Saxon  that  public-servant.  Stehn- 
winder  somehow  has  more  life  in  it,  more  fancy  and  vividness, 
than  the  literal  keyless-watch.  Turn  to  the  terminology  of  rail- 
roading (itself,  by  the  way,  an  Americanism)  :  its  creation  fell 
upon  the  two  peoples  equally,  but  they  tackled  the  job  inde- 
pendently. The  English,  seeking  a  figure  to  denominate  the 
wedge-shaped  fender  in  front  of  a  locomotive,  called  it  a  plough; 
the  Americans,  characteristically,  gave  it  the  far  more  pungent 
name  of  cow-catcher.  So  with  the  casting  where  two  rails  join. 
The  English  called  it  a  crossing-plate.  The  Americans,  more  re- 
sponsive to  the  suggestion  in  its  shape,  called  it  a  frog. 

This  boldness  of  conceit,  of  course,  makes  for  vulgarity.  Un- 
restrained by  any  critical  sense — and  the  critical  sense  of  the 
professors  counts  for  little,  for  they  cry  wolf  too  often — it  flow- 
ers in  such  barbaric  inventions  as  tasty,  alright,  no-account, 
pants,  go-aheadativeness,  tony,  semi-occasional,  to  fellowship 
and  to  doxologize.  Let  it  be  admitted :  American  is  not  infre- 
quently vulgar;  the  Americans,  too,  are  vulgar  (Bayard  Taylor 
called  them  "Anglo-Saxons  relapsed  into  semi-barbarism")  ; 
America  itself  is  unutterably  vulgar.  But  vulgarity,  after  all, 
means  no  more  than  a  yielding  to  natural  impulses  in  the  face  of 
conventional  inhibitions,  and  that  yielding  to  natural  impulses 
is  at  the  heart  of  all  healthy  language-making.  The  history  of 
English,  like  the  history  of  American  and  every  other  living 
tongue,  is  a  history  of  vulgarisms  that,  by  their  accurate  meet- 
ing of  real  needs,  have  forced  their  way  into  sound  usage,  and 
even  into  the  lifeless  catalogues  of  the  grammarians.  The  colo- 
nial pedants  denounced  to  advocate  as  bitterly  as  they  ever  de- 
nounced to  compromit  or  to  happify,  and  all  the  English  au- 
thorities gave  them  aid,  but  it  forced  itself  into  the  American 
language  despite  them,  and  today  it  is  even  accepted  as  English 
and  has  got  into  the  Oxford  Dictionary.  To  donate,  so  late  as 
1870,  was  dismissed  by  Richard  Grant  White  as  ignorant  and 


28  THE   AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

abominable  and  to  this  day  the  English  will  have  none  of  it,  but 
there  is  not  an  American  dictionary  that  doesn't  accept  it,  and 
surely  no  American  writer  would  hesitate  to  use  it.54  Reliable, 
gubernatorial,  standpoint  and  scientist  have  survived  opposition 
of  equal  ferocity.  The  last-named  was  coined  by  William 
Whewell,  an  Englishman,  in  1840,  but  was  first  adopted  in 
America.  Despite  the  fact  that  Fitzedward  Hall  and  other  emi- 
nent philologists  used  it  and  defended  it,  it  aroused  almost  in- 
credible opposition  in  England.  So  recently  as  1890  it  was  de- 
nounced by  the  London  Daily  News  as  "an  ignoble  American- 
ism," and  according  to  William  Archer  it  was  finally  accepted 
by  the  English  only  ' '  at  the  point  of  the  bayonet. ' ' B5 

The  purist  performs  a  useful  office  in  enforcing  a  certain 
logical  regularity  upon  the  process,  and  in  our  own  case  the 
omnipresent  example  of  the  greater  conservatism  of  the  English 
corrects  our  native  tendency  to  go  too  fast,  but  the  process  it- 
self is  as  inexorable  in  its  workings  as  the  precession  of  the 
equinoxes,  and  if  we  yield  to  it  more  eagerly  than  the  English 
it  is  only  a  proof,  perhaps,  that  the  future  of  what  was  once  the 
Anglo-Saxon  tongue  lies  on  this  side  of  the  water.  "The  story 
of  English  grammar,"  says  Murison,  "is  a  story  of  simplifica- 
tion, of  dispensing  with  grammatical  forms. ' ' 56  And  of  the 
most  copious  and  persistent  enlargement  of  vocabulary  and  mu- 
tation of  idiom  ever  recorded,  perhaps,  by  descriptive  philology. 
English  now  has  the  brakes  on,  but  American  continues  to  leap 
in  the  dark,  and  the  prodigality  of  its  movement  is  all  the  indi- 

5*  Despite  this  fact  an  academic  and  ineffective  opposition  to  it  still  goes 
on.  On  the  Style  Sheet  of  the  Century  Magazine  it  is  listed  among  the 
"words  and  phrases  to  be  avoided."  It  was  prohibited  by  the  famous  Index 
Expurgatorius  prepared  by  William  Cullen  Bryant  for  the  New  York  Even- 
ing Post,  and  his  prohibition  is  still  theoretically  in  force,  but  the  word 
is  now  actually  permitted  by  the  Post.  The  Chicago  Daily  News  Style 
Book,  dated  July  1,  1908,  also  bans  it. 

55  Scientist  is  now  in  the  Oxford  Dictionary.  So  are  reliable,  standpoint 
and  gubernatorial.  But  the  Century  Magazine  still  bans  standpoint  and  the 
Evening  Post  (at  least  in  theory)  bans  both  standpoint  and  reliable.  The 
Chicago  Daily  News  accepts  standpoint,  but  bans  reliable  and  gubernatorial. 
All  of  these  words,  of  course,  are  now  quite  as  good  as  ox  or  and. 

5«  Art.  Changes  in  the  Language  Since  Shakespeare's  Time,  Cambridge 
History  of  English  Literature,  vol.  xiv.  p.  491. 


BY   WAY    OF   INTRODUCTION  29 

cation  that  is  needed  of  its  intrinsic  health,  its  capacity  to  meet 
the  ever-changing  needs  of  a  restless  and  iconoclastic  people,  con- 
stantly fluent  in  racial  composition,  and  disdainful  of  hamper- 
ing traditions.  "Language,"  says  Sayce,  "is  no  artificial  prod- 
uct, contained  in  books  and  dictionaries  and  governed  by  the 
strict  rules  of  impersonal  grammarians.  It  is  the  living  expres- 
sion of  the  mind  and  spirit  of  a  people,  ever  changing  and  shift- 
ing, whose  sole  standard  of  correctness  is  custom  and  the  common 
usage  of  the  community.  .  .  .  The  first  lesson  to  be  learned  is 
that  there  is  no  intrinsic  right  or  wrong  in  the  use  of  language, 
no  fixed  rules  such  as  are  the  delight  of  the  teacher  of  Latin 
prose.  What  is  right  now  will  be  wrong  hereafter,  what  lan- 
guage rejected  yesterday  she  accepts  today. ' ' " 

§6 

The  Materials  of  American — One  familiar  with  the  habits  of 
pedagogues  need  not  be  told  that,  in  their  grudging  discussions 
of  American,  they  have  spent  most  of  their  energies  upon  vain 
attempts  to  classify  its  materials.  White  and  Lounsbury,  as  I 
have  shown,  carried  the  business  to  the  limits  of  the  preposter- 
ous ;  when  they  had  finished  identifying  and  cataloguing  Ameri- 
canisms there  were  no  more  Americanisms  left  to  study.  The 
ladies  and  gentlemen  of  the  American  Dialect  Society,  though 
praiseworthy  for  their  somewhat  deliberate  industry,  fall  into  a 
similar  fault,  for  they  are  so  eager  to  establish  minute  dialectic 
variations  that  they  forget  the  general  language  almost  alto- 
gether. 

Among  investigators  of  less  learning  there  is  a  more  spacious 
view  of  the  problem,  and  the  labored  categories  of  White  and 
Lounsbury  are  much  extended.  Pickering,  the  first  to  attempt 
a  list  of  Americanisms,  rehearsed  their  origin  under  the  follow- 
ing headings : 

1.  "We  have  formed  some  new  words." 

2.  "To  some  old  ones,  that  are  still  in  use  in  England,  we  have  affixed 
new  significations." 

57  Introduction  to  the  Science  of  Language,  vol.  ii,  pp.  333-4. 


30  THE    AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

3.  "Others,  which  have  long  been  obsolete  in  England,  are  still  re- 
tained in  common  use  among  us." 

Bartlett,  in  the  second  edition  of  his  dictionary,  dated  1859, 
increased  these  classes  to  nine ; 

1.  Archaisms,  i.  e.,  old  English  words,  obsolete,  or  nearly  so,  in  Eng- 
land, but  retained  in  use  in  this  country. 

2.  English  words  used  in  a  different  sense  from  what  they  are  in 
England.     These  include  many  names   of  natural  objects  differently 
applied. 

3.  Words  which  have  retained  their  original  meaning  in  the  United 
States,  though  not  in  England. 

4.  English  provincialisms  adopted  into  general  use  in  America. 

5.  Newly  coined  words,  which  owe  their  origin  to  the  productions  or 
to  the  circumstances  of  the  country. 

6.  Words  borrowed  from  European  languages,  especially  the  French, 
Spanish,  Dutch  and  German. 

7.  Indian  words. 

8.  Negroisms. 

9.  Peculiarities  of  pronunciation. 

Some  time  before  this,  but  after  the  publication  of  Bartlett 's 
first  edition  in  1848,  William  C.  Fowler,  professor  of  rhetoric 
at  Amherst,  devoted  a  brief  chapter  to  "American  Dialects"  in 
his  well-known  work  on  English68  and  in  it  one  finds  the  fol- 
lowing formidable  classification  of  Americanisms : 

1.  Words  borrowed  from  other  languages. 

a.  Indian,  as  Kennebec,  Ohio,  Tombigbee;  sagamore,  quahaug,  suc- 
cotash. 

b.  Dutch,  as  boss,  kruller,  stoop. 

c.  German,  as  spuke  (?),  sauerkraut. 

d.  French,  as  bayou,  cache,  chute,  crevasse,  levee. 

e.  Spanish,   as  calaboose,  chapparal,  hacienda,  rancho,  rancher o. 

f.  Negro,  as  buckra. 

2.  Words  "introduced  from  the  necessity  of  our  situation,  in  order 
to  express  new  ideas." 

a.  Words  "connected  with  and  flowing  from  our  political  institu- 
tions," as  selectman,  presidential,  congressional,  caucus,  mass-meeting, 
lynch-law,  help  (for  servants'). 

b.  Words  "connected  with  our  ecclesiastical  institutions,"  as  associa- 
tional,  consociational,  to  fellowship,  to  missicmate. 

88  Op.  eit.,  pp.  119-28. 


BY   WAY   OF    INTRODUCTION  31 

c.  Words  "connected  with  a  new  country,"  as  lot,  diggings,  better- 
ments, squatter. 
3.  Miscellaneous  Americanisms. 

a.  Words  and  phrases  become  obsolete  in  England,  as  talented, 
offset  (for  set-off),  back  and  forth  (for  backward  and  forward). 

b.  Old  words  and  phrases  "which  are  now  merely  provincial  in 
England,"  as  hub,  whap  (?),  to  wilt. 

c.  Nouns  formed  from  verbs  by  adding  the  French  suffix  -ment, 
as  publishment,  releasement,  requirement. 

d.  Forms  of  words  "which  fill  the  gap  or  vacancy  between  two 
words  which  are  approved,"  as  obligate   (between  oblige  and  obliga- 
tion) and  variate  (between  vary  and  variation). 

e.  "Certain  compound  terms  for  which  the  English  have  different 
compounds,"  as  bank-bill,  (bank-note),  book-store  (book-seller's  shop), 
bottom-land   (interval  land),  clapboard  (pale),  sea-board   (sea-shore), 
side-hill  ( hill-side ) . 

f.  "Certain  colloquial  phrases,  apparently  idiomatic,  and  very  ex- 
pressive," as  to  cave  in,  to  flare  up,  to  flunk  out,  to  fork  over,  to  hold 
on,  to  let  on,  to  stave  off,  to  take  on. 

g.  Intensives,   "often   a  matter  of  mere  temporary  fashion,"  as 
dreadful,  mighty,  plaguy,  powerful. 

h.  "Certain  verbs  expressing  one's  state  of  mind,  but  partially  or 
timidly,"  as  to  allot  upon  (for  to  count  upon),  to  calculate,  to  expect 
(to  think  or  believe) ,  to  guess,  to  reckon. 

i.  "Certain  adjectives,  expressing  not  only  quality,  but  one's  sub- 
jective feelings  in  regard  to  it,"  as  clever,  grand,  green,  likely,  smart, 
ugly. 

j.  Abridgments,  as  stage  (for  stage-coach),  turnpike  (for  turnpike- 
road),  spry  (for  sprightly),  to  conduct  (for  to  conduct  one's  self). 

k.  "Quaint  or  burlesque  terms,"  as  to  tote,  to  yank;  humbug, 
loafer,  muss,  plunder  (for  baggage),  rock  (for  stone). 

I.  "Low  expressions,  mostly  political,"  as  slang  whamger,  loco  foco> 
hunker;  to  get  the  hang  of. 

m.  "Ungrammatical  expressions,  disapproved  by  all,"  as  do  don't, 
used  to  could,  can't  come  it,  Universal  preacher  (for  Universalist), 
there's  no  two  ways  about  it. 

Elwyn,  in  1859,  attempted  no  classification.59  He  confined  his 
glossary  to  archaic  English  words  surviving  in  America,  and 
sought  only  to  prove  that  they  had  come  down  "from  our  re- 
motest ancestry ' '  and  were  thus  undeserving  of  the  reviling  lav- 

59  Alfred  L.  Elwyn,  M.  D. :  Glossary  of  Supposed  Americanisms  .  .  . ; 
Phila.,  1859. 


32  THE   AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

ished  upon  them  by  English  critics.  Schele  de  Vere,  in  1872, 
followed  Bartlett,  and  devoted  himself  largely  to  words  bor- 
rowed from  the  Indian  dialects,  and  from  the  French,  Spanish 
and  Dutch.  But  Farmer,  in  1889,60  ventured  upon  a  new  clas- 
sification, prefacing  it  with  the  following  definition: 

An  Americanism  may  be  defined  as  a  word  or  phrase,  old  or  new, 
employed  by  general  or  respectable  usage  in  America  in  a  way  not 
sanctioned  by  the  best  standards  of  the  English  language.  As  a  mat- 
ter of  fact,  however,  the  term  has  come  to  possess  a  wider  meaning, 
and  it  is  now  applied  not  only  to  words  and  phrases  which  can  be  so 
described,  but  also  to  the  new  and  legitimately  born  words  adapted  to 
the  general  needs  and  usages,  to  the  survivals  of  an  older  form  of  Eng- 
lish than  that  now  current  in  the  mother  country,  and  to  the  racy, 
pungent  vernacular  of  Western  life. 

He  then  proceeded  to  classify  his  materials  thus: 

1.  Words  and  phrases  of  purely  American  derivation,  embracing 
words  originating  in : 

a.  Indian  and  aboriginal  life. 

b.  Pioneer  and  frontier  life. 

c.  The  church. 

d.  Politics. 

e.  Trades  of  all  kinds. 

f.  Travel,  afloat  and  ashore. 

2.  Words  brought  by  colonists,  including: 

a.  The  German  element. 
6.  The  French. 

c.  The  Spanish. 

d.  The  Dutch. 

e.  The  negro. 
f.. The  Chinese. 

3.  Names  of  American  things,  embracing : 

a.  Natural  products. 

&.  Manufactured  articles. 

4.  Perverted  English  words. 

5.  Obsolete  English  words  still  in  good  use  in  America. 

6.  English  words,  American  by  inflection  and  modification. 

7.  Odd  and  ignorant  popular  phrases,  proverbs,  vulgarisms,  and 
colloquialisms,  cant  and  slang. 

8.  Individualisms. 

9.  Doubtful  and  miscellaneous. 

«o  John  S.  Farmer:     Americanisms  Old  and  New  .  .  .;  London,  1889. 


BY   WAY   OF    INTEODUCTION  33 

Clapin,  in  1902,81  reduced  these  categories  to  four : 

1.  Genuine  English  words,  obsolete  or  provincial  in  England,  and  uni- 
versally used  in  the  United  States. 

2.  English  words  conveying,  in  the  United  States,  a  different  meaning 
from  that  attached  to  them  in  England. 

3.  Words    introduced    from    other   languages   than    the   English: — 
French,  Dutch,  Spanish,  German,  Indian,  etc. 

4.  Americanisms   proper,  i.e.,  words  coined  in  the  country,  either 
representing  some  new  idea  or  peculiar  product. 

Thornton,  in  1912,  substituted  the  following: 

1.  Forms  of  speech  now  obsolete  or  provincial  in  England,  which  sur- 
vive in  the  United  States,  such  as  allow,  bureau,  fall,  gotten,  guess, 
likely,  professor,  shoat. 

2.  Words  and  phrases  of  distinctly  American  origin,  such  as  belittle, 
lengthy,  lightning-rod,  to  darken  one's  doors,  to  bark  up  the  wrong  tree, 
to  come  out  at  the  little  end  of  the  horn,  blind  tiger,  cold  snap,  gay 
Quaker,  gone  coon,  long  sauce,  pay  dirt,  small  potatoes,  some  pumpkins. 

3.  Nouns  which  indicate  quadrupeds,  birds,  trees,  articles  of  food,  etc., 
that  are  distinctively  American,  such  as  ground-hog,  hang-bird,  hominy, 
live-oak,  locust,  opossum,  persimmon,  pone,  succotash,,  wampum,  wig- 
wam. 

4.  Names  of  persons  and  classes  of  persons,  and  of  places,  such  as 
Buckeye,  Cracker,   Greaser,  Hoosier,   Old  Bullion,   Old  Hickory,   the 
Little  Giant,  Dixie,  Gotham,  the  Bay  State,  the  Monumental  City. 

5.  Words  which  have  assumed  a  new  meaning,  such  as  card,  clever, 
fork,  help,  penny,  plunder,  raise,  rock,  sack,  ticket,  windfall. 

In  addition,  Thornton  added  a  provisional  class  of  "words  and 
phrases  of  which  I  have  found  earlier  examples  in  American 
than  in  English  writers;  .  .  .  with  the  caveat  that  further  re- 
search may  reverse  the  claim" — a  class  offering  specimens  in 
alarmist,  capitalize,  eruptiveness,  horse  of  another  colour  (sic!), 
the  jig's  up,  nameable,  omnibus  bill,  propaganda  and  whitewash. 

No  more  than  a  brief  glance  at  these  classifications  is  needed  to 
show  that  they  hamper  the  inquiry  by  limiting  its  scope — not  so 
much,  to  be  sure,  as  the  ridiculous  limitations  of  White  and 
Lounsbury,  but  still  very  seriously.  They  meet  the  ends  of 

«i  Sylva  Clapin :  A  New  Dictionary  of  Americanisms,  Being  a  Glossary 
of  Words  Supposed  to  be  Peculiar  to  the  United  States  and  the  Dominion  of 
Canada;  New  York,  1902. 


34  THE   AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

purely  descriptive  lexicography,  but  largely  leave  out  of  account 
some  of  the  most  salient  characters  of  a  living  language,  for 
example,  pronunciation  and  idiom.  Only  Bartlett  and  Farmer 
establish  a  separate  category  of  Americanisms  produced  by 
changes  in  pronunciation,  though  even  Thornton,  of  course,  is 
obliged  to  take  notice  of  such  forms  as  bust  and  bile.  None  of 
them,  however,  goes  into  the  matter  at  any  length,  nor  even  into 
the  matter  of  etymology.  Bartlett 's  etymologies  are  scanty  and 
often  inaccurate;  Schele  de  Vere's  are  sometimes  quite  fanciful; 
Thornton  offers  scarcely  any  at  all.  The  best  of  these  collec- 
tions of  Americanisms,  and  by  long  odds,  is  Thornton's.  It 
presents  an  enormous  mass  of  quotations,  and  they  are  all  very 
carefully  dated,  and  it  corrects  most  of  the  more  obvious  errors 
in  the  work  of  earlier  inquirers.  But  its  very  dependence  upon 
quotations  limits  it  chiefly  to  the  written  language,  and  so  the 
enormously  richer  materials  of  the  spoken  language  are  passed 
over,  and  particularly  the  materials  evolved  during  the  past 
twenty  years.  One  searches  the  two  fat  volumes  in  vain  for 
such  highly  characteristic  forms  as  would  of,  near-accident,  and 
buttinski,  the  use  of  sure  as  an  adverb,  and  the  employment  of 
well  as  a  sort  of  general  equivalent  of  the  German  also. 

These  grammatical  and  syntactical  tendencies  are  beyond  the 
scope  of  Thornton's  investigation,  but  it  is  plain  that  they  must 
be  prime  concerns  of  any  future  student  who  essays  to  get  at  the 
inner  spirit  of  the  language.  Its  difference  from  standard  Eng- 
lish is  not  merely  a  difference  in  vocabulary,  to  be  disposed  of 
in  an  alphabetical  list ;  it  is,  above  all,  a  difference  in  pronuncia- 
tion, in  intonation,  in  conjugation  and  declension,  in  metaphor 
and  idiom,  in  the  whole  fashion  of  using  words.  A  page  from 
one  of  Ring  W.  Lardner's  baseball  stories  contains  few  words 
that  are  not  in  the  English  vocabulary,  and  yet  the  thoroughly 
American  color  of  it  cannot  fail  to  escape  anyone  who  actually 
listens  to  the  tongue  spoken  around  him.  Some  of  the  elements 
which  enter  into  that  color  will  be  considered  in  the  following 
pages.  The  American  vocabulary,  of  course,  must  be  given 
first  attention,  for  in  it  the  earliest  American  divergences  are 
embalmed  and  it  tends  to  grow  richer  and  freer  year  after  year, 


BY   WAY   OF    INTRODUCTION  35 

but  attention  will  also  be  paid  to  materials  and  ways  of  speech 
that  are  less  obvious,  and  in  particular  to  certain  definite  ten- 
dencies of  the  grammar  of  spoken  American,  hitherto  wholly 
neglected. 


II 
The  Beginnings  of  American 

§1 

In  Colonial  Days — William  Gifford,  the  first  editor  of  the 
Quarterly  Review,  is  authority  for  the  tale  that  some  of  the  Puri- 
tan clergy  of  New  England,  during  the  Revolution,  proposed 
that  English  be  formally  abandoned  as  the  national  language  of 
America,  and  Hebrew  adopted  in  its  place.  An  American 
chronicler,  Charles  Astor  Bristed,  makes  the  proposed  tongue 
Greek,  and  reports  that  the  change  was  rejected  on  the  ground 
that  "it  would  be  more  convenient  for  us  to  keep  the  language 
as  it  is,  and  make  the  English  speak  Greek. ' ' x  The  story, 
though  it  has  the  support  of  the  editors  of  the  Cambridge  His- 
tory of  American  Literature,2  has  an  apocryphal  smack ;  one  sus- 
pects that  the  savagely  anti-American  Gifford  invented  it.  But, 
true  or  false,  it  well  indicates  the  temper  of  those  times.  The 
passion  for  complete  political  independence  of  England  bred  a 
general  hostility  to  all  English  authority,  whatever  its  charac- 
ter, and  that  hostility,  in  the  direction  of  present  concern  to  us, 
culminated  in  the  revolutionary  attitude  of  Noah  "Webster's 
"Dissertations  on  the  English  Language,"  printed  in  1789. 
Webster  harbored  no  fantastic  notion  of  abandoning  English 
altogether,  but  he  was  eager  to  set  up  American  as  a  distinct 
and  independent  dialect.  "Let  us,"  he  said,  "seize  the  present 
moment,  and  establish  a  national  language  as  well  as  a  national 
government.  ...  As  an  independent  nation  our  honor  requires 

i  Bristed  was  a  grandson  of  John  Jacob  Astor  and  was  educated  at  Cam- 
bridge. He  contributed  an  extremely  sagacious  essay  on  The  English 
Language  in  America  to  a  volume  of  Cambridge  Essays  published  by  a 
group  of  young  Cambridge  men;  London,  1855. 

*  Vol.  i,  p.  vi. 

36 


THE    BEGINNINGS   OF   AMERICAN       37 

us  to  have  a  system  of  our  own,  in  language  as  well  as  govern- 
ment. ' ' 

Long  before  this  the  challenge  had  been  flung.  Scarcely  two 
years  after  the  Declaration  of  Independence  Franklin  was  in- 
structed by  Congress,  on  his  appointment  as  minister  to  France, 
to  employ  ' '  the  language  of  the  United  States, ' '  not  simply  Eng- 
lish, in  all  his  ' '  replies  or  answers ' '  to  the  communications  of  the 
ministry  of  Louis  XVI.  And  eight  years  before  the  Declara- 
tion Franklin  himself  had  drawn  up  a  characteristically  Ameri- 
can scheme  of  spelling  reform,  and  had  offered  plenty  of  proof 
in  it,  perhaps  unconsciously,  that  the  standards  of  spelling  and 
pronunciation  in  the  New  World  had  already  diverged  notice- 
ably from  those  accepted  on  the  other  side  of  the  ocean.3  In 
acknowledging  the  dedication  of  Webster's  " Dissertations " 
Franklin  endorsed  both  his  revolt  against  English  domination 
and  his  forecast  of  widening  differences  in  future,  though  pro- 
testing at  the  same  time  against  certain  Americanisms  that  have 
since  come  into  good  usage,  and  even  migrated  to  England.* 

This  protest  was  marked  by  Franklin's  habitual  mildness,  but 
in  other  quarters  dissent  was  voiced  with  far  less  urbanity.  The 
growing  independence  of  the  colonial  dialect,  not  only  in  its 
spoken  form,  but  also  in  its  most  dignified  written  form,  had 
begun,  indeed,  to  attract  the  attention  of  purists  in  both  Eng- 
land and  America,  and  they  sought  to  dispose  of  it  in  its  infancy 
by  force  majeure.  One  of  the  first  and  most  vigorous  of  the 
attacks  upon  it  was  delivered  by  John  Witherspoon,  a  Scotch 
clergyman  who  came  out  in  1769  to  be  president  of  Princeton 
in  partibus  infidelium.  This  Witherspoon  brought  a  Scotch 
hatred  of  the  English  with  him,  and  at  once  became  a  leader  of 
the  party  of  independence;  he  signed  the  Declaration  to  the 
tune  of  much  rhetoric,  and  was  the  only  clergyman  to  sit  in  the 
Continental  Congress.  But  in  matters  of  learning  he  was  ortho- 
dox to  the  point  of  hunkerousness,  and  the  strange  locutions  that 

3  Scheme  for  a  New  Alphabet  and  a  Reformed  Mode  of  Spelling;  Phila- 
delphia, 1768. 

*  Dec.  26,  1789.  The  Works  of  B.  Franklin,  ed.  by  A.  F.  Smyth;  New 
York,  1905,  vol.  i,  p.  40. 


38  THE    AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

he  encountered  on  all  sides  aroused  his  pedagogic  ire.  "I  have 
heard  in  this  country,"  he  wrote  in  1781,  "in  the  senate,  at  the 
bar,  and  from  the  pulpit,  and  see  daily  in  dissertations  from 
the  press,  errors  in  grammar,  improprieties  and  vulgarisms  which 
hardly  any  person  of  the  same  class  in  point  of  rank  and  litera- 
ture would  have  fallen  into  in  Great  Britain."  5  It  was  Wither- 
spoon  who  coined  the  word  Americanism — and  at  once  the  Eng- 
lish guardians  of  the  sacred  vessels  began  employing  it  as  a 
general  synonym  for  vulgarism  and  barbarism.  Another  learned 
immigrant,  the  Rev.  Jonathan  Boucher,  soon  joined  him.  This 
Boucher  was  a  friend  of  Washington,  but  was  driven  back  to 
England  by  his  Loyalist  sentiments.  He  took  revenge  by  print- 
ing various  charges  against  the  Americans,  among  them  that  of 
"making  all  the  haste  they  can  to  rid  themselves  of  the  [Eng- 
lish] language." 

After  the  opening  of  the  new  century  all  the  British  reviews 
maintained  an  eager  watchfulness  for  these  abhorrent  inven- 
tions, and  denounced  them,  when  found,  .with  the  utmost  ve- 
hemence. The  Edinburgh,  which  led  the  charge,  opened  its 
attack  in  October,  1804,  and  the  appearance  of  the  five  volumes 
of  Chief  Justice  Marshall's  "Life  of  George  Washington,"  dur- 
ing the  three  years  following,  gave  the  signal  for  corrective 
articles  in  the  British  Critic,  the  Critical  Review,  the  Annual, 
the  Monthly  and  the  Eclectic.  The  British  Critic,  in  April, 
1808,  admitted  somewhat  despairingly  that  the  damage  was 
already  done — that  "the  common  speech  of  the  United  States 
has  departed  very  considerably  from  the  standard  adopted  in 
England."  The  others,  however,  sought  to  stay  the  flood  by 
invective  against  Marshall  and,  later,  against  his  rival  biog- 
rapher, the  Rev.  Aaron  Bancroft.  The  Annual,  in  1808,  pro- 
nounced its  high  curse  and  anathema  upon  ' '  that  torrent  of  bar- 
barous phraseology"  which  was  pouring  across  the  Atlantic, 
and  which  threatened  "to  destroy  the  purity  of  the  English 
language."6  In  Bancroft's  "Life  of  George  Washington" 

5  The  Druid,  No.  5 ;  reprinted  in  Witherspoon's  Collected  Works,  edited 
by  Ashbel  Green,  vol.  iv;  New  York,  1800-1. 

e  Vide,  in  addition  to  the  citations  in  the  text,  the  British  Critic,  NOT. 


sig 

su 


THE    BEGINNINGS    OF   AMERICAN      39 

(1808),  according  to  the  British  Critic,  there  were  gross  Ameri- 
canisms, inordinately  offensive  to  Englishmen,  "at  almost  every 
page. ' ' 

The  Eev.  Jeremy  Belknap,  long  anticipating  Elwyn,  White 
and  Lounsbury,  tried  to  obtain  a  respite  from  this  abuse  by 
pointing  out  the  obvious  fact  that  many  of  the  Americanisms 
under  fire  were  merely  survivors  of  an  English  that  had  become 
archaic  in  England,  but  this  effort  counted  for  little,  for  on  the 
one  hand  the  British  purists  enjoyed  the  chase  too  much  to  give 
it  up,  and  on  the  other  hand  there  began  to  dawn  in  America 
a  new  spirit  of  nationality,  at  first  very  faint,  which  viewed  the 
differences  objected  to,  not  with  shame,  but  with  a  fierce  sort  of 
pride.  In  the  first  volume  of  the  North  American  Review  Wil- 
liam Ellery  Charming  spoke  out  boldly  for  "the  American  lan- 
guage and  literature, ' ' 7  and  a  year  later  Pickering  published 
his  defiant  dictionary  of  "words  and  phrases  which  have  been 
supposed  to  be  peculiar  to  the  United  States."  This  thin  col- 
lection of  500  specimens  set  off  a  dispute  which  yet  rages  on 
both  sides  of  the  Atlantic.  Pickering,  however,  was  undismayed. 
He  had  begun  to  notice  the  growing  difference  between  the  Eng- 
lish and  American  vocabulary  and  pronunciation,  he  said,  while 
living  in  London  from  1799  to  1801,  and  he  had  made  his  col- 
lections with  the  utmost  care,  and  after  taking  counsel  with 
various  prudent  authorities,  both  English  and  American.  Al- 
ready in  the  first  year  of  the  century,  he  continued,  the  English 
had  accused  the  people  of  the  new  republic  of  a  deliberate  "de- 
sign to  effect  an  entire  change  in  the  language"  and  while  no 

ch  design  was  actually  harbored,  the  facts  were  the  facts,  and 
he  cited  the  current  newspapers,  the  speeches  from  pulpit  and 
rostrum,  and  Webster  himself  in  support  of  them.  This  debate 
over  Pickering's  list,  as  I  say,  still  continues.  Lounsbury,  en- 
trenched behind  his  grotesque  categories,  once  charged  that 
four-fifths  of  the  words  in  it  had  ' '  no  business  to  be  there, ' '  and 

1793;  Feb.  1810;  the  Critical  Review,  July  1807;  Sept.  1809;  the  Monthly 
Review,  May  1808;  the  Eclectic  Review,  Aug.  1813. 

i  1815,  pp.  307-14;  reprinted  in  his  Remarks  on  National  Literature, 
Boston,  1823. 


40  THE   AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

Gilbert  M.  Tucker 8  has  argued  that  only  70  of  them  were  genuine 
Americanisms.  But  a  careful  study  of  the  list,  in  comparison 
with  the  early  quotations  recently  collected  by  Thornton,  seems 
to  indicate  that  both  of  these  judgments,  and  many  others  no 
less,  have  done  injustice  to  Pickering.  He  made  the  usual  er- 
rors of  the  pioneer,  but  his  sound  contributions  to  the  subject 
were  anything  but  inconsiderable,  and  it  is  impossible  to  forget 
his  diligence  and  his  constant  shrewdness.  He  established  firmly 
the  native  origin  of  a  number  of  words  now  in  universal  use  in 
America — e.  g.,  backwoodsman,  breadstuffs,  caucus,  clapboard, 
sleigh  and  squatter — and  of  such  familiar  derivatives  as  guber- 
natorial and  dutiable,  and  he  worked  out  the  genesis  of  not  a  few 
loan-words,  including  prairie,  scow,  rapids,  hominy  and  barbecue. 
It  was  not  until  1848,  when  the  first  edition  of  Bartlett  appeared, 
that  his  work  was  supplanted. 

§2 

i 

Sources  of  Early  Americanisms — The  first  genuine  American- 
isms were  undoubtedly  words  borrowed  bodily  from  the  Indian 
dialects — words,  in  the  main,  indicating  natural  objects  that  had 
no  counterparts  in  England.  We  find  opossum,  for  example, 
in  the  form  of  opasum,  in  Captain  John  Smith's  "Map  of  Vir- 
ginia" (1612),  and,  in  the  form  of  apossoun,  in  a  Virginia  docu- 
ment two  years  older.  Moose  is  almost  as  old.  The  word  is 
borrowed  from  the  Algonquin  musa,  and  must  have  become  fa- 
miliar to  the  Pilgrim  Fathers  soon  after  their  landing  in  1620, 
for  the  woods  of  Massachusetts  then  swarmed  with  the  huge 
quadrupeds  and  there  was  no  English  name  to  designate  them. 
Again,  there  are  skunk  (from  the  Abenaki  Indian  seganku,), 
hickory,  squash,  paw-paw,  raccoon,  chinkapin,  porgy,  chip- 
munk, pemmican,  terrapin,  menhaden,  catalpa,  persimmon  and 
cougar.  Of  these,  hickory  and  terrapin  are  to  be  found  in  Rob- 
ert Beverley's  "History  and  Present  State  of  Virginia"  (1705), 
and  squash,  chinkapin  and  persimmon  are  in  documents  of  the 
preceding  century.  Many  of  these  words,  of  course,  were  short- 

8  American  English,  North  American  Review,  April,  1883. 


THE    BEGINNINGS    OF   AMEEICAN      41 

ened  or  otherwise  modified  on  being  taken  into  colonial  English. 
Thus  chinkapin  was  originally  checkinqumin,  and  squash  appears 
in  early  documents  as  isquontersquash,  askutasquash,  isquonker- 
squash  and  squantersqiMsh.  But  William  Penn,  in  a  letter 
dated  August  16,  1683,  used  the  latter  in  its  present  form.  Its 
variations  show  a  familiar  effort  to  bring  a  new  and  strange 
word  into  harmony  with  the  language — an  effort  arising  from 
what  philologists  call  the  law  of  Hobson-Jobson.  This  name 
was  given  to  it  by  Col.  Henry  Yule  and  A.  C.  Burnell,  compilers 
of  a  standard  dictionary  of  Anglo-Indian  terms.  They  found 
that  the  British  soldiers  in  India,  hearing  strange  words  from 
the  lips  of  the  natives,  often  converted  them  into  English  words 
of  similar  sound,  though  of  widely  different  meaning.  Thus 
the  words  Hassan  and  Hosein,  frequently  used  by  the  Moham- 
medans of  the  country  in  their  devotions,  were  turned  into 
Hob  son- Job  son.  The  same  process  is  constantly  in  operation 
elsewhere.  By  it  the  French  route  de  roi  has  become  Rotten 
Row  in  English,  ecrevisse  has  become  crayfish,  and  the  English 
bowsprit  has  become  beau  pre  (=  beautiful  meadow)  in  French. 
The  word  pigeon,  in  Pigeon  English,  offers  another  example ;  it 
has  no  connection  with  the  bird,  but  merely  represents  a  China- 
man 's  attempt  to  pronounce  the  word  business.  No  doubt  squash 
originated  in  the  same  way.  That  woodchuck  did  so  is  prac- 
tically certain.  Its  origin  is  to  be  sought,  not  in  wood  and 
chuck,  but  in  the  Cree  word  otchock,  used  by  the  Indians  to 
designate  the  animal. 

In  addition  to  the  names  of  natural  objects,  the  early  colonists, 
of  course,  took  over  a  great  many  Indian  place-names,  and  a 
number  of  words  to  designate  Indian  relations  and  artificial  ob- 
jects in  Indian  use.  To  the  last  division  belong  hominy,  pone, 
toboggan,  canoe,  tapioca,  moccasin,  pow-wow,  papoose,  toma- 
hawk, wigwam,  succotash  and  squaw,  all  of  which  were  in  com- 
mon circulation  by  the  beginning  of  the  eighteenth  century. 
Finally,  new  words  were  made  during  the  period  by  translating 
Indian  terms,  for  example,  war-path,  war-paint,  pale-face,  medi- 
cine-man, pipe-of-peace  and  fire-water.  The  total  number  of 
such  borrowings,  direct  and  indirect,  was  a  good  deal  larger 


42  THE    AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

than  now  appears,  for  with  the  disappearance  of  the  red  man 
the  use  of  loan-words  from  his  dialects  has  decreased.  In  our 
own  time  such  words  as  papoose,  sachem,  tepee,  wigwam  and 
wampum  have  begun  to  drop  out  of  everyday  use ; 9  at  an  earlier 
period  the  language  sloughed  off  ocelot,  manitee,  calumet,  su- 
pawn,  samp  and  quahaug,  or  began  to  degrade  them  to  the  estate 
of  provincialisms.10  A  curious  phenomenon  is  presented  by  the 
case  of  frnaize,  which  came  into  the  colonial  speech  from  some 
West  Indian  dialect,  went  o*ver  into  orthodox  English,  and  from 
English  into  French,  German  and  other  continental  languages, 
and  was  then  abandoned  by  the  colonists.  We  shall  see  other 
examples  of  that  process  later  on. 

Whether  or  not  Yankee  comes  from  an  Indian  dialect  is  still 
disputed.  An  early  authority,  John  G.  E.  Heckwelder,  argued 
that  it  was  derived  from  an  Indian  mispronunciation  of  the 
word  English.11  Certain  later  etymologists  hold  that  it  origi- 
nated more  probably  in  an  Indian  mishandling  of  the  French 
word  Anglais.  Yet  others  derive  it  from  the  Scotch  yankie, 
meaning  a  gigantic  falsehood.  A  fourth  party  derive  it  from 
the  Dutch,  and  cite  an  alleged  Dutch  model  for  "Yankee  Doo- 
dle," beginning  "Tanker  didee  doodle  down."12  Of  these 
theories  that  of  Heckwelder  is  the  most  plausible.  But  here, 
as  in  other  directions,  the  investigation  of  American  etymology 
remains  sadly  incomplete.  An  elaborate  dictionary  of  words 
derived  from  the  Indian  languages,  compiled  by  the  late  W.  R. 
Gerard,  is  in  the  possession  of  the  Smithsonian  Institution,  but 
on  account  of  a  shortage  of  funds  it  remains  in  manuscript. 

9  A  number  of  such  Indian  words  are  preserved  in  the  nomenclature  of 
Tammany  Hall  and  in  that  of  the  Improved  Order  of  Red  Men,  an  organ- 
ization with  more  than  500,000  members.     The  Red  Men,  borrowing  from 
the  Indians,  thus  name  the  months,  in  order:     Cold  Moon,  Snow,  Worm, 
Plant,  Flower,  Hot,  Buck,  Sturgeon,  Corn,  Travelers',  Beaver  and  Hunting. 
They  call  their  officers  incohonee,  sachem,  wampum-keeper,  etc.     But  such 
terms,  of  course,  are  not  in  general  use. 

10  A  long  list  of  such  obsolete  Americanisms  is  given  by  Clapin  in  his 
Dictionary. 

11  An  Account  of  the  History,  Manners  and  Customs  of  the  Indian  Na- 
tions. .  .  .;  Phila.,  1818. 

12  Cf.  Hans  Brinker,  by  Mary  Maples  Dodge;  New  York,  1891. 


THE    BEGINNINGS    OF   AMERICAN      43 

From  the  very  earliest  days  of  English  colonization  the  lan- 
guage of  the  colonists  also  received  accretions  from  the  languages 
of  the  other  colonizing  nations.  The  French  word  portage,  for 
example,  was  already  in  common  use  before  the  end  of  the  sev- 
enteenth century,  and  soon  after  came  chowder,  cache,  caribou, 
voyageur,  and  various  words  that,  like  the  last-named,  have 
since  become  localisms  or  disappeared  altogether.  Before  1750 
bureau,13  gopher,  batteati,  bogus,  and  prairie  were  added,  and 
caboose,  a  word  of  Dutch  origin,  seems  to  have  come  in  through 
the  French.  Carry-all  is  also  French  in  origin,  despite  its  Eng- 
lish quality.  It  comes,  by  the  law  of  Hobson-Jobson,  from  the 
French  carriole.  The  contributions  of  the  Dutch  during  the 
half  century  of  their  conflicts  with  the  English  included  cruller, 
cold-slaw,  dominie  (for  parson),  cookey,  stoop,  span  (of  horses), 
pit  (as  in  peach-pit),  waffle,  hook  (a  point  of  land),  scow,  boss, 
smearcase  and  Santa  Glaus.1*  Schele  de  Vere  credits  them  with 
hay-barrack,  a  corruption  of  hooiberg.  That  they  established 
the  use  of  bush  as  a  designation  for  back-country  is  very  prob- 
able; the  word  has  also  got  into  South  African  English.  In 
American  it  has  produced  a  number  of  familiar  derivatives,  e.  g., 
bush-whacker  and  bush-league.  Barrere  and  Leland  also  credit 
the  Dutch  with  dander,  which  is  commonly  assumed  to  be  an 
American  corruption  of  dandruff.  They  say  that  it  is  from  the 
Dutch  word  donder  (=  thunder).  Op  donderen,  in  Dutch, 
means  to  burst  into  a  sudden  rage.  The  chief  Spanish  contri- 
butions to  American  were  to  come  after  the  War  of  1812,  with 
the  opening  of  the  West,  but  Creole,  calaboose,  palmetto,  peewee, 
key  (a  small  island),  quadroon,  octoroon,  barbecue,  pickaninny 
and  stampede  had  already  entered  the  language  in  colonial  days. 
Jerked  beef  came  from  the  Spanish  charqui  by  the  law  of  Hob- 
son-Jobson. The  Germans  who  arrived  in  Pennsylvania  in 
1682  also  undoubtedly  gave  a  few  words  to  the  language,  though 

13  (a)  A  chest  of  drawers,  (b)  a  government  office.  In  both  senses  the 
word  is  rare  in  English,  though  its  use  by  the  French  is  familiar.  In  the 
United  States  its  use  in  (b)  has  been  extended,  e.  g.,  in  employment -bureau. 

i*  From  Sint-Klaas— Saint  Nicholas.  Santa  Glaus  has  also  become  fa- 
miliar to  the  English,  but  the  Oxford  Dictionary  still  calls  the  name  an 
Americanism. 


44  THE    AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

it  is  often  difficult  to  distinguish  their  contributions  from  those 
of  the  Dutch.  It  seems  very  likely,  however,  that  sauerkraut 16 
and  noodle  are  to  be  credited  to  them.  Finally,  the  negro  slaves 
brought  in  gumbo,  goober,  juba  and  voodoo  (usually  corrupted 
to  hoodoo),  and  probably  helped  to  corrupt  a  number  of  other 
loan-words,  for  example  banjo  and  breakdown.  Banjo  seems  to 
be  derived  from  bandore  or  bandurria,  modern  French  and  Span- 
ish forms  of  tambour,  respectively.  It  may,  however,  be  an 
actual  negro  word;  there  is  a  term  of  like  meaning,  bania,  in 
Senegambian.  Ware  says  that  breakdown,  designating  a  riotous 
negro  dance,  is  a  corruption  of  the  French  rigadon.  The  word 
is  not  in  the  Oxford  Dictionary.  Bartlett  listed  it  as  an  Ameri- 
canism, but  Thornton  rejected  it,  apparently  because,  in  the  sense 
of  a  collapse,  it  has  come  into  colloquial  use  in  England.  Its 
etymology  is  not  given  in  the  American  dictionaries. 

§3 

New  Words  of  English  Material — But  of  far  more  importance 
than  these  borrowings  was  the  great  stock  of  new  words  that  the 
colonists  coined  in  English  metal — words  primarily  demanded  by 
the  ' '  new  circumstances  under  which  they  were  placed, ' '  but  also 
indicative,  in  more  than  one  case,  of  a  delight  in  the  business  for 
its  own  sake.  The  American,  even  in  the  early  eighteenth  cen- 
tury, already  showed  many  of  the  characteristics  that  were  to  set 
him  off  from  the  Englishman  later  on — his  bold  and  somewhat 
grotesque  imagination,  his  contempt  for  authority,  his  lack  of 
aesthetic  sensitiveness,  his  extravagant  humor.  Among  the  first 
colonists  there  were  many  men  of  education,  culture  and  gentle 
birth,  but  they  were  soon  swamped  by  hordes  of  the  ignorant 
and  illiterate,  and  the  latter,  cut  off  from  the  corrective  influence 
of  books,  soon  laid  their  hands  upon  the  language.  It  is  impos- 
sible to  imagine  the  austere  Puritan  divines  of  Massachusetts 
inventing  such  verbs  as  to  cowhide  and  to  logroll,  or  such  adjec- 
tives as  no-account  and  stumped,  or  such  adverbs  as  no-how  and 

15  The  spelling  is  variously  sauerkraut,  saurkraut,  sourkraut  and  sour- 
krout. 


THE    BEGINNINGS   OF   AMERICAN      45 

lickety-split,  or  such  substantives  as  bull-frog,  hog-wallow  and 
hoe-cake;  but  under  their  eyes  there  arose  a  contumacious  prole- 
tariat which  was  quite  capable  of  the  business,  and  very  eager 
for  it.  In  Boston,  so  early  as  1628,  there  was  a  definite  class  of 
blackguard  roisterers,  chiefly  made  up  of  sailors  and  artisans ;  in 
Virginia,  nearly  a  decade  earlier,  John  Pory,  secretary  to  Gov- 
ernor Yeardley,  lamented  that  ' '  in  these  five  moneths  of  my  con- 
tinuance here  there  have  come  at  one  time  or  another  eleven  sails 
of  ships  into  this  river,  but  fraighted  more  with  ignorance  than 
with  any  other  marchansize. ' '  In  particular,  the  generation  born 
in  the  New  World  was  uncouth  and  iconoclastic ; 16  the  only  world 
it  knew  was  a  rough  world,  and  the  virtues  that  environment  en- 
gendered were  not  those  of  niceness,  but  those  of  enterprise  and 
resourcefulness. 

Upon  men  of  this  sort  fell  the  task  of  bringing  the  wilderness 
to  the  ax  and  the  plow,  and  with  it  went  the  task  of  inventing  a 
vocabulary  for  the  special  needs  of  the  great  adventure.  Out  of 
their  loutish  ingenuity  came  a  great  number  of  picturesque  names 
for  natural  objects,  chiefly  boldly  descriptive  compounds:  bull- 
frog, canvas-back,  lightning-bug,  mud-hen,  cat-bird,  razor-back, 
garter-snake,  ground-hog  and  so  on.  And  out  of  an  inventive- 
ness somewhat  more  urbane  came  such  coinages  as  live-oak,  po- 
tato-bug, turkey -gobbler,  poke-weed,  copper-head,  eel-grass,  reed- 
bird,  egg-plant,  blue-grass,  pea-nut,  pitch-pine,  ding-stone 
(peach),  moccasin-snake,  June-bug  and  butter-nut.  Live-oak 
appears  in  a  document  of  1610 ;  bull-frog  was  familiar  to  Bever- 
ley  in  1705 ;  so  was  James-Town  weed  (later  reduced  to  Jimson 
weed,  as  the  English  hurtleberry  or  whortleberry  was  reduced  to 
huckleberry}.  These  early  Americans  were  not  botanists.  They 
were  often  ignorant  of  the  names  of  the  plants  they  encountered, 
even  when  those  plants  already  had  English  names,  and  so  they 
exercised  their  fancy  upon  new  ones.  So  arose  Johnny-jump-up 
for  the  Viola  tricolor,  and  basswood  for  the  common  European 
linden  or  lime-tree  (Tilia),  and  locust  for  the  Robinia  pseuda- 
cacia  and  its  allies.  The  Jimson  weed  itself  was  anything  but  a 

16  Cf.  The  Cambridge  History  of  American  Literature,  vol.  i,  pp.  14  and 
22. 


46  THE    AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

novelty,  but  the  pioneers  apparently  did  not  recognize  it,  and  so 
we  find  them  ascribing  all  sorts  of  absurd  medicinal  powers  to  it, 
and  even  Beverley  solemnly  reporting  that ' '  some  Soldiers,  eating 
it  in  a  Salad,  turn'd  natural  Fools  upon  it  for  several  Days." 
The  grosser  features  of  the  landscape  got  a  lavish  renaming, 
partly  to  distinguish  new  forms  and  partly  out  of  an  obvious 
desire  to  attain  a  more  literal  descriptiveness.  I  have  mentioned 
key  and  hook,  the  one  borrowed  from  the  Spanish  and  the  other 
from  the  Dutch.  With  them  came  run,  branch,  fork,  bluff, 
(noun),  neck,  barrens,  bottoms,  underbrush,  bottom-land,  clear- 
ing, notch,  divide,  knob,  riffle,  gap,  rolling-country  and  rapids,17 
and  the  extension  of  pond  from  artificial  pools  to  small  natural 
lakes,  and  of  creek  from  small  arms  of  the  sea  to  shallow  feeders 
of  rivers.  Such  common  English  geographical  terms  as  downs, 
weald,  wold,  fen,  bog,  fell,  chase,  combe,  dell,  heath  and  moor 
disappeared  from  the  colonial  tongue,  save  as  fossilized  in  a  few 
proper  names.  So  did  bracken. 

With  the  new  landscape  came  an  entirely  new  mode  of  life — • 
new  foods,  new  forms  of  habitation,  new  methods  of  agriculture, 
new  kinds  of  hunting.  A  great  swarm  of  neologisms  thus  arose, 
and,  as  in  the  previous  case,  they  were  chiefly  compounds. 
Back-country,  back-woods,  back-woodsman,  back-settlers,  back- 
settlements:  all  these  were  in  common  use  early  in  the  eighteenth 
century.  Back-log  was  used  by  Increase  Mather  in  1684.  Log- 
house  appears  in  the  Maryland  Archives  for  1669.18  Hoe-cake, 
Johnny-cake,  pan-fish,  corn-dodger,  roasting-ear,  corn-crib,  corn- 
cob and  pop-corn  were  all  familiar  before  the  Revolution.  So 
were  pine-knot,  snow-plow,  cold-snap,  land-slide,  salt-lick, 
prickly-heat,  shell-road  and  cane-brake.  Shingle  was  a  novelty 
in  1705,  but  one  S.  Symonds  wrote  to  John  Winthrop,  of  Ipswich, 
about  a  clapboarded  house  in  1637.  Frame-house  seems  to  have 
come  in  with  shingle.  Trail,  half-breed,  Indian-summer  and 

i7  The  American  origin  of  this  last  word  has  been  disputed,  but  th« 
weieht  of  evidence  seems  to  show  that  it  was  borrowed  from  the  rapides  of 
the  French  Canadians.  It  is  familiar  in  the  United  States  and  Canada,  but 
seldom  met  with  in  England. 

is  Log-cabin  came  in  later.  Thornton's  first  quotation  is  dated  1818. 
The  Log-Cabin  campaign  was  in  1840. 


THE    BEGINNINGS   OF   AMERICAN      47 

Indian-file  were  obviously  suggested  by  the  Red  Men.  State- 
house  was  borrowed,  perhaps,  from  the  Dutch.  Selectman  is  first 
heard  of  in  1685,  displacing  the  English  alderman.  Mush  had 
displaced  porridge  by  1671.  Soon  afterward  hay-stack  took  the 
place  of  the  English  hay-cock,  and  such  common  English  terms  as 
'byre,  mews,  weir,  and  wain  began  to  disappear.  Hired-^man  is  to 
be  found  in  the  Plymouth  town  records  of  1737,  and  hired-girl 
followed  soon  after.  So  early  as  1758,  as  we  find  by  the  diary  of 
Nathaniel  Ames,  the  second-year  students  at  Harvard  were  al- 
ready called  sophomores,  though  for  a  while  the  spelling  was 
often  made  sophimores.  Camp-meeting  was  later ;  it  did  not  ap- 
pear until  1799.  But  land-office  was  familiar  before  1700,  and 
side-walk,  spelling -bee,  bee-line,  moss-back,  crazy-quilt,  mud- 
scow,  stamping-ground  and  a  hundred  and  one  other  such  com- 
pounds were  in  daily  use  before  the  Revolution.  After  that 
great  upheaval  the  new  money  of  the  confederation  brought  in  a 
number  of  new  words.  In  1782  Gouverneur  Morris  proposed  to 
the  Continental  Congress  that  the  coins  of  the  republic  be  called, 
in  ascending  order,  unit,  penny-bill,  dollar  and  crown.  Later 
Morris  invented  the  word  cent,  substituting  it  for  the  English 
penny.10  In  1785  Jefferson  proposed  mill,  cent,  dime,  dollar  and 
eagle,  and  this  nomenclature  was  adopted. 

Various  nautical  terms  peculiar  to  America,  or  taken  into  Eng- 
lish from  American  sources,  came  in  during  the  eighteenth  cen- 
tury, among  them,  schooner,  cat-boat  and  pungy,  not  to  recall 
batteau  and  canoe.  According  to  a  recent  historian  of  the  Amer- 
ican merchant  marine,20  the  first  schooner  ever  seen  was  launched 
at  Gloucester,  Mass.,  in  1713.  The  word,  it  appears,  was  orig- 
inally spelled  scooner.  To  scoon  was  a  verb  borrowed  by  the 
New  Englanders  from  some  Scotch  dialect,  and  meant  to  skim 
or  skip  across  the  water  like  a  flat  stone.  As  the  first  schooner 
left  the  ways  and  glided  out  into  Gloucester  harbor,  an  enrap- 
tured spectator  shouted:  "Oh,  see  how  she  scoons!"  "A 
scooner  let  her  be!"  replied  Captain  Andrew  Robinson,  her 

is  Theo.  Roosevelt:     Gouverneur  Morris;  Boston,  1888,  p.  104. 
20  William  Brown  Meloney:  The  Heritage  of  Tyre;  New  York,  1916,  p. 
15. 


48  THE    AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

builder — and  all  boats  of  her  peculiar  and  novel  fore-and-aft  rig 
took  the  name  thereafter.  The  Dutch  mariners  borrowed  the 
term  and  changed  the  spelling,  and  this  change  was  soon  accepted 
in  America.  The  Scotch  root  came  from  the  Norse  skunna,  to 
hasten,  and  there  are  analogues  in  Icelandic,  Anglo-Saxon  and 
Old  High  German.  The  origin  of  cat-boat  and  pungy  I  have 
been  unable  to  determine.  Perhaps  the  latter  is  related  in  some 
way  to  pung,  a  one-horse  sled  or  wagon.  Pung  was  once  widely 
used  in  the  United  States,  but  of  late  it  has  sunk  to  the  estate 
of  a  New  England  provincialism.  Longfellow  used  it,  and  in 
1857  a  writer  in  the  Knickerbocker  Magazine  reported  that  pungs 
filled  Broadway,  in  New  York,  after  a  snow-storm. 

Most  of  these  new  words,  of  course,  produced  derivatives,  for 
example,  to  stack  hay,  to  shingle,  to  shuck  (i.  e.,  corn),  to  trail 
and  to  caucus.  Backwoods  immediately  begat  backwoodsman 
and  was  itself  turned  into  a  common  adjective.  The  colonists, 
indeed,  showed  a  beautiful  disregard  of  linguistic  nicety.  At 
an  early  date  they  shortened  the  English  law-phrase,  to  convey 
by  deed,  to  the  simple  verb,  to  deed.  Pickering  protested  against 
this  as  a  barbarism,  and  argued  that  no  self-respecting  law-writer 
would  employ  it,  but  all  the  same  it  was  firmly  entrenched  in  the 
common  speech  and  it  has  remained  there  to  this  day.  To  table, 
for  to  lay  on  the  table,  came  in  at  the  same  time,  and  so  did 
various  forms  represented  by  bindery,  for  bookbinder's  shop.  To 
tomahawk  appeared  before  1650,  and  to  scalp  must  have  followed 
soon  after.  Within  the  next  century  and  a  half  they  were  rein- 
forced by  many  other  such  new  verbs,  and  by  such  adjectives 
made  of  nouns  as  no-account  and  one-horse,  and  such  nouns  made 
of  verbs  as  carry-all  and  goner,  and  such  adverbs  as  no-how.  In 
particular,  the  manufacture  of  new  verbs  went  on  at  a  rapid 
pace.  In  his  letter  to  Webster  in  1789,  Franklin  denounced  to 
advocate,  to  progress,  and  to  oppose — a  vain  enterprise,  for  all 
of  them  are  now  in  perfectly  good  usage.  To  advocate,  indeed, 
was  used  by  Thomas  Nashe  in  1589,  and  by  John  Milton  half  a 
century  later,  but  it  seems  to  have  been  reinvented  in  America. 
In  1822  and  again  in  1838  Robert  Southey,  then  poet  laureate, 
led  two  belated  attacks  upon  it,  as  a  barbarous  Americanism,  but 


THE   BEGINNINGS   OF   AMERICAN      49 

its  obvious  usefulness  preserved  it,  and  it  remains  in  good  usage 
on  both  sides  of  the  Atlantic  today — one  of  the  earliest  of  the 
English  borrowings  from  America.  In  the  end,  indeed,  even  so 
ardent  a  purist  as  Richard  Grant  White  adopted  it,  as  he  did 
to  placate.21 

Webster,  though  he  agreed  with  Franklin  in  opposing  to  advo- 
cate, gave  his  imprimatur  to  to  appreciate  (i.  e.,  to  rise  in  value), 
and  is  credited  by  Sir  Charles  Lyell 22  with  having  himself  in- 
vented to  demoralize.  He  also  approved  to  obligate.  To  antago- 
nize seems  to  have  been  given  currency  by  John  Quincy  Adams, 
to  immigrate  by  John  Marshall,  to  eventuate  by  Gouverneur 
Morris,  and  to  derange  by  George  Washington.  Jefferson,  al- 
ways hospitable  to  new  words,  used  to  belittle  in  his  "Notes  on 
Virginia,"  and  Thornton  thinks  that  he  coined  it.  Many  new 
verbs  were  made  by  the  simple  process  of  prefixing  the  preposi- 
tion to  common  nouns,  e.  g.,  to  clerk,  to  dicker,  to  dump,  to  Now, 
(i.  e.,  to  bluster  or  boast),  to  cord  (i.  e.,  wood)  to  stump,  to  room 
and  to  shin.  Others  were  made  by  transforming  verbs  in  the 
orthodox  vocabulary,  e.  g.,  to  cavort  from  to  curvet,  and  to  snoop 
from  to  snook.  Others  arose  as  metaphors,  e.  g.,  to  whitewash 
(figuratively)  and  to  squat  (on  unoccupied  land).  Others  were 
made  by  hitching  suffixes  to  nouns,  e.  g.,  to  negative,  to  deputize, 
to  locate,  to  legislate,  to  infract,  to  compromit  and  to  happify. 
Yet  others  seem  to  have  been  produced  by  onomatopoeia,  e.  g., 
to  fizzle,  or  to  have  arisen  by  some  other  such  spontaneous  process, 
so  far  unintelligible,  e.  g.,  to  tote.  With  them  came  an  endless 
series  of  verb-phrases,  e.  g.,  to  draw  a  bead,  to  face  the  music, 
to  darken  one's  doors,  to  take  to  the  woods,  to  fly  off  the  handle, 
to  go  on  the  war-path  and  to  saw  wood — all  obvious  products  of 
frontier  life.  Many  coinages  of  the  pre-Revolutionary  era  later 
disappeared.  Jefferson  used  to  ambition  but  it  dropped  out 
nevertheless,  and  so  did  to  compromit,  (i.  e.,  to  compromise),  to 
homologize,  and  to  happify.  Fierce  battles  raged  'round  some  of 
these  words,  and  they  were  all  violently  derided  in  England. 
Even  so  useful  a  verb  as  to  locate,  now  in  perfectly  good  usage, 

21  Vide  his  preface  to  Every-Day  English,  pp.  xxi  and  xv,  respectively. 

22  Vide  LyelFs  Travels  in  North  America;  London,  1845. 


50  THE   AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

was  denounced  in  the  third  volume  of  the  North  American  Re- 
view, and  other  purists  of  the  times  tried  to  put  down  to  legis- 
late. 

The  young  and  tender  adjectives  had  quite  as  hard  a  row  to 
hoe,  particularly  lengthy.  The  British  Critic  attacked  it  in  No- 
vember, 1793,  and  it  also  had  enemies  at  home,  but  John  Adams 
had  used  it  in  his  diary  in  1759  and  the  authority  of  Jefferson 
and  Hamilton  was  behind  it,  and  so  it  survived.  Years  later 
James  Russell  Lowell  spoke  of  it  as  "the  excellent  adjective,"  23 
and  boasted  that  American  had  given  it  to  English.  Dutiable 
also  met  with  opposition,  and  moreover,  it  had  a  rival,  custom- 
able; but  Marshall  wrote  it  into  his  historic  decisions,  and  thus 
it  took  root.  The  same  anonymous  watchman  of  the  North 
American  Review  who  protested  against  to  locate  pronounced  his 
anathema  upon  "such  barbarous  terms  as  presidential  and  con- 
gressional," but  the  plain  need  for  them  kept  them  in  the  lan- 
guage. Gubernatorial  had  come  in  long  before  this,  and  is  to 
be  found  in  the  New  Jersey  Archives  of  1734.  Influential  was 
denounced  by  the  Rev.  Jonathan  Boucher  and  by  George  Can- 
ning, who  argued  that  influent  was  better,  but  it  was  ardently 
defended  by  William  Pinkney,  of  Maryland,  and  gradually  made 
its  way.  Handy,  kinky,  law-abiding,  chunky,  solid  (in  the  sense 
of  well-to-SoJ^evincive,  complected,  judgmatical,  underpinned, 
blooded  and  cute  were  also  already  secure  in  revolutionary  days. 
So  with  many  nouns.  Jefferson  used  breadstuff s  in  his  Report 
of  the  Secretary  of  State  on  Commercial  Restrictions,  December 
16,  1793.  Balance,  in  the  sense  of  remainder,  got  into  the  de- 
bates of  the  First  Congress.  Mileage  was  used  by  Franklin  in 
1754,  and  is  now  sound  English.  Elevator,  in  the  sense  of  a 
storage  house  for  grain,  was  used  by  Jefferson  and  by  others 
before  him.  Draw,  for  drawbridge,  comes  down  from  Revolu- 
tionary days.  So  does  slip,  in  the  sense  of  a  berth  for  vessels. 
So  does  addition,  in  the  sense  of  a  suburb.  So,  finally,  does 
darkey. 

The  history  of  many  of  these  Americanisms  shows  how  vain  is 
the  effort  of  grammarians  to  combat  the  normal  processes  of  lan- 

23  Pref.  to  the  Biglow  Papers,  2nd  series,  1866. 


THE    BEGINNINGS    OF   AMERICAN      51 

guage  development.  I  have  mentioned  the  early  opposition  to 
dutiable,  influential,  presidential,  lengthy,  to  locate,  to  oppose,  to 
advocate,  to  legislate  and  to  progress.  Bogus,  reliable  and  stand- 
point were  attacked  with  the  same  academic  ferocity.  All  of 
them  are  to  be  found  in  Bryant's  Index  Expurgatorius  2*  (circa 
1870),  and  reliable  was  denounced  by  Bishop  Coxe  as  "that  abom- 
inable barbarism"  so  late  as  1886.25  Edward  S.  Gould,  another 
uncompromising  purist,  said  of  standpoint  that  it  was  "the 
bright  particular  star  ...  of  solemn  philological  blundering" 
and  "the  very  counterpart  of  Dogberry's  non-com."  2B  Gould 
also  protested  against  to  jeopardize,  leniency  and  to  demean, 
and  Richard  Grant  White  joined  him  in  an  onslaught  upon  to 
donate.  But  all  of  these  words  are  in  good  use  in  the  United 
States  today,  and  some  of  them  have  gone  over  into  English.27 

§4 

Changed  Meanings — A  number  of  the  foregoing  contributions 
to  the  American  vocabulary,  of  course,  were  simply  common 
English  words  with  changed  meanings.  To  squat,  in  the  sense  of 
to  crouch,  had  been  sound  English  for  centuries;  what  the  col- 
onists did  was  to  attach  a  figurative  meaning  to  it,  and  then  bring 
that  figurative  meaning  into  wider  usage  than  the  literal  mean- 
ing. In  a  somewhat  similar  manner  they  changed  the  signifi- 
cance of  pond,  as  I  have  pointed  out.  So,  too,  with  creek.-  In 
English  it  designated  (and  still  designates)  a  small  inlet  or  arm 
of  a  large  river  or  of  the  sea;  in  American,  so  early  as  1674,  it 
designated  any  small  stream.  Many  other  such  changed 'mean- 
ings crept  into  American  in  the  early  days.  A  typical  one  was 
the  use  of  lot  to  designate  a  parcel  of  land.  Thornton  says,  per- 
haps inaccurately,  that  it  originated  in  the  fact  that  the  land  in 

ew  England  was  distributed  by  lot.     "Whatever  the  truth,  lot, 


N 


2*  Reprinted  in  Helpful  Hints  in  Writing  and  Reading,  comp.  by  Grenville 
Kleiser;  New  York,  1911,  pp.  15-17. 

25  A.  Cleveland  Coxe:  Americanisms  in  England,  Forum,  Oct.,  1886. 

26  Edwin  S.  Gould:     Good  English,   or,   Popular  Errors  in  Language: 
New  York,  1867;  pp.  25-27. 

27  Cf.  Ch.  I,  §  5,  and  Ch.  V,  §  1. 


52  THE   AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

to  this  day,  is  in  almost  universal  use  in  the  United  States,  though 
rare  in  England.  Our  conveyancers,  in  describing  real  prop- 
erty, always  speak  of  ' '  all  that  lot  or  parcel  of  land. ' ' 28  Other 
examples  of  the  application  of  old  words  to  new  purposes  are 
afforded  by  freshet,  barn  and  team.  A  freshet,  in  eighteenth 
century  English,  meant  any  stream  of  fresh  water;  the  colonists 
made  it  signify  an  inundation.  A  barn  was  a  house  or  shed  for 
storing  crops ;  in  the  colonies  the  word  came  to  mean  a  place  for 
keeping  cattle  also.  A  team,  in  English,  was  a  pair  of  draft 
horses ;  in  the  colonies  it  came  to  mean  both  horses  and  vehicle. 

The  process  is  even  more  clearly  shown  in  the  history  of  such 
words  as  corn  and  shoe.     Corn,  in  orthodox  English,  means  grain 
for  human  consumption,  and  especially  wheat,  e.  g.,  the  Corn 
Laws.    The  earliest  settlers,  following  this  usage,  gave  the  name 
of  Indian  corn  to  what  the  Spaniards,  following  the  Indians 
themselves,  had  called  maiz.    But  gradually  the  adjective  fell 
off,  and  by  the  middle  of  the  eighteenth  century  maize  was  called 
simply  corn,  and  grains   in   general   were   called   breadstuff 's. 
Thomas  Hutchinson,  discoursing  to  George  III  in  1774,  used,  corn 
in  this  restricted  sense,  speaking  of  "rye  and  corn  mixed." 
"What  cornf"  asked  George.     "Indian  corn,"  explained  Hutch- 
inson, "or,  as  it  is  called  in  authors,  maize."29    So  with  shoe. 
In  English  it  meant  (and  still  means)  a  topless  article  of  foot- 
wear, but  the  colonists  extended  its  meaning  to  varieties  covering 
the  ankle,  thus  displacing  the  English  boot,  which  they  reserved 
I    for  foot  coverings  reaching  at  least  to  the  knee.     To  designate 
|  the  English  shoe  they  began  to  use  the  word  slipper.     This  dis- 
f  tinction  between  English  and  American  usage  still  prevails,  de- 
<  spite  the  affectation  which  has  lately  sought  to  revive  boot,  and 
with  it  its  derivatives,  boot-shop  and  bootmaker. 

Store,  shop,  lumber,  pie,  dry-goods,  cracker,  rock  and  partridge 
among  nouns  and  to  haul,  to  jew,  to  notify  and  to  heft  among 
verbs  offer  further  examples  of  changed  meanings.  Down  to  the 

2*Lott  appears  in  the  Connecticut  Code  of  1650.  Vide  the  edition  of 
Andrus;  Hartford,  1822.  On  page  35  is  "their  landes,  lotts  and  accom- 
modations." On  page  46  is  "meadow  and  home  lotts." 

2»  Vide  Hutchinson's  Diary,  vol.  i,  p.  171;  London,  1883-6. 


THE    BEGINNINGS    OF   AMERICAN       53 

middle  of  the  eighteenth  century  shop  continued  to  designate  a 
retail  establishment  in  America,  as  it  does  in  England  to  this 
day.  Store  was  applied  only  to  a  large  establishment — one  show- 
ing, in  some  measure,  the  character  of  a  warehouse.  But  in  1774 
a  Boston  young  man  was  advertising  in  the  Massachusetts  Spy 
for  "a  place  as  a  clerk  in  a  store"  (three  Americanisms  in  a 
row!).  Soon  afterward  shop  began  to  acquire  its  special  Ameri- 
can meaning  as  a  factory,  e.  g.,  machine-shop.  Meanwhile  store 
completely  displaced  shop  in  the  English  sense,  and  it  remained 
for  a  late  flowering  of  Anglomania,  as  in  the  case  of  boot  and 
shoe,  to  restore,  in  a  measure,  the  status  quo  ante.  Lumber,  in 
eighteenth  century  English,  meant  disused  furniture,  and  this  is 
its  common  meaning  in  England  today.  But  the  colonists  early 
employed  it  to  designate  timber,  and  that  use  of  it  is  now  uni- 
versal in  America.  Its  familiar  derivatives,  e.  g.,  lumber-yard, 
lumberman,  lumberjack,  greatly  reinforce  this  usage.  Pie,  in 
English,  means  a  meat-pie;  in  American  it  means  a  fruit-pie. 
The  English  call  a  fruit-pie  a  tart;  the  Americans  call  a  meat- 
pie  a  pot-pie.  Dry-goods,  in  England,  means  "  non-liquid  goods, 
as  corn"  (i.e.,  wheat);  in  the  United  States  the  term  means 
"textile  fabrics  or  wares."30  The  difference  had  appeared  be- 
fore 1725.  Rock,  in  English,  always  means  a  large  mass;  in 
America  it  may  mean  a  small  stone,  as  in  rock-pile  and  to  throw 
a  rock.  The  Puritans  were  putting  rocks  into  the  foundations 
of  their  meeting-houses  so  early  as  1712.31  Cracker  began  to  be 
used  for  biscuit  before  the  Revolution.  Tavern  displaced  inn  at 
the  same  time.  As  for  partridge,  it  is  cited  by  a  late  authority 32 
as  a  salient  example  of  changed  meaning,  along  with  corn  and 
store.  In  England  the  term  is  applied  only  to  the  true  partridge 
(Perdix  perdix)  and  its  nearly  related  varieties,  but  in  the  United 
States  it  is  also  used  to  designate  the  ruffed  grouse  (Bonasa 
umbellus),  the  common  quail  (Colinus  virginianus)  and  various 

30  The  definitions  are  from  the  Concise  Oxford  Dictionary  of  Current  Eng- 
lish (1914)  and  the  Standard  Dictionary  (1906),  respectively. 

si  S.  Sewall:  Diary,  April  14,  1712:  "I  lay'd  a  Rock  in  the  North-east 
corner  of  the  Foundation  of  the  Meeting-house." 

32  The  Americana,  .  .  .  art .     Americanisms :  New  York,  1903-6. 


54  THE   AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

other  tetraonoid  birds.  This  confusion  goes  back  to  colonial 
times.  So  with  rabbit.  Properly  speaking,  there  are  no  native 
rabbits  in  the  United  States;  they  are  all  hares.  But  the  early 
colonists,  for  some  unknown  reason,  dropped  the  word  hare  out 
of  their  vocabulary,  and  it  is  rarely  heard  in  American  speech 
to  this  day.  When  it  appears  it  is  almost  always  applied  to  the 
so-called  Belgian  hare,  which,  curiously  enough,  is  not  a  hare  at 
all,  but  a  true  rabbit. 

To  haul,  in  English,  means  to  move  by  force  or  violence;  in 
the  colonies  it  came  to  mean  to  transport  in  a  vehicle,  and  this 
meaning  survives  in  sound  American.  To  jew,  in  English,  means 
to  cheat ;  the  colonists  made  it  mean  to  haggle,  and  devised  to  jew 
down  to  indicate  an  effort  to  work  a  reduction  in  price.  To  heft, 
in  English,  means  to  lift;  the  early  Americans  made  it  mean  to 
weigh  by  lifting,  and  kept  the  idea  of  weighing  in  its  derivatives, 
e.g.,  hefty.  Finally,  there  is  the  familiar  American  misuse  of 
Miss  or  Mis'  for  Mrs..  It  was  so  widespread  by  1790  that  on 
November  17  of  that  year  Webster  solemnly  denounced  it  in  the 
American  Mercury. 

§5 

Archaic  English  Words — Most  of  the  colonists  who  lived  along 
the  American  seaboard  in  1750  were  the  descendants  of  immi- 
grants who  had  come  in  fully  a  century  before;  after  the  first 
settlements  there  had  been  much  less  fresh  immigration  than 
many  latter-day  writers  have  assumed.  According  to  Prescott 
F.  Hall,  "the  population  of  New  England  ...  at  the  date  of 
the  Revolutionary  War  .  .  .  was  produced  out  of  an  immigra- 
tion of  about  20,000  persons  who  arrived  before  1640," 33  and  we 
have  Franklin's  authority  for  the  statement  that  the  total  popu- 
lation of  the  colonies  in  1751,  then  about  1,000,000,  had  been 

33  Immigration,  2nd  ed.;  New  York,  1913,  p.  4.  Sir  J.  R.  Seeley  says, 
in  The  Expansion  of  England  (2nd  ed.;  London,  1895,  p.  84)  that  the 
emigration  from  England  to  New  England,  after  the  meeting  of  the  Long 
Parliament  (1640),  was  so  slight  for  a  full  century  that  it  barely  balanced 
"the  counter-movement  of  colonists  quitting  the  colony."  Richard  Hil- 
dreth,  in  his  History  of  the  United  States,  vol.  i,  p.  267,  says  that  the 
departures  actually  exceeded  the  arrivals. 


THE    BEGINNINGS    OF   AMERICAN      55 

produced  from  an  original  immigration  of  less  than  80,000.34 
Even  at  that  early  day,  indeed,  the  colonists  had  begun  to  feel 
that  they  were  distinctly  separated,  in  culture  and  customs,  from 
the  mother-country,35  and  there  were  signs  of  the  rise  of  a  new 
native  aristocracy,  entirely  distinct  from  the  older  aristocracy  of 
the  royal  governors'  courts.36  The  enormous  difficulties  of  com- 
munication with  England  helped  to  foster  this  sense  of  separa- 
tion. The  round  trip  across  the  ocean  occupied  the  better  part 
of  a  year,  and  was  hazardous  and  expensive ;  a  colonist  who  had 
made  it  was  a  marked  man, — as  Hawthorne  said,  "the  petit- 
maitre  of  the  colonies."  Nor  was  there  any  very  extensive  ex- 
change of  ideas,  for  though  most  of  the  books  read  in  the  colonies 
came  from  England,  the  great  majority  of  the  colonists,  down  to 
the  middle  of  the  century,  seem  to  have  read  little  save  the  Bible 
and  biblical  commentaries,  and  in  the  native  literature  of  the 
time  one  seldom  comes  upon  any  reference  to  the  English  authors 
who  were  glorifying  the  period  of  the  Restoration  and  the  reign 
of  Anne.  Moreover,  after  1760  the  colonial  eyes  were  upon 
France  rather  than  upon  England,  and  Rousseau,  Montesquieu, 
Voltaire  and  the  Encyclopedists  began  to  be  familiar  names  to 
thousands  who  were  scarcely  aware  of  Addison  and  Steele,  or 
even  of  the  great  Elizabethans.37 

The  result  of  this  isolation,  on  the  one  hand,  was  that  prolifera- 
tion of  the  colonial  speech  which  I  have  briefly  reviewed,  and  on 
the  other  hand,  the  preservation  of  many  words  and  phrases  that 
gradually  became  obsolete  in  England.  The  Pilgrims  of  1620 
brought  over  with  them  the  English  of  James  I  and  the  Revised 


34  Works,  ed.  by  Sparks:  vol.  ii,  p.  319. 

85  Cf.  Pehr  Kalm:  Travels  into  N.  America,  tr.  by  J.  R.  Forster,  3  vols. ; 
London,  1770-71. 

36  Sydney  George  Fisher :  The  True  Story  of  the  American  Revolution ; 
Phila.  and  London,  1902,  p.  27.  See  also  John  T.  Morse's  Life  of  Thomas 
Jefferson  in  the  American  Statesmen  series  (Boston  and  New  York,  1898), 
p.  2.  Morse  points  out  that  Washington,  Jefferson  and  Madison  belonged 
to  this  new  aristocracy,  not  to  the  old  one. 

ST  Cf.  the  Cambridge  History  of  American  Literature,  vol.  i,  p.  119. 
Francis  Jeffrey,  writing  on  Franklin  in  the  Edinburgh  Review  for  July, 
1806,  hailed  him  as  a  prodigy  who  had  arisen  "in  a  society  where  there 
was  no  relish  and  no  encouragement  for  literature." 


56  THE   AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

Version,  and  their  descendants  of  a  century  later,  inheriting  it, 
allowed  its  fundamentals  to  be  little  changed  by  the  academic 
overhauling  that  the  mother  tongue  was  put  to  during  the  early 
part  of  the  eighteenth  century.  In  part  they  were  ignorant  of 
this  overhauling,  and  in  part  they  were  indifferent  to  it.  When- 
ever the  new  usage  differed  from  that  of  the  Bible  they  were  in- 
clined to  remain  faithful  to  the  Bible,  not  only  because  of  its 
pious  authority  but  also  because  of  the  superior  pull  of  its  immi- 
nent and  constant  presence.  Thus  when  an  artificial  prudery  in 
English  ordered  the  abandonment  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  sick  for 
the  Gothic  ill,  the  colonies  refused  to  follow,  for  sick  was  in  both 
the  Old  Testament  and  the  New ; 38  and  that  refusal  remains  in 
force  to  this  day. 

A  very  large  number  of  words  and  phrases,  many  of  them  now 
exclusively  American,  are  similar  survivals  from  the  English  of 
the  seventeenth  century,  long  since  obsolete  or  merely  provincial 
in  England.  Among  nouns  Thornton  notes  fox-fire,  flap-jack, 
jeans,  molasses,  beef  (to  designate  the  live  animal),  chinch,  cord- 
wood,  homespun,  ice-cream,  julep  and  swingle-tree;  Halliwell 39 
adds  andiron,  bay-window,  cesspool,  clodhopper,  cross-purposes, 
greenhorn,  loophole,  ragamuffin,  riff-raff,  rigmarole  and  trash; 
and  other  authorities  cite  stock  (for  cattle),  fall  (for  autumn), 
offal,  din,  underpinning  and  adze.  Bub,  used  in  addressing  a 
boy,  is  very  old  English,  but  survives  only  in  American.  Flap- 
jack goes  back  to  Piers  Plowman,  but  has  been  obsolete  in  Eng- 
land for  two  centuries.  Muss,  in  the  sense  of  a  row,  is  also  obso- 
lete over  there,  but  it  is  to  be  found  in  "Anthony  and  Cleopatra. ' ' 
Char,  as  a  noun,  disappeared  from  English  a  long  time  ago,  but 
it  survives  in  American  as  chore.  Among  the  adjectives  similarly 
preserved  are  to  whittle,  to  wilt  and  to  approbate.  To  guess,  in 
the  American  sense  of  to  suppose,  is  to  be  found  in  "Henry 
VI": 

38  Examples  of  its  use  in  the  American  sense,  considered  vulgar  and  even 
indecent  in  England,  are  to  be  found  in  Gen.  xlviii,   1;   II  Kings  viii,  7; 
John  xi,  1,  and  Acts  ix,  37. 

39  J.  0.  Halliwell  (Phillips)  :  A  Dictionary  of  Archaisms  and  Provincial- 
isms, Containing  Words  now  Obsolete  in  England  All  of  Which  are  Familiar 
and  in  Common  Use  in  America,  2nd  ed.;  London,  1850. 


JJ1U- 

ient.  I  - 
un-  \ 

loiTl_  * 


THE    BEGINNINGS   OF   AMERICAN       57 

Not  all  together;  better  far,  I  guess, 

That  we  do  make  our  entrance  several  ways. 

In  "Measure  for  Measure"  Escalus  says  "I  guess  not"  to 
Angelo.  The  New  English  Dictionary  offers  examples  much 
older — from  Chaucer,  Wyclif  and  Gower.  To  interview  is  in 
Dekker.  To  loan,  in  the  American  sense  of  to  lend,  is  in  34  and 
35  Henry  VlTffTmt  it  dropped  out  of  use  in  England  early  in 
the  eighteenth  century,  and  all  the  leading  dictionaries,  both 
English  and  American,  now  call  it  an  Americanism.40  To  fel- 
lowship, once  in  good  American  use  but  now  reduced  to  a  pro- 
vincialism, is  in  Chaucer.  Even  to  hustle,  it  appears,  is  ancient 
Among  adjectives,  homely,  which  means  only  homelike  or 
adorned  in  England,  was  used  in  its  American  sense  of  plain- 
featured  by  both  Shakespeare  and  Milton.  Other  such  sur- 
vivors are  burly,  catty-cornered,  likely,  deft,  copious,  scant  and 
ornate.  Perhaps  clever  also  belongs  to  this  category,  tnat  is,  in 
the  American  sense  of  amiable. 

' '  Our  ancestors, ' '  said  James  Russell  Lowell, ' '  unhappily  could 
bring  over  no  English  better  than  Shakespeare's."'  Shake- 
speare died  in  1616;  the  Pilgrims  landed  four  years  later; 
Jamestown  was  founded  in  1607.  As  we  have  seen,  the  colonists, 
saving  a  few'  superior  leaders,  were  men  of  small  sensitiveness 
to  the  refinements  of  life  and  speech :  soldiers  of  fortune,  amateur 
theologians,  younger  sons,  neighborhood  "advanced  thinkers," 
bankrupts,  jobless  workmen,  decayed  gentry,  and  other  such 
fugitives  from  culture — in  brief,  Philistines  of  the  sort  who  join 
tin-pot  fraternal  orders  today,  and  march  in  parades,  and  whoop 
for  the  latest  mountebanks  in  politics.  There  was  thus  a  touch 
of  rhetoric  in  Lowell's  saying  that  they  spoke  the  English  of 
Shakespeare;  as  well  argue  that  the  London  grocers  of  1885 
spoke  the  English  of  Pater.  But  in  a  larger  sense  he  said  truly, 
for  these  men  at  least  brought  with  them  the  vocabulary  of 
Shakespeare — or  a  part  of  it, — even  if  the  uses  he  made  of  it 
were  beyond  their  comprehension,  and  they  also  brought  with 

40  An  interesting  discussion  of  this  verb  appeared  in  the  New  York  8un, 
Nov.  27,  1914. 


58  THE   AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

them  that  sense  of  ease  in  the  language,  that  fine  disdain  for 
formality,  that  bold  experimentalizing  in  words,  which  was  so 
peculiarly  Elizabethan.  There  were  no  grammarians  in  that 
day;  there  were  no  purists  that  anyone  listened  to;  it  was  a 
case  of  saying  your  say  in  the  easiest  and  most  satisfying  way. 
In  remote  parts  of  the  United  States  there  are  still  direct  and 
almost  pure-blooded  descendants  of  those  seventeenth  century 
colonists.  Go  among  them,  and  you  will  hear  more  words  from 
the  Shakespearean  vocabulary,  still  alive  and  in  common  serv- 
ice, than  anywhere  else  in  the  world,  and  more  of  the  loose  and 
brilliant  syntax  of  that  time,  and  more  of  its  gipsy  phrases.41 

§6 

Colonial  Pronunciation — The  debate  that  long  raged  over  the 
pronunciation  of  classical  Latin  exhibits  the  difficulty  of  de- 
termining with  exactness  the  shades  of  sound  in  the  speech  of 
a  people  long  departed  from  earth.  The  American  colonists, 
of  course,  are  much  nearer  to  us  than  the  Romans,  and  so  we 
should  have  relatively  little  difficulty  in  determining  just  how 
they  pronounced  this  or  that  word,  but  against  the  fact  of  their 
nearness  stands  the  neglect  of  our  philologists,  or,  perhaps  more 
accurately,  our  lack  of  philologists.  What  Sweet  did  to  clear 
up  the  history  of  English  pronunciation,42  and  what  Wilhelm 
Corssen  did  for  Latin,  no  American  professor  has  yet  thought 
to  attempt  for  American.  The  literature  is  almost,  if  not  quite 
a  blank.  But  here  and  there  we  may  get  a  hint  of  the  facts,  and 
though  the  sum  of  them  is  not  large,  they  at  least  serve  to  set 
at  rest  a  number  of  popular  errors. 

One  of  these  errors,  chiefly  prevalent  in  New  England,  is 
that  the  so-called  Boston  pronunciation,  with  its  broad  a's  (mak- 
ing last,  path  and  aunt  almost  assonant  with  6ar)  comes  down 
unbrokenly  from  the  day  of  the  first  settlements,  and  that  it  is 
in  consequence  superior  in  authority  to  the  pronunciation  of  the 

«i  Cf.  J.  H.  Combs :  Old,  Early  and  Elizabethan  English  in  the  Southern 
Mountains,  Dialect  Notes,  vol.  iv,  pt.  iv,  pp.  283-97. 

« Henry  Sweet:  A  History  of  English  Sounds;  London,  1876;  Oxford, 
1888. 


THE    BEGINNINGS   OF   AMERICAN       59 

rest  of  the  country,  with  its  flat  a's  (making  the  same  words 
assonant  with  ban).  A  glance  through  Webster's  "Disserta- 
tions" is  sufficient  to  show  that  the  flat  a  was  in  use  in  New 
England  in  1789,  for  the  pronunciation  of  such  words  as  wrath, 
bath  and  path,  as  given  by  him,  makes  them  rhyme  with  hath.43 
Moreover,  he  gives  aunt  the  same  a-sound.  From  other  sources 
come  indications  that  the  a  was  likewise  flattened  in  such  words 
as  plant,  basket,  branch,  dance,  blast,  command  and  castle,  and 
even  in  balm  and  calm.  Changes  in  the  sound  of  the  letter  have 
been  going  on  in  English  ever  since  the  Middle  English  period,44 
and  according  to  Lounsbury 45  they  have  moved  toward  the  dis- 
appearance of  the  Continental  a,  "the  fundamental  vowel-tone 
of  the  human  voice."  Grandgent,  another  authority,46  says 
that  it  became  flattened  "by  the  sixteenth  century"  and  that 
"until  1780  or  thereabouts  the  standard  language  had  no  broad 
a."  Even  in  such  words  as  father,  car  and  ask  the  flat  a  was 
universally  used.  Sheridan,  in  the  dictionary  he  published  in 
1780,47  actually  gave  no  a/i-sound  in  his  list  of  vowels.  This 
habit  of  flatting  the  a  had  been  brought  over,  of  course,  by  the 
early  colonists,  and  was  as  general  in  America,  in  the  third 
quarter  of  the  eighteenth  century,  as  in  England.  Benjamin 
Franklin,  when  he  wrote  his  ' '  Scheme  for  a  New  Alphabet  and 
a  Reformed  Mode  of  Spelling,"  in  1768,  apparently  had  no  sus- 
picion that  any  other  a  was  possible.  But  between  1780  and 
1790,  according  to  Grandgent,  a  sudden  fashion  for  the  broad  a 
(not  the  aw-sound,  as  in  fall,  but  the  Continental  sound  as  in 
far)  arose  in  England,48  and  this  fashion  soon  found  servile 
imitation  in  Boston.  But  it  was  as  much  an  affectation  in  those 

43  p.  124. 

44  Cf.  Art.     Changes  in  the  Language  Since  Shakespeare's  Time,  by  W. 
Murison,   in  The  Cambridge  History  of   English  Literature,  vol.  xiv,   p. 
485. 

45  English  Spelling  and  Spelling  Reform;  New  York,  1909. 

46  C.  H.  Grandgent:  Fashion  and  the  Broad  A,  Nation,  Jan.  7,  1915. 

4T  Thomas  Sheridan :  A  Complete  Dictionary  of  the  English  Language ; 
London,  1780. 

48  It  first  appeared  in  Robert  Nares'  Elements  of  Orthography;  London, 
1784.  In  1791  it  received  full  approbation  in  John  Walker's  Critical  Pro- 
nouncing Dictionary. 


60  THE   AMEEICAN   LANGUAGE 

days  as  it  is  today,  and  "Webster  indicated  the  fact  pretty  plainly 
in  his  "Dissertations."  How,  despite  his  opposition,  the  broad 
a  prevailed  East  of  the  Connecticut  river,  and  how,  in  the  end, 
he  himself  yielded  to  it,  and  even  tried  to  force  it  upon  the 
whole  nation — this  will  be  rehearsed  in  the  next  chapter. 

The  colonists  remained  faithful  much  longer  than  the  Eng- 
lish to  various  other  vowel-sounds  that  were  facing  change  in 
the  eighteenth  century,  for  example,  the  long  e-sound  in  heard. 
Webster  says  that  the  custom  of  rhyming  heard  with  bird  in- 
stead of  with  feared  came  in  at  the  beginning  of  the  Kevolu- 
tion.  ' '  To  most  people  in  this  country, ' '  he  adds,  ' '  the  English 
pronunciation  appears  like  affectation."  He  also  argues  for 
rhyming  deaf  with  leaf,  and  protests  against  inserting  a  ^/-sound 
before  the  u  in  such  words  as  nature.  Franklin's  authority 
stands  behind  git  for  get.  This  pronunciation,  according  to 
Menner,49  was  correct  in  seventeenth  century  England,  and  per- 
haps down  to  the  middle  of  the  next  century.  So  was  the  use 
of  the  Continental  i-sound  in  oblige,  making  it  obleege.  It  is 
probable  that  the  colonists  clung  to  these  disappearing  usages 
much  longer  than  the  English.  The  latter,  according  to  Web- 
ster, were  unduly  responsive  to  illogical  fashions  set  by  the 
exquisites  of  the  court  and  by  popular  actors.  He  blames  Gar- 
rick,  in  particular,  for  many  extravagant  innovations,  most  of 
them  not  followed  in  the  colonies.  But  Garrick  was  surely  not 
responsible  for  the  use  of  a  long  *-sound  in  such  words  as  motive, 
nor  for  the  corruption  of  mercy  to  marcy.  Webster  denounced 
both  of  these  barbarisms.  The  second  he  ascribed  somewhat 
lamely  to  the  fact  that  the  letter  r  is  called  ar,  and  proposed  to 
dispose  of  it  by  changing  the  ar  to  er. 

As  for  the  consonants,  the  colonists  seem  to  have  resisted 
valiantly  that  tendency  to  slide  over  them  which  arose  in  Eng- 
land after  the  Restoration.  Franklin,  in  1768,  still  retained  the 
sound  of  I  in  such  words  as  would  and  should,  a  usage  not  met 
with  in  England  after  the  year  1700.  In  the  same  way,  accord- 
ing to  Menner,  the  w  in  sword  was  sounded  in  America  "for 

«  Robert  J.  Menner;  The  Pronunciation  of  English  in  America,  Atlantic 
Monthly,  March,  1915. 


THE    BEGINNINGS    OF   AMERICAN       61 

some  time  after  Englishmen  had  abandoned  it."  The  sensitive 
ear  of  Henry  James  detected  an  unpleasant  r-sound  in  the 
speech  of  Americans,  long  ago  got  rid  of  by  the  English,  so 
late  as  1905;  he  even  charged  that  it  was  inserted  gratuitously 
in  innocent  words.50  The  obvious  slurring  of  the  consonants  by 
Southerners  is  explained  by  a  recent  investigator  51  on  the  ground 
that  it  began  in  England  during  the  reign  of  Charles  II,  and 
that  most  of  the\  Southern  colonists  came  to  the  New  World 
at  that  time.  The  court  of  Charles,  it  is  argued,  was  under 
French  influence,  due  to  the  king 's  long  residence  in  France  and 
his  marriage  to  Henrietta  Marie.  Charles  "objected  to  the  in- 
harmonious contractions  will'nt  (or  wolln't)  and  wasn't  and 
weren't  .  .  .  and  set  the  fashion  of  using  the  softly  euphonious 
won't  and  wan't,  which  are  used  in  speaking  to  this  day  by  the 
best  class  of  Southerners."  A  more  direct  French  influence 
upon  Southern  pronunciation  is  also  pointed  out.  "With  full 
knowledge  of  his  g's  and  his  r's,  .  .  .  [the  Southerner]  sees  fit 
to  glide  over  them,  .  .  .  and  he  carries  over  the  consonant  end- 
ing one  word  to  the  vowel  beginning  the  next,  just  as  the  French- 
man does. ' '  The  political  importance  of  the  South,  in  the  years 
between  the  Mecklenburg  Declaration  and  the  adoption  of  the 
Constitution,  tended  to  force  its  provincialisms  upon  the  com- 
mon language.  Many  of  the  acknowledged  leaders  of  the  nascent 
nation  were  Southerners,  and  their  pronunciation,  as  well  as 
their  phrases,  must  have  become  familiar  everywhere.  Picker- 
ing gives  us  a  hint,  indeed,  at  the  process  whereby  their  usage 
influenced  that  of  the  rest  of  the  people.52 

The  Americans  early  dropped  the  /i-sound  in  such  words  as 
when  and  where,  but  so  far  as  I  can  determine  they  never  elided 
it  at  the  beginning  of  words,  save  in  the  case  of  herb,  and  a  few 
others.  This  elision  is  commonly  spoken  of  as  a  cockney  vulgar- 
ism, but  it  has  extended  to  the  orthodox  English  speech.  In 
ostler  the  initial  h  is  openly  left  off;  in  hotel  and  hospital  it  is 

so  The  Question  of  Our  Speech;  Boston  and  New  York,  1906,  pp.  27-29. 

si  Elizabeth  H.  Hancock:  Southern  Speech,  Neale's  Monthly,  Nov.,  1913, 
pp.  606-7. 

52  Vide  his  remarks  on  balance  in  his  Vocabulary.  See  also  Marsh,  p. 
671. 


62  THE   AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

seldom  sounded,  even  by  the  most  careful  Englishmen.  Cer- 
tain English  words  in  h,  in  which  the  h  is  now  sounded,  betray 
its  former  silence  by  the  fact  that  not  a  but  an  is  still  put  before 
them.  It  is  still  good  English  usage  to  write  an  hotel  and  an 
historical;  it  is  the  American  usage  to  write  a  hotel  and  a  his- 
torical. 

The  great  authority  of  "Webster  was  sufficient  to  establish  the 
American  pronunciation  of  schedule.  In  England  the  sch  is 
always  given  the  soft  sound,  but  Webster  decided  for  the  hard 
sound,  as  in  scheme.  The  variance  persists  to  this  day.  The 
name  of  the  last  letter  of  the  alphabet,  which  is  always  zed  in 
English,  is  usually  made__see_in  the  United  States.  Thornton 
shows  that  this  Americanism  arose  in  the  eighteenth  century. 


Ill 

The  Period  of  Growth 
§1 

The  New  Nation — The  American  language  thus  began  to  be 
recognizably  differentiated  from  English  in  both  vocabulary  and 
pronunciation  by  the  opening  of  the  nineteenth  century,  but  as 
yet  its  growth  was  hampered  by  two  factors,  the  first  being  the 
lack  of  a  national  literature  of  any  pretentious  and  the  second 
being  an  internal  political  disharmony  which  greatly  condi- 
tioned and  enfeebled  the  national  consciousness.  During  the 
actual  Revolution  common  aims  and  common  dangers  forced 
the  Americans  to  show  a  united  front,  but  once  they  had 
achieved  political  independence  they  developed  conflicting  in- 
terests, and  out  of  those  conflicting  interests  came  suspicions  and 
hatreds  which  came  near  wrecking  the  new  confederation  more 
than  once.  Politically,  their  worst  weakness,  perhaps,  was  an 
inability  to  detach  themselves  wholly  from  the  struggle  for  domi- 
nation still  going  on  in  Europe.  The  surviving  Loyalists  of 
the  revolutionary  era — estimated  by  some  authorities  to  have 
constituted  fully  a  third  of  the  total  population  in  1776 — were 
ardently  in  favor  of  England,  and  such  patriots  as  Jefferson 
were  as  ardently  in  favor  of  France.  This  engrossment  in  the 
quarrels  of  foreign  nations  was  what  Washington  warned  against 
in  his  Farewell  Address.  It  was  at  the  bottom  of  such  bitter 
animosities  as  that  between  Jefferson  and  Hamilton.  It  in- 
spired and  perhaps  excused  the  pessimism  of  such  men  as  Burr. 
Its  net  effect  was  to  make  it  difficult  for  the  people  of  the  new 
nation  to  think  of  themselves,  politically,  as  Americans.  Their 
state  of  mind,  vacillating,  uncertain,  alternately  timorous  and 

63 


64  THE   AMBEICAN   LANGUAGE 

pugnacious,  has  been  well  described  by  Henry  Cabot  Lodge  in 
his  essay  on  ' '  Colonialism  in  America. ' ' 1  Soon  after  the  Treaty 
of  Paris  was  signed,  someone  referred  to  the  late  struggle,  in 
Franklin's  hearing,  as  the  War  for  Independence.  "Say, 
rather,  the  War  of  the  Revolution,"  said  Franklin.  "The  War 
for  Independence  is  yet  to  be  fought. ' ' 

"That  struggle,"  adds  Lossing,  "occurred,  and  that  inde- 
pendence was  won,  by  the  Americans  in  the  War  of  1812. ' ' 2 
In  the  interval  the  new  republic  had  passed  through  a  period  of 
Sturm  und  Drang  whose  gigantic  perils  and  passions  we  have 
begun  to  forget — a  period  in  which  disaster  ever  menaced,  and 
the  foes  within  were  no  less  bold  and  pertinacious  than  the  foes 
without.  Jefferson,  perhaps,  carried  his  fear  of  ' '  monocrats ' '  to 
the  point  of  monomania,  but  under  it  there  was  undoubtedly  a 
body  of  sound  fact.  The  poor  debtor  class  (including  probably 
a  majority  of  the  veterans  of  the  Revolution)  had  been  fired  by 
the  facile  doctrines  of  the  French  Revolution  to  demands  which 
threatened  the  country  with  bankruptcy  and  anarchy,  and  the 
class  of  property-owners,  in  reaction,  went  far  to  the  other  ex- 
treme. On  all  sides,  indeed,  there  flourished  a  strong  British 
party,  and  particularly  in  New  England,  where  the  so-called 
codfish  aristocracy  (by  no  means  extinct,  even  today)  exhibited 
an  undisguised  Anglomania,  and  looked  forward  confidently  to 
a  rapprochement  with  the  mother  country.3  This  Anglomania 
showed  itself,  not  only  in  ceaseless  political  agitation,  but  also 
in  an  elaborate  imitation  of  English  manners.  We  have  already 
seen,  on  Noah  Webster's  authority,  how  it  even  extended  to  the 
pronunciation  of  the  language. 

The  first  sign  of  the  dawn  of  a  new  national  order  came 
with  the  election  of  Thomas  Jefferson  to  the  Presidency  in  1800. 
The  issue  in  the  campaign  was  a  highly  complex  one,  but  under 
it  lay  a  plain  conflict  between  democratic  independence  and  the 

1  In  Studies  in  History ;  Boston,  1884. 

2  Benson  J.  Lossing:     Our  Country.  .  .  .;  New  Yorkj  1879. 

3  The  thing  went,  indeed,  far  beyond  mere  hope.     In  1812  a  conspiracy 
was  unearthed  to  separate  New  England  from  the  republic  and  make  it 
an  English  colony.     The  chief  conspirator  was  one  John  Henry,  who  acted 
under  the  instructions  of  Sir  John  Craig,  Governor-General  of  Canada. 


THE    PERIOD    OF    GROWTH  65 

old  doctrine  of  dependence  and  authority;  and  with  the  Alien 
and  Sedition  Laws  about  his  neck,  so  vividly  reminiscent  of  the 
issues  of  the  Revolution  itself,  Adams  went  down  to  defeat. 
Jefferson  was  violently  anti-British  and  pro-French;  he  saw  all 
the  schemes  of  his  political  opponents,  indeed,  as  English  plots ; 
he  was  the  man  who  introduced  the  bugaboo  into  American  poli- 
tics. His  first  acts  after  his  inauguration  were  to  abolish  all 
ceremonial  at  the  court  of  the  republic,  and  to  abandon  spoken 
discourses  to  Congress  for  written  messages.  That  ceremonial, 
which  grew  up  under  Washington,  was  an  imitation,  he  be- 
lieved, of  the  formality  of  the  abhorrent  Court  of  St.  James; 
as  for  the  speeches  to  Congress,  they  were  palpably  modelled 
upon  the  speeches  from  the  throne  of  the  English  kings.  Both  * 
reforms  met  with  wide  approval;  the  exactions  of  the  English, 
particularly  on  the  high  seas,  were  beginning  to  break  up  the 
British  party.  But  confidence  in  the  solidarity  and  security 
of  the  new  nation  was  still  anything  but  universal.  The  sur- 
viving doubts,  indeed,  were  strong  enough  to  delay  the  ratifica- 
tion of  the  Twelfth  Amendment  to  the  Constitution,  providing 
for  more  direct  elections  of  President  and  Vice-President,  until 
the  end  of  1804,  and  even  then  three  of  the  five  New  England 
states  rejected  it,4  and  have  never  ratified  it,  in  fact,  to  this 
day.  Democracy  was  still  experimental,  doubtful,  full  of  gun- 
powder. In  so  far  as  it  had  actually  come  into  being,  it  had 
come  as  a  boon  conferred  from  above.  Jefferson,  its  protag- 
onist, was  the  hero  of  the  populace,  but  he  was  not  of  the  popu- 
lace himself,  nor  did  he  ever  quite  trust  it. 

It  was  reserved  for  Andrew  Jackson,  a  man  genuinely  of  the 
people,  to  lead  and  visualize  the  rise  of  the  lower  orders.  Jack- 
son, in  his  way,  was  the  archetype  of  the  new  American — igno- 
rant, pushful,  impatient  of  restraint  and  precedent,  an  icono- 
clast, a  Philistine,  an  Anglophobe  in  every  fibre.  He  came 
from  the  extreme  backwoods  and  his  youth  was  passed  amid 
surroundings  but  little  removed  from  downright  savagery.6 

*  Maine  was  not  separated  from  Massachusetts  until  1820. 
s  Vide  Andrew  Jackson.  .  .  .,  by  William  Graham  Sumner;  Boston,  1883, 
pp.  2-10. 


66  THE   AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

Thousands  of  other  young  Americans  like  him  were  growing  up 
at  the  same  time — youngsters  filled  with  a  vast  impatience  of  all 
precedent  and  authority,  revilers  of  all  that  had  come  down 
from  an  elder  day,  incorrigible  libertarians.  They  swarmed 
across  the  mountains  and  down  the  great  rivers,  wrestling  with 
the  naked  wilderness  and  setting  up  a  casual,  impromptu  sort 
of  civilization  where  the  Indian  still  menaced.  Schools  were 
few  and  rudimentary;  there  was  not  the  remotest  approach  to 
a  cultivated  society;  any  effort  to  mimic  the  amenities  of  the 
East,  or  of  the  mother  country,  in  manner  or  even  in  speech, 
met  with  instant  derision.  It  was  in  these  surroundings  and 
at  this  time  that  the  thorough-going  American  of  tradition  was 
born:  blatant,  illogical,  elate,  "greeting  the  embarrassed  gods" 
uproariously  and  matching  "with  Destiny  for  beers."  Jack- 
son was  unmistakably  of  that  company  in  his  every  instinct  and 
idea,  and  it  was  his  fate  to  give  a  new  and  unshakable  confidence 
to  its  aspiration  at  the  Battle  of  New  Orleans.  Thereafter  all 
doubts  began  to  die  out;  the  new  republic  was  turning  out  a 
success.  And  with  success  came  a  vast  increase  in  the  national 
egoism.  The  hordes  of  pioneers  rolled  down  the  western  valleys 
and  on  to  the  great  plains.6  America  began  to  stand  for  some- 
thing quite  new  in  the  world — in  government,  in  law,  in  public 
and  private  morals,  in  customs  and  habits  of  mind,  in  the 
minutia  of  social  intercourse.  And  simultaneously  the  voice  of 
America  began  to  take  on  its  characteristic  twang,  and  the  speech 
of  America  began  to  differentiate  itself  boldly  and  unmistak- 
ably from  the  speech  of  England.  The  average  Philadelphian 
or  Bostonian  of  1790  had  not  the  slightest  difficulty  in  making 
himself  understood  by  a  visiting  Englishman.  But  the  average 
Ohio  boatman  of  1810  or  plainsman  of  1815  was  already  speak- 
ing a  dialect  that  the  Englishman  would  have  shrunk  from  as 
barbarous  and  unintelligible,  and  before  long  it  began  to  leave 

e  Indiana  and  Illinois  were  erected  into  territories  during  Jefferson's 
first  term,  and  Michigan  during  his  second  term.  Kentucky  was  admit- 
ted to  the  union  in  1792,  Tennessee  in  1796,  Ohio  in  1803.  Lewis  and  Clarke 
set  out  for  the  Pacific  in  1804.  The  Louisiana  Purchase  was  ratified  in 
1803,  and  Louisiana  became  a  state  in  1812. 


THE    PERIOD    OF    GROWTH  67 

its  mark  upon  and  to  get  direction  and  support  from  a  dis- 
tinctively national  literature. 

That  literature,  however,  was  very  slow  in  coming  to  a  digni- 
fied, confident  and  autonomous  estate.  Down  to  Jefferson's  day 
it  was  almost  wholly  polemical,  and  hence  lacking  in  the  finer 
values;  he  himself,  an  insatiable  propagandist  and  controver- 
sialist, was  one  of  its  chief  ornaments.  "The  novelists  and  the 
historians,  the  essayists  and  the  poets,  whose  names  come  to  mind 
when  American  literature  is  mentioned,"  says  a  recent  literary 
historian,  "have  all  flourished  since  1800."  7  Pickering,  so  late 
as  1816,  said  that  "in  this  country  we  can  hardly  be  said  to  have  ,. 
any  authors  by  profession.  "It  was  a  true  saying,  though  the 
new  day  was  about  to  dawn;  Bryant  had  already  written 
"Thanatopsis"  and  was  destined  to  publish  it  the  year  follow- 
ing. Difficulties  of  communication  hampered  the  circulation  of 
the  few  native  books  that  were  written ;  it  was  easier  for  a  man 
in  the  South  to  get  books  from  London  than  to  get  them  from 
Boston  or  New  York,  and  the  lack  of  a  copyright  treaty  with 
England  flooded  the  country  with  cheap  English  editions.  "It 
is  much  to  be  regretted,"  wrote  Dr.  David  Ramsay,  of  Charles- 
ton, S.  C.,  to  Noah  Webster  in  1806,  "that  there  is  so  little  inter- 
course in  a  literary  way  between  the  states.  As  soon  as  a  book 
of  general  utility  comes  out  in  any  state  it  should  be  for  sale 
in  all  of  them."  Ramsay  asked  for  little;  the  most  he  could 
imagine  was  a  sale  of  2,000  copies  for  an  American  work  in 
America.  But  even  that  was  far  beyond  the  possibilities  of  the 
time. 

An  external  influence  of  great  potency  helped  to  keep  the 
national  literature  scant  and  timorous  during  those  early  and 
perilous  days.  It  was  the  extraordinary  animosity  of  the  Eng- 
lish critics,  then  at  the  zenith  of  their  pontifical  authority,  to 
all  books  of  American  origin  or  flavor.  This  animosity,  culmi- 
nating in  Sydney  Smith's  famous  sneer,8  was  but  part  of  a 

7  Barrett  Wendell:  A  Literary  History  of  America;  New  York,  1900. 

s  "In  the  four  quarters  of  the  globe,  who  reads  an  American  book  ?  or 
goes  to  an  American  play?  or  looks  at  an  American  picture  or  statue?" 
Edinburgh  Review,  Jan.,  1820. 


68  THE   AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

larger  hostility  to  all  things  American,  from  political  theories 
to  table  manners.  The  American,  after  the  war  of  1812,  be- 
came the  pet  abomination  of  the  English,  and  the  chief  butt  of 
the  incomparable  English  talent  for  moral  indignation.  There 
was  scarcely  an  issue  of  the  Quarterly  Review,  the  Edinburgh, 
the  Foreign  Quarterly,  the  British  Review  or  Blackwood's,  for 
a  generation  following  1814,  in  which  he  was  not  stupendously 
assaulted.  Gifford,  Sydney  Smith  and  the  poet  Southey  be- 
came specialists  in  this  business;  it  took  on  the  character  of  a 
holy  war;  even  such  mild  men  as  Wordsworth  were  recruited 
for  it.  It  was  argued  that  the  Americans  were  rogues  and 
swindlers,  that  they  lived  in  filth  and  squalor,  that  they  were 
boors  in  social  intercourse,  that  they  were  poltroons  and  savages 
in  war,  that  they  were  depraved  and  criminal,  that  they  were 
wholly  devoid  of  the  remotest  notion  of  decency  or  honor.  The 
Foreign  Quarterly,  summing  up  in  January,  1844,  pronounced 
them  ' '  horn-handed  and  pig-headed,  hard,  persevering,  unscrup- 
ulous, carnivorous,  with  a  genius  for  lying."  Various  Ameri- 
cans went  to  the  defense  of  their  countrymen,  among  them, 
Irving,  Cooper,  Timothy  Dwight,  J.  K.  Paulding,  John  Neal, 
Edward  Everett  and  Robert  Walsh.  Paulding,  in  "John  Bull 
in  America,  or,  the  New  Munchausen,"  published  in  1825,  at- 
tempted satire.  Even  an  Englishman,  James  Sterling,  warned 
his  fellow-Britons  that,  if  they  continued  their  intolerant  abuse, 
they  would  "turn  into  bitterness  the  last  drops  of  good- will 
toward  England  that  exist  in  the  United  States."  But  the 
avalanche  of  denunciation  kept  up,  and  even  down  to  a  few 
years  ago  it  was  very  uncommon  for  an  Englishman  to  write  of 
American  politics,  or  manners,  or  literature  without  betraying 
his  dislike.  Not,  indeed,  until  the  Prussian  began  monopolizing 
the  whole  British  talent  for  horror  and  invective  did  the  Yankee 
escape  the  lash.9 

This  gigantic  pummelling,  in  the  long  run,  was  destined  to 
encourage  an  independent  spirit  in  the  national  literature,  if 

»C/.     As  Others  See  Us,  by  John  Graham  Brooks;  New  York,  1908,  ch. 
vii.     Also,  The  Cambridge  History  of  American  Literature,  vol.  i,  pp.  205-8. 


THE    PERIOD    OF    GROWTH  69 

only  by  a  process  of  mingled  resentment  and  despair,  but  for 
some  time  its  chief  effect  was  to  make  American  writers  of  a 
more  delicate  aspiration  extremely  self-conscious  and  diffident. 
The  educated  classes,  even  against  their  will,  were  influenced 
by  the  torrent  of  abuse;  they  could  not  help  finding  in  it  an 
occasional  reasonableness,  an  accidental  true  hit.  The  result, 
despite  the  efforts  of  Channing,  Knapp  and  other  such  valiant 
defenders  of  the  native  author,  was  uncertainty  and  skepticism 
in  native  criticism.  "The  first  step  of  an  American  entering 
upon  a  literary  career, ' '  says  Lodge,  writing  of  the  first  quarter 
of  the  century,  "was  to  pretend  to  be  an  Englishman  in  order 
that  he  might  win  the  approval,  not  of  Englishmen,  but  of  his 
own  countrymen."  Cooper,  in  his  first  novel,  "Precaution," 
chose  an  English  scene,  imitated  English  models,  and  obviously 
hoped  to  placate  the  critics  thereby.  Irving,  too,  in  his  earliest 
work,  showed  a  considerable  discretion,  and  his  "History  of 
New  York, ' '  as  everyone  knows,  was  first  published  anonymously. 
But  this  puerile  spirit  did  not  last  long.  The  English  on- 
slaughts were  altogether  too  vicious  to  be  received  lying  down ; 
their  very  fury  demanded  that  they  be  met  with  a  united  and 
courageous  front.  Cooper,  in  his  second  novel,  "The  Spy," 
boldly  chose  an  American  setting  and  American  characters,  and 
though  the  influence  of  his  wife,  who  came  of  a  Loyalist  family, 
caused  him  to  avoid  any  direct  attack  upon  the  English,  he  at- 
tacked them  indirectly,  and  with  great  effect,  by  opposing  an 
immediate  and  honorable  success  to  their  derisions.  ' '  The  Spy ' ' 
ran  through  three  editions  in  four  months;  it  was  followed  by 
his  long  line  of  thoroughly  American  novels;  in  1834  he  for- 
mally apologized  to  his  countrymen  for  his  early  truancy  in 
"Precaution."  Irving,  too,  soon  adopted  a  bolder  tone,  and 
despite  his  English  predilections,  he  refused  an  offer  of  a  hun- 
dred guineas  for  an  article  for  the  Quarterly  Review,  made  by 
Gifford  in  1828,  on  the  ground  that  "the  Review  has  been  so 
persistently  hostile  to  our  country  that  I  cannot  draw  a  pen  in 
its  service." 

The  same  year  saw  the  publication  of  the  first  edition  of  Web- 


70 

ster's  American  Dictionary  of  the  English  language,  and  a 
year  later  followed  Samuel  L.  Knapp's  "Lectures  on  American 
Literature,"  the  first  history  of  the  national  letters  ever  at- 
tempted. Knapp,  in  his  preface,  thought  it  necessary  to  prove, 
first  of  all,  that  an  American  literature  actually  existed,  and 
Webster,  in  his  introduction,  was  properly  apologetic,  but  there 
was  no  real  need  for  timorousness  in  either  case,  for  the  Amer- 
ican attitude  toward  the  attack  of  the  English  was  now  definitely 
changing  from  uneasiness  to  defiance.  The  English  critics,  in 
fact,  had  overdone  the  thing,  and  though  their  clatter  was  to 
keep  up  for  many  years  more,  they  no  longer  spread  terror 
or  had  much  influence.  Of  a  sudden,  as  if  in  answer  to  them, 
doubts  turned  to  confidence,  and  then  into  the  wildest  sort  of 
optimism,  not  only  in  politics  and  business,  but  also  in  what 
passed  for  the  arts.  Knapp  boldly  defied  the  English  to  pro- 
duce a  "tuneful  sister"  surpassing  Mrs.  Sigourney;  more,  he 
argued  that  the  New  World,  if  only  by  reason  of  its  superior 
scenic  grandeur,  would  eventually  hatch  a  poetry  surpassing 
even  that  of  Greece  and  Rome.  "What  are  the  Tibers  and 
Scamanders,"  he  demanded,  "measured  by  the  Missouri  and  the 
Amazon?  Or  what  the  loveliness  of  Illysus  or  Avon  by  the 
Connecticut  or  the  Potomack?" 

In  brief,  the  national  feeling,  long  delayed  at  birth,  finally 
leaped  into  being  in  amazing  vigor.  "One  can  get  an  idea  of 
the  strength  of  that  feeling,"  says  R.  0.  Williams,  "by  glancing 
at  almost  any  book  taken  at  random  from  the  American  publi- 
cations of  the  period.  Belief  in  the  grand  future  of  the  United 
States  is  the  key-note  of  everything  said  and  done.  All  things 
American  are  to  be  grand — our  territory,  population,  products, 
wealth,  science,  art — but  especially  our  political  institutions  and 
literature.  The  unbounded  confidence  in  the  material  develop- 
ment of  the  country  which  now  characterizes  the  extreme  north- 
west of  the  United  States  prevailed  as  strongly  throughout  the 
eastern  part  of  the  Union  during  the  first  thirty  years  of  the 
century;  and  over  and  above  a  belief  in,  and  concern  for,  ma- 
terialistic progress,  there  were  enthusiastic  anticipations  of 
achievements  in  all  the  moral  and  intellectual  fields  of  national 


THE    PERIOD    OF    GROWTH  71 

greatness. ' ' 10  Nor  was  that  vast  optimism  wholly  without  war- 
rant. An  American  literature  was  actually  coming  into  being, 
and  with  a  wall  of  hatred  and  contempt  shutting  in  England, 
the  new  American  writers  were  beginning  to  turn  to  the  Con- 
tinent for  inspiration  and  encouragement.  Irving  had  already 
drunk  at  Spanish  springs;  Emerson  and  Bayard  Taylor  were 
to  receive  powerful  impulses  from  Germany,  following  Ticknor, 
Bancroft  and  Everett  before  them;  Bryant  was  destined  to  go 
back  to  the  classics.  Moreover,  Cooper  and  John  P.  Kennedy 
had  shown  the  way  to  native  sources  of  literary  material,  and 
Longfellow  was  making  ready  to  follow  them;  novels  in  imita- 
tion of  English  models  were  no  longer  heard  of;  the  ground 
was  preparing  for  "Uncle  Tom's  Cabin."  Finally,  Webster 
himself,  as  Williams  demonstrated,  worked  better  than  he  knew. 
His  American  Dictionary  was  not  only  thoroughly  American: 
it  was  superior  to  any  of  the  current  dictionaries  of  the  English, 
so  much  so  that  for  a  good  many  years  it  remained  "a  sort  of 
mine  for  British  lexicography  to  exploit." 

Thus  all  hesitations  disappeared,  and  there  arose  a  national 
consciousness  so  soaring  and  so  blatant  that  it  began  to  dismiss 
all  British  usage  and  opinion  as  puerile  and  idiotic.  William 
L.  Marcy,  when  Secretary  of  State  under  Pierce  (1853-57), 
issued  a  circular  to  all  American  diplomatic  and  consular  offi- 
cers, loftily  bidding  them  employ  only  "the  American  lan- 
guage" in  communicating  with  him.  The  Legislature  of  In- 
diana, in  an  act  approved  February  15,  1838,  establishing  the 
state  university  at  Bloomington,11  provided  that  it  should  in- 
struct the  youth  of  the  new  commonwealth  (it  had  been  admitted 
to  the  Union  in  1816)  "in  the  American,  learned  and  foreign 
languages  .  .  .  and  literature."  Such  grandiose  pronuncia- 

10  Our   Dictionaries   and  Other   English   Language  Topics;    New   York, 
1890,  pp.  30-31. 

11  It  is  curious  to  note  that  the  center  of  population   of  the  United 
States,  according  to  the  last  census,  is  now  "in  southern  Indiana,  in  the 
western  part  of  Bloomington  city,  Monroe  county."     Can  it  be  that  this 
early  declaration  of  literary  independence  laid  the  foundation  for  Indiana's 
recent  pre-eminence  in  letters?     Cf.  The  Language  We  Use,  by  Alfred  Z. 
Reed,  New  York  Sun,  March  13,  1918. 


72  THE    AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

mentos  well  indicate  and  explain  the  temper  of  the  era.12  It  was 
a  time  of  expansion  and  braggadocia.  The  new  republic  would 
not  only  produce  a  civilization  and  a  literature  of  its  own;  it 
would  show  the  way  for  all  other  civilizations  and  literatures. 
Rufus  Wilmot  Griswold,  the  enemy  of  Poe,  rose  from  his 
decorous  Baptist  pew  to  protest  that  so  much  patriotism 
amounted  to  insularity  and  absurdity,  but  there  seems  to  have 
been  no  one  to  second  the  motion.  It  took,  indeed,  the  vast 
shock  of  the  Civil  War  to  unhorse  the  optimists.  While  the 
Jackson  influence  survived,  it  was  the  almost  unanimous  na- 
tional conviction  that  "he  who  dallies  is  a  dastard,  and  he  who 
doubts  is  damned." 

§2 

The  Language  in  the  Making — All  this  jingoistic  bombast, 
however,  was  directed  toward  defending,  not  so  much  the  na- 
tional vernacular  as  the  national  beautiful  letters.  True  enough, 
an  English  attack  upon  a  definite  American  locution  always 
brought  out  certain  critical  minute-men,  but  in  the  main  they 
were  anything  but  hospitable  to  the  racy  neologisms  that  kept 
crowding  up  from  below,  and  most  of  them  were  eager  to  be 
accepted  as  masters  of  orthodox  English  and  very  sensitive  to 
the  charge  that  their  writing  was  bestrewn  with  Americanisms. 
A  glance  through  the  native  criticism  of  the  time  will  show 
how  ardently  even  the  most  uncompromising  patriots  imitated 
the  Johnsonian  jargon  then  fashionable  in  England.  Fowler 
and  Griswold  followed  pantingly  in  the  footsteps  of  Macaulay; 
their  prose  is  extraordinarily  ornate  and  self-conscious,  and  one 
searches  it  in  vain  for  any  concession  to  colloquialism.  Poe,  the 
master  of  them  all,  achieved  a  style  so  elephantine  that  many 
an  English  leader-writer  must  have  studied  it  with  envy.  A 
few  bolder  spirits,  as  we  have  seen,  spoke  out  for  national  free- 
dom in  language  as  well  as  in  letters — among  them,  Channing — 
but  in  the  main  the  Brahmins  of  the  time  were  conservatives  in 

12  Support  also  came  from  abroad.  Czar  Nicholas  I,  of  Russia,  smart- 
ing under  his  defeat  in  the  Crimea,  issued  an  order  that  his  own  state 
papers  should  be  prepared  in  Russian  and  American  —  not  English. 


THE    PERIOD    OF    GROWTH  73 

that  department,  and  it  is  difficult  to  imagine  Emerson  or  Irving 
or  Bryant  sanctioning  the  innovations  later  adopted  so  easily 
by  Howells.  Lowell  and  Walt  Whitman,  in  fact,  were  the  first 
men  of  letters,  properly  so  called,  to  give  specific  assent  to  the 
great  changes  that  were  firmly  fixed  in  the  national  speech  dur- 
ing the  half  century  between  the  War  of  1812  and  the  Civil 
War.  Lowell  did  so  in  his  preface  to  the  second  series  of  ' '  The 
Biglow  Papers. ' '  Whitman  made  his  declaration  in  ' '  An  Amer- 
ican Primer."  In  discussing  his  own  poetry,  he  said:  ''It  is 
an  attempt  to  give  the  spirit,  the  body  and  the  man,  new  words, 
new  potentialities  of  speech — an  American,  a  cosmopolitan  (for 
the  best  of  America  is  the  best  cosmopolitanism)  range  of  self- 
expression."  And  then:  "The  Americans  are  going  to  be  the 
most  fluent  and  melodious-voiced  people  in  the  world — and  the 
most  perfect  users  of  words.  The  new  times,  the  new  people, 
the  new  vistas  need  a  new  tongue  according — yes,  and  what 
is  more,  they  will  have  such  a  new  tongue. ' '  To  which,  as  every- 
one knows,  Whitman  himself  forthwith  contributed  many  dar- 
ing (and  still  undigested)  novelties,  e.  g.,  camerado,  romanza, 
Adamic  and  These  States. 

Meanwhile,  in  strong  contrast  to  the  lingering  conservatism 
above  there  was  a  wild  and  lawless  development  of  the  language 
below,  and  in  the  end  it  forced  itself  into  recognition,  and 
profited  by  the  literary  declaration  of  independence  of  its  very 
opponents.  "The  jus  et  norma  loquendi,"  says  W.  R.  Morfill, 
the  English  philologist,  "do  not  depend  upon  scholars."  Par- 
ticularly in  a  country  where  scholarship  is  still  new  and  wholly 
cloistered,  and  the  overwhelming  majority  of  the  people  are 
engaged  upon  novel  and  highly  exhilarating  tasks,  far  away 
from  schools  and  with  a  gigantic  cockiness  in  their  hearts.  The 
remnants  of  the  Puritan  civilization  had  been  wiped  out  by  the 
rise  of  the  proletariat  under  Jackson,  and  whatever  was  fine  and 
sensitive  in  it  had  died  with  it.  What  remained  of  an  urbane 
habit  of  mind  and  utterance  began  to  be  confined  to  the  nar- 
rowing feudal  areas  of  the  south,  and  to  the  still  narrower  refuge 
of  the  Boston  Brahmins,  now,  for  the  first  time,  a  definitely 
recognized  caste  of  intelligentsia)  self-charged  with  carrying  the 


74  THE   AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

torch  of  culture  through  a  new  Dark  Age.  The  typical  Ameri- 
can, in  Paulding's  satirical  phrase,  became  "a  bundling,  goug- 
ing, impious"  fellow,  without  either  "morals,  literature,  reli- 
gion or  refinement."  Next  to  the  savage  struggle  for  land  and 
dollars,  party  politics  was  the  chief  concern  of  the  people,  and 
with  the  disappearance  of  the  old  leaders  and  the  entrance  of 
pushing  upstarts  from  the  backwoods,  political  controversy  sank 
to  an  incredibly  low  level.  Bartlett,  in  the  introduction  to  the 
second  edition  of  his  Glossary,  describes  the  effect  upon  the  lan- 
guage. First  the  enfranchised  mob,  whether  in  the  city  wards 
or  along  the  western  rivers,  invented  fantastic  slang-words  and 
turns  of  phrase;  then  they  were  "seized  upon  by  stump-speak- 
ers at  political  meetings  ' ' ;  then  they  were  heard  in  Congress ; 
then  they  got  into  the  newspapers;  and  finally  they  came  into 
more  or  less  good  usage.  Much  contemporary  evidence  is  to  the 
same  effect.  Fowler,  in  listing  "low  expressions"  in  1850,  de- 
scribed them  as  "chiefly  political."  "The  vernacular  tongue 
of  the  country,"  said  Daniel  Webster,  "has  become  greatly  vi- 
tiated, depraved  and  corrupted  by  the  style  of  the  congressional 
debates."  Thornton,  in  the  appendix  to  his  Glossary,  gives 
some  astounding  specimens  of  congressional  oratory  between  the 
20 's  and  60 's,  and  many  more  will  reward  the  explorer  who 
braves  the  files  of  the  Congressional  Globe.  This  flood  of  racy 
and  unprecedented  words  and  phrases  beat  upon  and  finally 
penetrated  the  retreat  of  the  literati,  but  the  purity  of  speech 
cultivated  there  had  little  compensatory  influence  upon  the  vul- 
gate.  The  newspaper  was  now  enthroned,  and  belles  lettres 
were  cultivated  almost  in  private,  and  as  a  mystery.  It  is  prob- 
able, indeed,  that  "Uncle  Tom's  Cabin"  and  "Ten  Nights  in 
a  Bar-room,"  both  published  in  the  early  50 's,  were  the  first 
contemporary  native  books,  after  Cooper's  day,  that  the  Amer- 
ican people,  as  a  people,  ever  read.  Nor  did  the  pulpit,  now 
fast  falling  from  its  old  high  estate,  lift  a  corrective  voice.  On 
the  contrary,  it  joined  the  crowd,  and  Bartlett  denounces  it  spe- 
cifically for  its  bad  example,  and  cites,  among  its  crimes  against 
the  language,  such  inventions  as  to  doxologize  and  to  funeralize. 


THE    PERIOD    OF    GROWTH  75 

To  these  novelties,  apparently  without  any  thought  of  their  un- 
couthness,  Fowler  adds  to  missionate  and  consociational. 

As  I  say,  the  pressure  from  below  broke  down  the  defenses 
of  the  purists,  and  literally  forced  a  new  national  idiom  upon 
them.  Pen  in  hand,  they  might  still  achieve  laborious  imita- 
tions of  Johnson  and  Macaulay,  but  their  mouths  began  to  be- 
tray them.  "When  it  comes  to  talking,"  wrote  Charles  Astor 
Bristed  for  Englishmen  in  1855,  "the  most  refined  and  best 
educated  American,  who  has  habitually  resided  in  his  own  coun- 
try, the  very  man  who  would  write,  on  some  serious  topic,  vol- 
umes in  which  no  peculiarity  could  be  detected,  will,  in  half  a 
dozen  sentences,  use  at  least  as  many  words  that  cannot  fail  to 
strike  the  inexperienced  Englishman  who  hears  them  for  the 
first  time."  Bristed  gave  a  specimen  of  the  American  of  that 
time,  calculated  to  flabbergast  his  inexperienced  Englishman; 
you  will  find  it  in  the  volume  of  Cambridge  Essays,  already  cited. 
His  aim  was  to  explain  and  defend  Americanisms,  and  so  shut 
off  the  storm  of  English  reviling,  and  he  succeeded  in  producing 
one  of  the  most  thoughtful  and  persuasive  essays  on  the  subject 
ever  written.  But  his  purpose  failed  and  the  attack  kept  up, 
and  eight  years  afterward  the  Very  Rev.  Henry  Alford,  D.D., 
dean  of  Canterbury,  led  a  famous  assault.  "Look  at  those 
phrases,"  he  said,  "which  so  amuse  us  in  their  speech  and 
books;  at  their  reckless  exaggeration  and  contempt  for  con- 
gruity;  and  then  compare  the  character  and  history  of  the  na- 
tion— its  blunted  sense  of  moral  obligation  and  duty  to  man; 
its  open  disregard  of  conventional  right  where  aggrandizement 
is  to  be  obtained ;  and  I  may  now  say,  its  reckless  and  fruitless 
maintenance  of  the  most  cruel  and  unprincipled  war  in  the  his- 
tory of  the  world. " 13  In  his  American  edition  of  1866  Dr. 
Alford  withdrew  this  reference  to  the  Civil  War  and  somewhat 
ameliorated  his  indignation  otherwise,  but  he  clung  to  the  main 
counts  in  his  indictment,  and  most  Englishmen,  I  daresay,  still 
give  them  a  certain  support.  The  American  is  no  longer  a 

is  A  Plea  for  the  Queen's  English;  London,  1863;  2nd  ed.,  1864;  Ameri- 
can ed.,  New  York,  1866. 


76  THE   AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

"vain,  egotistical,  insolent,  rodomontade  sort  of  fellow  ";  Amer- 
ica is  no  longer  the  "brigand  confederation"  of  the  Foreign 
Quarterly  or  "the  loathsome  creature,  .  .  .  maimed  and  lame, 
full  of  sores  and  ulcers"  of  Dickens ;  but  the  Americanism  is  yet 
regarded  with  a  bilious  eye,  and  pounced  upon  viciously  when 
found.  Even  the  friendliest  English  critics  seem  to  be  daunted 
by  the  gargantuan  copiousness  of  American  inventions  in  speech. 
Their  position,  perhaps,  was  well  stated  by  Capt.  Basil  Hall, 
author  of  the  celebrated  "Travels  in  North  America,"  in  1827. 
When  he  argued  that  "surely  such  innovations  are  to  be  depre- 
cated," an  American  asked  him  this  question:  "If  a  word  be- 
comes universally  current  in  America,  why  should  it  not  take 
its  station  in  the  language?"  "Because,"  replied  Hall  in  all 
seriousness,  "there  are  words  enough  in  our  language  already." 

§3 

The  Expanding  Vocabulary — A  glance  at  some  of  the  charac- 
teristic coinages  of  the  time,  as  they  are  revealed  in  the  Congres- 
sional Globe,  in  contemporary  newspapers  and  political  tracts, 
and  in  that  grotesque  small  literature  of  humor  which  began 
with  Judge  Thomas  C.  Haliburton's  "Sam  Slick"  in  1835,  is 
almost  enough  to  make  one  sympathize  with  Dean  Alford.  Bart- 
lett  quotes  to  doxologize  from  the  Christian  Disciple,  a  quite 
reputable  religious  paper  of  the  40 's.  To  citizenize  was  used 
and  explained  by  Senator  Young,  of  Illinois,  in  the  Senate  on 
February  1,  1841,  and  he  gave  Noah  Webster  as  authority  for 
it.  To  funeralize  and  to  missionate,  along  with  consociational, 
were  contributions  of  the  backwoods  pulpit ;  perhaps  it  also  pro- 
duced hell-roaring  and  hellion,  the  latter  of  which  was  a  favorite 
of  the  Mormons  and  even  got  into  a  sermon  by  Henry  Ward 
Beecher.  To  deacon,  a  verb  of  decent  mien  in  colonial  days, 
signifying  to  read  a  hymn  line  by  line,  responded  to  the  rough 
humor  of  the  time,  and  began  to  mean  to  swindle  or  adulterate, 
«.  g.,  to  put  the  largest  berries  at  the  top  of  the  box,  to  extend 
one's  fences  sub  rosa,  or  to  mix  sand  with  sugar.  A  great  rage 
for  extending  the  vocabulary  by  the  use  of  suffixes  seized  upon 


THE    PERIOD    OF    GROWTH  77 

the  corn-fed  etymologists,  and  they  produced  a  formidable  new 
vocabulary  in  -ize,  -ate,  -ify,  -acy,  -ous  and  -ment.  Such  inven- 
tions as  to  obligate,  to  concertize,  to  questionize,  retiracy,  sav- 
agerous,  coatee  (a  sort  of  diminutive  for  coat)  and  citified  ap- 
peared in  the  popular  vocabulary,  and  even  got  into  more  or  less 
good  usage.  Fowler,  in  1850,  cited  publishment  and  release- 
ment  with  no  apparent  thought  that  they  were  uncouth.  And 
at  the  same  time  many  verbs  were  made  by  the  simple  process 
of  back  formation,  as,  to  resurrect,  to  excurt,  to  resolute,  to  bur- 
gle 14  and  to  enthuse.15 

Some  of  these  inventions,  after  nourishing  for  a  generation 
or  more,  were  retired  with  blushes  during  the  period  of  aesthetic 
consciousness  following  the  Civil  War,  but  a  large  number  have 
survived  to  our  own  day,  and  are  in  good  usage.  Not  even  the 
most  bilious  purist  would  think  of  objecting  to  to  affiliate,  to 
itemize,  to  resurrect  or  to  Americanize  today,  and  yet  all  of 
them  gave  grief  to  the  judicious  when  they  first  appeared  in  the 
debates  of  Congress,  brought  there  by  statesmen  from  the  back- 
woods. Nor  to  such  simpler  verbs  of  the  period  as  to  corner 
(i.  e.,  the  market),  to  boss  and  to  lynch.16  Nor  perhaps  to  to 
boom,  to  boost,  to  kick  (in  the  sense  of  to  protest),  to  coast  (on 
a  sled),  to  engineer,  to  collide,  to  chink  (i.e.,  logs),  to  feaze,  to 
splurge,  to  aggravate  (in  the  sense  of  to  anger),  to  yank  and 
to  crawfish.  These  verbs  have  entered  into  the  very  fibre  of  the 
American  vulgate,  and  so  have  many  nouns  derived  from  them, 
e.  g.,  boomer,  boom-town,  bouncer,  kicker,  kick,  splurge,  roller- 
coaster.  A  few  of  them,  e.  g.,  to  collide  and  to  feaze,  were 

i*  J.  R.  Ware,  in  Passing  English  of  the  Victorian  Era,  says  that  to 
burgle  was  introduced  to  London  by  W.  S.  Gilbert  in  The  Pirates  of  Pen- 
zance  (April  3,  1880).  It  was  used  in  America  30  years  before. 

is  This  process,  of  course,  is  philologically  respectable,  however  uncouth 
its  occasional  products  may  be.  By  it  we  have  acquired  many  everyday 
words,  among  them,  to  accept  (from  acceptum),  to  exact  (from  exactum) , 
to  darkle  (from  darkling],  and  pea  (from  pease  =  pois) . 

is  All  authorities  save  one  seem  to  agree  that  this  verb  is  a  pure  Ameri- 
canism, and  that  it  is  derTved  from  the  name  of  Charles  Lynch,  a  Virginia 
justice  of  the  peace,  who  jailed  many  Loyalists  in  1780  without  warrant  in 
law.  The  dissentient,  Bristed,  says  that  to  linch  is  in  various  northern 
English  dialects,  and  means  to  beat  or  maltreat. 


78 


THE   AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 


archaic  English  terms  brought  to  new  birth ;  a  few  others,  e.  g., 
to  holler 17  and  to  muss,  were  obviously  mere  corruptions.  But 
a  good  many  others,  e.  g.,  to  bulldoze,  to  hornswoggle  and  to 
scoot,  were  genuine  inventions,  and  redolent  of  the  soil. 

With  the  new  verbs  came  a  great  swarm  of  verb -phrases, 
some  of  them  short  and  pithy  and  others  extraordinarily  elab- 
orate, but  all  showing  the  true  national  talent  for  condensing  a 
complex  thought,  and  often  a  whole  series  of  thoughts,  into  a 
vivid  and  arresting  image.  Of  the  first  class  are  to  fill  the  bill, 
to  fizzle  out,  to  make  tracks,  to  peter  out,  to  plank  down,  to  go 
back  on,  to  keep  tab,  to  light  out  and  to  back  water.  Side  by 
side  with  them  we  have  inherited  such  common  coins  of  speech 
as  to  make  the  fur  fly,  to  cut  a  swath,  to  know  him  like  a  book, 
to  keep  a  stiff  upper  lip,  to  cap  the  climax,  to  handle  without 
gloves,  to  freeze  on  to,  to  go  it  blind,  to  pull  wool  over  his  eyes, 
to  know  the  ropes,  to  get  solid  with,  to  spread  one's  self,  to  run 
into  the  ground,  to  dodge  the  issue,  to  paint  the  town  red,  to 
take  a  back  seat  and  to  get  ahead  of.  These  are  so  familiar  that 
we  use  them  and  hear  them  without  thought;  they  seem  as  au- 
thentically parts  of  the  English  idiom  as  to  be  left  at  the  post. 
And  yet,  as  the  labors  of  Thornton  have  demonstrated,  all  of 
them  are  of  American  nativity,  and  the  circumstances  surround- 
ing the  origin  of  some  of  them  have  been  accurately  determined. 
Many  others  are  palpably  the  products  of  the  great  movement 
toward  the  West,  for  example,  to  pan  out,  to  strike  it  rich,  to 
jump  or  enter  a  claim,  to  pull  up  stakes,  to  rope  in,  to  die  with 
one's  boots  on,  to  get  the  deadwood  on,  to  get  the  drop,  to  back 
and  fill  (a  steamboat  phrase  used  figuratively)  and  to  get  the 
bulge  on.  And  in  many  others  the  authentic  American  is  no 
less  plain,  for  example,  in  to  kick  the  bucket,  to  put  a  bug  in  his 

17  The  correct  form  of  this  appears  to  be  halloo  or  holloa,  but  in 
America  it  is  pronounced  holler  and  usually  represented  in  print  by  hollo 
or  hollow.  I  have  often  encountered  holloed  in  the  past  tense.  But  the 
Public  Printer  frankly  accepts  holler.  Vide  the  Congressional  Record, 
May  12,  1917,  p.  2309.  The  word,  in  the  form  of  hollering,  is  here  credited 
to  "Hon."  John  L.  Burnett,  of  Alabama.  There  can  be  no  doubt  that  the 
hon.  gentleman  said  hollering,  and  not  holloaing,  or  holloeing,  or  hollowing, 
or  hallooing.  Hello  is  apparently  a  variation  of  the  same  word. 


THE    PERIOD    OF    GROWTH  79 

ear,  to  see  the  elephant,  to  crack  up,  to  do  up  brown,  to  bark 
up  the  wrong  tree,  to  jump  on  with  both  feet,  to  go  the  whole 
hog,  to  make  a  kick,  to  buck  the  tiger,  to  let  it  slide  and  to  come 
out  at  the  little  end  of  the  horn.  To  play  possum  belongs  to  this 
list.  To  it  Thornton  adds  to  knock  into  a  cocked  hat,  despite  its 
English  sound,  and  to  have  an  ax  to  grind.  To  go  for,  both  in 
the  sense  of  belligerency  and  in  that  of  partisanship,  is  also 
American,  and  so  is  to  go  through  (i.  e.,  to  plunder). 

Of  adjectives  the  list  is  scarcely  less  long.  Among  the  coin- 
ages of  the  first  half  of  the  century  that  are  in  good  use  today 
are  non-committal,  highjalutin,  well-posted,  down-town,  played- 
out,  flat-footed,  whole-souled  and  true-blue.  The  first  appears 
in  a  Senate  debate  of  1841 ;  highfalutin  in  a  political  speech  of 
the  same  decade.  Both  are  useful  words;  it  is  impossible,  not 
employing  them,  to  convey  the  ideas  behind  them  without  cir- 
cumlocution. The  use  of  slim  in  the  sense  of  meagre,  as  in  slim 
chance,  slim  attendance  and  slim  support,  goes  back  still  further. 
The  English  use  small  in  place  of  it.  Other,  and  less  respectable 
contributions  of  the  time  are  brash,  brainy,  peart,  locoed,  pesky, 
picayune,  scary,  well-heeled,  hardshell  (e.  g.,  Baptist),  low-flung, 
codfish  (to  indicate  opprobrium)  and  go-to-meeting.  The  use 
of  plumb  as  an  adjective,  as  in  plumb  crazy,  is  an  English  'j 
archaism  that  was  revived  in  the  United  States  in  the  early  years 
of  the  century.  In  the  more  orthodox  adverbial  form  of  plu)mp 
it  still  survives,  for  example,  in  ' '  she  fell  plump  into  his  arms. ' ' 
But  this  last  is  also  good  English. 

The  characteristic  American  substitution  of  mad  for  angry 
goes  back  to  the  eighteenth  century,  and  perhaps  denotes  the 
survival  of  an  English  provincialism.  Witherspoon  noticed  it 
and  denounced  it  in  1781,  and  in  1816  Pickering  called  it  "low" 
and  said  that  it  was  not  used  "except  in  very  familiar  conver- 
sation." But  it  got  into  much  better  odor  soon  afterward,  and 
by  1840  it  passed  unchallenged.  Its  use"  is  one  of  the  peculiari- 
ties that  Englishmen  most  quickly  notice  in  American  colloquial 
speech  today.  In  formal  written  discourse  it  is  less  often  en- 
countered, probably  because  the  English  marking  of  it  has  so 
conspicuously  singled  it  out.  But  it  is  constantly  met  with 


80  THE   AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

in  the  newspapers  and  in  the  Congressional  Record,  and  it  is  not 
infrequently  used  by  such  writers  as  Howells  and  Dreiser.  In 
the  familiar  simile,  as  mad  as  a  hornet,  it  is  used  in  the  Ameri- 
can sense.  But  as  mad  as  a  March  hare  is  English,  and  con- 
notes insanity,  not  mere  anger.  The  English  meaning  of  the 
word  is  preserved  in  mad-house  and  mad-dog,  but  I  have  often 
noticed  that  American  rustics,  employing  the  latter  term,  de- 
rive from  it  a  vague  notion,  not  that  the  dog  is  demented,  but 
that  it  is  in  a  simple  fury.  From  this  notion,  perhaps,  comes 
the  popular  belief  that  dogs  may  be  thrown  into  hydrophobia  by 
teasing  and  badgering  them. 

It  was  not,  however,  among  the  verbs  and  adjectives  that  the 
American  word-coiners  of  the  first  half  of  the  century  achieved 
their  gaudiest  innovations,  but  among  the  substantives.  Here 
they  had  temptation  and  excuse  in  plenty,  for  innumerable  new 
objects  and  relations  demanded  names,  and  here  they  exercised 
their  fancy  without  restraint.  Setting  aside  loan  words,  which 
will  be  considered  later,  three  main  varieties  of  new  nouns  were 
thus  produced.  The  first  consisted  of  English  words  rescued 
from  obsolescence  or  changed  in  meaning,  the  second  of  com- 
pounds manufactured  of  the  common  materials  of  the  mother 
tongue,  and  the  third  of  entirely  new  inventions.  Of  the  first 
class,  good  specimens  are  deck  (of  cards),  gulch,  gully  and 
billion,  the  first  three  old  English  words  restored  to  usage  in 
America  and  the  last  a  sound  English  word  changed  in  mean- 
ing. Of  the  second  class,  examples  are  offered  by  gum-shoe, 
mortgage-shark,  dug-out,  shot-gun,  stag-party,  wheat-pit,  horse- 
seme,  chipped-beef,  oyster-supper1,  buzz-saw,  chain-gang  and 
hell-box.  And  of  the  third  there  are  instances  in  buncombe, 
greaser,  conniption,  bloomer,  campus,  galoot,  maverick,  roust- 
about, bugaboo  and  blizzard. 

Of  these  coinages,  perhaps  those  of  the  second  class  are  most 
numerous  and  characteristic.  In  them  American  exhibits  one 
of  its  most  marked  tendencies:  a  habit  of  achieving  short  cuts 
in  speech  by  a  process  of  agglutination.  Why  explain  labori- 
ously, as  an  Englishman  might,  that  the  notes  of  a  new  bank  (in 
a  day  of  innumerable  new  banks)  are  insufficiently  secure  ?  Call 


THE    PERIOD    OF    GROWTH  81 

them  wild-cat  notes  and  have  done!  Why  describe  a  gigantic 
rain  storm  with  the  lame  adjectives  of  everyday?  Call  it  a 
cloud-burst  and  immediately  a  vivid  picture  of  it  is  conjured 
up.  Rough-neck  is  a  capital  word;  it  is  more  apposite  and 
savory  than  the  English  navvy,  and  it  is  overwhelmingly  more 
American.18  Square-meal  is  another.  Fire-eater  is  yet  an- 
other. And  the  same  instinct  for  the  terse,  the  eloquent  and  the 
picturesque  is  in  boiled-shirt,  blow-out,  big-bug,  claim-jumper, 
spread-eagle,  come-down,  back-number,  claw-hammer  (coat),  bot- 
tom-dollar, poppy-cock,  cold-snap,  back-talk,  back-taxes,  calamity- 
howler,  cut-off,  fire-bug,  grab-bag,  grip-sack,  grub-stake,  pay- 
dirt,  tender- foot,  stocking- feet,  ticket-scalper,  store-clothes,  small- 
potatoes,  cake-walk,  prairie-schooner,  round-up,  snake-fence,  flat- 
boat,  under-the-weather,  on-the-hoof,  and  jumping -off -place. 
These  compounds  (there  must  be  thousands  of  them)  have  been 
largely  responsible  for  giving  the  language  its  characteristic 
tang  and  color.  Such  specimens  as  bell-hop,  semi-occasional, 
chair-warmer  and  down-and-out  are  as  distinctively  American 
as  baseball  or  the  quick-lunch. 

The  spirit  of  the  language  appears  scarcely  less  clearly  in 
some  of  the  coinages  of  the  other  classes.  There  are,  for  exam- 
ple, the  English  words  that  have  been  extended  or' restricted  in 
meaning,  e.  g.,  docket  (for  court  calendar),  betterment  (for  im- 
provement to  property),  collateral  (for  security),  crank  (for 
fanatic),  jumper  (for  tunic),  tickler  (for  memorandum  or  re- 
minder),19 carnival  (in  such  phrases  as  carnival  of  crime],  scrape 
(for  fight  or  difficulty),20  flurry  (of  snow,  or  in  the  market),  sus- 
penders, diggings  (for  habitation)  and  range.  Again,  there  are 
the  new  assemblings  of  English  materials,  e.  g.,  doggery,  rowdy, 
teetotaler,  goatee,  tony  and  cussedness.  Yet  again,  there  are  the 
purely  artificial  words,  e.  g.,  sockdolager,  hunkydory,  scalawag, 
guyascutis,  spondulix,  slumgullion,  rambunctious,  scrumptious, 

is  Rough-neck  is  often  cited,  in  discussions  of  slang,  as  a  latter-day  in- 
vention, but  Thornton  shows  that  it  was  used  in  Texas  in  1836. 

i»  This  use  goes  back  to  1839. 

20  Thornton  gives  an  example  dated  1812.  Of  late  the  word  has  lost  its 
final  e  and  shortened  its  vowel,  becoming  scrap. 


82  THE   AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

to  skedaddle,  to  absquatulate  and  to  exfluncticate.21  In  the  use 
of  the  last-named  coinages  fashions  change.  In  the  40 's  to 
absquatulate  was  in  good  usage,  but  it  has  since  disappeared. 
Most  of  the  other  inventions  of  the  time,  however,  have  to  some 
extent  survived,  and  it  would  be  difficult  to  find  an  American  of 
today  who  did  not  know  the  meaning  of  scalawag  and  rambunc- 
tious and  who  did  not  occasionally  use  them.  A  whole  series  of 
artificial  American  words  groups  itself  around  the  prefix  ker, 
for  example,  Tier-flop,  ker-splash,  ker-thump,  ker-bang,  ker-plunk, 
ker-slam  and  ker-flummux.  This  prefix  and  its  onomatopoeic 
daughters  have  been  borrowed  by  the  English,  but  Thornton  and 
Ware  agree  that  it  is  American.  Its  origin  has  not  been  de- 
termined. As  Sayce  says,  "the  native  instinct  of  language 
breaks  out  wherever  it  has  the  chance,  and  coins  words  which 
can  be  traced  back  to  no  ancestors. ' ' 

In  the  first  chapter  I  mentioned  the  superior  imaginativeness 
revealed  by  Americans  in  meeting  linguistic  emergencies, 
whereby,  for  example,  in  seeking  names  for  new  objects  intro- 
duced by  the  building  of  railroads,  they  surpassed  the  English 
plough  and  crossing-plate  with  cow-catcher  and  frog.  That  was 
in  the  30 's.  Already  at  that  early  day  the  two  languages  were 
so  differentiated  that  they  produced  wholly  distinct  railroad 
nomenclatures.  Such  commonplace  American  terms  as  box-car, 
caboose,  air-line  and  ticket-agent  are  still  quite  unknown  in  Eng- 
land. So  are  freight-car,  flagman,  towerman,  switch,  switching- 
engine,  switch-yard,  switchman,  track-walker,  engineer,  baggage- 
room,  baggage-check,  baggage-smasher,  accommodation-train, 
baggage-master,  conductor,  express-car,  flat-car,  hand-car,  way- 
bill, expressman,  express-office,  fast-freight,  wrecking-crew,  jerk- 
water, commutation-ticket,  commuter,  round-trip,  mileage-book, 
ticket-scalper,  depot,  limited,  hot-box,  iron-horse,  stop-over,  tie, 
rail,  fish-plate,  run,  train-boy,  chair-car,  club-car,  diner,  sleeper, 
bumpers,  mail-clerk,  passenger-coach,  day-coach,  excursionist, 

21  Cf.  Terms  of  Approbation  and  Eulogy.  ...  by  Elise  L.  Warnock, 
Dialect  Notes,  vol.  iv,  part  1,  1913.  Among  the  curious  recent  coinages  cited 
by  Miss  Warnock  are  scally wampus,  supergobosnoptious,  hyperfirmatious, 
scrumdifferous  and  swellellegous. 


THE    PERIOD    OF    GROWTH  83 

excursion-train,  railroad-man,  ticket-office,  truck  and  right-of- 
way,  not  to  mention  the  verbs,  to  flag,  to  derail,  to  express,  to 
dead-head,  to  side-swipe,  to  stop-over,  to  fire  (i.  e.,  a  locomotive), 
to  switch,  to  side-track,  to  railroad,  to  commute,  to  telescope  and 
to  clear  the  track.  These  terms  are  in  constant  use  in  America ; 
their  meaning  is  familiar  to  all  Americans;  many  of  them  have 
given  the  language  everyday  figures  of  speech.22  But  the  ma- 
jority of  them  would  puzzle  an  Englishman,  just  as  the  English 
luggage-van,  permanent-way,  goods-waggon,  guard,  carrier, 
booking -office,  return-ticket,  railway-rug,  R.  8.  0.  (railway  sub- 
office),  tripper,  line,  points,  shunt,  metals  and  bogie  would  puz- 
zle the  average  untravelled  American. 

In  two  other  familiar  fields  very  considerable  differences  be- 
tween English  and  American  are  visible;  in  both  fields  they  go 
back  to  the  era  before  the  Civil  War.  They  are  politics  and 
that  department  of  social  intercourse  which  has  to  do  with  drink- 
ing. Many  characteristic  American  political  terms  originated 
in  revolutionary  days,  and  have  passed  over  into  English.  Of 
such  sort  are  caucus  and  mileage.  But  the  majority  of  those  in 
common  use  today  were  coined  during  the  extraordinarily  excit- 
ing campaigns  following  the  defeat  of  Adams  by  Jefferson. 
Charles  Ledyard  Norton  has  devoted  a  whole  book  to  their 
etymology  and  meaning ; 23  the  number  is  far  too  large  for  a 
list  of  them  to  be  attempted  here.  But  a  few  characteristic 
specimens  may  be  recalled,  for  example,  the  simple  agglutinates : 
omnibus-bill,  banner-state,  favorite-son,  anxious -bench,  gag-rule, 
office-seeker  and  straight-ticket;  the  humorous  metaphors:  pork- 
barrel,  pie-counter,  wire-puller,  land-slide,  carpet-bagger,  lame- 
duck  and  on  the  fence;  the  old  words  put  to  new  uses:  plank, 
platform,  machine,  precinct,  slate,  primary,  floater,  repeater, 
bolter,  stalwart,  filibuster,  regular  and  fences;  the  new  coin- 
ages: gerrymander,  heeler,  buncombe,  roorback,  mugwump  and 
to  bulldoze;  the  new  derivatives:  abolitionist,  candidacy,  boss- 

22  E.g.,  single-track  mind,  to  jump  the  rails,  to  collide  head-on,  broad- 
gauge  man,   to  walk   the  ties,   blind-baggage,  underground-railroad,   tank- 
town. 

23  Political    Americanisms.  .  .  .;    New    York   and   London,    1890. 


84  THE   AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

rule,  per-diem,  to  lobby  and  boodler;  and  the  almost  innumer- 
able verbs  and  verb-phrases :  to  knife,  to  split  a  ticket,  to  go  up 
Salt  River,  to  bolt,  to  eat  crow,  to  boodle,  to  divvy,  to  grab  and 
to  run.  An  English  candidate  never  runs;  he  stands.  To  run, 
according  to  Thornton,  was  already  used  in  America  in  1789 ; 
it  was  universal  by  1820.  Platform  came  in  at  the  same  time. 
Machine  was  first  applied  to  a  political  organization  by  Aaron 
Burr.  The  use  of  mugwump  is  commonly  thought  to  have  orig- 
inated in  the  Blaine  campaign  of  1884,  but  it  really  goes  back 
to  the  30 's.  Anxious-bench  (or  anxious-seat)  at  first  designated 
only  the  place  occupied  by  the  penitent  at  revivals,  but  was 
used  in  its  present  political  sense  in  Congress  so  early  as  1842. 
Banner-state  appears  in  N lies'  Register  for  December  5,  1840. 
Favorite-son  appears  in  an  ode  addressed  to  Washington  on  his 
visit  to  Portsmouth,  N.  H.,  in  1789,  but  it  did  not  acquire  its 
present  ironical  sense  until  it  was  applied  to  Martin  Van  Buren. 
Thornton  has  traced  bolter  to  1812,  filibuster  to  1863,  roorback 
to  1844,  and  split-ticket  to  1842.  Regularity  was  an  issue  in 
Tammany  Hall  in  1822.24  There  were  primaries  in  New  York 
city  in  1827,  and  hundreds  of  repeaters  voted.  In  1829  there 
were  lobby-agents  at  Albany,  and  they  soon  became  lobbyists; 
in  1832  lobbying  had  already  extended  to  Washington.  All  of 
these  terms  are  now  as  firmly  imbedded  in  the  American  vocabu- 
lary as  election  or  congressman. 

In  the  department  of  conviviality  the  imaginativeness  of 
Americans  has  been  shown  in  both  the  invention  and  the  naming 
of  new  and  often  highly  complex  beverages.  So  vast  has  been 
the  production  of  novelties,  in  fact,  that  England  has  borrowed 
many  of  them,  and  their  names  with  them.  And  not  only  Eng- 
land: one  buys  cocktails  and  gin-fizzes  in  "American  bars" 
that  stretch  from  Paris  to  Yokohama.  Cocktail,  stone-fence  and 
sherry-cobbler  were  mentioned  by  Irving  in  1809 ; 25  by  Thack- 
eray's  day  they  were  already  well-known  in  England.  Thorn- 
ton traces  the  sling  to  1788,  and  the  stinkibus  and  anti-fogmatic, 

24Qustavus  Myers:  The  History  of  Tammany  Hall;  2nd  ed.;  New  York, 
1917,  ch.  viii. 
25  Knickerbocker's  History  of  New  York;  New  York,  1809,  p.  241. 


THE    PERIOD    OF    GROWTH  85 

both  now  extinct,  to  the  same  .year.  The  origin  of  the  rickey, 
fizz,  sour,  cooler,  skin,  shrub  and  smash,  and. of  such  curious 
American  drinks  as  the  horse's  neck,  Mamie  Taylor,  Tom-and- 
Jerry,  Tom-Collins,  John-Collins,  bishop,  stone-wall,  gin-fix, 
brandy-champarelle,  golden-slipper,  hari-kari,  locomotive,  whis- 
key-daisy, blue-blazer,  black-stripe,  white-plush  and  brandy- 
crusta  is  quite  unknown;  the  historians  of  alcoholism,  like  the 
philologists,  have  neglected  them.26  But  the  essentially  Amer- 
ican character  of  most  of  them  is  obvious,  despite  the  fact  that 
a  number  have  gone  over  into  English.  The  English,  in  nam- 
ing their  drinks,  commonly  display  a  far  more  limited  imagina- 
tion. Seeking  a  name,  for  example,  for  a  mixture  of  whiskey 
and  soda-water,  the  best  they  could  achieve  was  whiskey-and- 
soda.  The  Americans,  introduced  to  the  same  drink,  at  once 
gave  it  the  far  more  original  name  of  high-ball.  So  with  ginger- 
ale  and  ginger-pop.  So  with  minerals  and  soft-drinks.  Other 
characteristic  Americanisms  (a  few  of  them  borrowed  by  the 
English)  are  red-eye,  corn- juice,  eye-opener,  forty-rod,  squirrel- 
whiskey,  phlegm-cutter,  moon-shine,  hard-cider,  apple-jack  and 
corpse-reviver,  and  the  auxiliary  drinking  terms,  speak-easy, 
sample-room,  blind-pig,  barrel-house,  bouncer,  bung-starter,  dive, 
doggery,  schooner,  shell,  stick,  duck,  straight,  saloon,  finger, 
pony  and  chaser.  Thornton  shows  that  jag,  bust,  bat  and  to 
crook  the  elbow  are  also  Americanisms.  So  are  bartender  and 
saloon-keeper.  To  them  might  be  added  a  long  list  of  common 
American  synonyms  for  drunk,  for  example,  piffled,  pifflicated, 
awry-eyed,  tanked,  snooted,  stewed,  ossified,  slopped,  fiddled, 
edged,  loaded,  het-up,  frazzled,  jugged,  soused,  jiggered,  corned, 
jagged  and  bunned.  Farmer  and  Henley  list  corned  and  jagged 
among  English  synonyms,  but  the  former  is  obviously  an  Amer- 
icanism derived  from  corn-whiskey  or  corn-juice,  and  Thornton 
says  that  the  latter  originated  on  this  side  of  the  Atlantic  also. 

26  Extensive  lists  of  such  drinks,  with  their  ingredients,  are  to  be 
found  in  the  Hoffman  House  Bartender's  Guide,  by  Charles  Mahoney,  4th 
ed.;  New  York,  1916;  in  The  Up-to-date  Bartenders'  Guide,  by  Harry 
Montague;  Baltimore,  1913;  and  in  Wehman  Brothers'  Bartenders'  Guide; 
New  York,  1912.  An  early  list,  from  the  Lancaster  (Pa.)  Journal  of  Jan. 
26,  1821,  is  quoted  by  Thornton,  vol.  ii,  p.  985. 


86  THE   AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

§4 

Loan-Words — The  Indians  of  the  new  West,  it  would  seem, 
had  little  to  add  to  the  contributions  already  made  to  the  Amer- 
ican vocabulary  by  the  Algonquins  of  the  Northeast.  The 
American  people,  by  the  beginning  of  the  second  quarter  of  the 
nineteenth  century,  knew  almost  all  they  were  destined  to  know 
of  the  aborigine,  and  they  had  names  for  all  the  new  objects 
that  he  had  brought  to  their  notice  and  for  most  of  his  peculiar 
implements  and  ceremonies.  A  few  translated  Indian  terms, 
e.  g.,  squaw-man,  big-chief,  great-white-father  and  happy-hunting 
ground,  represent  the  meagre  fresh  stock  that  the  western  pio- 
neers got  from  him.  Of  more  importance  was  the  suggestive 
and  indirect  effect  of  his  polysynthetic  dialects,  and  particularly 
of  his  vivid  proper  names,  e.  g.,  Rain-in-the-Face,  Young-Man- 
Afraid-of-His-Wife  and  Voice-Like-Thunder.  These  names,  and 
other  word-phrases  like  them,  made  an  instant  appeal  to  Amer- 
ican humor,  and  were  extensively  imitated  in  popular  slang. 
One  of  the  surviving  coinages  of  that  era  is  Old-Stick-in-the-Mud, 
which  Farmer  and  Henley  note  as  having  reached  England  by 
1823. 

Contact  with  the  French  in  Louisiana  and  along  the  Canadian 
border,  and  with  the  Spanish  in  Texas  and  further  West,  brought 
many  more  new  words.  From  the  Canadian  French,  as  we  have 
already  seen,  prairie,  batteau,  portage  and  rapids  had  been  bor- 
rowed during  colonial  days;  to  these  French  contributions 
bayou,  picayune,  levee,  chute,  butte,  crevasse,  and  lagniappe 
were  now  added,  and  probably  also  shanty  and  canuck.  The 
use  of  brave  to  designate  an  Indian  warrior,  almost  uni- 
versal until  the  close  of  the  Indian  wars,  was  also  of  French 
origin. 

From  the  Spanish,  once  the  Mississippi  was  crossed,  and  par- 
ticularly after  the  Mexican  war,  in  1846,  there  came  a  swarm 
of  novelties,  many  of  which  have  remained  firmly  imbedded  in 
the  language.  Among  them  were  numerous  names  of  strange 
objects:  lariat,  lasso,  ranch,  loco  (weed),  mustang,  sombrero, 
canyon,  desperado,  poncho,  chapparel,  corral,  broncho,  plaza, 


THE    PERIOD    OF    GROWTH  87 

peon,  cayuse,  burro,  mesa,  tornado,  sierra  and  adobe.  To  them, 
as  soon  as  gold  was  discovered,  were  added  bonanza,  eldorado, 
placer  and  vigilante.  Cinch  was  borrowed  from  the  Spanish 
cincha  in  the  early  Texas  days,  though  its  figurative  use  did  not 
come  in  until  much  later.  Ante,  the  poker  term,  though  the 
etymologists  point  out  its  obvious  origin  in  the  Latin,  probably 
came  into  American  from  the  Spanish.  Thornton 's  first  example 
of  its  use  in  its  current  sense  is  dated  1857,  but  Bartlett  reported 
it  in  the  form  of  anti  in  1848.  Coyote  came  from  the  Mexican 
dialect  of  Spanish;  its  first  parent  was  the  Aztec  coyotl.  To- 
male  had  a  similar  origin,  and  so  did  frijole  and  tomato.  None 
of  these  is  good  Spanish.27  As  usual,  derivatives  quickly  fol- 
lowed the  new-comers,  among  them  peonage,  broncho-buster, 
ranchman  and  ranch-house,  and  the  verbs  to  ranch,  to  lasso,  to 
corral,  to  ante  up,  and  to  cinch.  To  vamose  (from  the  Spanish 
vamos,  let  us  go),  came  in  at  the  same  time.  So  did  sabe.  So 
did  gazabo. 

This  was  also  the  period  of  the  first  great  immigrations,  and 
the  American  people  now  came  into  contact,  on  a  large  scale, 
with  peoples  of  divergent  race,  particularly  Germans,  Irish 
Catholics  from  the  South  of  Ireland  (the  Irish  of  colonial  days 
"were  descendants  of  Cromwell's  army,  and  came  from  the 
North  of  Ireland  ")>28  and,  on  the  Pacific  Coast,  Chinese.  So 
early  as  the  20  's  the  immigration  to  the  United  States  reached 
25,000  in  a  year ;  in  1824  the  Legislature  of  New  York,  in  alarm, 
passed  a  restrictive  act.29  The  Know-Nothing  movement  of  the 
50 's  need  not  concern  us  here.  Suffice  it  to  recall  that  the  im- 
migration of  1845  passed  the  100,000  mark,  and  that  that  of 
1854  came  within  sight  of  500,000.  These  new  Americans,  most 
of  them  Germans  and  Irish,  did  not  all  remain  in  the  East;  a 
great  many  spread  through  the  West  and  Southwest  with  the 
other  pioneers.  Their  effect  upon  the  language  was  not  large, 

27  Many  such  words  are  listed  in  Felix  Ramos  y  Duarte's  Diccionaro  de 
Mejicanismos,  2nd  ed.  Mexico  City,  1898;  and  in  Miguel  de  Toro  y  Gisbert'B 
\mericanismos;  Paris,  n.  d. 

ssprescott  F.  Hall:   Immigration.  .  .  .  New  York,  1913,  p.  5. 

29  Most  of  the  provisions  of  this  act,  however,  were  later  declared  uncon- 
stitutional. Several  subsequent  acts  met  the  same  fate. 


88  THE   AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

perhaps,  but  it  was  still  very  palpable,  and  not  only  in  the  vocab- 
ulary. Of  words  of  German  origin,  saurkraut  and  noodle,  as  we 
have  seen,  had  come  in  during  the  colonial  period,  apparently 
through  the  so-called  Pennsylvania  Dutch,  i.  e.,  a  mixture,  much 
debased,  of  the  German  dialects  of  Switzerland,  Suabia  and  the 
Palatinate.  The  new  immigrants  now  contributed  pretzel,  pum- 
pernickel, hausfrau,  lager-beer,  pinocle,  unenerwurst,  dumb  (for 
stupid),  frankfurter,  bock-beer,  schnitzel,  leberwurst,  blutwurst, 
rathskeller,  schweizer  (cheese),  delicatessen,  hamburger  (i.e., 
steak),  kindergarten  and  katzenjammer.30  From  them,  in  all 
probability,  there  also  came  two  very  familiar  Americanisms, 
loafer  and  bum.  The  former,  according  to  the  Standard  Dic- 
tionary, is  derived  from  the  German  laufen;  another  authority 
says  that  it  originated  in  a  German  mispronounciation  of  lover, 
i.  e.,  as  lofer.31  Thornton  shows  that  the  word  was  already  in 
common  use  in  1835.  Bum  was  originally  bummer,  and  appar- 
ently derives  from  the  German  bummler.32  Both  words  have  pro- 
duced derivatives:  loaf  (noun),  to  loaf,  corner-loafer,  common- 
loafer,  to  bum,  bum  (adj.)  and  bummery,  not  to  mention  on  the 

so  The  majority  of  these  words,  it  will  be  noted,  relate  to  eating  and 
drinking.  They  mirror  the  profound  effect  of  German  immigration  upon 
American  drinking  habits  and  the  American  cuisine.  It  is  a  curious  fact 
that  loan-words  seldom  represent  the  higher  aspirations  of  the  creditor 
nation.  French  and  German  have  borrowed  from  English,  not  words  of 
lofty  significance,  but  such  terms  as  beefsteak,  roast-beef,  pudding,  grog, 
jockey,  tourist,  sport,  five-o'clock-tea,  cocktail  and  sweepstakes.  "The  con- 
tributions of  England  to  European  civilization,  as  tested  by  the  English 
words  in  Continental  languages,"  says  L.  P.  Smith,  "are  not,  generally, 
of  a  kind  to  cause  much  national  self-congratulation."  Nor  would  a 
German,  I  daresay,  be  very  proud  of  the  German  contributions  to  American, 
si  Vide  a  paragraph  in  Notes  and  Queries,  quoted  by  Thornton,  vol.  i,  p. 
248. 

82  Thornton  offers  examples  of  this  form  ranging  from  1856  to  1885 
During  the  Civil  War  the  word  acquired  the  special  meaning  of  looter.  The 
Southerners  thus  applied  it  to  Sherman's  men.  Vide  Southern  Historical 
Society  Papers,  vol.  xii,  p.  428;  Richmond,  1884.  Here  is  a  popular  rhyme 
that  survived  until  the  early  90's: 

Isidor,  psht,  psht! 

Vatch  de  shtore,  psht,  psht! 

Vhile  I  ketch  de  bummer 

Vhat  shtole  de  suit  of  clothes! 
Bummel-zug  is  common  German  slang  for  slow  train. 


THE    PERIOD    OF    GROWTH  89 

bum.  Loafer  has  migrated  in  England,  but  bum  is  still  unknown 
there  in  the  American  sense.  In  English,  indeed,  bum  is  used  to 
designate  an  unmentionable  part  of  the  body  and  is  thus  not 
employed  in  polite  discourse. 

Another  example  of  debased  German  is  offered  by  the  Ameri- 
can Kriss  Kringle.  It  is  from  Christkindlein,  or  Christkind'l, 
and  properly  designates,  of  course,  not  the  patron  saint  of  Christ- 
mas, but  the  child  in  the  manger.  A  German  friend  tells  me  that 
the  form  Kriss  Kringle,  which  is  that  given  in  the  Standard  Dic- 
tionary, and  the  form  Krisking'l,  which  is  that  most  commonly 
used  in  the  United  States,  are  both  quite  unknown  in  Germany. 
Here,  obviously,  we  have  an  example  of  a  loan-word  in  decay. 
Whole  phrases  have  gone  through  the  same  process,  for  example, 
nix  come  erous  (from  nichts  kommt  heraus)  and  'rous  mit  'im 
(from  heraus  mit  ihm).  These  phrases,  like  wie  geht's  and  gam 
gut,  are  familiar  to  practically  all  Americans,  no  matter  how 
complete  their  ignorance  of  correct  German.  Most  of  them 
know,  too,  the  meaning  of  gesundheit,  kummel,  seidel,  wander- 
lust, stein,  speck,  maennerchor,  schutzenfest,  sdngerfest,  turn- 
verein,  hoch,  yodel,  zwieback,  and  zwei  (as  in  zwei  bier).  I  have 
found  snitz  (=  schnitz)  in  Town  Topics.33  Prosit  is  in  all  Amer- 
ican dictionaries.34  Bower,  as  used  in  cards,  is  an  Americanism 
derived  from  the  German  bauer,  meaning  the  jack.  The  excla- 
mation, ouch!  is  classed  as  an  Americanism  by  Thornton,  and 
he  gives  an  example  dated  1837.  The  New  English  Dictionary 
refers  it  to  the  German  autsch,  and  Thornton  says  that  "it  may 
have  come  across  with  the  Dunkers  or  the  Mennonites."  Ouch 
is  not  heard  in  English,  save  in  the  sense  of  a  clasp  or  buckle 
set  with  precious  stones  (=  OF  nouche),  and  even  in  that  sense  it 
is  archaic.  Shyster  is  very  probably  German  also ;  Thornton  has 
traced  it  back  to  the  50 's.35  Rum-dumb  is  grounded  upon  the 

33  Jan.  24,  1918,  p.  4. 

34  Nevertheless,  when  I  once  put  it  into  a  night-letter  a  Western  Union 
office  refused  to  accept  it,  the  rules  requiring  all  night-letters  to  be  in 
"plain  English."     Meanwhile,  the  English  have  borrowed  it  from  American, 
and  it  is  actually  in  the  Oxford  Dictionary. 

33  The  word  is  not  in  the  Oxford  Dictionary,  but  Cassell  gives  it  and  say§ 
that  it  is  German  and  an  Americanism.  The  Standard  Dictionary  does 


90  THE   AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

meaning  of  dumb  borrowed  from  the  German ;  it  is  not  listed  in 
the  English  slang  dictionaries.36  Bristed  says  that  the  American 
meaning  of  wagon,  which  indicates  almost  any  four-wheeled, 
horse-drawn  vehicle  in  this  country  but  only  the  very  heaviest  in 
England,  was  probably  influenced  by  the  German  wagen.  He 
also  says  that  the  American  use  of  hold  on  for  stop  was  suggested 
by  the  German  halt  an,  and  White  says  that  the  substitution  of 
standpoint  for  point  of  view,  long  opposed  by  all  purists,  was 
first  made  by  an  American  professor  who  sought  ' '  an  Anglicized 
form"  of  the  German  standpunkt.  The  same  German  influence 
may  be  behind  the  general  facility  with  which  American  forms 
compound  nouns.  In  most  other  languages,  for  example,  Latin 
and  French,  the  process  is  rare,  and  even  English  lags  far  behind 
American.  But  in  German  it  is  almost  unrestricted.  "It  is," 
says  L.  P.  Smith,  "a  great  step  in  advance  toward  that  ideal 
language  in  which  meaning  is  expressed,  not  by  terminations,  but 
by  the  simple  method  of  word  position. ' ' 

The  immigrants  from  the  South  of  Ireland,  during  the  period 
under  review,  exerted  an  influence  upon  the  language  that  was 
vastly  greater  than  that  of  the  Germans,  both  directly  and  indi- 
rectly, but  their  contributions  to  the  actual  vocabulary  were  prob- 
ably less.     They  gave   American,   indeed,   relatively  few  new 
words;  perhaps  shillelah,  colleen,  spalpeen,  smithereens  and  po- 
teen exhaust  the  unmistakably  Gaelic  list.    Lallapalooza  is  also 
.probably  an  Irish  loan-word,  though  it  is  not  Gaelic.     It  appar- 
|ently  comes  from  allay-foozee,  a  Mayo  provincialism,  signifying 
*  a  sturdy  fellow.    Allay-foozee,  in  its  turn,  comes  from  the  French 
lAllez-fusil,  meaning  "Forward  the  muskets!" — a  memory,  ac- 

not  give  its  etymology.  Thornton's  first  example,  dated  1856,  shows  a 
variant  spelling,  shuyster,  thus  indicating  that  it  was  then  recent.  All 
subsequent  examples  show  the  present  spelling.  It  is  to  be  noted  that  the 
suffix  -ster  is  not  uncommon  in  English,  and  that  it  usually  carries  a 
deprecatory  significance,  as  in  trickster,  punster,  gamester,  etc. 

»«  The  use  of  dumb  for  stupid  is  widespread  in  the  United  States.  Dumb- 
head, obviously  from  the  German  dummkopf,  appears  in  a  list  of  Kansas 
words  collected  by  Judge  J.  C.  Ruppenthal,  of  Russell,  Kansas.  (Dialect 
Notes,  vol.  iv,  pt.  v,  1916,  p.  322.)  It  is  also  noted  in  Nebraska  and  the 
Western  Reserve,  and  is  very  common  in  Pennsylvania.  Uhrgucker 
(=  uhr-gucken)  is  also  on  the  Kansas  list  of  Judge  Ruppenthal. 


THE    PERIOD    OF    GROWTH  91 

cording  to  P.  W.  Joyce,37  of  the  French  landing  at  Killala  in 
1798.  Such  phrases  as  Erin  go  bragh  and  such  expletives  as 
begob  and  begorry  may  perhaps  be  added:  they  have  got  into 
American,  though  they  are  surely  not  distinctive  Americanisms. 
But  of  far  more  importance  than  these  few  contributions  to  the 
vocabulary  were  certain  speech  habits  that  the  Irish  brought  with 
them — habits  of  pronunciation,  of  syntax  and  even  of  grammar. 
These  habits  were,  in  part,  the  fruit  of  efforts  to  translate  the 
idioms  of  Gaelic  into  English,  and  in  part  borrowings  from  the 
English  of  the  age  of  James  I.  The  latter,  preserved  by  Irish 
conservatism  in  speech,38  came  into  contact  in  America  with 
habits  surviving,  with  more  or  less  change,  from  the  same  time, 
and  so  gave  those  American  habits  an  unmistakable  reinforce- 
ment. The  Yankees,  so  to  speak,  had  lived  down  such  Jacobean 
pronunciations  as  toy  for  tea,  and  desave  for  deceive,  and  these 
forms,  on  Irish  lips,  struck  them  as  uncouth  and  absurd,  but  they 
still  clung,  in  their  common  speech,  to  such  forms  as  h'ist  for 
hoist,  bile  for  boil,  chaw  for  chew,  jine  for  join,39  sass  for  sauce, 
heighth  for  height  and  rench  for  rinse  and  lep  for  leap,  and  the 
employment  of  precisely  the  same  forms  by  the  thousands  of 
Irish  immigrants  who  spread  through  the  country  undoubtedly 
gave  them  a  certain  support,  and  so  protected  them,  in  a  meas- 
ure, from  the  assault  of  the  purists.  And  the  same  support  was 
given  to  drownded  for  drowned,  oncet  for  once,  ketch  for  catch, 
ag'in  for  against  and  onery  for  ordinary. 

s?  English  As  We  Speak  It  in  Ireland,  2nd  ed.;  London  and  Dublin,  1910, 
pp.  179-180. 

38  "Our  people,"  says  Dr.  Joyce,  "are  very  conservative  in  retaining  old 
customs  and  forms  of  speech.     Many  words  accordingly  that  are  discarded 
as  old-fashioned — or  dead  and  gone — in  England,  are  still  flourishing — alive 
and    well,    in    Ireland.     [They    represent]  .  .  .  the    classical    English    of 
Shakespeare's  time,"  pp.  6-7. 

39  Pope  rhymed  join  with   mine,   divine  and   line;  Dryden  rhymed   toil 
with  smile.     William  Kenrick,  in  1773,  seems  to  have  been  the  first  Eng- 
lish lexicographer  to  denounce  this  pronunciation.     Tay  survived  in  England 
until  the  second  half  of  the  eighteenth  century.     Then  it  fell  into  disrepute, 
and  certain  purists,  among  them  Lord  Chesterfield,  attempted  to  change  the 
ea-sound  to  ee  in  all  words,  including  even  great.     Cf.  the  remarks  under 
toil  in  A  Desk-Book  of  Twenty-Five  Thousand  Words  Frequently  Mispro- 
nounced, by  Frank  H.  Vizetelly;  New  York,  1917.     Also,  The  Standard  of 
Pronunciation  in  English,  by  T.  S.  Lounsbury;  New  York,  1904,  pp.  98-103. 


92  THE   AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

Certain  usages  of  Gaelic,  carried  over  into  the  English  of  Ire- 
land, fell  upon  fertile  soil  in  America.  One  was  the  employment 
of  the  definite  article  before  nouns,  as  in  French  and  German. 
An  Irishman  does  not  say  "I  am  good  at  Latin,"  but  "I  am  good 
at  the  Latin."  In  the  same  way  an  American  does  not  say  "I 
had  measles, ' '  but ' '  I  had  the  measles. ' '  There  is,  again,  the  use 
of  the  prefix  a  before  various  adjectives  and  gerunds,  as  in 
a-going  and  a-riding.  This  usage,  of  course,  is  native  to  English, 
as  aboard  and  afoot  demonstrate,  but  it  is  much  more  common  in 
the  Irish  dialect,  on  account  of  the  influence  of  the  parallel  Gaelic 
form,  as  in  a-n-aice  =  a-near,  and  it  is  also  much  more  common 
in  American.  There  is,  yet  again,  a  use  of  intensifying  suffixes, 
often  set  down  as  characteristically  American,  which  was  prob- 
ably borrowed  from  the  Irish.  Examples  are  no-siree  and  yes- 
indeedy,  and  the  later  kiddo  and  skiddoo.  As  Joyce  shows,  such 
suffixes,  in  Irish-English,  tend  to  become  whole  phrases.  The 
Irishman  is  almost  incapable  of  saying  plain  yes  or  no ;  he  must 
always  add  some  extra  and  gratuitous  asseveration.40  The  Amer- 
ican is  in  like  case.  His  speech  bristles  with  intensives:  bet 
your  life,  not  on  your  life,  well  I  guess,  and  no  mistake,  and  so  on. 
The  Irish  extravagance  of  speech  struck  a  responsive  chord  in  the 
American  heart.  The  American  borrowed,  not  only  occasional 
words,  but  whole  phrases,  and  some  of  them  have  become  thor- 
oughly naturalized.  Joyce,  indeed,  shows  the  Irish  origin  of 
scores  of  locutions  that  are  now  often  mistaken  for  native  Ameri- 
canisms, for  example,  great  shakes,  dead  (as  an  intensive),  thank 
you  kindly,  to  split  one's  sides  (i.  e.,  laughing),  and  the  tune  the 
old  cow  died  of,  not  to  mention  many  familiar  similes  and  prov- 
erbs. Certain  Irish  pronunciations,  Gaelic  rather  than  archaic 
English,  got  into  American  during  the  nineteenth  century. 
Among  them,  one  recalls  bhoy,  which  entered  our  political  slang 
in  the  middle  40  's  and  survived  into  our  own  time.  Again,  there 
is  the  very  characteristic  American  word  ballyhoo,  signifying 

40  Amusing  examples  are  to  be  found  in  Donlevy's  Irish  Catechism.  To 
the  question,  "Is  the  Son  God?"  the  answer  is  not  simply  "Yes,"  but 
"Yes,  certainly  He  is."  And  to  the  question,  "Will  God  reward  the  good 
and  punish  the  wicked?",  the  answer  is  "Certainly;  there  is  no  doubt  H« 
will." 


THE    PERIOD    OF    GROWTH  93 

the  harangue  of  a  ballyhoo-man,  or  spieler  (that  is,  barker)  be- 
fore a  cheap  show,  or,  by  metaphor,  any  noisy  speech.  It  is  from 
Ballyhooly,  the  name  of  a  village  in  Cork,  once  notorious  for  its 
brawls.  Finally,  there  is  shebang.  Schele  de  Vere  derives  it 
from  the  French  cabane,  but  it  seems  rather  more. likely  that  it 
is  from  the  Irish  shebeen. 

The  propagation  of  Irishisms  in  the  United  States  was  helped, 
during  many  years,  by  the  enormous  popularity  of  various 
dramas  of  Irish  peasant  life,  particularly  those  of  Dion  Bouci- 
cault.  So  recently  as  1910  an  investigation  made  by  the  Dra- 
matic Mirror  showed  that  some  of  his  pieces,  notably  ' '  Kathleen 
Mavourneen,"  "The  Colleen  Bawn"  and  "The  Shaugraun," 
were  still  among  the  favorites  of  popular  audiences.  Such  plays, 
at  one  time,  were  presented  by  dozens  of  companies,  and  a  num- 
ber of  Irish  actors,  among  them  Andrew  Mack,  Chauncey  Olcott 
and  Boucicault  himself,  made  fortunes  appearing  in  them.  An 
influence  also  to  be  taken  into  account  is  that  of  Irish  songs,  once 
in  great  vogue.  But  such  influences,  like  the  larger  matter  of 
American  borrowings  from  Anglo-Irish,  remain  to  be  investi- 
gated. So  far  as  I  have  been  able  to  discover,  there  is  not  a 
single  article  in  print  upon  the  subject.  Here,  as  elsewhere,  our 
philologists  have  wholly  neglected  a  very  interesting  field  of 
inquiry. 

From  other  languages  the  borrowings  during  the  period  of 
growth  were  naturally  less.  Down  to  the  last  decades  of  the  nine- 
teenth century,  the  overwhelming  majority  of  immigrants  were 
either  Germans  or  Irish ;  the  Jews,  Italians  and  Slavs  were  yet  to 
come.  But  the  first  Chinese  appeared  in  1848,  and  soon  their 
speech  began  to  contribute  its  inevitable  loan-words.  These 
words,  of  course,  were  first  adopted  by  the  miners  of  the  Pacific 
Coast,  and  a  great  many  of  them  have  remained  California  local- 
isms, among  them  such  verbs  as  to  yen  (to  desire  strongly,  as  a 
Chinaman  desires  opium)  and  to  flop-flop  (to  lie  down),  and  such 
nouns  as  fun,  a  measure  of  weight.  But  a  number  of  others  have 
got  into  the  common  speech  of  the  whole  country,  e.  g.,  fan-tan, 
kow-tow,  chop-suey,  ginseng,  joss,  yok-a-mi  and  tong.  Contrary 
to  the  popular  opinion,  dope  and  hop  are  not  from  the  Chinese. 


94  THE   AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

Neither,  in  fact,  is  an  Americanism,  though  the  former  has  one 
meaning  that  is  specially  American,  *.  e.,  that  of  information  or 
formula,  as  in  racing-dope  and  to  dope  out.  Most  etymologists 
derive  the  word  from  the  Dutch  doop,  a  sauce.  In  English,  as  in 
American,  it  signifies  a  thick  liquid,  and  hence  the  viscous  cooked 
opium.  Hop  is  simply  the  common  name  of  the  Humuluslupulus. 
The  belief  that  hops  have  a  soporific  effect  is  very  ancient,  and 
hop-pillows  were  brought  to  America  by  the  first  English  colo- 
nists. 

The  derivation  of  poker,  which  came  into  American  from  Cali- 
fornia in  the  days  of  the  gold  rush,  has  puzzled  etymologists.  It 
is  commonly  derived  from  primero,  the  name  of  a  somewhat  sim- 
ilar game,  popular  in  England  in  the  sixteenth  century,  but  the 
relation  seems  rather  fanciful.  It  may  possibly  come,  indirectly, 
from  the  Danish  word  pokker,  signifying  the  devil.  Pokerish,  in 
the  sense  of  alarming,  was  a  common  adjective  in  the  United 
States  .before  the  Civil  War;  Thornton  gives  an  example  dated 
1827.  Schele  de  Vere  says  that  poker,  in  the  sense  of  a  hobgob- 
lin, was  still  in  use  in  1871,  but  he  derives  the  name  of  the  game 
from  the  French  poche  (=pouche,  pocket).  He  seems  to  believe 
that  the  bank  or  pool,  in  the  early  days,  was  called  the  poke. 
Barrere  and  Leland,  rejecting  all  these  guesses,  derive  poker 
from  the  Yiddish  pochger,  which  comes  in  turn  from  the  verb 
pochgen,  signifying  to  conceal  winnings  or  losses.  This  pochgen 
is  obviously  related  to  the  German  pocher  (=  boaster,  braggart). 
There  were  a  good  many  German  Jews  in  California  in  the  early 
days,  and  they  were  ardent  gamblers.  If  Barrere  and  Leland 
are  correct,  then  poker  enjoys  the  honor  of  being  the  first  loan- 
word taken  into  American  from  the  Yiddish. 


§5 

Pronunciation — Noah  Webster,  as  we  saw  in  the  last  chapter, 
sneered  at  the  broad  a,  in  1789,  as  an  Anglomaniac  affectation. 
In  the  course  of  the  next  25  years,  however,  he  seems  to  have  suf- 
fered a  radical  change  of  mind,  for  in  "The  American  Spelling 
Book,"  published  in  1817,  he  ordained  it  in  ask,  last,  mass,  aunt, 


THE    PERIOD    OF    GROWTH  95 

grant,  glass  and  their  analogues,  and  in  his  1829  revision  he  clung 
to  this  pronunciation,  beside  adding  master,  pastor,  amass,  quaff, 
laugh,  craft,  etc.,  and  even  massive.  There  is  some  difficulty, 
however,  in  determining  just  what  sound  he  proposed  to  give  the 
a,  for  there  are  several  a-sounds  that  pass  as  broad,  and  the  two 
main  ones  differ  considerably.  One  appears  in  all,  and  may  be 
called  the  aw-sound.  The  other  is  in  art,  and  may  be  called  the 
a/t-sound.  A  quarter  of  a  century  later  Richard  Grant  White 
distinguished  between  the  two,  and  denounced  the  former  as  "a 
British  peculiarity."  Frank  H.  Vizetelly,  writing  in  1917,  still 
noted  the  difference,  particularly  in  such  words  as  daunt,  saun- 
ter and  laundry.  It  is  probable  that  Webster,  in  most  cases, 
intended  to  advocate  the  a/t-sound,  as  in  father,  for  this  pronun- 
ciation now  prevails  in  New  England.  Even  there,  however,  the 
a  often  drops  to  a  point  midway  between  ah  and  aa,  though  never 
actually  descending  to  the  flat  aa,  as  in  an,  at  and  anatomy. 

But  the  imprimatur  of  the  Yankee  Johnson  was  not  potent 
enough  to  stay  the  course  of  nature,  and,  save  in  New  England, 
the  flat  a  swept  the  country.  He  himself  allowed  it  in  stamp  and 
vase.  His  successor  and  rival,  Lyman  Cobb,  decided  for  it  in 
pass,  draft,  stamp  and  dance,  though  he  kept  to  the  aft-sound  in 
laugh,  path,  daunt  and  saunter.  By  1850  the  flat  a  was  domi- 
nant everywhere  West  of  the  Berkshires  and  South  of  New 
Haven,  and  had  even  got  into  such  proper  names  as  Lafayette 
and  Nevada*1 

Webster  failed  in  a  number  of  his  other  attempts  to  influence 
American  pronunciation.  His  advocacy  of  deef  for  deaf  had 
popular  support  while  he  lived,  and  he  dredged  up  authority  for 
it  out  of  Chaucer  and  Sir  William  Temple,  but  the  present  pro- 
nunciation gradually  prevailed,  though  deef  remains  familiar  in 
the  common  speech.  Joseph  E.  Worcester  and  other  rival  lexi- 
cographers stood  against  many  of  his  pronunciations,  and  he  took 
the  field  against  them  in  the  prefaces  to  the  successive  editions  of 
his  spelling-books.  Thus,  in  that  to  "The  Elementary  Spelling 

41  Richard  Meade  Bache  denounced  it,  in  Lafayette,  during  the  60's. 
Vide  his  Vulgarisms  and  Other  Errors  of  Speech,  2nd  ed.,  Philadelphia, 
1869,  p.  65. 


96  THE   AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

Book,"  dated  1829,  he  denounced  the  "affectation"  of  inserting  a 
2/-sound  before  the  u  in  such  words  as  gradual  and  nature,  with 
its  compensatory  change  of  d  into  a  French  j  and  of  t  into  ch. 
The  English  lexicographer,  John  Walker,  had  argued  for  this 
"affectation"  in  1791,  but  Webster's  prestige,  while  he  lived, 
remained  so  high  in  some  quarters  that  he  carried  the  day,  and 
the  older  professors  at  Yale,  it  is  said,  continued  to  use  natur 
down  to  1839.42  He  favored  the  pronunciation  of  either  and 
neither  as  ee-ther  and  nee-ther,  and  so  did  most  of  the  English 
authorities  of  his  time.  The  original  pronunciation  of  the  first 
syllable,  in  England,  probably  made  it  rhyme  with  bay,  but  the 
ee-sound  was  firmly  established  by  the  end  of  the  eighteenth  cen- 
tury. Toward  the  middle  of  the  following  century,  however, 
there  arose  a  fashion  of  an  ai-sound,  and  this  affectation  was  bor- 
rowed by  certain  Americans.  Gould,  in  the  50  's,  put  the  ques- 
tion, "Why  do  you  say  t-ther  and  m-ther?"  to  various  Ameri- 
cans. The  reply  he  got  was:  "The  words  are  so  pronounced 
by  the  best-educated  people  in  England."  This  imitation  still 
prevails  in  the  cities  of  the  East.  "All  of  us,"  says  Lounsbury, 
"are  privileged  in  these  latter  days  frequently  to  witness  painful 
struggles  put  forth  to  give  to  the  first  syllable  of  these  words  the 
sound  of  i  by  those  who  have  been  brought  up  to  give  it  the  sound 
of  e.  There  is  apparently  an  impression  on  the  part  of  some  that 
such  a  pronunciation  establishes  on  a  firm  foundation  an  other- 
wise doubtful  social  standing."43  But  the  vast  majority  of 
Americans  continue  to  say  ee-ther  and  not  eye-ther.  White  and 
Vizetelly,  like  Lounsbury,  argue  that  they  are  quite  correct  in  so 
doing.  The  use  of  eye-ther,  says  White,  is  no  more  than  ' '  a  copy 
of  a  second-rate  British  affectation." 

<2  R.  J.  Menner:    The  Pronunciation  of  English   in  America,   Atlantic 
Monthly,  March,  1915,  p.  361. 

*3The  Standard  of  Pronunciation  in  English,  pp.  109-112. 


IV 


American  and  English  Today 
§1 

The  Two  Vocabularies — By  way  of  preliminary  to  an  exami- 
nation of  the  American  of  today  I  offer  a  brief  list  of  terms  in 
common  use  that  differ  in  American  and  English.  Here  are 
200  of  them,  all  chosen  from  the  simplest  colloquial  vocabularies 
and  without  any  attempt  at  plan  or  completeness : 


American 
ash-can 
baby-carriage 
backyard 


__     baggage-car 

ballast  (railroad) 

bath-tub 

beet 

bid  (noun) 

bill-board 
^Hboarder 

boardwalk  (seaside) 

bond  (finance) 

boot 

brakeman 

bucket 

bumper  (car) 

bureau 

calendar  (court) 

campaign  (political) 

can   (noun) 

candy 

cane 

canned-goods 


English 

dust-bin 

pram 

garden 


luggage- van 

metals 

bath 

beet-root 

tender 

hoarding 

paying-guest 

promenade 

debenture 

Blucher,  or  Wellington 

brakesman 

pail 

buffer 

chest  of  drawers 

cause-list 

canvass 

tin 

sweets 

stick 

tinned-goods 


98 


THE   AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 


American 
car  (railroad) 
checkers  (game) 
chicken-yard 
chief-clerk 
city-editor 
city-ordinance 
clipping  (newspaper) 
coal-oil 
coal-scuttle 
commission-merchant 
conductor  (of  a  train) 
corn 

corner  (of  a  street) 
corset 

counterfeiter 
cow-catcher 
cracker 
cross-tie 

delicatessen-store  „ 
department-store 
Derby  (hat) 
-  dime-novel 
druggist 
drug-store 
drummer 
dry-goods-store 
editorial 
elevator 
elevator-boy 
excursionist 
express-company 
filing-cabinet 
fire-department 
fish-dealer 
floor-walker 
fraternal-order 
freight 
freight-agent 
freight-car 
frog  (railway) 
garters  (men's) 
gasoline 
grade  (railroad) 


English 

carriage,  van  or  waggon 
draughts 
fowl-run 
head-clerk 
chief-reporter 
by-law 
cutting 
paraffin 
coal-hod 
factor 
guard 

maize,  or  Indian  corn 
crossing 
stays 
coiner 
plough 
^biscuit' 
sleeper 

Italian-warehouse 
stores 
bowler 

shilling-shocker 
chemist 
chemist's-shop 
bagman 
draperVshop 
leader,  or  leading-article 
lift 

lift-man 
tripper 
carrier 

nest-of-drawers 
fire-brigade 
fishmonger 
shop-walker 
friendh'-society 
goods 

goods-manager 
goods-waggon 
crossing-plate 
sock-suspenders 
petrol 
gradient 


AMERICAN   AND   ENGLISH   TODAY      99 


American 

grain 

grain-broker 

grip 

groceries 

hardware-dealer 

haystack 

headliner 

hod-carrier 

hog-pen 

hospital  (private) 

huckster 

hunting 

Indian 

Indian  Summer 

instalment-business 

instalment-plan 

janitor 

legal-holiday 

letter-box 

letter-carrier 

livery-stable 

locomotive  engineer 

lumber 

mad 

Methodist 

molasses 

monkey-wrench 

moving-picture-theatre 

napkin  (dinner) 

necktie 

news-dealer 

newspaper-man 

oatmeal 

officeholder 

orchestra  (seats  in  a  theatre) 

overcoat 


_,  .-parlor 

parlor-car 
^-patrolman  (police) 


English 

corn 

corn-factor 

hold-all 

stores 

ironmonger 

haycock 

topliner 

hodman 

piggery 

nursing-home 

coster  (monger) 

shooting 

Red  Indian 

St.  Martin's  Summer 

credit-trade 

hire-purchase  plan 

caretaker 
-bank-holiday 

pillar-box 

postman 

mews  x 

engine-driver 

deals 

angry 

Wesley  an 

treacle 

spanner 

cinema 

serviette 

tie,  or  cravat 

news-agent 

pressman,  or  journalist 
— '  porridge 

public-servant 

stalls 

great-coat 

parcel 

drawing-room 

saloon-carriage 
-  constable 


i  It  should  be  noted  that  mews  is  used  only  in  the  larger  cities.  In  the 
small  towns  livery-stable  is  commoner.  Mews  is  quite  unknown  in  America 
save  as  an  occasional  archaism. 


100 


THE   AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 


American 

pay-day 

peanut 

pie  (fruit) 

pitcher 

poorhouse 

post-paid 

potpie 

prepaid 

press    (printing) 

program  (of  a  meeting) 

proof-reader 

public-school 

quotation-marks 

railroad 

railroad-man 

rails 

rare  (of  meat) 

receipts  (in  business) 

Rhine-wine 

road-bed  (railroad) 

road-repairer 

roast 

roll-call 

rooster 

round-trip-ticket 

rutabaga 

saleswoman 

saloon 

scarf-pin 

scow 

sewer 

shirtwaist 

shoe 

shoemaker 

shoestring 

shoe-tree 

sick 

sidewalk 

silver  (collectively) 

sled 

sleigh 

soft-drinks 

spigot 


English 

wage-day 

monkey-nut 

tart 

jug 

workhouse 

post-free 

pie 

carriage-paid 

machine 

agenda 

corrector-of-the-press 

board-school 

inverted-commas 

railway 

railway-servant 

line 

underdone 

takings 

Hock 

permanent-way 

road-mender 

joint 

division 

cock 

return -ticket 

mangel-wurzel 

shop-assistant 

public-house 

tie-pin 

lighter 

drain 

blouse 

boot 

bootmaker 

bootlace 

boot-form 

ill 

pavement' 

plate 

sledge 

sledge 

minerals 

tap 


AMERICAN   AND    ENGLISH   TODAY      101 


American 

squash 

stem-winder 

stockholder 

stocks 

store-fixtures 

street-cleaner 

street-railway 

subway 

suspenders  (men's) 

sweater 

switch   (noun,  railway) 

switch   (verb,  railway) 

taxes    (municipal) 

taxpayer  (local) 

tenderloin  (of  beef) 

ten-pins 

thumb-tack 

ticket-office 

tinner 

tin-roof 

track  (railroad) 

trained-nurse 

transom  (of  door) 

trolley-car 
^X'truck  (vehicle) 

truck  (of  a  railroad  car) 

trunk 

typewriter   (operator) 

typhoid-fever 

undershirt 

vaudeville-theatre 

vegetables 

vest 
.     warden  (of  a  prison) 

warehouse 

wash-rag 

wash-stand 

wash-wringer 

waste-basket 

whipple-tree  2 

witness-stand 

wood-alcohol 

2  Sometimes  whiffle-tree. 


English 

vegetable-marrow 

keyless-watch 

shareholder 

shares 

shop-fittings 

crossing-sweeper 

tramway 

tube,  or  underground 

braces 

jersey 

points 

shunt 

rates 

ratepayer 

under-cut 

nine-pins 

drawing-pin 

booking-office 

tinker 

leads 

line 

hospital-nurse 

fanlight 

tramcar 

lorry 

bogie 

box 

typist 

enteric 

vest 

music-hall 

greens 

waistcoat 

governor 

stores 

face-cloth 

wash-hand-stand 

mangle 

waste-paper-basket 

splinter-bar 

witness-box 

methylated-spirits 


102  THE   AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

§2 

Differences  in  Usage — The  differences  here  listed,  most  of  them 
between  words  in  everyday  employment,  are  but  examples  of  a 
divergence  in  usage  which  extends  to  every  department  of  daily 
life.  In  his  business,  in  his  journeys  from  his  home  to  his  office, 
in  his  dealings  with  his  family  and  servants,  in  his  sports  and 
amusements,  in  his  politics  and  even  in  his  religion  the  American 
uses,  not  only  words  and  phrases,  but  whole  syntactical  construc- 
tions, that  are  unintelligible  to  the  Englishman,  or  intelligible 
only  after  laborious  consideration.  A  familiar  anecdote  offers 
an  example  in  miniature.  It  concerns  a  young  American  woman 
living  in  a  region  of  prolific  orchards  who  is  asked  by  a  visiting 
Englishman  what  the  residents  do  with  so  much  fruit.  Her 
reply  is  a  pun :  ' '  We  eat  all  we  can,  and  what  we  can 't  we  can. ' ' 
This  answer  would  mystify  nine  Englishmen  out  of  ten,  for  in 
the  first  place  it  involves  the  use  of  the  flat  American  a  in  can't 
and  in  the  second  place  it  applies  an  unfamiliar  name  to  the 
vessel  that  every  Englishman  knows  as  a  tin,  and  then  adds  to 
the  confusion  by  deriving  a  verb  from  the  substantive.  There 
are  no  such  things  as  canned-goods  in  England ;  over  there  they 
are  tinned.  The  can  that  holds  them  is  a  tin;  to  can  them  is  to 
tin  them.  .  .  .  And  they  are  counted,  not  as  groceries,  but  as 
stores,  and  advertised,  not  on  bill-boards  but  on  hoardings.3  And 
the  cook  who  prepares  them  for  the  table  is  not  Nora  or  Maggie, 
but  Cook,  and  if  she  does  other  work  in  addition  she  is  not  a 
girl  for  general  housework,  but  a  cook-general,  and  not  help,  but 
a  servant.  And  the  boarder  who  eats  them  is  not  a  boarder  at  all, 
but  a  paying-guest,  though  he  is  said  to  board.  And  the  grave  of 
the  tin,  once  it  is  emptied,  is  not  the  ash-can,  but  the  dust-bin, 
and  the  man  who  carries  it  away  is  not  the  garbage-man  or  the 
ash-man  or  the  white-wings,  but  the  dustman. 

An  Englishman,  entering  his  home,  does  not  walk  in  upon  the 

s  The  latter  has  crept  into  American  of  late.  I  find  it  on  p.  58  of  The 
United  States  at  War,  a  pamphlet  issued  by  the  Library  of  Congress, 
1917.  The  compiler  of  this  pamphlet  is  a  savant  bearing  the  fine  old 
British  name  of  Herman  H.  B.  Meyer. 


AMERICAN   AND    ENGLISH    TODAY      103 

first  floor,  but  upon  the  ground  floor.  What  he  calls  the  first 
floor  (or,  more  commonly,  first  storey,  not  forgetting  the  penulti- 
mate e!}  is  what  we  call  the  second  floor,  and  so  on  up  to  the 
roof — which  is  covered  not  with  tin,  but  with  slate,  tiles  or  leads. 
He  does  not  take  a  paper;  he  takes  in  a  paper.  He  does  not  ask 
his  servant,  ' '  is  there  any  mail  for  me  ? "  but,  ' '  are  there  any  let- 
ters for  me  ? "  for  mail,  in  the  American  sense,  is  a  word  that  he 
seldom  uses,  save  in  such  compounds  as  mail-van  and  mail-train. 
He  always  speaks  of  it  as  the  post.-  The  man  who  brings  it  is 
not  a  letter-carrier,  but  a  postman.  It  is  posted,  not  mailed,  at 
a  pillar-box,  not  at  a  mail-box.  It  never  includes  postal-cards, 
but  only  post-cards;  never  money-orders,  but  only  postal-orders. 
The  Englishman  dictates  his  answers,  not  to  a  typewriter,  but  to 
a  typist;  a  typewriter  is  merely  the  machine.  If  he  desires  the 
recipient  to  call  him  by  telephone  he  doesn't  say,  "phone  me  at  a 
quarter  of  eight,"  but  "ring  me  up  at  a  quarter  to  eight."  And 
when  the  call  comes  he  says  "are  you  there f"  When  he  gets 
home,  he  doesn't  find  his  wife  waiting  for  him  in  the  parlor  or 
living-room,4  but  in  the  drawing-room  or  in  her  sitting-room,  and 
the  tale  of  domestic  disaster  that  she  has  to  tell  does  not  concern 
the  hired-girl  but  the  slavey  and  the  scullery -maid.  He  doesn't 
bring  her  a  box  of  candy,  but  a  box  of  sweets.  He  doesn't  leave 
a  derby  hat  in  the  hall,  but  a  bowler.  His  wife  doesn't  wear 
shirtwaists  but  blouses.  When  she  buys  one  she  doesn't  say 
"charge  it"  but  "put  it  down."  When  she  orders  a  tailor-made 
suit,  she  calls  it  a  coat-and-skirt.  When  she  wants  a  spool  of 
thread  she  asks  for  a  reel  of  cotton.  Such  things  are  bought,  not 
in  the  department-stores,  but  at  the  stores,  which  are  substan- 
tially the  same  thing.  In  these  stores  calico  means  a  plain  cotton 
cloth;  in  the  United  States  it  means  a  printed  cotton  cloth. 
Things  bought  on  the  instalment  plan  in  England  are  said  to  be 
bought  on  the  hire-purchase  plan  or  system ;  the  instalment  busi- 
ness itself  is  the  credit-trade.  Goods  ordered  by  post  (not  mail) 
on  which  the  dealer  pays  the  cost  of  transportation  are  said  to  be 
sent,  not  postpaid  or  prepaid,  but  post-free  or  carriage-paid. 

apparently  suggested,  in  America,  by  the  German  wohnzimmer. 

4  Living-room,  however,  is  gradually  making  its  way  in  England.     It  was 


104  THE   AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

An  Englishman  does  not  wear  suspenders  and  neckties,  but 
braces  and  cravats.  Suspenders  are  his  wife 's  garters ;  his  own 
are  sock-suspenders.  The  family  does  not  seek  sustenance  in  a 
rare  tenderloin  and  squash,  but  in  underdone  under-cut  and  vege- 
table marrow.  It  does  not  eat  beets,  but  beet-roots.  The  wine 
on  the  table,  if  miraculously  German,  is  not  Rhine  wine,  but 
Hock.  .  .  .  The  maid  who  laces  the  stays  of  the  mistress  of  the 
house  is  not  Maggie  but  Robinson.  The  nurse-maid  is  not  Lizzie 
but  Nurse.  So,  by  the  way,  is  a  trained  nurse  in  a  hospital,  whose 
full  style  is  not  Miss  Jones,  but  Nurse  Jones.  And  the  hospital 
itself,  if  private,  is  not  a  hospital  at  all,  but  a  nursing-home,  and 
its  trained  nurses  are  plain  nurses,  or  hospital  nurses,  or  maybe 
nursing  sisters.  And  the  white-clad  young  gentlemen  who  make 
love  to  them  are  not  studying  medicine  but  walking  the  hospitals. 
Similarly,  an  English  law  student  does  not  study  law,  but  the 
law. 

If  an  English  boy  goes  to  a  public  school,  it  is  not  a  sign  that 
he  is  getting  his  education  free,  but  that  his  father  is  paying  a 
good  round  sum  for  it  and  is  accepted  as  a  gentleman.  A  public 
school  over  there  corresponds  to  our  prep  school;  it  is  a  place 
maintained  chiefly  by  endowments,  wherein  boys  of  the  upper 
classes  are  prepared  for  the  universities.  What  we  know  as  a 
public  school  is  called  a  board  school  in  England,  not  because  the 
pupils  are  boarded  but  because  it  is  managed  by  a  school  board. 
English  school-boys  are  divided,  not  into  classes,  or  grades,  but 
into  forms,  which  are  numbered,  the  lowest  being  the  first  form. 
The  benches  they  sit  on  are  also  called  forms.  The  principal  of 
an  English  school  is  a  head-master  or  head-mistress;  the  lower 
pedagogues  used  to  be  ushers,  but  are  now  assistant  masters  (or 
mistresses).  The  head  of  a  university  is  a  chancellor.  He  is 
always  some  eminent  public  man,  and  a  vice-chancellor  performs 
his  duties.  The  head  of  a  mere  college  may  be  a  president,  prin- 
cipal, rector,  dean  or  provost.  At  the  universities  the  students 
are  not  divided  into  freshmen,  sophomores,  juniors  and  seniors, 
as  with  us,  but  are  simply  first-year  men,  second-year  men,  and  so 
on.  Such  distinctions,  however,  are  not  as  important  in  England 
as  in  America;  members  of  the  university  (they  are  called  mem- 


AMERICAN   AND   ENGLISH   TODAY      105 

bers,  not  students}  do  not  flock  together  according  to  seniority. 
An  English  university  man  does  not  study;  he  reads.  He  knows 
nothing  of  frats,  class-days,  senior-proms  and  such  things;  save 
at  Cambridge  and  Dublin  he  does  not  even  have  a  commencement. 
On  the  other  hand  his  daily  speech  is  full  of  terms  unintelligible 
to  an  American  student,  for  example,  wrangler,  tripos,  head,  pass- 
degree  and  don. 

The  upkeep  of  board-schools  in  England  comes  out  of  the  rates, 
which  are  local  taxes  levied  upon  householders.  For  that  reason 
an  English  municipal  taxpayer  is  called  a  ratepayer.  The  func- 
tionaries who  collect  and  spend  his  money  are  not  office-holders 
but  public-servants.  The  head  of  the  local  police  is  not  a  chief  of 
police,  but  a  chief  constable.  The  fire  department  is  the  fire 
brigade.  The  street-cleaner  is  a  crossing-sweeper.  The  parish 
poorhouse  is  a  workhouse.  If  it  is  maintained  by  two  or  more 
parishes  jointly  it  becomes  a  union.  A  pauper  who  accepts  its 
hospitality  is  said  to  be  on  the  rates.  A  policeman  is  a  bobby 
familiarly  and  constable  officially.  He  is  commonly  mentioned  in 
the  newspapers,  not  by  his  surname,  but  as  P.  C.  643a — i.  e., 
Police  Constable  No.  643a.  The  fire  laddie,  the  ward  executive, 
the  roundsman,  the  strong-arm  squad  and  other  such  objects  of 
American  devotion  are  unknown  in  England.  An  English  sa- 
loon-keeper is  officially  a  licensed  victualler.  His  saloon  is  a 
public  house,  or,  colloquially,  a  pub.  He  does  not  sell  beer  by 
the  bucket  or  can  or  growler  or  schooner,  but  by  the  pint.  He 
and  his  brethren,  taken  together,  are  the  licensed  trade.  His 
back-room  is  a  parlor.  If  he  has  a  few  upholstered  benches  in 
his  place  he  usually  calls  it  a  lounge.  He  employs  no  bartenders 
or  mixologists.  'Barmaids  do  the  work,  with  maybe  a  barman  to 
help. 

The  American  language,  as  we  have  seen,  has  begun  to  take 
in  the  English  boot  and  shop,  and  it  is  showing  hospitality  to 
head-master,  haberdasher  and  week-end,  but  subaltern,  civil  serv- 
ant, porridge,  moor,  draper,  treacle,  tram  and  mufti  are  still 
strangers  in  the  United  States,  as  bleachers,  picayune,  air-line, 
campus,  chore,  scoot,  stogie  and  hoodoo  are  in  England.  A  sub- 
altern is  a  commissioned  officer  in  the  army,  under  the  rank  of 


106  THE   AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

captain.  A  civil  servant  is  a  public  servant  in  the  national  civil 
service;  if  he  is  of  high  rank,  he  is  usually  called  a  permanent 
official.  Porridge,  moor,  scullery,  draper,  treacle  and  tram, 
though  unfamiliar,  still  need  no  explanation.  Mufti  means  ordi- 
nary male  clothing ;  an  army  officer  out  of  uniform  is  said  to  be  in 
mufti.  To  this  officer  a  sack-suit  or  business-suit  is  a  lounge- 
suit.  He  carries  his  clothes,  not  in  a  trunk  or  grip  or  suit-case, 
but  in  a  box.  He  does  not  mm  a  train ;  he  loses  it.  He  does  not 
ask  for  a  round-trip  ticket,  but  for  a  return  ticket.  If  he  pro- 
poses to  go  to  the  theatre  he  does  not  reserve  or  engage  seats ;  he 
books  them,  and  not  at  the  box-office,  but  at  the  booking-office. 
If  he  sits  downstairs,  it  is  not  in  the  orchestra,  but  in  the  stalls. 
If  he  likes  vaudeville,  he  goes  to  a  music-hall,  where  the  head- 
liners  are  top-liners.  If  he  has  to  stand  in  line,  he  does  it,  not  in 
a  line,  but  in  a  queue. 

In  England  a  corporation  is  a  public  company  or  limited  lia- 
bility company.  The  term  corporation,  over  there,  is  applied  to 
the  mayor,  aldermen  and  sheriffs  of  a  city,  as  in  the  London 
corporation.  An  Englishman  writes  Ltd.  after  the  name  of  an 
incorporated  bank  or  trading  company  as  we  write  Inc.  He  calls 
its  president  its  chairman  or  managing  director.  Its  stockhold- 
ers are  its  shareholders,  and  hold  shares  instead  of  stock  in  it. 
Its  bonds  are  debentures.  The  place  wherein  such  companies  are 
floated  and  looted — the  Wall  Street  of  England — is  called  the 
City,  with  a  capital  C.  Bankers,  stock-jobbers,  promoters,  di- 
rectors and  other  such  leaders  of  its  business  are  called  City 
men.  The  financial  editor  of  a  newspaper  is  its  City  editor. 
Government  bonds  are  consols,  or  stocks,  or  the  funds.5  To  have 
money  in  the  stocks  is  to  own  such  bonds.  Promissory  notes  are 
bills.  An  Englishman  hasn't  a  bank-account,  but  a  banking- 
account.  He  draws  cheques  (not  checks),  not  on  his  bank,  but 
on  his  bankers.6  In  England  there  is  a  rigid  distinction  between 
a  broker  and  a  stock-broker.  A  broker  means,  not  a  dealer  in 

6  This  form  survives  in  the  American  term  city-stock,  meaning  the  bonds 
of  a  municipality.  But  government  securities  are  always  called  bonds. 

«  Cf.  A  Glossary  of  Colloquial  Slang  and  Technical  Terms  in  Use  in  the 
Stock  Exchange  and  in  the  Money  Market,  by  A.  J.  Wilson,  London,  1895. 


AMERICAN   AND    ENGLISH    TODAY      107 

securities,  as  in  our  Wall  Street  broker,  but  a  dealer  in  second- 
hand furniture.  To  have  the  brokers  7  in  the  house  means  to  be 
bankrupt,  with  one's  very  household  goods  in  the  hands  of  one's 
creditors. 

Tariff  reform,  in  England,  does  not  mean  a  movement  toward 
free  trade,  but  one  toward  protection.  The  word  Government, 
meaning  what  we  call  the  administration,  is  always  capitalized 
and  plural,  e.  g.,  ' '  The  Government  are  considering  the  advis- 
ability, etc."  Vestry,  committee,  council,  ministry  and  even 
company  are  also  plural,  though  sometimes  not  capitalized.  A 
member  of  Parliament  does  not  run  for  office;  he  stands.8  He 
does  not  make  a  campaign,  but  a  canvass.  He  does  not  repre- 
sent a  district,  but  a  division  or  constituency.  He  never  makes 
a  stumping  trip,  but  always  a  speaking  tour.  When  he  looks 
after  his  fences  he  calls  it  nursing  the  constituency.  At  a  politi- 
cal meeting  (they  are  often  rough  in  England)  the  bouncers  are 
called  stewards;  the  suffragettes  used  to  delight  in  stabbing  them 
with  hatpins.  A  member  of  Parliament  is  not  afflicted  by  the 
numerous  bugaboos  that  menace  an  American  congressman.  He 
knows  nothing  of  lame  ducks,  pork  barrels,  gag-rule,  junkets, 
gerrymanders,  omnibus  bills,  snakes,  niggers  in  the  woodpile, 
Salt  river,  crow,  bosses,  ward  heelers,  men  higher  up,  silk-stock- 
ings, repeaters,  ballot-box  stuff 'ers  and  straight  and  split  tickets 
(he  always  calls  them  ballots  or  voting  papers).  He  has  never 
heard  of  direct  primaries,  the  recall  or  the  initiative  and  refer- 
endum. A  roll-call  in  Parliament  is  a  division.  A  member 
speaking  is  said  to  be  up  or  on  his  legs.  When  the  house  ad- 
journs it  is  said  to  rise.  A  member  referring  to  another  in  the 
course  of  a  debate  does  not  say  "the  gentleman  from  Manches- 
ter," but  "the  honorable  gentleman"  (written  hon.  gentleman) 
or,  if  he  happens  to  be  a  privy  councillor,  "the  right  honorable 
gentleman,"  or,  if  he  is  a  member  for  one  of  the  universities, 
"the  honorable  and  learned  gentleman."  If  the  speaker  chooses 
to  be  intimate  or  facetious,  he  may  say  "my  honorable  friend." 

7  Or  bailiffs. 

8  But  he  is  run  by  his  party  organization.     Cf.  The  Government  of  Eng- 
land, by  A.  Lawrence  Lowell;  New  York,  1910,  vol.  ii,  p.  29. 


108  THE   AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

In  the  United  States  a  pressman  is  a  man  who  runs  a  printing 
press ;  in  England  he  is  a  newspaper  reporter,  or,  as  the  English 
usually  say,  a  journalist.9  This  journalist  works,  not  at  space 
rates,  but  at  lineage  rates.  A  printing  press  is  a  machine.  An 
editorial  in  a  newspaper  is  a  leading  article  or  leader.  An 
editorial  paragraph  is  a  leaderette.  A  newspaper  clipping  is  a 
cutting.  A  proof-reader  is  a  corrector  of  the  press.  A  pass  to 
the  theatre  is  an  order.  The  room-clerk  of  a  hotel  is  the  secre- 
tary. A  real-estate  agent  or  dealer  is  an  estate-agent.  The  Eng- 
lish keep  up  most  of  the  old  distinctions  between  physicians  and 
surgeons,  barristers  and  solicitors.  A  surgeon  is  often  plain 
Mr.,  and  not  Dr.  Neither  he  nor  a  doctor  has  an  office,  but  al- 
ways a  surgery  or  consulting  room.  A  barrister  is  greatly  supe- 
rior to  a  solicitor.  He  alone  can  address  the  higher  courts  and 
the  parliamentary  committees;  a  solicitor  must  keep  to  office 
work  and  the  courts  of  first  instance.  A  man  with  a  grievance 
goes  first  to  his  solicitor,  who  then  instructs  or  briefs  a  barrister 
for  him.  If  that  barrister,  in  the  course  of  the  trial,  wants  cer- 
tain evidence  removed  from  the  record,  he  moves  that  it  be  struck 
out,  not  stricken  out,  as  an  American  lawyer  would  say.  Only 
barristers  may  become  judges.  An  English  barrister,  like  his 
American  brother,  takes  a  retainer  when  he  is  engaged.  But  the 
rest  of  his  fee  does  not  wait  upon  the  termination  of  the  case :  he 
expects  and  receives  a  refresher  from  time  to  time.  A  barrister 
is  never  admitted  to  the  bar,  but  is  always  called.  If  he  becomes 
a  King's  Counsel,  or  K.  C.  (a  purely  honorary  appointment),  he 
is  said  to  have  taken  silk. 

The  common  objects  and  phenomena  of  nature  are  often  differ- 
ently named  in  English  and  American.  As  we  saw  in  a  previous 
chapter,  such  Americanisms  as  creek  and  run,  for  small  streams, 
are  practically  unknown  in  England,  and  the  English  moor  and 
downs  early  disappeared  from  American.  The  Englishman 
knows  the  meaning  of  sound  (e.g.,  Long  Island  Sound),  but  he 

•  Until  very  recently  no  self-respecting  American  newspaper  reporter 
would  call  himself  a  journalist.  He  always  used  newspaper  man,  and  re- 
ferred to  his  vocation,  not  as  a  profession,  but  as  the  newspaper  business. 
This  old  prejudice,  however,  now  seems  to  be  breaking  down.  Cf.  Don't 
Shy  at  Journalist,  the  Editor  and  Publisher  and  Journalist,  June  27,  1914. 


nearly  always  uses  channel  in  place  of  it.  In  the  same  way  the 
American  knows  the  meaning  of  the  English  bog,  but  rejects  the 
English  distinction  between  it  and  swamp,  and  almost  always 
uses  swamp,  or  marsh  (often  elided  to  ma'sh).  The  Englishman 
seldom,  if  ever,  describes  a  severe  storm  as  a  hurricane,  a  cyclone, 
a  tornado  or  a  blizzard.  He  never  uses  cold-snap,  cloudburst  or 
under  the  weather.  He  does  not  say  that  the  temperature  is  29 
degrees  (Fahrenheit)  or  that  the  thermometer  or  the  mercury  is 
at  29  degrees,  but  that  there  are  three  degrees  of  frost.  He  calls 
ice  water  iced-water.  He  knows  nothing  of  blue-grass  country 
or  of  penny r'yal.  What  we  call  the  mining  regions  he  knows  as 
the  black  country.  He  never,  of  course,  uses  down-East  or  up- 
State.  Many  of  our  names  for  common  fauna  and  flora  are  un- 
known to  him  save  as  strange  Americanisms,  e.  g.,  terrapin,  moose, 
persimmon,  gumbo,  egg-plant,  alfalfa,  sweet-corn,  sweet-potato 
and  yam.  Until  lately  he  called  the  grapefruit  a  shaddock.  He 
still  calls  the  beet  a  beet-root  and  the  rutabaga  a  mangel-wurzel. 
He  is  familiar  with  many  fish  that  we  seldom  see,  e.  g.,  the  turbot. 
He  also  knows  the  hare,  which  is  seldom  heard  of  in  America. 
But  he  knows  nothing  of  devilled-crabs,  crab-cocktails,  clam- 
chowder  or  oyster-stews,  and  he  never  goes  to  oyster-suppers, 
clam-bakes  or  burgoo-picnics.  He  doesn't  buy  peanuts  when  he 
goes  to  the  circus.  He  calls  them  monkey-nuts,  and  to  eat  them 
publicly  is  infra  dig.  The  common  American  use  of  peanut  as 
an  adjective  of  disparagement,  as  in  peanut  politics,  is  incom- 
prehensible to  him. 

In  England  a  hack  is  not  a  public  coach,  but  a  horse  let  out  at 
hire,  or  one  of  similar  quality.  A  life  insurance  policy  is  usually 
not  an  insurance  policy  at  all,  but  an  assurance  policy.  What 
we  call  the  normal  income  tax  is  the  ordinary  tax ;  what  we  call 
the  surtax  is  the  supertax.™  An  Englishman  never  lives  on  a 
street,  but  always  in  it.  He  never  lives  in  a  block  of  houses,  but 
in  a  row;  it  is  never  in  a  section  of  the  city,  but  always  in  a 
district.  Going  home  by  train  he  always  takes  the  down-train, 
no  matter  whether  he  be  proceeding  southward  to  Wimbleton, 

i«C/.  a  speech  of  Senator  La  Toilette,  Congressional  Record,  Aug.  27, 
1917,  p.  6992. 


110  THE   AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

westward  to  Shepherd's  Bush,  northward  to  Tottenham  or  east- 
ward to  Noak's  Hill.  A  train  headed  toward  London  is  always 
an  up-train,  and  the  track  it  runs  on  is  the  up-line.  Eastbound 
and  westbound  tracks  and  trains  are  unknown  in  England. 
When  an  Englishman  boards  a  bus  it  is  not  at  a  street-corner, 
but  at  a  crossing,  though  he  is  familiar  with  such  forms  as  Hyde 
Park  Corner.  The  place  he  is  bound  for  is  not  three  squares  or 
blocks  away,  but  three  turnings.  Square,  in  England,  always 
means  a  small  park.  A  backyard  is  a  garden.  A  subway  is 
always  a  tube,  or  the  underground,  or  the  Metro.  But  an  under- 
ground passage  for  pedestrians  is  a  subway.  English  streets 
have  no  sidewalks;  they  always  call  them  pavements  or  footways. 
An  automobile  is  always  a  motor-car  or  motor.  Auto  is  almost 
unknown,  and  with  it  the  verb  to  auto.  So  is  machine.  So  is 
joy-ride. 

An  Englishman  always  calls  russet,  yellow  or  tan  shoes  brown 
shoes  (or,  if  they  cover  the  ankle,  boots}.  He  calls  a  pocketbook 
a  purse,  and  gives  the  name  of  pocketbook  to  what  we  call  a 
memorandum-book.  His  walking-stick  is  always  a  stick,  never  a 
cane.  By  cord  he  means  something  strong,  almost  what  we  call 
twine;  a  thin  cord  he  always  calls  a  string;  his  twine  is  the  light- 
est sort  of  string.  When  he  applies  the  adjective  homely  to  a 
woman  he  means  that  she  is  simple  and  home-loving,  not  neces- 
sarily that  she  is  plain.  He  uses  dessert,  not  to  indicate  the 
whole  last  course  at  dinner,  but  to  designate  the  fruit  only ;  the 
rest  is  ices  or  sweets.  He  uses  vest,  not  in  place  of  waistcoat,  but 
in  place  of  undershirt.  Similarly,  he  applies  pants,  not  to  his 
trousers,  but  to  his  drawers.  An  Englishman  who  inhabits  bach- 
elor quarters  is  said  to  live  in  chambers;  if  he  has  a  flat  he  calls 
it  a  flat,  and  not  an  apartment;  "  flat-houses  are  often  mansions. 
The  janitor  or  superintendent  thereof  is  a  care-taker.  The 
scoundrels  who  snoop  around  in  search  of  divorce  evidence  are 
not  private  detectives,  but  private  enquiry  agents. 

11  According  to  the  New  International  Encyclopedia,  2nd  ed.  (Art. 
Apartment  House),  the  term  flat  "is  usually  in  the  United  States  restricted 
to  apartments  in  houses  having  no  elevator  or  hall  service."  In  New  York 
such  apartments  are  commonly  called  walk-up  apartments.  Even  with  the 
qualification,  apartment  is  better  than  flat. 


AMERICAN   AND    ENGLISH    TODAY      111 

The  Englishman  is  naturally  unfamiliar  with  baseball,  and  in 
consequence  his  language  is  bare  of  the  countless  phrases  and 
metaphors  that  it  has  supplied  to  American.  Many  of  these 
phrases  and  metaphors  are  in  daily  use  among  us,  for  example, 
fan,  rooter,  bleachers,  batting-average,  double-header,  pennant- 
winner,  gate-money,  busher,  minor-leaguer,  glass-arm,  to  strike 
out,  to  foul,  to  be  shut  out,  to  coach,  to  play  ball,  on  the  bench, 
on  to  his  curves  and  three  strikes  and  out.  The  national  game  of 
draw-poker  has  also  greatly  enriched  American  with  terms  that 
are  either  quite  unknown  to  the  Englishman,  or  known  to  him 
only  as  somewhat  dubious  Americanisms,  among  them  cold-deck, 
kitty,  full-house,  divvy,  a  card  up  his  sleeve,  three-of-a-kind,  to 
ante  up,  to  pony  up,  to  hold  out,  to  cash  in,  to  go  it  one  better, 
to  chip  in  and  for  keeps.  But  the  Englishman  uses  many  more 
racing  terms  and  metaphors  than  we  do,  and  he  has  got  a  good 
many  phrases  from  other  games,  particularly  cricket.  The  word 
cricket  itself  has  a  definite  figurative  meaning.  It  indicates,  in 
general,  good  sportsmanship.  To  take  unfair  advantage  of  an 
opponent  is  not  cricket.  The  sport  of  boating,  so  popular  on  the 
Thames,  has  also  given  colloquial  English  some  familiar  terms, 
almost  unknown  in  the  United  States,  e.  g.,  punt  and  weir.  Con- 
trariwise, pungy,  batteau  and  scow  are  unheard  of  in  England, 
and  canoe  is  not  long  emerged  from  the  estate  of  an  American- 
ism.12 The  game  known  as  ten-pins  in  America  is  called  nine- 
pins in  England,  and  once  had  that  name  over  here.  The  Puri- 
tans forbade  it,  and  its  devotees  changed  its  name  in  order  to 
evade  the  prohibition.13  Finally,  there  is  soccer,  a  form  of  foot- 
ball quite  unknown  in  the  United  States.  What  we  call  simply 
football  is  Rugby  or  Rugger  to  the  Englishman.  The  word 
soccer  is  derived  from  association;  the  rules  of  the  game  were 

12  Canoeing  was  introduced  into  England  by  John  MacGregor  in  1866, 
and  there  is  now  a  Royal  Canoe  Club.  In  America  the  canoe  has  been 
familiar  from  the  earliest  times,  and  in  Mme.  Sarah  Kemble  Knight's  diary 
(1704)  there  is  much  mention  of  cannoos.  The  word  itself  is  from  an 
Indian  dialect,  probably  the  Haitian,  and  came  into  American  through  the 
Spanish,  in  which  it  survives  as  canoa. 

is  "An  act  was  passed  to  prohibit  playing  nine-pins;  as  soon  as  the  law 
was  put  in  force,  it  was  notified  everywhere,  'Ten-pins  played  here.' " — 
Capt.  Marryat:  Diary  in  America,  vol.  iii,  p.  195. 


112  THE   AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

established  by  the  London  Football  Association.  Soccer  is  one  of 
the  relatively  few  English  experiments  in  ellipsis.  Another  is  to 
be  found  in  Bakerloo,  the  name  of  one  of  the  London  under- 
ground lines,  from  Baker-street  and  Waterloo,  its  termini. 

The  English  have  an  ecclesiastical  vocabulary  with  which  we 
are  almost  unacquainted,  and  it  is  in  daily  use,  for  the  church 
bulks  large  in  public  affairs  over  there.  Such  terms  as  vicar, 
canon,  verger,  prebendary,  primate,  curate,  non-conformist,  dis- 
senter, convocation,  minster,  chapter,  crypt,  living,  presentation, 
glebe,  benefice,  locum  tenens,  suffragan,  almoner,  dean  and  plu- 
ralist are  to  be  met  with  in  the  English  newspapers  constantly, 
but  on  this  side  of  the  water  they  are  seldom  encountered.  Nor 
do  we  hear  much  of  matins,  lauds,  lay-readers,  ritualism  and  the 
liturgy.  The  English  use  of  holy  orders  is  also  strange  to  us. 
They  do  not  say  that  a  young  man  is  studying  for  the  ministry, 
but  that  he  is  reading  for  holy  orders.  They  do  not  say  that  he 
is  ordained,  but  that  he  takes  orders.  Save  he  be  in  the  United 
Free  Church  of  Scotland,  he  is  never  a  minister;  save  he  be  a 
nonconformist,  he  is  never  a  pastor;  a  clergyman  of  the  Estab- 
lishment is  always  either  a  rector,  a  vicar  or  a  curate,  and  collo- 
quially a  parson. 

In  American  chapel  simply  means  a  small  church,  usually  the 
branch  of  some  larger  one ;  in  English  it  has  the  special  sense  of 
a  place  of  worship  unconnected  with  the  establishment.  Though 
three-fourths  of  the  people  of  Ireland  are  Catholics  (in  Munster 
and  Connaught,  more  than  nine-tenths),  and  the  Protestant 
Church  of  Ireland  has  been  disestablished  since  1871,  a  Catholic 
place  of  worship  in  the  country  is  still  a  chapel  and  not  a 
church.™  So  is  a  Methodist  wailing-place  in  England,  however 
large  it  may  be,  though  now  and  then  tabernacle  is  substituted. 
In  the  same  way  the  English  Catholics  sometimes  vary  chapel 
with  oratory,  as  in  Brompton  Oratory.  A  Methodist,  in  Great 

i*  "The  term  chapel,"  says  Joyce,  in  English  as  We  Speak  It  in  Ireland, 
has  so  ingrained  itself  in  my  mind  that  to  this  hour  the  word  instinctively 
springs  to  my  lips  when  I  am  about  to  mention  a  Catholic  place  of  wor- 
ship; and  I  always  feel  some  sort  of  hesitation  or  reluctance  in  substituting 
the  word  church.  I  positively  could  not  bring  myself  to  say,  'Come,  it  is 
time  now  to  set  out  for  church.'  It  must  be  either  mass  or  chapel." 


AMERICAN   AND   ENGLISH   TODAY      113 

Britain,  is  not  a  Methodist,  but  a  Wesleyan.  Contrariwise,  what 
the  English  call  simply  a  churchman  is  an  Episcopalian  in  the 
United  States,  what  they  call  the  Church  (always  capitalized!)  is 
the  Protestant  Episcopal  Church,15  what  they  call  a  Roman 
Catholic  is  simply  a  Catholic,  and  what  they  call  a  Jew  is  usually 
softened  (if  he  happens  to  be  an  advertiser)  to  a  Hebrew.  The 
English  Jews  have  no  such  idiotic  fear  of  the  plain  name  as  that 
which  afflicts  the  more  pushing  and  obnoxious  of  the  race  in 
America.10  "News  of  Jewry"  is  a  common  head-line  in  the  Lon- 
don Daily  Telegraph,  which  is  owned  by  Lord  Burnham,  a  Jew, 
and  has  had  many  Jews  on  its  staff,  including  Judah  P.  Benja- 
min, the  American.  The  American  language,  of  course,  knows 
nothing  of  dissenters.  Nor  of  such  gladiators  of  dissent  as  the 
Plymouth  Brethren,  nor  of  the  nonconformist  conscience,  though 
the  United  States  suffers  from  it  even  more  damnably  than  Eng- 
land. The  English,  to  make  it  even,  get  on  without  circuit- 
riders,  holy-rollers,  Dunkards,  Seventh  Day  Adventists  and  other 
such  American  ferae  naturae,  and  are  born,  live,  die  and  go  to 
heaven  without  the  aid  of  either  the  uplift  or  the  chautauqua. 

In  music  the  English  cling  to  an  archaic  and  unintelligible 
nomenclature,  long  since  abandoned  in  America.  Thus  they  call 
a  double  whole  note  a  breve,  a  whole  note  a  semibreve,  a  half  note 
a  minim,  a  quarter  note  a  crotchet,  an  eighth  note  a  quaver,  a 
sixteenth  note  a  semi-quaver,  a  thirty-second  note  a  demisemi- 
quaver,  and  a  sixty-fourth  note  a  hemidemisemiquaver,  or  semi- 
demisemiquaver.  If,  by  any  chance,  an  English  musician  should 
write  a  one-hundred-and-twenty-eighth  note  he  probably  wouldn't 
know  what  to  call  it.  This  clumsy  terminology  goes  back  to  the 
days  of  plain  chant,  with  its  longa,  brevis,  semi-brevis,  minima 
and  semiminima.  The  French  and  Italians  cling  to  a  system  al- 
most as  confusing,  but  the  Germans  use  ganze,  halbe,  viertel, 

is  Certain  dissenters,  of  late,  show  a  disposition  to  borrow  the  American 
usage.  Thus  the  Christian  World,  organ  of  the  English  Congregational- 
ists,  uses  Episcopal  to  designate  the  Church  of  England. 

i«  So  long  ago  as  the  70's  certain  Jews  petitioned  the  publishers  of  Web- 
ster's and  Worcester's  dictionaries  to  omit  their  definitions  of  the  verb 
to  jew,  and  according  to  Richard  Grant  White,  the  publisher  of  Worcester's 
complied.  Such  a  request,  in  England,  would  be  greeted  with  derision. 


114  THE    AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

achtel,  etc.  I  have  been  unable  to  discover  the  beginnings  of 
the  American  system,  but  it  would  seem  to  be  borrowed  from 
the  German.  Since  the  earliest  times  the  majority  of  music 
teachers  in  the  United  States  have  been  Germans,  and  most  of 
the  rest  have  had  German  training. 

In  the  same  way  the  English  hold  fast  to  a  clumsy  and  inac- 
curate method  of  designating  the  sizes  of  printers'  types.  In 
America  the  simple  point  system  makes  the  business  easy ;  a  line 
of  Id-point  type  occupies  exactly  the  vertical  space  of  two  lines 
of  7-point.  But  the  English  still  indicate  differences  in  size  by 
such  arbitrary  and  confusing  names  as  brilliant,  diamond,  small 
pearl,  pearl,  ruby,  ruby-nonpareil,  nonpareil,  minion-nonpareil, 
emerald,  minion,  brevier,  bourgeois,  long  primer,  small  pica,  pica, 
English,  great  primer  and  double  pica.  They  also  cling  to  a 
fossil  system  of  numerals  in  stating  ages.  Thus,  an  Englishman 
will  say  that  he  is  seven-and-forty,  not  that  he  is  forty-seven. 
This  is  probably  a  direct  survival,  preserved  by  more  than  a 
thousand  years  of  English  conservatism,  of  the  Anglo-Saxon 
seofan-and-feowertig.  He  will  also  say  that  he  weighs  eleven 
stone  instead  of  154  pounds.  A  stone  is  14  pounds,  and  it  is 
always  used  in  stating  the  heft  of  a  man.  Finally,  he  employs 
such  designations  of  time  as  fortnight  and  twelvemonth  a  great 
deal  more  than  we  do,  and  has  certain  special  terms  of  which  we 
know  nothing,  for  example,  quarter-day,  bank  holiday,  long  vaca- 
tion, Lady  Day  and  Michaelmas.  Per  contra,  he  knows  nothing 
whatever  of  our  Thanksgiving,  Arbor,  Labor  and  Decoration 
Days,  or  of  legal  holidays,  or  of  Yom  Kippur. 

In  English  usage,  to  proceed,  the  word  directly  is  always  used 
to  signify  immediately;  in  American  a  contingency  gets  into  it, 
and  it  may  mean  no  more  than  soon.  In  England  quite  means 
"completely,  wholly,  entirely,  altogether,  to  the  utmost  extent, 
nothing  short  of,  in  the  fullest  sense,  positively,  absolutely " ;  in 
America  it  is  conditional,  and  means  only  nearly,  approximately, 
substantially,  as  in  "he  sings  quite  well."  An  Englishman  does 
not  say  "I  will  pay  you  up"  for  an  injury,  but  "I  will  pay  you 
back."  He  doesn't  look  up  a  definition  in  a  dictionary;  he  looks 
it  out.  He  doesn't  say,  being  ill,  "I  am  getting  on  well,"  but 


AMERICAN   AND    ENGLISH    TODAY      115 

"I  am  going  on  well."  He  doesn't  use  the  American  "different 
from"  or  "different  than";  he  uses  "different  to."  He  never 
adds  the  pronoun  in  such  locutions  as  "it  hurts  me,"  but  says 
simply  "it  hurts."  He  never  "catches  up  with  you"  on  the 
street ;  he  " catches  you  up."  He  never  says  ' ' are  you  through ? ' ' 
but  "have  you  finished?"  He  never  uses  to  notify  as  a  transi- 
tive verb ;  an  official  act  may  be  notified,  but  not  a  person.  He 
never  uses  gotten  as  the  perfect  participle  of  get;  he  always  uses 
plain  got.™  An  English  servant  never  washes  the  dishes;  she 
always  washes  the  dinner  or  tea  things.  She  doesn't  live  out, 
but  goes  into  service.  She  smashes,  not  the  mirror,  but  the  look- 
ing-glass. Her  beau  is  not  her  fellow,  but  her  young  man.  She 
does  not  keep  company  with  him  but  walks  out  with  him. 

That  an  Englishman  always  calls  out  "I  say!",  and  not  sim- 
ply "say!"  when  he  desires  to  attract  a  friend's  attention  or 
register  a  protestation  of  incredulity — this  perhaps  is  too  familiar 
to  need  notice.  His  "hear,  hear!"  and  "oh,  oh!"  are  also  well 
known.  He  is  much  less  prodigal  with  good-bye  than  the  Ameri- 
can; he  uses  good-day  and  good-afternoon  far  more  often.  A 
shop-assistant  would  never  say  good-bye  to  a  customer.  To  an 
Englishman  it  would  have  a  subtly  offensive  smack ;  good-after- 
noon would  be  more  respectful.  Another  word  that  makes  him 
flinch  is  dirt.  He  never  uses  it,  as  we  do,  to  describe  the  soil  in 
the  garden ;  he  always  says  earth.  Various  very  common  Ameri- 
can phrases  are  quite  unknown  to  him,  for  example,  over  his 
signature,  on  time  and  planted  to  corn.  The  first-named  he  never 
uses,  and  he  has  no  equivalent  for  it ;  an  Englishman  who  issues 
a  signed  statement  simply  makes  it  in  writing.  He  knows  noth- 
ing of  our  common  terms  of  disparagement,  such  as  kike,  wop, 
yap  and  rube.  His  pet-name  for  a  tiller  of  the  soil  is  not  Rube 
or  Cy,  but  Hodge.  When  he  goes  gunning  he  does  not  call  it 
hunting,  but  shooting;  hunting  is  reserved  for  the  chase  of  the 
fox. 

An  intelligent  Englishwoman,  coming  to  America  to  live,  told 
me  -that  the  two  things  which  most  impeded  her  first  communi- 
cations with  untravelled  Americans,  even  above  the  gross  differ 

17  But  nevertheless  he  uses  begotten,  not  begot. 


116  THE   AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

ences  between  England  and  American  pronunciation  and  intona- 
tion, were  the  complete  absence  of  the  general  utility  adjective 
jolly  from  the  American  vocabulary,  and  the  puzzling  omnipres- 
ence and  versatility  of  the  American  verb  to  fix.  In  English 
colloquial  usage  jolly  means  almost  anything;  it  intensifies  all 
other  adjectives,  even  including  miserable  and  homesick.  An 
Englishman  is  jolly  tired,  jolly  hungry  or  jolly  well  tired;  his 
wife  is  jolly  sensible ;  his  dog  is  jolly  keen ;  the  prices  he  pays  for 
things  are  jolly  dear  (never  steep  or  stiff  or  high:  all  American- 
isms) .  But  he  has  no  noun  to  match  the  American  proposition, 
meaning  proposal,  business,  affair,  case,  consideration,  plan, 
theory,  solution  and  what  not:  only  the  German  zug  can  be 
ranged  beside  it.18  And  he  has  no  verb  in  such  wide  practise  as 
to  fix.  In  his  speech  it  means  only  to  make  fast  or  to  determine. 
In  American  it  may  mean  to  repair,  as  in  "the  plumber  fixed 
the  pipe";  to  dress,  as  in  "Mary  fixed  her  hair";  to  prepare,  as 
in  "the  cook  is  fixing  the  gravy";  to  bribe,  as  in  "the  judge  was 
fixed";  to  settle,  as  in  "the  quarrel  was  fixed  up";  to  heal,  as  in 
"the  doctor  fixed  his  boil";  to  finish,  as  in  "Murphy  fixed 
Sweeney  in  the  third  round";  to  be  well-to-do,  as  in  "John  is 
well- fixed";  to  arrange,  as  in  "I  fixed  up  the  quarrel";  to  be 
drunk,  as  in  "the  whiskey  fixed  him";  to  punish,  as  in  "I'll  fix 
him";  and  to  correct,  as  in  "he  fixed  my  bad  Latin."  More- 
over, it  is  used  in  all  its  English  senses.  An  Englishman  never 
goes  to  a  dentist  to  have  his  teeth  fixed.  He  does  not  fix  the 
fire ;  he  makes  it  up,  or  mends  it.  He  is  never  well- fixed,  either 
in  money  or  by  liquor.19 

The  English  use  quite  a  great  deal  more  than  we  do,  and, 
as  we  have  seen,  in  a  different  sense.  Quite  rich,  in  American, 

is  This  specimen  is  from  the  Congressional  Record  of  Dec.  11,  1917:  "I 
do  not  like  to  be  butting  into  this  proposition,  but  I  look  upon  this  post- 
office  business  as  a  purely  business  proposition."  The  speaker  was  "Hon" 
Homer  P.  Snyder,  of  New  York.  In  the  Record  of  Jan.  12,  1918,  p.  8294, 
proposition  is  used  as  a  synonym  for  state  of  affairs. 

i»  Already  in  1855  Bristed  was  protesting  that  to  fix  was  having  "more 
than  its  legitimate  share  of  work  all  over  the  Union."  "In  English 
conversation,"  he  said,  "the  panegyrical  adjective  of  all  work  is  nice; 
in  America  it  is  fine."  This  was  before  the  adoption  of  jolly  and  its 
analogues,  ripping,  stunning,  rattling,  etc. 


AMERICAN   AND    ENGLISH   TODAY      117 

means  tolerably  rich,  richer  than  most;  quite  so,  in  English,  is 
identical  in  meaning  with  exactly  so.  In  American  just  is  al- 
most equivalent  to  the  English  quite,  as  in  just  lovely.  Thornton 
shows  that  this  use  of  just  goes  back  to  1794.  The  word  is  also 
used  in  place  of  exactly  in  other  ways,  as  in  just  in  time,  just 
how  many  and  just  what  do  you  mean? 

§3 

Honorifics— Among  the  honorifics  and  euphemisms  in  everyday 
use  one  finds  many  notable  divergences  between  the  two  lan- 
guages.    On  the  one  hand  the  English  are  almost  as  diligent  as 
the  Germans  in  bestowing  titles  of  honor  upon  their  men  of 
mark,  and  on  the  other  hand  they  are  very  careful  to  withhold 
such  titles  from  men  who  do  not  legally  bear  them.     In  Amer- 
ica every  practitioner  of  any  branch  of  the  healing  art,  even  a 
chiropodist  or  an  osteopath,  is  a  doctor  ipso  facto,  but  in  Eng- 
land, as  we  have  seen,  a  good  many  surgeons  lack  the  title  and 
it  is  not  common  in  the  lesser  ranks.     Even  graduate  physicians 
may  not  have  it,  but  here  there  is  a  yielding  of  the  usual  meticu- 
lous exactness,  and  it  is  customary  to  address  a  physician  in  the 
second  person  as  Doctor,  though  his  card  may  show  that  he  is 
only  Medicinae  Baccalaureus,  a  degree  quite  unknown  in  Amer- 
ica.    Thus  an  Englishman,  when  he  is  ill,  always  sends  for  the 
doctor,  as  we  do.     But  a  surgeon  is  usually  plain  Mr.zo    An 
English  veterinarian  or  dentist  or  druggist  or  masseur  is  never 

Dr. 

Nor  Professor.  In  all  save  a  few  large  cities  of  America  every 
male  pedagogue  is  a  professor,  and  so  is  every  band  leader, 
dancing  master  and  medical  consultant.  But  in  England  the 
title  is  very  rigidly  restricted  to  men  who  hold  chairs  in  the  uni- 
versities, a  necessarily  small  body.  Even  here  a  superior  title 

20  In  the  Appendix  to  the  Final  Report  of  the  Royal  Commission  on  Ve- 
nereal Diseases,  London,  1916,  p.  iv.,  I  find  the  following:  "Mr.  C.  J. 
Symonds,  F.R.C.S.,  M.D.;  Mr.  F,  J.  McCann,  F.R.C  S  M  D^  Mr  A.  F. 
Evans  F  R  C  S  Mr.  Symonds  is  consulting  surgeon  to  Guy  s  Hospital,  M 
McCann  is  an  eminent  London  gynecologist,  and  Mr.  Evans  is  a  general 
surgeon  in  large  practise.  All  would  be  called  Doctor  in  the  United  States. 


118  THE   AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

always  takes  precedence.  Thus,  it  used  to  be  Professor  Aim- 
roth  Wright,  but  now  it  is  always  Sir  Almroth  Wright.  Hux- 
ley was  always  called  Professor  Huxley  until  he  was  appointed 
to  the  Privy  Council.  This  appointment  gave  him  the  right  to 
have  Right  Honourable  put  before  his  name,  and  thereafter  it 
was  customary  to  call  him  simply  Mr.  Huxley,  with  the  Right 
Honourable,  so  to  speak,  floating  in  the  air.  The  combination, 
to  an  Englishman,  was  more  flattering  than  Professor,  for  the 
English  always  esteem  political  dignities  far  more  than  the  digni- 
ties of  learning.  This  explains,  perhaps,  why  their  universities 
distribute  so  few  honorary  degrees.  In  the  United  States  every 
respectable  Protestant  clergyman  is  a  D.D.,  and  it  is  almost  im- 
possible for  a  man  to  get  into  the  papers  without  becoming  an 
LL.D.,21  but  in  England  such  honors  are  granted  only  grudg- 
ingly. So  with  military  titles.  To  promote  a  war  veteran  from 
sergeant  to  colonel  by  acclamation,  as  is  often  done  in  the  United 
States,  is  unknown  over  there.  The  English  have  nothing  equiv- 
alent to  the  gaudy  tin  soldiers  of  our  governors'  staffs,  nor  to 
the  bespangled  colonels  and  generals  of  the  Knights  Templar 
and  Patriarchs  Militant,  nor  to  the  nondescript  captains  and 
majors  of  our  country  towns.  An  English  railroad  conductor 
(railway  guard)  is  never  Captain,  as  he  always  is  in  the  United 
States.  Nor  are  military  titles  used  by  the  police.  Nor  is  it. 
the  custom  to  make  every  newspaper  editor  a  colonel,  as  is  done 
south  of  the  Potomac.  Nor  is  an  attorney-general  or  postmaster- 
general  called  General.  Nor  are  the  glories  of  public  office,  after 
they  have  officially  come  to  an  end,  embalmed  in  such  clumsy 
quasi-titles  as  ex-United  States  Senator,  ex-Judge  of  the  Circuit 
Court  of  Appeals,  ex-Federal  Trade  Commissioner  and  former 
Chief  of  the  Fire  Department. 

But  perhaps  the  greatest  difference  between  English  and 
American  usage  is  presented  by  the  Honorable.  In  the  United 
States  the  title  is  applied  loosely  to  all  public  officials  of  apparent 
respectability,  from  senators  and  ambassadors  to  the  mayors  of 

21  Among  the  curious  recipients  of  this  degree  have  been  Gumshoe  Bill 
Stone,  Uncle  Joe  Cannon  and  Josephus  Daniels.  Billy  Sunday,  the  evan- 
gelist, is  a  D.D. 


AMERICAN   AND    ENGLISH    TODAY      119 

fifth-rate  cities  and  the  members  of  state  legislatures,  and  with 
some  show  of  official  sanction  to  many  of  them,  especially  con- 
gressmen. But  it  is  questionable  whether  this  application  has 
any  actual  legal  standing,  save  perhaps  in  the  case  of  certain 
judges.  Even  the  President  of  the  United  States,  by  law,  is  not 
the  Honorable,  but  simply  the  President.  In  the  First  Congress 
the  matter  of  his  title  was  exhaustively  debated;  some  members 
wanted  to  call  him  the  Honorable  and  others  proposed  His  Ex- 
cellency and  even  His  Highness.  But  the  two  Houses  finally 
decided  that  it  was  "not  proper  to  annex  any  style  or  title  other 
than  that  expressed  by  the  Constitution."  Congressmen  them- 
selves are  not  Honorables.  True  enough,  the  Congressional  Rec- 
ord, in  printing  a  set  speech,  calls  it  "Speech  of  Hon.  John 
Jones"  (without  the  the  before  the  Hon. — a  characteristic  Amer- 
icanism), but  in  reporting  the  ordinary  remarks  of  a  member 
it  always  calls  him  plain  Mr.  Nevertheless,  a  country  congress- 
man would  be  offended  if  his  partisans,  in  announcing  his  ap- 
pearance on  the  stump,  did  not  prefix  Hon.  to  his  name.  So 
would  a  state  senator.  So  would  a  mayor  or  governor.  I  have 
seen  the  sergeant-at-arms  of  the  United  States  Senate  referred 
to  as  Hon.  in  the  records  of  that  body.22  More,  the  prefix  is 
actually  usurped  by  the  Superintendent  of  State  Prisons  of  New 
York.23 

In  England  the  thing  is  more  carefully  ordered,  and  bogus 
Hons.  are  unknown.  The  prefix  is  applied  to  both  sexes  and 
belongs  by  law,  inter  alia,  to  all  present  or  past  maids  of  honor, 
to  all  justices  of  the  High  Court  during  their  terms  of  office, 
to  the  Scotch  Lords  of  Session,  to  the  sons  and  daughters  of  vis- 
counts and -barons,  to  the  younger  sons  and  (all  daughters ) of  "" 
earls,  and  to  the  members  of  the  legislative  and  executive  coun- 
cils of  the  colonies.  But  not  to  members  of  Parliament,  though 
each  is,  in  debate,  an  hon.  gentleman.  Even  a  member  of  the 
cabinet  is  not  an  Hon.,  though  he  is  a  Eight  Hon.  by  virtue  of 
membership  in  the  Privy  Council,  of  which  the  Cabinet  is  legally 
merely  a  committee.  This  last  honorific  belongs,  not  only  to 

22  Congressional  Record,  May  16,  1918,  p.  7147. 

23  Vide  his  annual  reports,  printed  at  Sing  Sing  Prison. 


120 

privy  councillors,  but  also  to  all  peers  lower  than  marquesses 
(those  above  are  Most  Hon.),  to  Lord  Mayors  during  their  terms 
of  office,  to  the  Lord  Advocate  and  to  the  Lord  Provosts  of  Edin- 
burgh and  Glasgow.  Moreover,  a  peeress  whose  husband  is  a 
Right  Hon.  is  a  Right  Hon.  herself. 

The  British  colonies  follow  the  jealous  usage  of  the  mother- 
country.  Even  in  Canada  the  lawless  American  example  is  not 
imitated.  I  have  before  me  a  "Table  of  Titles  to  be  Used  in 
Canada, ' '  laid  down  by  royal  warrant,  which  lists  those  who  are 
Hons.  and  those  who  are  not  Hons.  in  the  utmost  detail.  Only 
privy  councillors  of  Canada  (not  to  be  confused  with  imperial 
privy  councillors)  are  permitted  to  retain  the  prefix  after  going 
out  of  office,  though  ancients  who  were  legislative  councillors  at 
the  time  of  the  union,  July  1,  1867,  may  still  use  it  by  a  sort 
of  courtesy,  and  former  speakers  of  the  Dominion  Senate  and 
House  of  Commons  and  various  retired  judges  may  do  so  on 
application  to  the  King,  countersigned  by  the  governor-general. 
The  following  are  lawfully  the  Hon.,  but  only  during  their 
tenure  of  office:  the  solicitor-general,  the  speaker  of  the  House 
of  Commons,  the  presidents  and  speakers  of  the  provincial  legis- 
latures, members  of  the  executive  councils  of  the  provinces,  the 
chief  justice,  the  judges  of  the  Supreme  and  Exchequer  Courts, 
the  judges  of  the  Supreme  Courts  of  Ontario,  Nova  Scotia,  New 
Brunswick,  British  Columbia,  Prince  Edward  Island,  Saskatche- 
wan and  Alberta,  the  judges  of  the  Courts  of  Appeal  of  Mani- 
toba and  British  Columbia,  the  Chancery  Court  of  Prince  Ed- 
ward Island,  and  the  Circuit  Court  of  Montreal — these,  and  no 
more.  A  lieutenant-governor  of  a  province  is  not  the  Hon.,  but 
His  Honor.  The  governor-general  is  His  Excellency,  and  so  is 
his  wife,  but  in  practise  they  usually  have  superior  honorifics, 
and  do  not  forget  to  demand  their  use. 

But  though  an  Englishman,  and,  following  him,  a  colonial, 
is  thus  very  careful  to  restrict  the  Hon.  to  proper  uses,  he  al- 
ways insists,  when  he  serves  without  pay  as  an  officer  of  any 
organization,  to  indicate  his  volunteer  character  by  writing  Hon. 
before  the  name  of  his  office.  If  he  leaves  it  off  it  is  a  sign 
that  he  is  a  hireling.  Thus,  the  agent  of  the  New  Zealand 


government  in  London,  a  paid  officer,  is  simply  the  agent,  but 
the  agents  at  Brisbane  and  Adelaide,  in  Australia,  who  serve 
for  the  glory  of  it,  are  hon.  agents.  In  writing  to  a  Briton  one 
must  be  careful  to  put  Esq.,  behind  his  name,  and  not  Mr.,  before 
it.  The  English  make  a  clear  distinction  between  the  two  forms. 
Mr.,  on  an  envelope,  indicates  that  the  sender  holds  the  receiver 
to  be  his  inferior;  one  writes  to  Mr.  John  Jackson,  one's  green- 
grocer, but  to  James  Thompson,  Esq.,  one 's  neighbor.  Any  man 
who  is  entitled  to  the  Esq.  is  a  gentleman,  by  which  an  English- 
man means  a  man  of  sound  connections  and  dignified  occupa- 
tion— in  brief,  of  ponderable  social  position.  Thus  a  dentist, 
a  shop-keeper  or  a  clerk  can  never  be  a  gentleman  in  England, 
even  by  courtesy,  and  the  qualifications  of  an  author,  a  musical 
conductor,  a  physician,  or  even  a  member  of  Parliament  have 
to  be  established.  But  though  he  is  thus  enormously  watchful 
of  masculine  dignity,  an  Englishman  is  quite  careless  in  the  use 
of  lady.  He  speaks  glibly  of  lady-clerks,  lady-typists,  lady- 
doctors  and  lady-inspectors.  In  America  there  is  a  strong  dis- 
position to  use  the  word  less  and  less,  as  is  revealed  by  the  sub- 
stitution of  saleswoman  and  salesgirl  for  the  saleslady  of  yester- 
year. But  in  England  lady  is  still  invariably  used  instead  of 
woman  in  such  compounds  as  lady-golfer,  lady-secretary  and 
lady-champion.  The  women's  singles,  in  England  tennis,  are 
always  ladies'  singles;  women's  wear,  in  English  shops,  is  al- 
ways ladies'  wear.  Perhaps  the  cause  of  this  distinction  between 
lady  and  gentleman  has  been  explained  by  Price  Collier  in 
"England  and  the  English."  In  England,  according  to  Collier, 
the  male  is  always  first.  His  comfort  goes  before  his  wife's 
comfort,  and  maybe  his  dignity  also.  Gentleman- clerk  or  gentle- 
man-author would  make  an  Englishman  howl,  though  he  uses 
gentleman-rider.  So  would  the  growing  American  custom  of 
designating  the  successive  heirs  of  a  private  family  by  the 
numerals  proper  to  royalty.  John  Smith  3rd  and  William  Simp- 
son -IV  are  gravely  received  at  Harvard ;  at  Oxford  they  would 
be  ragged  unmercifully. 

An  Englishman,  in  speaking  or  writing  of  public  officials, 
avoids  those  long  and  clumsy  combinations  of  title  and  name 


122  THE    AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

which  figure  so  copiously  in  American  newspapers.  Such  locu- 
tions as  Assistant  Secretary  of  the  Interior  Jones,  Fourth  As- 
sistant Postmaster-General  Brown,  Inspector  of  Boilers  Smith, 
Judge  of  the  Appeal  Tax  Court  Robinson,  Chief  Clerk  of  the 
Treasury  Williams  and  Collaborating  Epidemiologist  White  24 
are  quite  unknown  to  him.  When  he  mentions  a  high  official, 
such  as  the  Secretary  for  Foreign  Affairs,  he  does  not  think  it 
necessary  to  add  the  man 's  name ;  he  simply  says  ' '  the  Secretary 
for  Foreign  Affairs"  or  "the  Foreign  Secretary."  And  so 
with  the  Lord  Chancellor,  the  Chief  Justice,  the  Prime  Minister, 
the  Bishop  of  Carlisle,  the  Chief  Rabbi,  the  First  Lord  (of  the 
Admiralty),  the  Master  of  Pembroke  (College),  the  Italian  Am- 
bassador, and  so  on.  Certain  ecclesiastical  titles  are  sometimes 
coupled  to  surnames  in  the  American  manner,  as  in  Dean  Stan- 
ley, and  Canon  Wilberforce,  but  Prime  Minister  Lloyd-George 
would  seem  heavy  and  absurd.  But  in  other  directions  the  Eng- 
lishman has  certain  clumsinesses  of  his  own.  Thus,  in  writing 
a  letter  to  a  relative  stranger,  he  sometimes  begins  it,  not  My 
dear  Mr.  Jones  but  My  dear  John  Joseph  Jones.  He  may  even 
use  such  a  form  as  My  dear  Secretary  for  War  in  place  of  the 
American  My  dear  Mr.  Secretary.  In  English  usage,  inci- 
dentally, My  dear  is  more  formal  than  simply  Dear.  In  Amer- 
ica, of  course,  this  distinction  is  lost,  and  such  forms  as  My  dear 
John  Joseph  Jones  appear  only  as  conscious  imitations  of  Eng- 
lish usage. 

I  have  spoken  of  the  American  custom  of  dropping  the  definite 
article  before  Hon.  It  extends  to  Rev.  and  the  like,  and  has 
the  authority  of  very  respectable  usage  behind  it.  The  open- 
ing sentence  of  the  Congressional  Record  is  always :  ' '  The  Chap- 
lain, Rev.  ,  D.D.,  offered  the  following  prayer." 

When  chaplains  for  the  army  or  navy  are  confirmed  by  the  Sen- 
ate they  always  appear  in  the  Record  as  Revs.,  never  as  the  Revs. 
I  also  find  the  honorific  without  the  article  in  the  New  Inter- 
national Encyclopaedia,  in  the  World  Almanac,  and  in  a  widely- 

24  I  encountered  this  gem  in  Public  Health  Reports,  a  government  pub- 
lication, for  April  26,  1918,  p.  619. 


AMERICAN   AND    ENGLISH    TODAY      123 

popular  American  grammar-book.25  So  long  ago  as  1867,  Gould 
protested  against  this  elision  as  barbarous  and  idiotic,  and  drew 
up  the  following  reductio  ad  dbsurdum: 

At  last  annual  meeting  of  Black  Book  Society,  honorable  John  Smith 
took  the  chair,  assisted  by  reverend  John  Brown  and  venerable  John 
White.  The  office  of  secretary  would  have  been  filled  by  late  John 
Green,  but  for  his  decease,  which  rendered  him  ineligible.  His  place 
was  supplied  by  inevitable  John  Black.  In  the  course  of  the  evening 
eulogiums  were  pronounced  on  distinguished  John  Gray  and  notorious 
Joseph  Brown.  Marked  compliment  was  also  paid  to  able  historian 
Joseph  White,  discriminating  philosopher  Joseph  Green,  and  learned 
professor  Joseph  Black.  But  conspicuous  speech  of  the  evening  was 
witty  Joseph  Gray's  apostrophe  to  eminent  astronomer  Jacob  Brown, 
subtle  logician  Jacob  White,  etc.,  etc.26 

Richard  Grant  White,  a  year  or  two  later,  joined  the  attack 
in  the  New  York  Galaxy,  and  William  Cullen  Bryant  included 
the  omission  of  the  article  in  his  Index  Expurgatorius,  but  these 
anathemas  were  as  ineffective  as  Gould's  irony.  The  more  care- 
ful American  journals,  of  course,  incline  to  the  the,  and  I  note 
that  it  is  specifically  ordained  on  the  Style-sheet  of  the  Century 
Magazine,  but  the  overwhelming  majority  of  American  news- 
papers get  along  without  it,  and  I  have  often  noticed  its  omis- 
sion on  the  sign-boards  at  church  entrances.27  In  England  it 
is  never  omitted. 

25  For  the  Record  see  the  issue  of  Dec.  14,  1917,  p.  309.     For  the  New 
International  Encyclopaedia  see  the  article  on  Brotherhood  of  Andrew  and 
Philip.     For  the  World  Almanac  see  the  article  on  Young  People's  Society 
of    Christian    Endeavor,    ed.    of    1914.     The  grammar-hook    is    Longman's 
Briefer    Grammar;    New    York,    1908,    p.    160.     The    editor    is    George   J. 
Smith,  a  member  of  the  board  of  examiners  of  the  New  York  City  Depart- 
ment of  Education. 

26  Edwin  S.  Gould:   Good  English;  New  York,  1867,  pp.  56-57. 

27  Despite  the  example  of  Congress,  however,  the  Department  of  State 
inserts  the  the.     Vide  the  Congressional  Record,  May  4,  1918,  p.  6552.     But 
the  War  Department,  the  Treasury  and  the  Post  Office  omit  it.     Vide  the 
Congressional  Record,  May  11,  1918,  p.  6895  and  p.  6914  and  May  14,  p. 
7004,  respectively.     So,  it  appears,  does  the  White  House.     Vide  the  Con- 
gressional Record,  May  10,  1918,  p.  6838,  and  June  12,  1918,  p.  8293. 


124  THE   AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

§4 

Euphemisms  and  Forbidden  Words — But  such  euphemisms  as 
lady-clerk  are,  after  all,  much  rarer  in  English  than  in  American 
usage.  The  Englishman  seldom  tries  to  gloss  menial  occupa- 
tions with  sonorous  names;  on  the  contrary,  he  seems  to  delight 
in  keeping  their  menial  character  plain.  He  says  servants,  not 
help.  Even  his  railways  and  banks  have  servants;  the  chief 
trades-union  of  the  English  railroad  men  is  the  Amalgamated 
Society  of  Railway  Servants.  He  uses  employe  in  place  of  clerk, 
workman  or  laborer  much  less  often  than  we  do.  True  enough 
he  calls  a  boarder  a  paying-guest,  but  that  is  probably  because 
even  a  boarder  may  be  a  gentleman.  Just  as  he  avoids  calling 
a  fast  train  the  limited,  the  flier  or  the  cannon-ball,  so  he  never 
calls  an  undertaker  a  funeral  director  or  mortician,26  or  a  dentist 
a  dental  surgeon  or  ontologist,  or  an  optician  an  optometrist, 
or  a  barber  shop  (he  always  makes  it  barber's  shop)  a  tonsorial 
parlor,  or  a  common  public-house  a  cafe,  a  restaurant,  an  ex- 
change, a  buffet  or  a  hotel,  or  a  tradesman  a  storekeeper  or 
merchant,  or  a  fresh-water  college  a  university.  A  university, 
in  England,  always  means  a  collection  of  colleges.29  He  avoids 
displacing  terms  of  a  disparaging  or  disagreeable  significance 
with  others  less  brutal,  or  thought  to  be  less  brutal,  e.  g.,  ready- 
to-wear  or  ready-tailored  for  ready-made,  used  or  slightly-used 
for  second-hand,  mahoganized  for  imitation-^mahogany,  aisle 
manager  for  floor-walker  (he  makes  it  shop-walker),  loan-office 
for  pawn-shop.  Also,  he  is  careful  not  to  use  such  words  as 
rector,  deacon  and  baccalaureate  in  merely  rhetorical  senses.30 

28  In  the  60's  an  undertaker  was  often  called  an  embalming  surgeon  in 
America. 

29  In  a  list  of  American  "universites"  I  find  the  Christian  of  Canton, 
Mo.,    with    125    students;    the   Lincoln,    of    Pennsylvania,    with    184;    the 
Southwestern  Presbyterian,  of  Clarksville,  Tenn.,  with  86;  and  the  Newton 
Theological,  with  77.     Most  of  these,  of  course,  are  merely  country  high- 
schools. 

so  The  Rev.  John  C.  Stephenson  in  the  New  York  Sun,  July  10,  1914: 
.  .  .  "that  empty  courtesy  of  addressing  every  clergyman  as  Doctor.  .  .  . 
And  let  us  abolish  the  abuse  of  ...  baccalaureate  sermons  for  sermons  be- 
fore graduating  classes  of  high  schools  and  the  like." 


AMERICA  NAND    ENGLISH    TODAY      125 

"When  we  come  to  words,  that,  either  intrinsically  or  by  usage, 
are  improper,  a  great  many  curious  differences  between  English 
and  American  reveal  themselves.  The  Englishman,  on  the  whole, 
is  more  plain-spoken  than  the  American,  and  such  terms  as 
bitch,  mare  and  in  foal  do  not  commonly  daunt  him,  largely,  per- 
haps, because  of  his  greater  familiarity  with  country  life;  but 
he  has  a  formidable  index  of  his  own,  and  it  includes  such  essen- 
tially harmless  words  as  sick,  stomach,  bum  and  bug.  The  Eng- 
lish use  of  ill  for  sick  I  have  already  noticed,  and  the  reasons 
for  the  English  avoidance  of  bum.  Sick,  over  there,  means 
nauseated,  and  when  an  Englishman  says  that  he  was  sick  he 
means  that  he  vomited,  or,  as  an  American  would  say,  was 
sick  at  the  stomach.  The  older  (and  still  American)  usage, 
however,  survives  in  various  compounds.  Sick-list,  for  exam- 
ple, is  official  in  the  Navy,31  and  sick-leave  is  known  in  the  Army, 
though  it  is  more  common  to  say  of  a  soldier  that  he  is  invalided 
home.  Sick-room  and  sick-bed  are  also  in  common  use,  and 
sick-flag  is  used  in  place  of  the  American  quarantine- flag.  But 
an  Englishman  hesitates  to  mention  his  stomach  in  the  presence 
of  ladies,  though  he  discourses  freely  about  his  liver.  To  avoid 
the  necessity  he  employs  such  euphemisms  as  Little  Mary.  As 
for  bug,  he  restricts  its  use  very  rigidly  to  the  Cimex  lectularius, 
or  common  bed-bug,  and  hence  the  word  has  a  highly  impolite 
connotation.  All  other  crawling  things  he  calls  insects.  An 
American  of  my  acquaintance  once  greatly  offended  an  English 
friend  by  using  bug  for  insect.  The  two  were  playing  billiards 
one  summer  evening  in  the  Englishman's  house,  and  various 
flying  things  came  through  the  window  and  alighted  on  the 
cloth.  The  American,  essaying  a  shot,  remarked  that  he  had 
killed  a  bug  with  his  cue.  To  the  Englishman  this  seemed  a 
slanderous  reflection  upon  the  cleanliness  of  his  house.32 

si  Cf.  Dardanelles  Commission  Report;  London,  1916,  p.  58,  §  47. 

32  Edgar  Allan  Poe's  "The  Gold  Bug"  is  called  "The  Golden  Beetle"  in 
England.  Twenty-five  years  ago  an  Enlishman  named  Buggey,  laboring 
under  the  odium  attached  to  the  name,  had  it  changed  to  Norfolk-Howard, 
a  compound  made  up  of  the  title  and  family  name  of  the  Duke  of  Norfolk. 
The  wits  of  London  at  once  doubled  his  misery  by  adopting  Norfolk-Howard 
as  a  euphemism  for  bed-bug. 


126  THE    AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

The  Victorian  era  saw  a  great  growth  of  absurd  euphemisms 
in  England,  including  second  wing  for  the  leg  of  a  fowl,  but  it 
was  in  America  that  the  thing  was  carried  farthest.  Bartlett 
hints  that  rooster  came  into  use  in  place  of  cock  as  a  matter  of 
delicacy,  the  latter  word  having  acquired  an  indecent  signifi- 
cance, and  tells  us  that,  at  one  time,  even  bull  was  banned  as 
too  vulgar  for  refined  ears.  In  place  of  it  the  early  purists 
used  cow-creature,  male-cow  and  even  gentleman-cow.33  Bitch, 
ram,  buck  and  sow  went  the  same  way,  and  there  was  a  day  when 
even  mare  was  prohibited.  Bache  tells  us  that  pismire  was  also 
banned,  antmire  being  substituted  for  it.  In  1847  the  word 
chair  was  actually  barred  out  and  seat  was  adopted  in  its  place.3* 
These  were  the  palmy  days  of  euphemism.  The  delicate  female 
was  guarded  from  all  knowledge,  and  even  from  all  suspicion, 
of  evil.  "To  utter  aloud  in  her  presence  the  word  shirt,"  says 
one  historian,  "was  an  open  insult."35  Mrs.  Trollope,  writing 
in  1832,  tells  of  "a  young  German  gentleman  of  perfectly  good 
manners"  who  "offended  one  of  the  principal  families  ...  by 
having  pronounced  the  word  corset  before  the  ladies  of  it. ' ' 38 
The  word  woman,  in  those  sensitive  days,  became  a  term  of  re- 
proach, comparable  to  the  German  mensch;  the  uncouth  female 
took  its  place.37  In  the  same  way  the  legs  of  the  fair  became 
limbs  and  their  breasts  bosoms,  and  lady  was  substituted  for 
wife.  Stomach,  under  the  ban  in  England,  was  transformed, 
by  some  unfathomable  magic,  into  a  euphemism  denoting  the 
whole  region  from  the  nipples  to  the  pelvic  arch.  It  was  during 

33  A  recent  example  of  the  use  of  male-cow  was  quoted  in  the  Journal  of 
the  American  Medical  Association,  Nov.  17,  1917,  advertising  page  24. 

s*New  York  Organ  (a  "family  journal  devoted  to  temperance,  morality, 
education  and  general  literature"),  May  29,  1847.  One  of  the  editors  of 
this  delicate  journal  was  T.  S.  Arthur,  author  of  Ten  Nights  in  a  Bar-room. 

35  John  Graham  Brooks:  As  Others  See  Us;  New  York,  1908,  p.  11. 

se  Domestic  Manners  of  the  Americans,  2  vols. ;  London,  1832;  vol.  i,  p. 
132. 

37  Female,  of  course,  was  epidemic  in  England  too,  but  White  says  that 
it  was  "not  a  Briticism,"  and  so  early  as  1839  the  Legislature  of  Maryland 
expunged  it  from  the  title  of  a  bill  "to  protect  the  reputation  of  un- 
married females,"  substituting  women,  on  the  ground  that  female  "was  an 
Americanism  in  that  application." 


AMERICAN   AND    ENGLISH    TODAY      127 

this  time  that  the  newspapers  invented  such  locutions  as  inter- 
esting (or  delicate)  condition,  criminal  operation,  house  of  ill 
(or  questionable)  repute,  disorderly-house,  sporting-house,  stat- 
utory offense,  fallen  woman  and  criminal  assault.  Servant  girls 
ceased  to  be  seduced,  and  began  to  be  betrayed.  Various  French 
terms,  enceinte  and  accouchement  among  them,  were  imported  to 
conceal  the  fact  that  lawful  wives  occasionally  became  pregnant 
and  had  lyings-in. 

White,  between  1867  and  1870,  launched  various  attacks  upon 
these  ludicrous  gossamers  of  speech,  and  particularly  upon  en- 
ceinte, limb  and  female,  but  only  female  succumbed.  The  pas- 
sage of  the  notorious  Comstock  Postal  Act,  in  1873,  greatly 
stimulated  the  search  for  euphemisms.  Once  that  act  was  upon 
the  statute-books  and  Comstock  himself  was  given  the  amazingly 
inquisitorial  powers  of  a  post-office  inspector,  it  became  posi- 
tively dangerous  to  print  certain  ancient  and  essentially  decent 
English  words.  To  this  day  the  effects  of  that  old  reign  of 
terror  are  still  visible.  We  yet  use  toilet  and  public  comfort 
station  in  place  of  better  terms,38  and  such  idiotic  forms  as  red- 
light  district,  disorderly-house,  blood-poison,  social-evil,  social 
disease  and  white  slave  ostensibly  conceal  what  every  flapper 
is  talking  about.  The  word  cadet,  having  a  foreign  smack  and 
an  innocent  native  meaning,  is  preferred  to  the  more  accurate 
procurer;  even  prostitutes  shrink  from  the  forthright  pimp,  and 
employ  a  characteristic  American  abbreviation,  P.  I. — a  curious 
brother  to  8.  0.  B.  and  2  o'clock.  Nevertheless,  a  movement 
toward  honesty  is  getting  on  its  legs.  The  vice  crusaders,  if  they 
have  accomplished  nothing  else,  have  at  least  forced  the  news- 
papers to  use  the  honest  terms,  syphilis,  prostitute,  brothel  and 
venereal  disease,  albeit  somewhat  gingerly.  It  is,  perhaps,  sig- 
nificant of  the  change  going  on  that  the  New  York  Evening  Post 

38  The  French  pissoir,  for  instance,  is  still  regarded  as  indecent  in  Amer- 
ica, and  is  seldom  used  in  England,  but  it  has  gone  into  most  of  the 
Continental  languages.  It  is  curious  to  note,  however,  that  these  languages 
also  have  their  prvideries.  Most  of  them,  for  example,  use  W.  C.,  an 
abbreviation  of  the  English  water-closet,  as  a  euphemism.  The  whole  sub- 
ject of  national  pruderies,  in  both  act  and  speech,  remains  to  be  investigated. 


128  THE   AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

recently  authorized  its  reporters  to  use  street-walker.39  But  in 
certain  quarters  the  change  is  viewed  with  alarm,  and  curious 
traces  of  the  old  prudery  still  survive.  The  Department  of 
Health  of  New  York  City,  in  April,  1914,  announced  that  its 
efforts  to  diminish  venereal  disease  were  much  handicapped 
because  "in  most  newspaper  offices  the  words  syphilis  and 
gonorrhea  are  still  tabooed,  and  without  the  use  of  these  terms 
it  is  almost  impossible  to  correctly  state  the  problem."  The 
Army  Medical  Corps,  in  the  early  part  of  1918,  encountered  the 
same  difficulty:  most  newspapers  refused  to  print  its  bulletins 
regarding  venereal  disease  in  the  army.  One  of  the  newspaper 
trade  journals  thereupon  sought  the  opinions  of  editors  upon 
the  subject,  and  all  of  them  save  one  declared  against  the  use 
of  the  two  words.  One  editor  put  the  blame  upon  the  Post- 
office,  which  still  cherishes  the  Comstock  tradition.  Another 
reported  that  "at  a  recent  conference  of  the  Scripps  Northwest 
League  editors"  it  was  decided  that  "the  use  of  such  terms  as 
gonorrhea,  syphilis,  and  even  venereal  diseases  would  not  add  to 
the  tone  of  the  papers,  and  that  the  term  vice  diseases  can  be 
readily  substituted. ' ' 40  The  Scripps  papers  are  otherwise  any- 
thing but  distinguished  for  their  ' '  tone, ' '  but  in  this  department 
they  yield  to  the  Puritan  habit.  An  even  more  curious  instance 
of  prudery  came  to  my  notice  in  Philadelphia  several  years  ago. 
A  one-act  play  of  mine,  "The  Artist,"  was  presented  at  the 
Little  Theatre  there,  and  during  its  run,  on  February  26,  1916, 
the  Public  Ledger  reprinted  some  of  the  dialogue.  One  of  the 
characters  in  the  piece  is  A  Virgin.  At  every  occurrence  a 
change  was  made  to  A  Young  Girl.  Apparently,  even  virgin 
is  still  regarded  as  too  frank  in  Philadelphia.41  Fifty  years 

3»  Even  the  Springfield  Republican,  the  last  stronghold  of  Puritan  Kultwr, 
printed  the  word  on  Oct.  11,  1917,  in  a  review  of  New  Adventures,  by 
Michael  Monahan. 

40  Pep,  July,  1918,  p.  8. 

41  Perhaps  the  Quaker  influence  is  to  blame.     At  all  events,  Philadelphia 
is  the  most  pecksniffian  of  American  cities,  and  thus  probably  leads  the 
world.     Early  in  1918,  when  a  patriotic  moving-picture  entitled  "To  Hell 
with  the  Kaiser"  was  sent  on  tour  under  government  patronage,  the  word 
hell  was  carefully  toned  down,  on  the  Philadelphia  billboards,  to  Ji . 


AMERICAN   AND    ENGLISH   TODAY      129 

ago  the  very  word  decent  was  indecent  in  the  South :  no  respect- 
able woman  was  supposed  to  have  any  notion  of  the  difference 
between  decent  and  indecent. 

In  their  vocabularies  of  opprobrium  and  profanity  English 
and  Americans  diverge  sharply.  The  English  rotter  and  blighter 
are  practically  unknown  in  America,  and  there  are  various  Amer- 
ican equivalents  that  are  never  heard  in  England.  A  guy,  in 
the  American  vulgate,  simply  signifies  a  man ;  there  is  not  neces- 
sarily any  disparaging  significance.  But  in  English,  high  or 
low,  it  means  one  who  is  making  a  spectacle  of  himself.  The 
derivative  verb,  to  guy,  is  unknown  in  English;  its  nearest 
equivalent  is  to  spoof,  which  is  unknown  in  American.  The 
average  American,  I  believe,  has  a  larger  vocabulary  of  pro- 
fanity than  the  average  Englishman,  and  swears  a  good  deal 
more,  but  he  attempts  an  amelioration  of  many  of  his  oaths  by 
softening  them  to  forms  with,  no  apparent  meaning.  Darn 
(=dern  =  durn)  for  damn  is  apparently  of  English  origin, 
but  it  is  heard  ten  thousand  times  in  America  to  once  in  Eng- 
land. So  is  dog-gone.  Such  euphemistic  written  forms  as 
damphool  and  damfino  are  also  far  more  common  in  this  coun- 
try. All-fired  for  hell-fired,  gee-whiz  for  Jesus,  tarnal  for  eter- 
nal, tarnation  for  damn-ation,  cuss  for  curse,  goldarned  for  God- 
damned, by  gosh  for  by  God  and  great  Scott  for  great  God  are 
all  Americanisms;  Thornton  has  traced  all-fired  to  1835,  tarna- 
tion to  1801  and  tarnal  to  1790.  By  golly  has  been  found  in 
English  literature  so  early  as  1843,  but  it  probably  originated 
in  America;  down  to  the  Civil  War  it  was  the  characteristic 
oath  of  the  negro  slaves.  Such  terms  as  bonehead,  pinhead  and 
boob  have  been  invented,  perhaps,  to  take  the  place  of  the  Eng- 
lish ass,  which  has  a  flavor  of  impropriety  in  America  on  account 
of  its  identity  in  sound  with  the  American  pronunciation  of 
arse.42  At  an  earlier  day  ass  was  always  differentiated  by  mak- 
ing it  jackass.  Another  word  that  is  improper  in  America  but 
not  in  England  is  tart.  To  an  Englishman  the  word  connotes 
sweetness,  and  so,  if  he  be  of  the  lower  orders,  he  may  apply 

42  Cf.  R.  M.   Bache :    Vulgarisms  and  Other  Errors  of  Speech ;    Phila., 
1869,  p.  34  et  seq. 


130  THE    AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

it  to  his  sweetheart.  But  to  the  American  it  signifies  a  pros- 
titute, or,  at  all  events,  a  woman  of  too  ready  an  amiability. 

But  the  most  curious  disparity  between  the  profane  vocabu- 
lary of  the  two  tongues  is  presented  by  bloody.  This  word  is 
entirely  without  improper  significance  in  America,  but  in  Eng- 
land it  is  regarded  as  the  vilest  of  indecencies.  The  sensation 
produced  in  London  when  George  Bernard  Shaw  put  it  into  the 
mouth  of  a  woman  character  in  his  play,  "Pygmalion,"  will 
be  remembered.  "The  interest  in  the  first  English  perform- 
ance," said  the  New  York  Times,**  "centered  in  the  heroine's 
utterance  of  this  banned  word.  It  was  waited  for  with  trem- 
bling, heard  shudderingly,  and  presumably,  when  the  shock 
subsided,  interest  dwindled."  But  in  New  York,  of  course,  it 
failed  to  cause  any  stir.  Just  why  it  is  regarded  as  profane 
and  indecent  by  the  English  is  one  of  the  mysteries  of  the  lan- 
guage. The  theory  that  it  has  some  blasphemous  reference  to 
the  blood  of  Christ  is  disputed  by  many  etymologists.  It  came 
in  during  the  latter  half  of  the  seventeenth  century,  and  at  the 
start  it  apparently  meant  no  more  than  "in  the  manner  of  a 
blood,"  i.  e.,  a  rich  young  roisterer  of  the  time.  Thus,  bloody 
drunk  was  synonymous  with  as  drunk  as  a  lord.  The  adjective 
remained  innocuous  for  200  3^ears.  Then  it  suddenly  acquired  its 
present  abhorrent  significance.  It  is  regarded  with  such  aver- 
sion by  the  English  that  even  the  lower  orders  often  substitute 
bleeding  as  a  euphemism. 

So  far  no  work  devoted  wholly  to  the  improper  terms  of  Eng- 
lish and  American  has  been  published,  but  this  lack  may  be  soon 
remedied  by  a  compilation  made  by  a  Chicago  journalist.  It  is 
entitled  "The  Slang  of  Venery  and  Its  Analogues,"  and  runs 
to  two  large  volumes.  A  small  edition,  mimeographed  for  pri- 
vate circulation,  was  issued  in  1916.  I  have  examined  this  work 
and  found  it  of  great  value.  If  the  influence  of  comstockery  is 
sufficient  to  prevent  its  publication  in  the  United  States,  as  seems 
likely,  it  will  be  printed  in  Switzerland. 

43  April  14,  1914. 


V 

Tendencies  in  American 

§1 

International  Exchanges— More  than  once,  during  the  pre- 
ceding chapters,  we  encountered  Americanisms  that  had  gone 
over  into  English,  and  English  locutions  that  had  begun  to  get 
a  foothold  in  the  United  States.  Such  exchanges  are  made  very 
frequently  and  often  very  quickly,  and  though  the  guardians 
of  English  still  attack  every  new  Americanism  vigorously,  even 
when,  as  in  the  case  of  scientist,  it  is  obviously  sound  and  use- 
ful, they  are  often  routed  by  public  pressure,  and  have  to  sub- 
mit in  the  end  with  the  best  grace  possible.  For  example,  con- 
sider caucus.  It  originated  in  Boston  at  some  indeterminate 
time  before  1750,  and  remained  so  peculiarly  American  for 
more  than  a  century  following  that  most  of  the  English  visitors 
before  the  Civil  War  remarked  its  use.  But,  according  to  J. 
Redding  "Ware,1  it  began  to  creep  into  English  political  slang 
about  1870,  and  in  the  80 's  it  was  lifted  to  good  usage  by  the 
late  Joseph  Chamberlain.  Ware,  writing  in  the  first  years  of 
the  present  century,  said  that  the  word  had  become  "very  im- 
portant" in  England,  but  was  "not  admitted  into  dictionaries." 
But  in  the  Concise  Oxford  Dictionary,  dated  1914,  it  is  given 
as  a  sound  English  word,  though  its  American  origin  is  noted. 
The  English,  however,  use  it  in  a  sense  that  has  become  archaic 
in  America,  thus  preserving  an  abandoned  American  meaning 
in  the  same  way  that  many  abandoned  British  meanings  have 
been  preserved  on  this  side.  In  the  United  States  the  word 
means,  and  has  meant  for  years,  a  meeting  of  some  division, 

i  In  Passing  English  of  the  Victorian  Era;  London,  n.  d.,  p.  68. 

131 


132        THE  AMERICAN: LANGUAGE 

large  or  small,  of  a  political  or  legislative  body  for  the  purpose 
of  agreeing  upon  a  united  course  of  action  in  the  main  assembly. 
In  England  it  means  the  managing  committee  of  a  party  or  frac- 
tion— something  corresponding  to  our  national  committee,  or 
state  central  committee,  or  steering  committee,  or  to  the  half- 
forgotten  congressional  caucuses  of  the  20  's.  It  has  a  disparag- 
ing significance  over  there,  almost  equal  to  that  of  our  words 
organization  and  machine.  Moreover,  it  has  given  birth  to  two 
derivatives  of  like  quality,  both  unknown  in  America — caucus- 
dom,  meaning  machine  control,  and  caucuser,  meaning  a  machine 
politician.2 

A  good  many  other  such  Americanisms  have  got  into  good 
usage  in  England,  and  new  ones  are  being  exported  constantly. 
Farmer  describes  the  process  of  their  introduction  and  assimi- 
lation. American  books,  newspapers  and  magazines,  especially 
the  last,  circulate  in  England  in  large  number,  and  some  of  their 
characteristic  locutions  pass  into  colloquial  speech.  Then  they 
get  into  print,  and  begin  to  take  on  respectability.  ' '  The  phrase, 
'as  the  Americans  say,'  "  he  continues,  "might  in  some  cases 
be  ordered  from  the  type  foundry  as  a  logotype,  so  frequently 
does  it  do  introduction  duty. ' ' 3  Ware  shows  another  means  of 
ingress:  the  argot  of  sailors.  Many  of  the  Americanisms  he 
notes  as  having  become  naturalized  in  England,  e.  g.,  boodle, 
boost  and  walk-out,  are  credited  to  Liverpool  as  a  sort  of  half- 
way station.  Travel  brings  in  still  more:  England  swarms 
with  Americans,  and  Englishmen  themselves,  visiting  America, 
bring  home  new  and  racy  phrases.  Bishop  Coxe  says*  that 

2  The  Oxford  Dictionary,  following  the  late  J.  H.  Trumbull,  the  well- 
known  authority  on  Indian  languages,  derives  the  word  from  the  Algonquin 
cau-cau-as-u,  one  who  advises.  But  most  other  authorities,  following 
Pickering,  derive  it  from  caulkers.  The  first  caucuses,  it  would  appear, 
were  held  in  a  caulkers'  shop  in  Boston,  and  were  called  caulkers'  meetings. 
The  Rev.  William  Gordon,  in  his  History  of  the  Rise  and  Independence  of 
the  United  States,  Including  the  Late  War,  published  in  London  in  1788, 
said  that  "more  than  fifty  years  ago  Mr.  Samuel  Adams'  father  and  twenty 
others,  one  or  two  from  the  north  end  of  the  town  [Boston],  where  the 
ship  business  is  carried  on,  used  to  meet,  make  a  caucus,  and  lay  their 
plans  for  introducing  certain  persons  into  places  of  trust  and  power." 

s  Americanisms  Old  and  New;  p.  vii. 

*  A.  Cleveland  Coxe :     Americanisms  in  England,  Forum,  Oct.  1886. 


TENDENCIES   IN   AMERICAN  133 

Dickens,  in  his  " American  Notes,"  gave  English  currency  to 
reliable,  influential,  talented  and  lengthy.  Bristed,  writing  in 
1855,  said  that  talented  was  already  firmly  fixed  in  the  English 
vocabulary  by  that  time.  All  four  words  are  in  the  Concise 
Oxford  Dictionary,  and  only  lengthy  is  noted  as  "originally  an 
Americanism."  Finally,  there  is  the  influence  of  the  moving 
pictures.  Hundreds  of  American  films  are  shown  in  England 
every  week,  and  the  American  words  and  phrases  appearing  in 
their  titles,  sub-titles  and  other  explanatory  legends  thus  be- 
come familiar  to  the  English.  "The  patron  of  the  picture  pal- 
ace," says  W.  G.  Faulkner,  in  an  article  in  the  London  Daily 
Mail,  "learns  to  think  of  his  railway  station  as  a  depot;  he  has 
alternatives  to  one  of  our  newest  words,  hooligan,  in  hoodlum 
and  tough;  he  watches  a  dive,  which  is  a  thieves'  kitchen  or  a 
room  in  which  bad  characters  meet,  and  whether  the  villain 
talks  of  dough  or  sugar  he  knows  it  is  money  to  which  he  is 
referring.  The  musical  ring  of  the  word  tramp  gives  way  to 
the  stodgy  hobo  or  dead-beat.  It  may  be  that  the  plot  reveals 
an  attempt  to  deceive  some  simple-minded  person.  If  it  does, 
the  innocent  one  is  spoken  of  as  a  sucker,  a  come-on,  a  boob,  or 
a  lobster  if  he  is  stupid  into  the  bargain. ' ' 

Mr.  Faulkner  goes  on  to  say  that  a  great  many  other  Ameri- 
canisms are  constantly  employed  by  Englishmen  ' '  who  have  not 
been  affected  by  the  avalanche  .  .  .  which  has  come  upon  us 
through  the  picture  palace. "  "  Thus  today, ' '  he  says,  ' '  we  hear 
people  speak  of  the  fall  of  the  year,  a  stunt  they  have  in  hand, 
their  desire  to  boost  a  particular  business,  a  peach  when  they 
mean  a  pretty  girl,  a  scab — a  common  term  among  strikers, — the 
glad-eye,  junk  when  they  mean  worthless  material,  their  efforts 
to  make  good,  the  elevator  in  the  hotel  or  office,  the  boss  or  man- 
ager, the  crook  or  swindler ;  and  they  will  tell  you  that  they  have 
the  goods — that  is,  they  possess  the  requisite  qualities  for  a 
given  position."  The  venerable  Frederic  Harrison,  writing  in 
the  Fortnightly  Review  in  the  Spring  of  1918,  denounced  this 
tendency  with  a  vigor  recalling  the  classical  anathemas  of  Dean 
Alford  and  Sydney  Smith.5  "Stale  American  phrases,  .  .  ." 

s  Reprinted,  in  part,  in  the  New  York  Sun,  May  12,  1918. 


134  THE   AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

he  said,  "are  infecting  even  our  higher  journalism  and  our  par- 
liamentary and  platform  oratory.  ...  A  statesman  is  now  out 
for  victory;  he  is  up  against  pacificism.  ...  He  has  a  card  up 
his  sleeve,  by  which  the  enemy  are  at  last  to  be  euchred.  Then 
a  fierce  fight  in  which  hundreds  of  noble  fellows  are  mangled 
or  drowned  is  a  scrap.  ...  To  criticise  a  politician  is  to  call 
for  his  scalp.  .  .  .  The  other  fellow  is  beaten  to  a  frazzle." 
And  so  on.  "Bolshevism,"  concluded  Harrison  sadly,  "is  ruin- 
ing language  as  well  as  society. ' ' 

But  though  there  are  still  many  such  alarms  by  constables  of 
the  national  speech,  the  majority  of  Englishmen  continue  to 
make  borrowings  from  the  tempting  and  ever-widening  Amer- 
ican vocabulary.  What  is  more,  some  of  these  loan-words  take 
root,  and  are  presently  accepted  as  sound  English,  even  by  the 
most  watchful.  The  two  Fowlers,  in  "The  King's  English," 
separate  Americanisms  from  other  current  vulgarisms,  but  many 
of  the  latter  on  their  list  are  actually  American  in  origin,  though 
they  do  not  seem  to  know  it — for  example,  to  demean  and  to 
transpire.  More  remarkable  still,  the  Cambridge  History  of 
English  Literature  lists  backwoodsman,  know-nothing  and  yel- 
low-back as  English  compounds,  apparently  in  forgetfulness  of 
their  American  origin,  and  adds  skunk,  squaw  and  toboggan  as 
direct  importations  from  the  Indian  tongues,  without  noting  that 
they  came  through  American,  and  remained  definite  American- 
isms for  a  long  while.6  It  even  adds  musquash,  a  popular  name 
for  the  Fiber  zibethicus,  borrowed  from  the  Algonquin  musk- 
wessu  but  long  since  degenerated  to  musk-rat  in  America. 
Musquash  has  been  in  disuse  in  this  country,  indeed,  since  the 
middle  of  the  last  century,  save  as  a  stray  localism,  but  the 
English  have  preserved  it,  and  it  appears  in  the  Oxford  Dic- 
tionary.7 

A  few  weeks  in  London  or  a  month's  study  of  the  London 

e  Vol.  xiv.  pp.  507,  512. 

T  In  this  connection  it  is  curious  to  note  that,  though  the  raccoon  is  an 
animal  quite  unknown  in  England,  there  was,  until  lately,  a  destroyer  called 
the  Raccoon  in  the  British  Navy.  This  ship  was  lost  with  all  hands  off  the 
Irish  coast,  Jan.  9,  1918. 


TENDENCIES   IN   AMEEICAN  135 

newspapers  will  show  a  great  many  other  American  pollutions 
of  the  well  of  English.  The  argot  of  politics  is  full  of  them. 
Many  beside  caucus  were  introduced  by  Joseph  Chamberlain,  a 
politician  skilled  in  American  campaign  methods  and  with  an 
American  wife  to  prompt  him.  He  gave  the  English  their  first 
taste  of  to  belittle,  one  of  the  inventions  of  Thomas  Jefferson. 
Graft  and  to  graft  crossed  the  ocean  in  their  nonage.  To  bluff 
has  been  well  understood  in  England  for  30  years.  It  is  in 
Cassell's  and  the  Oxford  Dictionaries,  and  has  been  used  by  no 
less  a  magnifico  than  Sir  Almroth  Wright.8  To  stump,  in  the 
form  of  stump-oratory,  is  in  Carlyle's  "Latter-Day  Pamphlets," 
circa  1850,  and  caucus  appears  in  his  "Frederick  the  Great,"9 
though,  as  we  have  seen  on  the  authority  of  Ware,  it  did 
not  come  into  general  use  in  England  until  ten  years  later. 
Buncombe  (usually  spelled  bunkum)  is  in  all  the  later  English 
dictionaries.  In  the  London  stock  market  and  among  English 
railroad  men  various  characteristic  Americanisms  have  got  a  foot- 
hold. The  meaning  of  bucket-shop  and  to  water,  for  example, 
is  familiar  to  every  London  broker's  clerk.  English  trains  are 
now  telescoped  and  carry  dead-heads,  and  in  1913  a  rival  to  the 
Amalgamated  Order  of  Railway  Servants  was  organized  under 
the  name  of  the  National  Union  of  Railway  Men.  The  begin- 
nings of  a  movement  against  the  use  of  servant  are  visible  in 
other  directions,  and  the  American  help  threatens  to  be  substi- 
tuted ;  at  all  events,  Help  Wanted  advertisements  are  now  .occa- 
sionally encountered  in  English  newspapers.  But  it  is  Amer- 
ican verbs  that  seem  to  find  the  way  into  English  least  difficult, 
particularly  those  compounded  with  prepositions  and  adverbs, 
such  as  to  pan  out  and  to  swear  off.  Most  of  them,  true  enough, 

s  The  Unexpurgated  Case  Against  Woman  Suffrage;  London,  1913,  p.  9. 
To  'bluff  has  also  gone  into  other  languages,  notably  the  Spanish.  During 
the  Cuban  revolution  of  March,  1917,  the  newspapers  of  Havana,  objecting 
to  the  dispatches  sent  out  by  American  correspondents,  denounced  the  latter 
as  los  blofistas.  Meanwhile,  to  bluff  has  been  shouldered  out  in  the  country 
of  its  origin,  at  least  temporarily,  by  a  verb  borrowed  from  the  French, 
to  camouflage.  This  first  appeared  in  the  Spring  of  1917. 

9  Book  iv,  ch.  iii.  The  first  of  the  six  volumes  was  published  in  1858  and 
the  last  in  1865. 


136  THE    AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

are  still  used  as  conscious  Americanisms,  but  used  they  are, 
and  with  increasing  frequency.  The  highly  typical  American 
verb  to  loaf  is  now  naturalized,  and  Ware  says  that  The  Loaferies 
is  one  of  the  common  nicknames  of  the  Whitechapel  workhouse. 

It  is  curious,  reading  the  fulminations  of  American  purists  of 
the  last  generation,  to  note  how  many  of  the  Americanisms  they 
denounced  have  not  only  got  into  perfectly  good  usage  at  home 
but  even  broken  down  all  guards  across  the  ocean.  To  placate 
and  to  antagonize  are  examples.  The  Oxford  Dictionary  dis- 
tinguishes between  the  English  and  American  meanings  of  the 
latter:  in  England  a  man  may  antagonize  only  another  man,  in 
America  he  may  antagonize  a  mere  idea  or  thing.  But,  as  the 
brothers  Fowler  show,  even  the  English  meaning  is  of  American 
origin,  and  no  doubt  a  few  more  years  will  see  the  verb  com- 
pletely naturalized  in  Britain.  To  placate,  attacked  vigorously 
by  all  native  grammarians  down  to  (but  excepting)  White,  now 
has  the  authority  of  the  Spectator,  and  is  accepted  by  Cassell. 
To  donate  is  still  under  the  ban,  but  to  transpire  has  been  used 
by  the  London  Times.  Other  old  bugaboos  that  have  been  em- 
braced are  gubernatorial,  presidential  and  standpoint.  White  la- 
bored long  and  valiantly  to  convince  Americans  that  the  adjec- 
tive derived  from  president  should  be  without  the  i  in  its  last 
syllable,  following  the  example  of  incidental,  regimental,  monu- 
bnental,  governmental,  oriental,  experimental  and  so  on;  but  in 
vain,  for  presidential  is  now  perfectly  good  English.  To  de- 
mean is  still  questioned,  but  English  authors  of  the  first  rank 
have  used  it,  and  it  will  probably  lose  its  dubious  character  very 
soon. 

The  flow  of  loan-words  in  the  opposite  direction  meets  with 
little  impediment,  for  social  distinction  in  America  is  still  largely 
dependent  upon  English  recognition,  and  so  there  is  an  eager 
imitation  of  the  latest  English  fashions  in  speech.  This  emula- 
tion is  most  noticeable  in  the  large  cities  of  the  East,  and  par- 
ticularly in  what  Schele  de  Vere  called  "Boston  and  the  Boston 
dependencies."  New  York  is  but  little  behind.  The  small 
stores  there,  if  they  are  of  any  pretentious,  are  now  almost  in- 
variably called  shops.  Shoes  for  the  well-to-do  are  no  longer 


TENDENCIES   IN   AMERICAN  137 

shoes,  but  boots,  and  they  are  sold  in  bootshops.  One  encounters, 
too,  in  the  side-streets  off  Fifth  avenue,  a  multitude  of  gift-shops, 
tea-shops  and  haberdashery-shops.  In  Fifth  avenue  itself  there 
are  several  luggage-shops.  In  August,  1917,  signs  appeared  in 
the  New  York  surface  cars  in  which  the  conductors  were  re- 
ferred to  as  guards.  This  effort  to  be  English  and  correct  was 
exhibited  over  the  sign  manual  of  Theodore  P.  Shonts,  president 
of  the  Interborough,  a  gentleman  of  Teutonic  name,  but  evi- 
dently a  faithful  protector  of  the  king's  English.  On  the  same 
cars,  however,  painted  notices,  surviving  from  some  earlier 
regime,  mentioned  the  guards  as  conductors.  To  Let  signs  are 
now  as  common  in  all  our  cities  as  For  Rent  signs.  We  all 
know  the  charwoman,  and  have  begun  to  forget  our  native  modi- 
fication of  char,  to  wit,  chore.  Every  apartment-house  has  a 
tradesmen1 's-entrance.  In  Charles  street,  in  Baltimore,  some 
time  ago,  the  proprietor  of  a  fashionable  stationery  store  directed 
me,  not  to  the  elevator,  but  to  the  lift. 

Occasionally,  some  uncompromising  patriot  raises  his  voice 
against  these  importations,  but  he  seldom  shows  the  vigorous 
indignation  of  the  English  purists,  and  he  seldom  prevails. 
White,  in  1870,  warned  Americans  against  the  figurative  use  of 
nasty  as  a  synonym  for  disagreeable.10  This  use  of  the  word 
was  then  relatively  new  in  England,  though,  according  to  White, 
the  Saturday  Review  and  the  Spectator  had  already  succumbed. 
His  objections  to  it  were  unavailing;  nasty  quickly  got  into 
American  and  has  been  there  ever  since.  In  1883  Gilbert  M. 
Tucker  protested  against  good- form,  traffic  (in  the  sense  of 
travel),  to  bargain  and  to  tub  as  Briticisms  that  we  might  well 
do  without,  but  all  of  them  took  root  and  are  perfectly  sound 
American  today.  There  is,  indeed,  no  intelligible  reason  why 
such  English  inventions  and  improvements  should  not  be  taken 
in,  even  though  the  motive  behind  the  welcome  to  them  may 
occasionally  cause  a  smile.  English,  after  all,  is  the  mother  of 
American,  and  the  child,  until  lately,  was  still  at  nurse.  The 
English,  confronted  by  some  of  our  fantastic  innovations,  may 
well  regard  them  as  impudences  to  be  put  down,  but  what  they 

10  Words  and  Their  Use,  new  ed.;  New  York,  1876,  p.  198. 


138  THE    AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

offer  in  return  often  fits  into  our  vocabulary  without  offering 
it  any  outrage.  American,  indeed,  is  full  of  lingering  Briticisms, 
all  maintaining  a  successful  competition  with  native  forms.  If 
we  take  back  shop  it  is  merely  taking  back  something  that  store 
has  never  been  able  to  rid  us  of:  we  use  shop-worn,  shoplifter, 
shopping,  shopper,  shop-girl  and  to  shop  every  day.  In  the 
same  way  the  word  penny  has  survived  among  us,  despite  the 
fact  that  there  has  been  no  American  coin  of  that  name  for 
more  than  125  years.  We  have  nickel-in-the-slot  machines,  but 
when  they  take  a  cent  we  call  them  penny-in-the-slot  machines. 
We  have  penny-arcades  and  penny -whistles.  We  do  not  play 
cent-ante,  but  penny-ante.  We  still  "turn  an  honest  penny" 
and  say  "a  penny  for  your  thoughts."  The  pound  and  the 
shilling  became  extinct  a  century  ago,  but  the  penny  still  binds 
us  to  the  mother  tongue. 

§2 

Points  of  Difference — These  exchanges  and  coalescences,  how- 
ever, though  they  invigorate  each  language  with  the  blood  of 
the  other  and  are  often  very  striking  in  detail,  are  neither 
numerous  enough  nor  general  enough  to  counteract  the  cen- 
trifugal force  which  pulls  them  apart.  The  simple  fact  is  that 
the  spirit  of  English  and  the  spirit^  of  A"merican  have  been  at 
o'cTds  for  nearly  a  century,  and  that  the  way  of  one  is  not  the 
w7ty""of"'tne^ other  The  loan-words  that  fly  to  and  fro,  when 
'examined  closely,  are  found  to  be  few  in  number  both  relatively 
and  absolutely :  they  do  not  greatly  affect  the  larger  movements 
of  the  two  languages.  Many  of  them,  indeed,  are  little  more 
than  temporary  borrowings ;  they  are  not  genuinely  adopted,  but 
merely  momentarily  fashionable.  The  class  of  Englishmen  which 
affects  American  phrases  is  perhaps  but  little  larger,  taking  one 
year  with  another,  than  the  class  of  Americans  which  affects 
English  phrases.  This  last  class,  it  must  be  plain,  is  very  small. 
Leave  the  large  cities  and  you  will  have  difficulty  finding  any 
members  of  it.  It  is  circumscribed,  not  because  there  is  any 
very  formidable  prejudice  against  English  locutions  as  such, 


TENDENCIES    IN    AMERICAN  139 

but  simply  because  recognizably  English  locutions,  in  a  good 
many  cases,  do  not  fit  into  the  American  language.  The  Amer- 
ican thinks  in  American  and  the  Englishman  in  English,  and  it 
requires  a  definite  effort,  usually  but  defectively  successful,  for 
either  to  put  his  thoughts  into  the  actual  idiom  of  the  other. 

The  difficulties  of  this  enterprise  are  well  exhibited,  though 
quite  unconsciously,  by  W.  L.  George  in  a  chapter  entitled  "Lit- 
any of  the  Novelist"  in  his  book  of  criticism,  "Literary  Chap- 
ters. ' ' 1X  This  chapter,  it  is  plain  by  internal  evidence,  was 
written,  not  for  Englishmen,  but  for  Americans.  A  good  part 
of  it,  in  fact,  is  in  the  second  person — we  are  addressed  and 
argued  with  directly.  And  throughout  there  is  an  obvious  en- 
deavor to  help  out  comprehension  by  a  studied  use  of  purely 
American  phrases  and  examples.  One  hears,  not  of  the  East 
End,  but  of  the  East  Side;  not  of  the  City,  but  of  Wall  Street; 
not  of  Belgravia  or  the  West  End,  but  of  Fifth  avenue;  not  of 
bowler  hats,  but  of  Derbys;  not  of  idlers  in  pubs,  but  of  saloon 
loafers;  not  of  pounds,  shillings  and  pence,  but  of  dollars  and 
cents.  In  brief,  a  gallant  attempt  upon  a  strange  tongue,  and 
by  a  writer  of  the  utmost  skill — but  a  hopeless  failure  none  the 
less.  In  the  midst  of  his  best  American,  George  drops  into 
Briticism  after  Briticism,  some  of  them  quite  as  unintelligible 
to  the  average  American  reader  as  so  many  Gallicisms.  On 
page  after  page  they  display  the  practical  impossibility  of  the 
enterprise:  back-garden  for  back-yard,  perambulator  for  baby- 
carriage,  corn-market  for  gfraw-market,  coal-owner  for  coal- 
operator,  post  for  mail,  and  so  on.  And  to  top  them  there  are 
English  terms  that  have  no  American  equivalents  at  all,  for 
example,  kitchen-fender. 

The  same  failure,  perhaps  usually  worse,  is  displayed  every 
time  an  English  novelist  or  dramatist  essays  to  put  an  American 
into  a  novel  or  a  play,  and  to  make  him  speak  American.  How- 
ever painstakingly  it  is  done,  the  Englishman  invariably  falls 
into  capital  blunders,  and  the  result  is  derided  by  Americans 
as  Mark  Twain  derided  the  miners'  lingo  of  Bret  Harte,  and  for 
the  same  reason.  The  thing  lies  deeper  than  vocabulary  and 

11  Boston,  1918,  pp.  1-43. 


140  THE   AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

even  than  pronunciation  and  intonation;  the  divergences  show 
themselves  in  habits  of  speech  that  are  fundamental  and  almost 
indefinable.  And  when  the  transoceanic  gesture  is  from  the 
other  direction  they  become  even  plainer.  An  Englishman,  in 
an  American  play,  seldom  shows  the  actual  speech  habit  of  the 
Sassenach;  what  he  shows  is  the  speech  habit  of  an  American 
actor  trying  to  imitate  George  Alexander.  "There  are  not  five 
playwrights  in  America, ' '  said  Channing  Pollock  one  day,  ' '  who 
can  write  English" — that  is,  the  English  of  familiar  discourse. 
"Why  should  there  be?"  replied  Louis  Sherwin.  "There  are 
not  five  thousand  people  in  America  who  can  speak  English. ' ' 12 
The  elements  that  enter  into  the  special  character  of  American 
have  been  rehearsed  in  the  first  chapter :  a  general  impatience  of 
S  rule  and  restraint,  a  democratic  enmity  to  all  authority,  an  ex- 
travagant and  often  grotesque  humor,  an  extraordinary  capacity 
Vfor  metaphor13 — in  brief,  all  the  natural  marks  of  what  Van 
Wyck  Brooks  calls  "a  popular  life  which  bubbles  with  energy 
and  spreads  and  grows  and  slips  away  ever  more  and  more  from 
the  control  of  tested  ideas,  a  popular  life  with  the  lid  off. ' ' 14 
This  is  the  spirit  of  America,  and  from  it  the  American  language 
is  nourished.  Brooks,  perhaps,  generalizes  a  bit  too  lavishly. 
Below  the  surface  there  is  also  a  curious  conservatism,  even  a 
sort  of  timorousness ;  in  a  land  of  manumitted  peasants  the  pri- 
mary trait  of  the  peasant  is  bound  to  show  itself  now  and  then ; 
as  Wendell  Phillips  once  said,  "more  than  any  other  people,  we 
Americans  are  afraid  of  one  another" — that  is,  afraid  of  oppo- 
sition, of  derision,  of  all  the  consequences  of  singularity.  But  in 
the  field  of  language,  as  in  that  of  politics,  this  suspicion  of  the 
new  is  often  transformed  into  a  suspicion  of  the  merely  unfa- 
miliar, and  so  its  natural  tendency  toward  conservatism  is  over- 
come. It  is  of  the  essence  of  democracy  that  it  remain  a  govern- 
ment by  amateurs,  ,and  under  a  government  by  amateurs  it  is 
precisely  the  expert  who  is  most  questioned — and  it  is  the  expert 

12  Green  Book  Magazine,  Nov.,  1913,  p.  768. 

!3  An  interesting  note  on  this  characteristic  is   in  College  Words  and 
Phrases,  by  Eugene  H.  Babbitt,  Dialect  Notes,  vol.  ii,  pt.  i,  p.  11. 
1  *  America's  Coming  of  Age;  p.  15. 


TENDENCIES   IN   AMERICAN  141 

who  commonly  stresses  the  experience  of  the  past.  And  in  a 
democratic  society  it  is  not  the  iconoclast  who  seems  most  revo- 
lutionary, but  the  purist.  The  derisive  designation  of  high-brow 
is  thoroughly  American  in  more  ways  than  one.  It  is  a  word 
put  together  in  an  unmistakably  American  fashion,  it  reflects  an 
habitual  American  attitude  of  mind,  and  its  potency  in  debate 
is  peculiarly  national  too. 

I  daresay  it  is  largely  a  fear  of  the  weapon  in  it — and  there  are 
many  others  of  like  effect  in  the  arsenal — which  accounts  for  the 
far  greater  prevalence  of  idioms  from  below  in  the  formal  speech 
of  America  than  in  the  formal  speech  of  England.  There  is 
surely  no  English  novelist  of  equal  rank  whose  prose  shows  so 
much  of  colloquial  looseness  and  ease  as  one  finds  in  the  prose  of 
Howells :  to  find  a  match  for  it  one  must  go  to  the  prose  of  the 
neo-Celts,  professedly  modelled  upon  the  speech  of  peasants,  and 
almost  proudly  defiant  of  English  grammar  and  syntax,  and  to 
the  prose  of  the  English  themselves  before  the  Restoration.  Nor 
is  it  imaginable  that  an  Englishman  of  comparable  education  and 
position  would  ever  employ  such  locutions  as  those  I  have  hith- 
erto quoted  from  the  public  addresses  of  Dr.  Wilson — that  is, 
innocently,  seriously,  as  a  matter  of  course.  The  Englishman, 
when  he  makes  use  of  coinages  of  that  sort,  does  so  in  conscious 
relaxation,  and  usually  with  a  somewhat  heavy  sense  of  doggish- 
ness.  They  are  proper  to  the  paddock  or  even  to  the  dinner 
table,  but  scarcely  to  serious  scenes  and  occasions.  But  in  the 
United  States  their  use  is  the  rule  rather  than  the  exception ;  it  is 
not  the  man  who  uses  them,  but  the  man  who  doesn't  use  them, 
who  is  marked  off.  Their  employment,  if  high  example  counts 
for  anything,  is  a  standard  habit  of  the  language,  as  their  diligent 
avoidance  is  a  standard  habit  of  English. 

A  glance  through  the  Congressional  Record  is  sufficient  to  show 
how  small  is  the  minority  of  purists  among  the  chosen  leaders  of 
the  nation.  Within  half  an  hour,  turning  the  pages  at  random, 
I  find  scores  of  locutions  that  would  paralyze  the  stenographers 
in  the  House  of  Commons,  and  they  are  in  the  speeches,  not  of 
wild  mavericks  from  the  West,  but  of  some  of  the  chief  men  of 
the  two  Houses.  Surely  no  Senator  occupied  a  more  conspicuous 


142  THE    AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

position,  during  the  first  year  of  the  war,  than  Lee  S.  Overman, 
of  North  Carolina,  chairman  of  the  Committee  on  Rules,  and 
commander  of  the  administration  forces  on  the  floor.  Well,  I 
find  Senator  Overman  using  to  enthuse  in  a  speech  of  the  utmost 
seriousness  and  importance,  and  not  once,  but  over  and  over 
again.15  I  turn  back  a  few  pages  and  encounter  it  again — this 
time  in  the  mouth  of  General  Sherwood,  of  Ohio.  A  few  more, 
and  I  find  a  fit  match  for  it,  to  wit,  to  biograph.16  The  speaker 
here  is  Senator  L.  Y.  Sherman,  of  Illinois.  In  the  same  speech 
he  uses  to  resolute.  A  few  more,  and  various  other  characteristic 
verbs  are  unearthed :  to  demagogue?7  to  dope  out,18  to  fall  down 19 
(in  the  sense  of  to  fail),  to  jack  up,20  to  phone,21  to  peeve,22  to 
come  across23  to  hike,  to  butt  in,2*  to  back  pedal,  to  get  solid  with, 
to  hooverize,  to  trustify,  to  feature,  to  insurge,  to  haze,  to  remi- 
nisce, to  camouflage,  to  play  for  a  sucker,  and  so  on,  almost  ad 
infinitum.  And  with  them,  a  large  number  of  highly  American 
nouns,  chiefly  compounds,  all  pressing  upward  for  recognition: 
tin-Lizzie,  brain-storm,  come-down,  pin-head,  trustification,  pork- 
barrel,  buck-private,  dough-boy,  cow-country.  And  adjectives: 
jitney,  bush  (for  rural),  balled-up,25  dolled-up,  phoney,  tax- 
paid.26  And  phrases :  dollars  to  doughnuts,  on  the  job,  that  gets 
me,  one  best  bet.  And  back-formations :  ad,  movie,  photo.  And 

is  March  26,  1918,  pp.  4376-7. 
ie  Jan.  14,  1918,  p.  903. 

IT  Mr.  Campbell,  of  Kansas,  in  the  House,  Jan.  19,  1918,  p.  1134. 
is  Mr.  Hamlin,  of  Missouri,  in  the  House,  Jan.  19,  1918,  p.  1154. 
i»  Mr.  Kirby,  of  Arkansas,  in  the  Senate,  Jan.  24,  1918,  p.   1291;  Mr. 
Lewis,  of  Illinois,  in  the  Senate,  June  6,  1918,  p.  8024. 

20  Mr.  Weeks  of  Massachusetts,  in  the  Senate,  Jan.  17,  1918,  p.  988. 

21  Mr.  Smith,  of  South  Carolina,  in  the  Senate,  Jan.  17,  1918,  p.  991. 

22  Mr.  Borland,  of  Missouri,  in  the  House,  Jan.  29,  1918,  p.  1501. 

23  May  4,  1917,  p.  1853. 

24  Mr.  Snyder,  of  New  York,  Dec.  11,  1917. 

25  Balled-up  and  its  verb,  to  ball  up,  were  originally  somewhat  improper, 
no  doubt  on  account  of  the  slang  significance  of  ball,  but  of  late  they  have 
made  steady  progress  toward  polite  acceptance. 

26  After  the  passage  of  the  first  War  Revenue  Act  cigar-boxes  began  to 
bear  this   inscription:     "The   contents   of  this  box  have  been   taxed  paid 
as  cigars  of  Class  B  as  indicated  by  the  Internal  Revenue  stamp  affixed." 
Even  tax-paid,  which  was  later  substituted,  is  obviously  better  than  thia 
clumsy  double  inflection. 


TENDENCIES   IN   AMERICAN  143 

various  substitutions  and  Americanized  inflections :  over  for  more 
than,  gotten  for  got  in  the  present  perfect,27  rile  for  roil,  bust  for 
burst.  This  last,  in  truth,  has  come  into  a  dignity  that  even 
grammarians  will  soon  hesitate  to  question.  Who,  in  America, 
would  dare  to  speak  of  bursting  a  broncho,  or  of  a  tmst- 
bursterf 28 

§3 

Lost  Distinctions — This  general  iconoclasm  reveals  itself  espe- 
cially in  a  disdain  for  most  of  the  niceties  of  modern  English. 
The  American,  like  the  Elizabethan  Englishman,  is  usually  quite 
unconscious  of  them  and  even  when  they  have  been  instilled  into 
him  by  the  hard  labor  of  pedagogues  he  commonly  pays  little 
heed  to  them  in  his  ordinary  discourse.  The  English  distinction 
between  will  and  shall  offers  a  salient  case  in  point.  This  dis- 
tinction, it  may  be  said  at  once,  is  far  more  a  confection  of  the 
grammarians  than  a  product  of  the  natural  forces  shaping  the 
language.  It  has,  indeed,  little  etymological  basis,  and  is  but 
imperfectly  justified  logically.  One  finds  it  disregarded  in  the 
Authorized  Version  of  the  Bible,  in  all  the  plays  of  Shakespeare, 
in  the  essays  of  the  reign  of  Anne,  and  in  some  of  the  best  exam- 
ples of  modern  English  literature.  The  theory  behind  it  is  so 
inordinately  abstruse  that  the  Fowlers,  in  "The  King's  Eng- 
lish, ' ' 29  require  20  pages  to  explain  it,  and  even  then  they  come 
to  the  resigned  conclusion  that  the  task  is  hopeless.  "The  idio- 
matic use  [of  the  two  auxiliaries],"  they  say,  "is  so  complicated 
that  those  who  are  not  to  the  manner  born  can  hardly  acquire 
it. ' ' 30  "Well,  even  those  who  are  to  the  manner  born  seem  to  find 

27  Mr.  Bankhead,  of  Alabama,  in  the  Senate,  May  14,  1918,  p.  6995. 

28  Bust  seems  to  be  driving  out  burst  completely  when  used  figurative- 
ly.    Even  in    a  literal    sense    it    creeps    into    more    or    less    respectable 
usage.     Thus  I  find  "a  busted  tire"  in  a  speech  by  Gen.  Sherwood,  of  Ohio, 
in  the  House,  Jan.  24,   1918.     The  familiar  American  derivative,  buster, 
as  in  Buster  Broum,  is  unknown  to  the  English. 

20  Pp.  133-154. 

so  L.  Pearsall  Smith,  in  The  English  Language,  p.  29,  says  that  "the 
differentiation  is  ...  so  complicated  that  it  can  hardly  be  mastered  by 
those  born  in  parts  of  the  British  Islands  in  which  it  has  not  yet  been 
established" — e.  g.,  all  of  Ireland  and  most  of  Scotland. 


144  THE   AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

it  difficult,  for  at  once  the  learned  authors  cite  blunder  in  the 
writings  of  Richardson,  Stevenson,  Gladstone,  Jowett,  Oscar 
Wilde,  and  even  Henry  Sweet,  author  of  the  best  existing  gram- 
mar of  the  English  language.  In  American  the  distinction  is 
almost  lost.  No  ordinary  American,  save  after  the  most  labori- 
ous reflection,  would  detect  anything  wrong  in  this  sentence  from 
the  London  Times,  denounced  as  corrupt  by  the  Fowlers:  "We 
must  reconcile  what  we  would  like  to  do  with  what  we  can  do. ' ' 
Nor  in  this  by  W.  B.  Yeats:  "The  character  who  delights  us 
may  commit  murder  like  Macbeth  .  .  .  and  yet  we  will  rejoice 
in  every  happiness  that  comes  to  him."  Half  a  century  ago, 
impatient  of  the  effort  to  fasten  the  English  distinction  upon 
American,  George  P.  Marsh  attacked  it  as  of  "  no  logical  value  or 
significance  whatever,"  and  predicted  that  "at  no  very  distant 
day  this  verbal  quibble  will  disappear,  and  one  of  the  auxiliaries 
will  be  employed,  with  all  persons  of  the  nominative,  exclusively 
as  the  sign  of  the  future,  and  the  other  only  as  an  expression  of 
purpose  or  authority. ' ' 31  This  prophecy  has  been  substantially 
verified.  Will  is  sound  American  "with  all  persons  of  the  nom- 
inative," and  shall  is  almost  invariably  an  "expression  of  pur- 
pose or  authority. ' ' 32 

And  so,  though  perhaps  not  to  the  same  extent,  with  who  and 
whom.  Now  and  then  there  arises  a  sort  of  panicky  feeling  that 
whom  is  being  neglected,  and  so  it  is  trotted  out,33  but  in  the 

si  Quoted  by  White,  in  Words  and  Their  Uses,  pp.  264-5.  White,  how- 
ever, dissented  vigorously  and  devoted  10  pages  to  explaining  the  difference 
between  the  two  auxiliaries.  Most  of  the  other  authorities  of  the  time 
were  also  against  Marsh — for  example,  Richard  Meade  Bache  (See  hia 
Vulgarisms  and  Other  Errors  of  Speech,  p.  92  et  seq. ) .  Sir  Edmund  Head, 
governor-general  of  Canada  from  1854  to  1861,  wrote  a  whole  book  upon  the 
subject:  Shall  and  Will,  or  Two  Chapters  on  Future  Auxiliary  Verbs;  Lon- 
don, 1856. 

32  The  probable  influence  of  Irish  immigration  upon  the  American  usage 
is  not  to  be  overlooked.     Joyce  says  flatly    (English  As  We  Speak  It  ;n 
Ireland,  p.  77)   that,  "like  many  another  Irish  idiom  this  is  also  found  in 
American  society  chiefly  through  the  influence  of  the  Irish."     At  all  events, 
the  Irish  example  must  have  reinforced  it.     In  Ireland  "Will  I  light  the 
fire,  ma'am?"  is  colloquially  sound. 

33  Often  with  such  amusing  results  as  "whom  is  your  father  ?"  and  "whom 
spoke  to  me?"     The  exposure  of  excesses  of  that  sort  always  attracts  the 
wits,  especially  Franklin  P.  Adams. 


TENDENCIES   IN   AMERICAN  145 

main  the  American  language  tends  to  dispense  with  it,  at  least 
in  its  least  graceful  situations.  Noah  Webster,  always  the  prag- 
matic reformer,  denounced  it  so  long  ago  as  1783.  Common 
sense,  he  argued,  was  on  the  side  of  "who  did  he  marry?"  To- 
day such  a  form  as  "whom  are  you  talking  to?"  would  seem 
somewhat  affected  in  ordinary  discourse  in  America;  "who  are 
you  talking  to?"  is  heard  a  thousand  times  oftener — and  is 
doubly  American,  for  it  substitutes  who  for  whom  and  puts  a 
preposition  at  the  end  of  a  sentence :  two  crimes  that  most  English 
purists  would  seek  to  avoid.  It  is  among  the  pronouns  that  the 
only  remaining  case  inflections  in  English  are  to  be  found,  if  we 
forget  the  possessive,  and  even  here  these  survivors  of  an  earlier 
day  begin  to  grow  insecure.  Lounsbury's  defense  of  "it  is 
me,"  34  as  we  shall  see  in  the  next  chapter,  has  support  in  the 
history  and  natural  movement  of  the  language,  and  that  move- 
ment is  also  against  the  preservation  of  the  distinction  between 
who  and  whom.  The  common  speech  plays  hob  with  both  of  the 
orthodox  inflections,  despite  the  protests  of  grammarians,  and  in 
the  long  run,  no  doubt,  they  will  be  forced  to  yield  to  its  pressure, 
as  they  have  always  yielded  in  the  past.  Between  the  dative  and 
accusative  on  the  one  side  and  the  nominative  on  the  other  there 
has  been  war  in  the  English  language  for  centuries,  and  it  has 
always  tended  to  become  a  war  of  extermination.  Our  now  uni- 
versal use  of  you  for  ye  in  the  nominative  shows  the  dative  and 
accusative  swallowing  the  nominative,  and  the  practical  disap- 
pearance of  hither,  thither  and  whither,  whose  place  is  now  taken 
by  here,  there  and  where,  shows  a  contrary  process.  In  such 
wars  a  posse  comitatus  marches  ahead  of  the  disciplined  army. 
American  stands  to  English  in  the  relation  of  that  posse  to  that 
army.  It  is  incomparably  more  enterprising,  more  contemptu- 
ous of  precedent  and  authority,  more  impatient  of  rule. 

A  shadowy  line  often  separates  what  is  currently  coming  into 
sound  usage  from  what  is  still  regarded  as  barbarous.  No  self- 
respecting  American,  I  daresay,  would  defend  ain't  as  a  substi- 

34  "It  is  7"  is  quite  as  unsound  historically.  The  correct  form  would 
be  "it  am  I"  or  "I  am  it."  Compare  the  German:  '"ich  bin  es,"  not,  "es 
ist  ich." 


146  THE   AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

tute  for  isn't,  say  in  "he  ain't  the  man,"  and  yet  ain't  is  already 
tolerably  respectable  in  the  first  person,  where  English  counte- 
nances the  even  more  clumsy  aren't.  Aren't  has  never  got  a 
foothold  in  the  American  first  person;  when  it  is  used  at  all, 
which  is  very  rarely,  it  is  always  as  a  conscious  Briticism. 
Facing  the  alternative  of  employing  the  unwieldy  ' '  am  I  not  in 
this?"  the  American  turns  boldly  to  "ain't  I  in  this?"  It  still 
grates  a  bit,  perhaps,  but  aren't  grates  even  more.  Here,  as  al- 
ways, the  popular  speech  is  pulling  the  exacter  speech  along,  and 
no  one  familiar  with  its  successes  in  the  past  can  have  much  doubt 
that  it  will  succeed  again,  soon  or  late.  In  the  same  way  it  is 
breaking  down  the  inflectional  distinction  between  adverb  and 
adjective,  so  that  "I  feel  bad"  begins  to  take  on  the  dignity  of 
a  national  idiom,  and  sure,  to  go  big  and  run  slow  35  become  al- 
most respectable.  When,  on  the  entrance  of  the  United  States 
into  the  war,  the  Marine  Corps  chose  "treat  'em  rough"  as  its 
motto,  no  one  thought  to  raise  a  grammatical  objection,  and  the 
clipped  adverb  was  printed  upon  hundreds  of  thousands  of  pos- 
ters and  displayed  in  every  town  in  the  country,  always  with 
the  imprimatur  of  the  national  government.  So,  again,  Ameri- 
can, in  its  spoken  form,  tends  to  obliterate  the  distinction  be- 
tween nearly  related  adjectives,  e.  g.,  healthful  and  healthy, 
tasteful  and  tasty.  And  to  challenge  the  somewhat  absurd  text- 
book prohibition  of  terminal  prepositions,  so  that  ' '  where  are  we 
atf"  loses  its  old  raciness.  And  to  dally  with  the  double  nega- 
tive, as  in  "I  have  no  doubt  but  that. ' ' 36 

But  these  tendencies,  or  at  least  the  more  extravagant  of  them, 
belong  to  the  next  chapter.  How  much  influence  they  exert,  even 

ss  A  common  direction  to  motormen  and  locomotive  engineers.  The 
English  form  is  "slow  down."  I  note,  however,  that  "drive  slowZt/"  is  in 
the  taxicab  shed  at  the  Pennsylvania  Station,  in  New  York. 

so  I  quote  from  a  speech  made  by  Senator  Sherman,  of  Illinois,  in  the 
United  States  Senate  on  June  20,  1918.  Vide  Congressional  Record  for  that 
day,  p.  8743.  Two  days  later,  "There  is  no  question  but  that"  appeared 
in  a  letter  by  John  Lee  Coulter,  A.M.,  Ph.D.,  dean  of  West  Virginia 
University.  It  was  read  into  the  Record  of  June  22  by  Mr.  Ashwell,  one 
of  the  Louisiana  representatives.  Even  the  pedantic  Senator  Henry  Cabot 
Lodge,  oozing  Harvard  from  every  pore,  uses  but  that.  Vide  the  Record 
for  May  14,  1918,  p.  6996. 


TENDENCIES   IN   AMERICAN  147 

indirectly,  is  shown  by  the  American  disdain  of  the  English  pre- 
cision in  the  use  of  the  indefinite  pronoun.  I  turn  to  the  Satur- 
day Evening  Post,  and  in  two  minutes  find:  "one  feels  like  an 
atom  when  he  begins  to  review  his  own  life  and  deeds. ' ' 3T  The 
error  is  very  rare  in  English;  the  Fowlers,  seeking  examples  of 
it,  could  get  them  only  from  the  writings  of  a  third-rate  woman 
novelist,  Scotch  to  boot.  But  it  is  so  common  in  American  that 
it  scarcely  attracts  notice.  Neither  does  the  appearance  of  a  re- 
dundant s  in  such  words  as  towards,  downwards,  afterwards  and 
heavenwards.  In  England  this  s  is  used  relatively  seldom,  and 
then  it  usually  marks  a  distinction  in  meaning,  as  it  does  on  both 
sides  of  the  ocean  between  beside  and  besides.  "In  modern 
standard  English,"  says  Smith,38  "though  not  in  the  English  of 
the  United  States,  a  distinction  which  we  feel,  but  many  of  us 
could  not  define,  is  made  between  forward  and  forwards;  for- 
wards being  used  in  definite  contrast  to  any  other  direction,  as 
'if  you  move  at  all,  you  can  only  move  forwards,'  while  forward 
is  used  where  no  such  contrast  is  implied,  as  in  the  common 
phrase  '  to  bring  a  matter  forward. '  " 39  This  specific  distinc- 
tion, despite  Smith,  probably  retains  some  force  in  the  United 
States  too,  but  in  general  our  usage  allows  the  s  in  cases  where 
English  usage  would  certainly  be  against  it.  Gould,  in  the  50 's, 
noted  its  appearance  at  the  end  of  such  words  as  somewhere  and 
anyway,  and  denounced  it  as  vulgar  and  illogical.  Thornton  has 
traced  anyways  back  to  1842  and  shown  that  it  is  an  archaism, 
and  to  be  found  in  the  Book  of  Common  Prayer  (circa  1560)  ; 
perhaps  it  has  been  preserved  by  analogy  with  sideways.  Henry 
James,  in  "The  Question  of  Our  Speech,"  attacked  "such  forms 
of  impunity  as  somewheres  else  and  nowheres  else,  a  good  ways 
on  and  a  good  ways  off"  as  "vulgarisms  with  what  a  great  deal 
of  general  credit  for  what  we  good-naturedly  call  'refinement' 
appears  so  able  to  coexist. ' ' 40  Towards  and  afterwards,  though 
frowned  upon  in  England,  are  now  quite  sound  in  American.  I 

37  June  15,  1918,  p.  62. 
3«  The  English  Language,  p.  79. 

39  This  phrase,  of  course,  is  a  Briticism,  and  seldom  used  in  America. 
The  American  form  is  "to  take  a  matter  up." 
«  P.  30. 


148  THE    AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

find  the  former  in  the  title  of  an  article  in  Dialect  Notes,  which 
plainly  gives  it  scholastic  authority.41  More  (and  with  no  little 
humor),  I  find  it  in  the  deed  of  a  fund  given  to  the  American 
Academy  of  Arts  and  Letters  to  enable  the  gifted  philologs  of 
that  sanhedrin  "to  consider  its  duty  towards  the  conservation  of 
the  English  language  in  its  beauty  and  purity. ' ' 42  Both  to- 
wards and  afterwards,  finally,  are  included  in  the  New  York 
Evening  Post's  list  of  "words  no  longer  disapproved  when  in 
their  proper  places,"  along  with  over  for  more  than,  and  during 
for  in  the  course  of. 

In  the  last  chapter  we  glanced  at  several  salient  differences 
between  the  common  coin  of  English  and  the  common  coin  of 
American — that  is,  the  verbs  and  adjectives  in  constant  collo- 
quial use — the  rubber-stamps,  so  to  speak,  of  the  two  languages. 
America  has  two  adverbs  that  belong  to  the  same  category. 
They  are  right  and  good.  Neither  holds  the  same  place  in  Eng- 
lish. Thornton  shows  that  the  use  of  right,  as  in  right  away, 
right  good  and  right  now,  was  already  widespread  in  the  United 
States  early  in  the  last  century;  his  first  example  is  dated  1818. 
He  believes  that  the  locution  was  "possibly  imported  from  the 
southwest  of  Ireland. ' '  Whatever  its  origin,  it  quickly  attracted 
the  attention  of  English  visitors.  Dickens  noted  right  away  as 
an  almost  universal  Americanism  during  his  first  American  tour, 
in  1842,  and  poked  fun  at  it  in  the  second  chapter  of  "American 
Notes."  Right  is  used  as  a  synonym  for  directly,  as  in  right 
away,  right  off,  right  now  and  right  on  time;  for  moderately,  as 
in  right  well,  right  smart,  right  good  and  right  often,  and  in 
place  of  precisely,  as  in  right  there.  Some  time  ago,  in  an  article 
on  Americanisms,  an  English  critic  called  it  "that  most  distinc- 
tively American  word, ' '  and  concocted  the  following  dialogue  to 
instruct  the  English  in  its  use : 

How  do  I  get  to *? 

Go  right  along1,  and  take  the  first  turning  (sic)  on  the  right,  and 
you  are  right  there. 

41  A  Contribution  Towards,  etc.,  by  Prof.  H.  Tallichet,  vol.  1,  pt.  iv. 

42  Yale  Review,  April,  1918,  p.  545. 


TENDENCIES   IN   AMEEICAN  149 

Eight? 
Right. 
Eight!43 

Like  W.  L.  George,  this  Englishman  failed  in  his  attempt  to 
write  correct  American  despite  his  fine  pedagogical  passion.  No 
American  would  ever  say  "take  the  first  turning";  he  would  say 
"turn  at  the  first  corner."  As  for  right  away,  R.  0.  Williams 
argues  that  "so  far  as  analogy  can  make  good  English,  it  is  as 
good  as  one  could  choose. ' '  **  Nevertheless,  the  Oxford  Diction- 
ary admits  it  only  as  an  Americanism,  and  avoids  all  mention  of 
the  other  American  uses  of  right  as  an  adverb.  Good  is  almost 
as  protean.  It  is  not  only  used  as  a  general  synonym  for  all 
adjectives  and  adverbs  connoting  satisfaction,  as  in  to  feel  good, 
to  be  treated  good,  to  sleep  good,  but  also  as  a  reinforcement  to 
other  adjectives  and  adverbs,  as  in  "I  hit  him  good  and  hard" 
and  "I  am  good  and  tired."  Of  late  some  has  come  into  wide 
use  as  an  adjective-adverb  of  all  work,  indicating  special  excel- 
lence or  high  degree,  as  in  some  girl,  some  sick,  going  some,  etc. 
It  is  still  below  the  salt,  but  threatens  to  reach  a  more  respectable 
position.  One  encounters  it  in  the  newspapers  constantly  and 
in  the  Congressional  Record,  and  not  long  ago  a  writer  in  the 
Atlantic  Monthly  45  hymned  it  ecstatically  as  "some  word — a  true 
super-word,  in  fact"  and  argued  that  it  could  be  used  "in  a  sense 
for  which  there  is  absolutely  no  synonym  in  the  dictionary." 
Basically,  it  appears  to  be  an  adjective,  but  in  many  of  its  com- 
mon situations  the  grammarians  would  probably  call  it  an  adverb. 
It  gives  no  little  support  to  the  growing  tendency,  already  no- 
ticed, to  break  down  the  barrier  between  the  two  parts  of  speech. 


§4 

Foreign  Influences  Today — No  other  great  nation  of  today 
supports  so  large  a  foreign  population  as  the  United  States, 

43  I  Speak  United  States,  Saturday  Review,  Sept.  22,  1894. 

44  Our  Dictionaries,  pp.  84-86. 

45  Should  Language  Be  Abolished?  by  Harold  Goddard,  Atlantic  Monthly, 
July,   1918,  p.   63. 


150  THE    AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

either  relatively  or  absolutely ;  none  other  contains  so  many  for- 
eigners forced  to  an  effort,  often  ignorant  and  ineffective,  to 
master  the  national  language.  Since  1820  nearly  35,000,000 
immigrants  have  come  into  the  country,  and  of  them  probably 
not  10,000,000  brought  any  preliminary  acquaintance  with  Eng- 
lish with  them.  The  census  of  1910  showed  that  nearly  1,500,000 
persons  then  living  permanently  on  American  soil  could  not 
speak  it  at  all ;  that  more  than  13,000,000  had  been  born  in  other 
countries,  chiefly  of  different  language ;  and  that  nearly  20,000,- 
000  were  the  children  of  such  immigrants,  and  hence  under  the 
influence  of  their  speech  habits.  Altogether,  there  were  prob- 
ably at  least  25,000,000  whose  house  language  was  not  the  vul- 
gate,  and  who  thus  spoke  it  in  competition  with  some  other  lan- 
guage. No  other  country  houses  so  many  aliens.  In  Great  Brit- 
ain the  alien  population,  for  a  century  past,  has  never  been  more 
than  2  per  cent  of  the  total  population,  and  since  the  passage 
of  the  Alien  Act  of  1905  it  has  tended  to  decline  steadily.  In 
Germany,  in  1910,  there  were  but  1,259,873  aliens  in  a  popula- 
tion of  more  than  60,000,000,  and  of  these  nearly  a  half  were 
German-speaking  Austrians  and  Swiss.  In  France,  in  1906, 
there  were  1,000,000  foreigners  in  a  population  of  39,000,000  and 
a  third  of  them  were  French-speaking  Belgians,  Luxembourgeois 
and  Swiss.  In  Italy,  in  1911,  there  were  but  350,000  in  a  popu- 
lation of  35,000,000. 

TTiis  large  and  constantly  reinforced  admixture  of  foreigners 
has  naturally  exerted  a  constant  pressure  upon  the  national  lan- 
guage, for  the  majority  of  them,  at  least  in  the  first  generation, 
have  found  it  quite  impossible  to  acquire  it  in  any  purity,  and 
even  their  children  have  grown  up  with  speech  habits  differing 
radically  from  those  of  correct  English.  The  effects  of  this  pres- 
sure are  obviously  two-fold ;  on  the  one  hand  the  foreigner,  strug- 
gling with  a  strange  and  difficult  tongue,  makes  efforts  to  sim- 
plify it  as  much  as  possible,  and  so  strengthens  the  native  tend- 
ency to  disregard  all  niceties  and  complexities,  and  on  the  other 
hand  he  corrupts  it  with  words  and  locutions  from  the  language 
he  has  brought  with  him,  and  sometimes  with  whole  idioms  and 
grammatical  forms.  We  have  seen,  in  earlier  chapters,  how  the 


151 

Dutch  and  French  of  colonial  days  enriched  the  vocabulary  of 
the  colonists,  how  the  German  immigrants  of  the  first  half  of  the 
nineteenth  century  enriched  it  still  further,  and  how  the  Irish  of 
the  same  period  influenced  its  everyday  usages.  The  same  proc- 
ess is  still  going  on.  The  Italians,  the  Slavs,  and,  above  all,  the 
Russian  Jews,  make  steady  contributions  to  the  American  vocab- 
ulary and  idiom,  and  though  these  contributions  are  often  con- 
cealed by  quick  and  complete  naturalization  their  foreignness  to 
English  remains  none  the  less  obvious.  /  should  worry,*6  in  its 
way,  is  correct  English,  but  in  essence  it  is  as  completely  Yid- 
dish as  kosher,  ganof,  schadchen,  oi-yoi,  matzoh  or  mazuma*'' 
Black-hand,  too,  is  English  in  form,  but  it  is  nevertheless  as 
plainly  an  Italian  loan-word  as  spaghetti,  mafia  or  padrone. 

The  extent  of  such  influences  upon  American,  and  particularly 
upon  spoken  American,  remains  to  be  studied ;  in  the  whole  liter- 
ature I  can  find  but  one  formal  article  upon  the  subject.  That 
article 48  deals  specifically  with  the  suffix  -fest,  which  came  into 
American  from  the  German  and  was  probably  suggested  by  fa- 
miliarity with  sdngerfest.  There  is  no  mention  of  it  in  any  of 
the  dictionaries  of  Americanisms,  and  yet,  in  such  forms  as  talk- 
fest  and  gabfest  it  is  met  with  almost  daily.  So  with  -heimer, 
-inski  and  -bund.  Several  years  ago  -heimer  had  a  great  vogue 
in  slang,  and  was  rapidly  done  to  death.  But  unseheimer  re- 

4*5  In  Yiddish,  ish  ka  bibble.  The  origin  and  meaning  of  the  phrase 
have  been  variously  explained.  The  prevailing  notion  seems  to  be  that  it  is 
a  Yiddish  corruption  of  the  German  nicht  gefiedelt  (—  not  fiddled  =  not 
flustered).  But  this  seems  to  me  to  be  fanciful.  To  the  Jews  ish  is  ob- 
viously the  first  personal  pronoun  and  kaa  probably  corruption  of  kann. 
As  for  bibble  I  siispect  that  it  is  the  offspring  of  bedibbert  (—  embarrassed, 
intimidated).  The  phrase  thus  has  an  ironical  meaning,  /  should  be  embar- 
rassed, almost  precisely  equivalent  to  /  should  worry.  * 

4?  All  of  which,  of  course,  are  coming  into  American,  along  with  many 
other  Yiddish  words.  These  words  tend  to  spread  far  beyond  the  areas 
actually  settled  by  Jews.  Thus  I  find  mazuma  in  A  Word-List  from  Kansas, 
from  the  collectanea  of  Judge  J.  C.  Ruppenthal,  of  Russell,  Kansas,  Dialect 
Notes,  vol.  iv.  pt.  v,  1916,  p.  322. 

48  Louise  Pound:  Domestication  of  the  Suffix  -fest,  Dialect  Notes,  vol.  iv, 
pt.  v,  1916.  Dr.  Pound,  it  should  be  mentioned,  has  also  printed  a  brief 
note  on  -inski.  Her  observation  of  American  is  peculiarly  alert  and  ac- 
curate. 


152  THE   AMERICAN  LANGUAGE 

mains  in  colloquial  use  as  a  facetious  synonym  for  smart-aleck, 
and  after  awhile  it  may  gradually  acquire  dignity.  Far  lowlier 
words,  in  fact,  have  worked  their  way  in.  Buttinski,  perhaps,  is 
going  the  same  route.  As  for  the  words  in  -bund,  many  of  them 
are  already  almost  accepted.  Plunder-bund  is  now  at  least  as 
good  as  park-barrel  and  slush-fund,  and  money-bund  is  frequently 
heard  in  Congress.49  Such  locutions  creep  in  stealthily,  and  are 
secure  before  they  are  suspected.  Current  slang,  out  of  which 
the  more  decorous  language  dredges  a  large  part  of  its  raw  ma- 
terials, is  full  of  them.  Nix  and  nixy,  for  no,  are  debased  forms 
of  the  German  nichts;  aber  nit,  once  as  popular  as  camouflage,  is 
obviously  aber  nicht.  And  a  steady  flow  of  nouns,  all  needed  to 
designate  objects  introduced  by  immigrants,  enriches  the  vocab- 
ulary. The  Hungarians  not  only  brought  their  national  condi- 
ment with  them;  they  also  brought  its  name,  paprika,  and  that 
name  is  now  thoroughly  American.50  In  the  same  way  the  Ital- 
ians brought  in  camorra,  padrone,  spaghetti  and  a  score  of  other 
substantives,  and  the  Jews  made  contributions  from  Yiddish  and 
Hebrew  and  greatly  reinforced  certain  old  borrowings  from  Ger- 
man. Once  such  a  loan-word  gets  in  it  takes  firm  root.  During 
the  first  year  of  American  participation  in  the  World  War  an 
effort  was  made,  on  patriotic  grounds,  to  substitute  liberty-cab- 
bage for  sour-kraut,  but  it  quickly  failed,  for  the  name  had  be- 
come as  completely  Americanized  as  the  thing  itself,  and  so 
liberty-cabbage  seemed  affected  and  absurd.  In  the  same  way 
a  great  many  other  German  words  survived  the  passions  of  the 
time.  Nor  could  all  the  influence  of  the  professional  patriots 
obliterate  that  German  influence  which  has  fastened  upon  the 
American  yes  something  of  the  quality  of  ja. 

Constant  familiarity  with  such  contributions  from  foreign  lan- 
guages and  with  the  general  speech  habits  of  foreign  peoples  has 
made  American  a  good  deal  more  hospitable  to  loan-words  than 
English,  even  in  the  absence  of  special  pressure.  Let  the  same 

49  For  example,  see  the  Congressional  Record  for  April  3,  1918,  p.  4928. 

so  Paprika  is  in  the  Standard  Dictionary,  but  I  have  been  unable  to  find 
it  in  any  English  dictionary.  Another  such  word  is  kimono,  from  the 
Japanese. 


TENDENCIES   IN   AMERICAN  153 

word  knock  at  the  gates  of  the  two  languages,  and  American  will 
admit  it  more  readily,  and  give  it  at  once  a  wider  and  more  inti- 
mate currency.  Examples  are  afforded  by  cafe,  vaudeville,  em- 
ploye, boulevard,  cabaret,  toilette,  expose,  kindergarten,  depot, 
fete  and  menu.  Cafe,  in  American,  is  a  word  of  much  larger  and 
more  varied  meaning  than  in  English  and  is  used  much  more 
frequently,  and  by  many  more  persons.  So  is  employe,  in  the 
naturalized  form  of  employee.  So  is  toilet:  we  have  even  seen  it 
as  a  euphemism  for  native  terms  that  otherwise  would  be  in  daily 
use.  So  is  kindergarten:  I  read  lately  of  a  kindergarten  for  the 
elementary  instruction  of  conscripts.  Such  words  are  not  un- 
known to  the  Englishman,  but  when  he  uses  them  it  is  with  a 
plain  sense  of  their  foreignness.  In  American  they  are  com- 
pletely naturalized,  as  is  shown  by  the  spelling  and  pronuncia- 
tion of  most  of  them.  An  American  would  no  more  think  of 
attempting  the  French  pronunciation  of  depot  or  of  putting  the 
French  accents  upon  it  than  he  would  think  of  spelling  toilet 
with  the  final  te  or  of  essaying  to  pronounce  Anheuser  in  the 
German  manner.  Often  curious  battles  go  on  between  such  loan- 
words and  their  English  equivalents,  and  with  varying  fortunes. 
In  1895  Weber  and  Fields  tried  to  establish  music-hall  in  New 
York,  but  it  quickly  succumbed  to  vaudeville-theatre,  as  variety 
had  succumbed  to  vaudeville  before  it.  In  the  same  way  lawn- 
fete  (without  the  circumflex  accent,  and  commonly  pronounced 
feet)  has  elbowed  out  the  English  garden-party.  But  now  and 
then,  when  the  competing  loan-word  happens  to  violate  American 
speech  habits,  a  native  term  ousts  it.  The  French  creche  offers 
an  example;  it  has  been  entirely  displaced  by  day-nursery. 

The  English,  in  this  matter,  display  their  greater  conservatism 
very  plainly.  Even  when  a  loan-word  enters  both  English  and 
American  simultaneously  a  sense  of  foreignness  lingers  about  it 
on  the  other  side  of  the  Atlantic  much  longer  than  on  this  side, 
and  it  is  used  with  far  more  self-consciousness.  The  word 
matinee  offers  a  convenient  example.  To  this  day  the  English 
commonly  print  it  in  italics,  give  it  its  French  accent,  and  pro- 
nounce it  with  some  attempt  at  the  French  manner.  But  in 
America  it  is  entirely  naturalized,  and  the  most  ignorant  man 


154  THE   AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

uses  it  without  any  feeling  that  it  is  strange.  The  same  lack  of 
any  sense  of  linguistic  integrity  is  to  be  noticed  in  many  other 
directions — for  example,  in  the  freedom  with  which  the  Latin  per 
is  used  with  native  nouns.  One  constantly  sees  per  day,  per 
dozen,  per  hundred,  per  mile,  etc.,  in  American  newspapers,  even 
the  most  careful,  but  in  England  the  more  seemly  a  is  almost 
always  used,  or  the  noun  itself  is  made  Latin,  as  in  per  diem. 
Per,  in  fact,  is  fast  becoming  an  everyday  American  word.  Such 
phrases  as  "as  per  your  letter  (or  order)  of  the  15th  inst."  are 
incessantly  met  with  in  business  correspondence.  The  same 
greater  hospitality  is  shown  by  the  readiness  with  which  various 
un-English  prefixes  and  affixes  come  into  fashion,  for  example, 
super-  and  -itis.  The  English  accept  them  gingerly ;  the  Ameri- 
cans take  them  in  with  enthusiasm,  and  naturalize  them  in- 
stanter.51 

The  same  deficiency  in  reserve  is  to  be  noted  in  nearly  all  other 
colonialized  dialects.  The  Latin- American  variants  of  Spanish, 
for  example,  have  adopted  a  great  many  words  which  appear  in 
true  Castilian  only  as  occasional  guests.  Thus  in  Argentina 
matinee,  menu,  debut,  toilette  and  femme  de  chambre  are  per- 
fectly good  Argentine,  and  in  Mexico  sandwich  and  club  have 
been  thoroughly  naturalized.  The  same  thing  is  to  be  noted  in 
the  French  of  Haiti,  in  the  Portuguese  of  Brazil,  and  even  in  the 
Danish  of  Norway.  Once  a  language  spreads  beyond  the  country 
of  its  origin  and  begins  to  be  used  by  people  born,  in  the  German 
phrase,  to  a  different  Sprachgefilhl,  the  sense  of  loyalty  to  its 
vocabulary  is  lost,  along  with  the  instinctive  feeling  for  its  idio- 
matic habits.  How  far  this  destruction  of  its  forms  may  go  in 
the  absence  of  strong  contrary  influences  is  exhibited  by  the  rise 
of  the  Romance  languages  from  the  vulgar  Latin  of  the  Roman 
provinces,  and,  here  at  home,  by  the  decay  of  foreign  languages 
in  competition  with  English.  The  Yiddish  that  the  Jews  from 
Russia  bring  in  is  German  debased  with  Russian,  Polish  and  He- 
si  Cf.  Vogue  Affixes  in  Present-Day  Word-Coinage,  by  Louise  Pound, 
Dialect  Notes,  vol.  v,  pt.  i,  1918.  Dr.  Pound  ascribes  the  vogue  of  super- 
to  German  influences,  and  is  inclined  to  think  that  -dom  may  be  helped  by 
the  German  -thum. 


TENDENCIES   IN   AMERICAN  155 

brew;  in  America,  it  quickly  absorbs  hundreds  of  words  and 
idioms  from  the  speech  of  the  streets.  Various  conflicting  Ger- 
man dialects,  among  the  so-called  Pennsylvania  Dutch  and  in  the 
German  areas  of  the  Northwest,  combine  in  a  patois  that,  in  its 
end  forms,  shows  almost  as  much  English  as  German.  Classical 
examples  of  it  are  "es  giebt  gar  kein  use,"  "Ich  kann  es  nicht 
standen"  and  "mem  stallion  hat  iiber  die  fenz  gescheumpt  und 
dem  nachbar  sein  whiet  abscheulich  geddmdtscht."  52  The  use  of 
gleiche  for  to  like,  by  false  analogy  from  gleich  (==  like,  similar) 
is  characteristic.  In  the  same  way  the  Scandinavians  in  the 
Northwest  corrupt  their  native  Swedish  and  Dano-Norwegian. 
Thus,  American-Norwegian  is  heavy  with  such  forms  as  strit-kar, 
reit-eve,  nekk-toi  and  staits-pruessen,  for  street-car,  right  away, 
necktie  and  states-prison,  and  admits  such  phrases  as  "det  meka 
ingen  difrens. ' ' S3 

The  changes  that  Yiddish  has  undergone  in  America,  though 
rather  foreign  to  the  present  inquiry,  are  interesting  enough  to 
be  noticed.  First  of  all,  it  has  admitted  into  its  vocabulary  a 
large  number  of  everyday  substantives,  among  them  boy,  chair, 
window,  carpet,  floor,  dress,  hat,  watch,  ceiling,  consumption, 
property,  trouble,  bother,  match,  change,  party,  birthday,  pic- 
ture, paper  (only  in  the  sense  of  newspaper),  gambler,  show,  hall, 
kitchen,  store,  bedroom,  key,  mantelpiece,  closet,  lounge,  broom, 
tablecloth,  paint,  landlord,  fellow,  tenant,  shop,  wages,  foreman, 
sleeve,  cottar,  cuff,  button,  cotton,  thimble,  needle,  pocket,  bar- 
gain, sale,  remnant,  sample,  haircut,  razor,  waist,  basket,  school, 
scholar,  teacher,  baby,  mustache,  butcher,  grocery,  dinner,  street 
and  walk.  And  with  them  many  characteristic  Americanisms, 

52  Vide  Pennsylvania  Dutch,   by   S.    S.   Haldeman;    Philadelphia,    1872. 
Also,   The   Pennsylvania   German   Dialect,   by   M.   D.   Learned;    Baltimore, 
1889.     Also  Die  Zukunft  deutscher  Bildung  in  Amerika,  by  O.  E.  Lessing, 
Monatshefte  fur  deutsche  Sprache  und  Pedagogik,  Dec.,  1916.     Also,  Where 
Do  You  Stand?  by  Herman  Hagedorn;  New  York,  1918,  pp.  106-7.     Also, 
On  the  German  Dialect  Spoken  in  the  Valley  of  Virginia,  by  H.  M.  Hays, 
Dialect  Notes,  vol.  iii,  pt.  iv,  1908,  pp.  263-78. 

53  Vide  Notes  on  American-Norwegian,  by  Nils  Flaten,  Dialect  Notes,  vol. 
ii,  1900.     Also,  for  similar  corruptions,  The  Jersey  Dutch  Dialect,  by  J. 
Dyneley  Prince,  ibid.,  vol.  iii,  pt.  vi,  1910,  pp.  461-84.     Also,  see  under 
Hempl,  Flom,  Bibaud,  Buies  and  A.  M.  Elliott  in  the  bibliography. 


156  THE   AMERICAN  LANGUAGE 

for  example,  bluffer,  faker,  boodler,  grafter,  gangster,  crook,  guy, 
kike,  piker,  squealer,  bum,  cadet,  boom,  bunch,  pants,  vest,  loafer, 
jumper,  sloop,  saleslady,  ice-box  and  raise,  with  their  attendant 
verbs  and  adjectives.  These  words  are  used  constantly ;  many  of 
them  have  quite  crowded  out  the  corresponding  Yiddish  words. 
For  example,  ingel,  meaning  boy  (it  is  a  Slavic  loan-word  in  Yid- 
dish) ,  has  been  obliterated  by  the  English  word.  A  Jewish  im- 
migrant almost  invariably  refers  to  his  son  as  his  boy,  though 
strangely  enough  he  calls  his  daughter  his  meideL  '  *  Die  boys  mit 
die  meidlach  haben  a  good  time"  is  excellent  American  Yiddish. 
In  the  same  way  fenster  has  been  completely  displaced  by  «?i»- 
dow,  though  t ur  (==  door)  has  been  left  intact.  Tisch  (=  table) 
also  remains,  but  chair  is  always  used,  probably  because  few  of 
the  Jews  had  chairs  in  the  old  country.  There  the  beinkel,  a 
bench  without  a  back,  was  in  use ;  chairs  were  only  for  the  well- 
to-do.  ~Floor  has  apparently  prevailed  because  no  invariable  cor- 
responding word  was  employed  at  home :  in  various  parts  of  Rus- 
sia and  Poland  a  floor  is  a  dill,  a  podlogc,  or  a  bricke.  So  with 
ceiling.  There  were  six  different  words  for  it. 

Yiddish  inflections  have  been  fastened  upon  most  of  these  loan- 
words. Thus,  "er  hat  ihm  abgefaked"  is  "he  cheated  him,"  eu- 
bumt  is  the  American  gone  to  the  bad,  fix'n  is  to  fix,  usen  is  to 
use,  and  so  on.  The  feminine  and  diminutive  suffix  -ke  is  often 
added  to  nouns.  Thus  bluffer  gives  rise  to  bluff  erke  (=  hypo- 
crite), and  one  also  notes  dresskf,  hatks,  watchke  and  bummerke. 
"Oil  is  sie  a  bluff  erke!"  is  good  American  Yiddish  for  "isn't 
she  a  hypocrite!"  The  suffix  -nickt  signifying  agency,  is  also 
freely  applied.  Attrightnick  means  an  upstart,  an  offensive 
boaster,  one  of  whom  his  fellows  would  say  "He  is  all  right" 
with  a  sneer.  Similarly,  consumptionick  means  a  victim  of  tuber- 
culosis. Other  suffixes  are  -chick  and  -ige,  the  first  exemplified 
in  boy  chick,  a  diminutive  of  boy,  and  the  second  in  next-doorige, 
meaning  the  woman  next-door,  an  important  person  in  ghetto 
social  life.  Some  of  the  loan-words,  of  course,  undergo  changes 
on  Yiddish-speaking  lips.  Thus,  landlord  becomes  lendler, 
lounge  becomes  lunch,  tenant  becomes  tenner,  and  whiskers  loses 
its  final  *.  "  Wie  gefallt  dir  sein  whiskerf "  (=  how  do  you  like 


TENDENCIES   IN   AMERICAN  157 

his  beard?)  is  good  Yiddish,  ironically  intended.  Fellow,  of 
course,  changes  to  the  American  fetter,  as  in  "Rosie  hat  schon  a 
feller"  (=  Rosie  has  got  a  feller,  i.  e.,  a  sweetheart).  Show,  in 
the  sense  of  chance,  is  used  constantly,  as  in  "git  ihm  a  show" 
(=  give  him  a  chance).  Bad  boy  is  adopted  bodily,  as  in  "er  is 
a  bad  boy."  To  shut  up  is  inflected  as  one  word,  as  in  "er  hat 
nit  gewolt  shutup'n  (=he  wouldn't  shut  up).  To  catch  is  used 
in  the  sense  of  to  obtain,  as  in  "  catch  'n  a  gmilath  chesed"  (=  to 
raise  a  loan).  Here,  by  the  way,  gmilath  chesed  is  excellent 
Biblical  Hebrew.  To  bluff,  unchanged  in  form,  takes  on  the  new 
meaning  of  to  lie :  a  bluffer  is  a  liar.  Scores  of  American  phrases 
are  in  constant  use,  among  them,  all  right,  never  mind,  I  bet  you, 
no  sir  and  I'll  fix  you.  It  is  curious  to  note  that  sure  Mike,  bor- 
rowed by  the  American  vulgate  from  Irish  English,  has  gone  over 
into  American  Yiddish.  Finally,  to  make  an  end,  here  are  two 
complete  and  characteristic  American  Yiddish  sentences:  "Sie 
wet  clean' n  die  rooms,  scrub' n  dem  floor,  wash'n  die  windows, 
dress 'n  dem  boy  und  gehn  in  butcher-store  und  in  grocery.  Der- 
noch  vet  sie  machen  dinner  und  gehn  in  street  fur  a  walk.6* 

American  itself,  in  the  Philippines,  and  to  a  lesser  extent  in 
Porto  Rico  and  on  the  Isthmus,  has  undergone  similar  changes 
under  the  influence  of  Spanish  and  the  native  dialects.  Maurice 
P.  Dunlap  55  offers  the  following  specimen  of  a  conversation  be- 
tween two  Americans  long  resident  in  Manila : 

Hola,  amigo. 
Komusta  kayo. 

Porque  were  you  hablaing  with  ese  senoritaf 
She  wanted  a  job  as  lavandera. 
Cuanto? 

Ten  cents,  conant,  a  piece,  so  I  told  her  no  kerry. 
Have  you  had  chow?    Well,  spera  till  I  sign  this  chit  and  I'll  take 
a  paseo  with  you. 

5*  For  all  these  examples  of  American  Yiddish  I  am  indebted  to  the 
kindness  of  Abraham  Cahan,  editor  of  the  Jewish  Daily  Forward.  Mr. 
Cahan  is  not  only  editor  of  the  chief  Yiddish  newspaper  of  the  United 
States,  but  also  an  extraordinarily  competent  writer  of  English,  as  his 
novel,  The  Rise  of  David  Levinsky,  demonstrates. 

ss  What  Americans  Talk  in  the  Philippines,  American  Review  of  Reviews, 
Aug.,  1913. 


158  THE   AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

Here  we  have  an  example  of  Philippine  American  that  shows 
all  the  tendencies  of  American  Yiddish.  It  retains  the  general 
forms  of  American,  but  in  the  short  conversation,  embracing  but 
41  different  words,  there  are  eight  loan-words  from  the  Spanish 
(Kola,  amigo,  porque,  ese,  senorita,  lavandera,  cuanto  and  paseo), 
two  Spanish  locutions  in  a  debased  form  (spera  for  espera  and 
no  kerry  for  no  quiro),  two  loan-words  from  the  Taglog  (komusta 
and  kayo),  two  from  Pigeon  English  (chow  and  chit),  one  Philip- 
pine-American localism  (conant),  and  a  Spanish  verb  with  an 
English  inflection  (hablaing). 

^The  immigrant  in  the  midst  of  a  large  native  population,  of 
course,  exerts  no  such  pressure  upon  the  national  language  as 
that  exerted  upon  an  immigrant  language  by  the  native,  but 
nevertheless  his  linguistic  habits  and  limitations  have  to  be  reck- 
oned with  in  dealing  with  him,  and  the  concessions  thus  made 
necessary  have  a  very  ponderable  influence  upon  the  general 
speech.  In  the  usual  sense,  as  we  have  seen,  there  are  no  dialects 
in  American ;  two  natives,  however  widely  their  birthplaces  may 
be  separated,  never  have  any  practical  difficulty  understanding 
each  other.  But  there  are  at  least  quasi-dialects  among  the 
immigrants — the  Irish,  the  German,  the  Scandinavian,  the  Ital- 
ian, the  Jewish,  and  so  on — and  these  quasi-dialects  undoubtedly 
leave  occasional  marks,  not  only  upon  the  national  vocabulary, 
but  also  upon  the  general  speech  habits  of  the  country,  as  in  the 
case,  for  example,  of  the  pronunciation  of  yes,  already  mentioned, 
and  in  that  of  the  substitution  of  the  diphthong  oi  for  the  'Mr- 
sound  in  such  words  as  world,  journal  and  burn — a  Yiddishism 
now  almost  universal  among  the  lower  classes  of  New  York,  and 
threatening  to  spread.56  More  important,  however,  is  the  sup- 
port given  to  a  native  tendency  by  the  foreigner's  incapacity  for 
employing  (or  even  comprehending)  syntax  of  any  complexity,  or 

words  not  of  the  simplest.  This  is  the  tendency  toward  succinct- 
t  ' 

s«  Cf.  The  English  of  the  Lower  Classes  in  New  York  City  and  Vicinity, 
Dialect  Notes,  vol.  i,  pt.  ix,  1896.  It  is  curious  to  note  that  the  same 
corruption  occurs  in  the  Spanish  spoken  in  Santo  Domingo.  The  Domini- 
cans thus  change  porque  into  poique.  Cf.  Santo  Domingo,  by  Otto  Schoen- 
rich;  New  York,  1918,  p.  172.  See  also  High  School  Circular  No.  17,  Dept. 
of  Education,  City  of  New  York,  June  19,  1912,  p.  6. 


TENDENCIES   IN   AMERICAN  159 

ness  and  clarity,  at  whatever  sacrifice  of  grace.  One  English 
observer,  Sidney  Low,  puts  the  chief  blame  for  the  general  ex- 
plosiveness  of  American  upon  the  immigrant,  who  must  be  com- 
municated with  in  the  plainest  words  available,  and  is  not  socially 
worthy  of  the  suavity  of  circumlocution  anyhow.57  In  his  turn 
the  immigrant  seizes  upon  these  plainest  words  as  upon  a  sort  of 
convenient  Lingua  Franca — his  quick  adoption  of  damn  as  a  uni- 
versal adjective  is  traditional — and  throws  his  influence  upon  the 
side  of  the  underlying  speech  habit  when  he  gets  on  in  the  vul- 
gate.  Many  characteristic  Americanisms  of  the  sort  to  stagger 
lexicographers — for  example,  near-silk — have  come  from  the 
Jews,  whose  progress  in  business  is  a  good  deal  faster  than  their 
progress  in  English.  Others,  as  we  have  seen,  have  come  from 
the  German  immigrants  of  half  a  century  ago,  from  the  so-called 
Pennsylvania  Dutch  (who  are  notoriously  ignorant  and  uncouth), 
and  from  the  Irish,  who  brought  with  them  a  form  of  English 
already  very  corrupt.  The  same  and  similar  elements  greatly 
reinforce  the  congenital  tendencies  of  the  dialect — toward  the 
facile  manufacture  of  compounds,  toward  a  disregard  of  the  dis- 
tinctions between  parts  of  speech,  and,  above  all,  toward  the 
throwing  off  of  all  etymological  restraints. 

§5 

Processes  of  Word  Formation — Some  of  these  tendencies,  it 
has  been  pointed  out,  go  back  to  the  period  of  the  first  growth  of 
American,  and  were  inherited  from  the  English  of  the  time. 
They  are  the  products  of  a  movement  which,  reaching  its  height 
in  the  English  of  Elizabeth,  was  dammed  up  at  home,  so  to  speak, 
by  the  rise  of  linguistic  self -consciousness  toward  the  end  of  the 
reign  of  Anne,  but  continued  almost  unobstructed  in  the  colonies. 
For  example,  there  is  what  philologists  call  the  habit  of  back- 
formation — a  sort  of  instinctive  search,  etymologically  unsound, 
for  short  roots  in  long  words.  This  habit,  in  Restoration  days, 
precipitated  a  quasi-English  word,  mobile,  from  the  Latin  mobile 

"The  American  People,  2  vols.;  New  York,  1909-11,  vol.  ii,  pp.  449-50. 
For  a  discussion  of  this  effect  of  contact  with  foreigners  upon  a  language 
see  also  Beach-la-Mar,  by  William  Churchill;  Washington,  1911,  p.  11  et  seq. 


160  THE    AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

vulgus,  and  in  the  days  of  William  and  Mary  it  went  a  step  fur- 
ther by  precipitating  mob  from  mobile.  Mob  is  now  sound  Eng- 
lish, but  in  the  eighteenth  century  it  was  violently  attacked  by 
the  new  sect  of  purists,58  and  though  it  survived  their  onslaught 
they  undoubtedly  greatly  impeded  the  formation  and  adoption 
of  other  words  of  the  same  category.  But  in  the  colonies  the 
process  went  on  unimpeded,  save  for  the  feeble  protests  of  such 
stray  pedants  as  Witherspoon  and  Boucher.  Rattler  for  rattle- 
snake, pike  for  turnpike,  draw  for  drawbridge,  coon  for  raccoon, 
possum  for  opossum,  cuss  for  customer,  cute  for  acute,  squash  for 
askutasquash — these  American  back-formations  are  already  an- 
tique ;  Sabbaday  for  Sabbath-day  has  actually  reached  the  dignity 
of  an  archaism.  To  this  day  they  are  formed  in  great  numbers ; 
scarcely  a  new  substantive  of  more  than  two  syllables  comes  in 
without  bringing  one  in  its  wake.  We  have  thus  witnessed, 
within  the  past  two  years,  the  genesis  of  scores  now  in  wide  use 
and  fast  taking  on  respectability;  phone  for  telephone,  gas  for 
gasoline,  co-ed  for  co-educational,  pop  for  populist,  frat  for  fra- 
ternity, gym  for  gymnasium,  movie  for  moving-picture,  prep- 
school  for  preparatory-school,  auto  for  automobile,  aero  for  aero- 
plane. Some  linger  on  the  edge  of  vulgarity :  pep  for  pepper,  flu 
for  influenza,  plute  for  plutocrat,  pen  for  penitentiary,  con  for 
confidence  (as  in  com*man,  con-game  and  to  con),  convict  and 
consumption,  defi  for  defiance,  beaut  for  beauty,  rep  for  reputa- 
tion, stenog  for  stenographer,  ambish  for  ambition,  vag  for  va- 
grant, champ  for  champion,  pard  for  partner,  coke  for  cocaine, 
simp  for  simpleton,  diff  for  difference.  Others  are  already  in 
perfectly  good  usage :  smoker  for  smoking-car,  diner  for  dining- 
car,  sleeper  for  sleeping-car,  oleo  for  oleomargarine,  hypo  for 
hyposulphite  of  soda,  Tank  for  Yankee,  confab  for  confabulation, 
memo  for  memorandum,  pop-concert  for  popular-concert.  Ad 
for  advertisement  is  struggling  hard  for  recognition ;  some  of  its 
compounds,  e.  g.,  ad-writer,  want-ad,  display-ad,  ad-card,  ad-rate, 
column-ad  and  ad-man,  are  already  accepted  in  technical  termi- 
nology. Boob  for  booby  promises  to  become  sound  American  in 
a  few  years ;  its  synonyms  are  no  more  respectable  than  it  is.  At 
es  Vide  Lounsbury :  The  Standard  of  Usage  in  English,  pp.  65-7. 


>' 

TENDENCIES   IN   AMERICAN  161 

its  heels  is  bo  for  hobo,  an  altogether  fit  successor  to  bum  for 
Zmmwer.59 

•^  A  parallel  movement  shows  itself  in  the  great  multiplication  of 
common  abbreviations.  " Americans,  as  a  rule,"  says  Farmer, 
"employ  abbreviations  to  an  extent  unknown  in  Europe.  .  .  . 
This  trait  of  the  American  character  is  discernible  in  every  de- 
partment of  the  national  life  and  thought."  60  0.  K.,  C.  0.  D., 
N.  G.,  G.  0.  P.  (get  out  and  push)  and  P.  D.  Q.,  are  almost  na- 
tional hall-marks;  the  immigrant  learns  them  immediately  after 
damn  and  go  to  hell.  Thornton  traces  N.  G.  to  1840 ;  C.  0.  D. 
and  P.  D.  Q.  are  probably  as  old.  As  for  0.  K.,  it  was  in  use  so 
early  as  1790,  but  it  apparently  did  not  acquire  its  present  signifi- 
cance until  the  20  's ;  originally  it  seems  to  have  meant  ' '  ordered 
recorded. ' '  "  During  the  presidential  campaign  of  1828  Jackson 's 
enemies,  seeking  to  prove  his  illiteracy,  alleged  that  he  used  it  for 
"oil  korrect."  Of  late  the  theory  has  been  put  forward  that  it 
is  derived  from  an  Indian  word,  okeh,  signifying  "so  be  it," 
and  Dr.  "Woodrow  Wilson  is  said  to  support  this  theory  and  to 
use  okeh  in  endorsing  government  papers,  but  I  am  unaware  of 
the  authority  upon  which  the  etymology  is  based.  Bartlett  says 
that  the  figurative  use  of  A  No.  1,  as  in  an  A  No.  1  man,  also 
originated  in  America,  but  this  may  not  be  true.  There  can  be 
little  doubt,  however,  about  T.  B.  (for  tuberculosis},  G.  B.  (for 
grand  bounce),  23,  on  the  Q.  T.,  and  D.  &  D.  (drunk  and  dis- 
orderly). The  language  breeds  such  short  forms  of  speech  pro- 
digiously; every  trade  and  profession  has  a  host  of  them;  they 
are  innumerable  in  the  slang  of  sport.61 

What  one  sees  under  all  this,  account  for  it  as  one  will,  is  a 
double  habit,  the  which  is,  at  bottom,  sufficient  explanation  of 
the  gap  which  begins  to  yawn  between  English  and  American, 
particularly  on  the  spoken  plane.  On  the  one  hand  it  is  a  habit 
of  verbal  economy- — a  jealous  disinclination  to  waste  two  words 
on  what  can  be  put  into  one,  a  natural  taste  for  the  brilliant  and 

50  For  an  exhaustive  discussion  of  these  formations  cf.  Clipped  Words, 
by  Elizabeth  Wittman,  Dialect  Notes,  vol.  iv,  pt.  ii,  1914. 

so  Americanisms  Old  and  New,  p.  1. 

ei  Gf,  Semi-Secret  Abbreviations,  by  Percy  W.  Long,  Dialect  Notes,  vol. 
iv,  pt.  iii,  1915. 


162  THE   AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

succinct,  a  disdain  of  all  grammatical  and  lexicographical  dainti- 
ness, born  partly,  perhaps,  of  ignorance,  but  also  in  part  of  a 
sound  sense  of  their  imbecility.  And  on  the  other  hand  there  is 
a  high  relish  and  talent  for  metaphor — in  Brander  Matthews' 
phrase,  "a  figurative  vigor  that  the  Elizabethans  would  have 
realized  and  understood. ' '  Just  as  the  American  rebels  instinc- 
tively against  such  parliamentary  circumlocutions  as  "I  am  not 
prepared  to  say"  and  "so  much  by  way  of  being,"  62  just  as  he 
would  fret  under  the  forms  of  English  journalism,  with  its  re- 
porting empty  of  drama,  its  third-person  smothering  of  speeches 
\  and  its  complex  and  unintelligible  jargon,63  just  so,  in  his  daily 

1i  speech  and  writing  he  chooses  terseness  and  vividness  whenever 
|  there  is  any  choice,  and  seeks  to  make  one  when  it  doesn't  exist. 
There  is  more  than  mere  humorous  contrast  between  the  famous 
placard  in  the  wash-room  of  the  British  Museum :  ' '  These  Basins 
Are  For  Casual  Ablutions  Only, ' '  and  the  familiar  sign  at  Amer- 
ican railroad-crossings :  ' '  Stop !  Look !  Listen ! ' '  Between  the 
two  lies  an  abyss  separating  two  cultures,  two  habits  of  mind, 
two  diverging  tongues.  It  is  almost  unimaginable  that  English- 
men, journeying  up  and  down  in  elevators,  would  ever  have 
stricken  the  teens  out  of  their  speech,  turning  sixteenth  into 
simple  six  and  twenty-fourth  into  four;  the  clipping  is  almost  as 
far  from  their  way  of  doing  things  as  the  climbing  so  high  in  the 
air.  Nor  have  they  the  brilliant  facility  of  Americans  for  making 
new  words  of  grotesque  but  penetrating  tropes,  as  in  corn-fed, 
tight-wad,  bone-head,  bleachers  and  juice  (for  electricity)  •  when 
they  attempt  such  things  the  result  is  often  lugubrious ;  two  hun- 
dred years  of  schoolmastering  has  dried  up  their  inspiration. 
Nor  have  they  the  fine  American  hand  for  devising  new  verbs; 
to  maffick  and  to  limehouse  are  their  best  specimens  in  twenty 
years,  and  both  have  an  almost  pathetic  flatness.  Their  business 
with  the  language,  indeed,  is  not  in  this  department.  They  are 

62  The  classical  example  is  in  a  parliamentary  announcement  by  Sir 
Robert  Peel:  "When  that  question  is  made  to  me  in  a  proper  time,  in  a 
proper  place,  under  proper  qualifications,  and  with  proper  motives,  I 
will  hesitate  long  before  I  will  refuse  to  take  it  into  consideration." 

e«  Cf.     On  the  Art  of  Writing,  by  Sir  Arthur  Quiller-Couch ;  p.  100  et  seq. 


TENDENCIES   IN   AMERICAN  163 

not  charged  with  its  raids  and  scoutings,  but  with  the  organiza- 
tion of  its  conquests  and  the  guarding  of  its  accumulated  stores. 

For  the  student  interested  in  the  biology  of  language,  as  op- 
posed to  its  paleontology,  there  is  endless  material  in  the  racy 
neologisms  of  American,  and  particularly  in  its  new  compounds 
and  novel  verbs.  Nothing  could  exceed  the  brilliancy  of  such 
inventions  as  joy-ride,  high-brow,  road-louse,  sob-sister,  nature- 
faker,  stand-patter,  lounge-lizard,  hash- foundry,  buzz-wagon, 
has-been,  end-seat-hog,  shoot -the-chutes  and  grape-juice-diplo- 
macy. They  are  bold;  they  are  vivid;  they  have  humor;  they 
meet  genuine  needs.  Joy-ride,  I  note,  is  already  going  over  into 
English,  and  no  wonder.  There  is  absolutely  no  synonym  for  it ; 
to  convey  its  idea  in  orthodox  English  would  take  a  whole  sen- 
tence. And  so,  too,  with  certain  single  words  of  metaphorical 
origin :  barrel  for  large  and  illicit  wealth,  pork  for  unnecessary 
and  dishonest  appropriations  of  public  money,  joint  for  illegal 
liquor-house,  tenderloin  for  gay  and  dubious  neighborhood.6* 
Most  of  these,  and  of  the  new  compounds  with  them,  belong  to 
the  vocabulary  of  disparagement.  Here  an  essential  character 
of  the  American  shows  itself :  his  tendency  to  combat  the  disagree- 
able with  irony,  to  heap  ridicule  upon  what  he  is  suspicious  of 
or  doesn't  understand. 

The  rapidity  with  which  new  verbs  are  made  in  the  United 
States  is  really  quite  amazing.  Two  days  after  the  first  regula- 
tions of  the  Food  Administration  were  announced,  to  hooverize 
appeared  spontaneously  in  scores  of  newspapers,  and  a  week  later 
it  was  employed  without  any  visible  sense  of  its  novelty  in  the 
debates  of  Congress  and  had  taken  on  a  respectability  equal  to 
that  of  to  bryanize,  to  fletcherize  and  to  oslerize.  To  electrocute 
appeared  inevitably  in  the  first  public  discussion  of  capital  pun- 

6*  This  use  of  tenderloin  is  ascribed  to  Alexander  (alias  "Clubber")  Wil- 
liams, a  New  York  police  captain.  Vide  the  JV etc  York  Sun,  July  11, 
1913.  Williams,  in  1876,  was  transferred  from  an  obscure  precinct  to  West 
Thirtieth  Street.  "I've  been  having  chuck  steak  ever  since  I've  been  on 
the  force,"  he  said,  "and  now  I'm  going  to  have  a  bit  of  tenderloin."  "The 
name,"  says  the  Sun,  "has  endured  more  than  a  generation,  moving  with 
the  changed  amusement  geography  of  the  city,  and  has  been  adopted  in  all 
parts  of  the  country." 


164  THE   AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

ishment  by  electricity ;  to  taxi  came  in  with  the  first  taxi-cabs ;  to 
commute  no  doubt  accompanied  the  first  commutation  ticket ;  to 
insurge  attended  the  birth  of  the  Progressive  balderdash.  Of 
late  the  old  affix  -ize,  once  fecund  of  such  monsters  as  to  funeral- 
ize,  has  come  into  favor  again,  and  I  note,  among  its  other  prod- 
ucts, to  belgiumize,  to  vacationize,  to  picturize  and  to  scenarioize. 
In  a  newspaper  headline  I  even  find  to  s  o  s,  in  the  form  of  its 
gerund.65  Many  characteristic  American  verbs  are  compounds 
of  common  verbs  and  prepositions  or  adverbs,  with  new  meanings 
imposed.  Compare,  for  example,  to  give  and  to  give  out,  to  go 
back  and  to  go  back  on,  to  beat  and  to  beat  it,  to  light  and  to 
light  out,  to  butt  and  to  butt  in,  to  turn  and  to  turn  down,  to 
show  and  to  show  up,  to  put  and  to  put  over,  to  wind  and  to 
wind  up.  Sometimes,  however,  the  addition  seems  to  be  merely 
rhetorical,  as  in  to  start  off,  to  finish  up,  to  open  up  and  to  hurry 
up.  To  hurry  up  is  so  commonplace  in  America  that  everyone 
uses  it  and  no  one  notices  it,  but  it  remains  rare  in  England. 
Up  seems  to  be  essential  to  many  of  these  latter-day  verbs,  e.  g., 
to  pony  up,  to  doll  up,  to  ball  up;  without  it  they  are  without 
significance.  Nearly  all  of  them  are  attended  by  derivative  ad- 
jectives or  nouns ;  cut-up,  show-down,  kick-in,  come-down,  hang- 
out, start-off,  run-in,  balled-up,  dolled-up,  wind-up,  bang-up, 
turn-down,  jump-off. 

In  many  directions  the  same  prodigal  fancy  shows  itself — for 
example,  in  the  free  interchange  of  parts  of  speech,  in  the  bold 
inflection  of  words  not  inflected  in  sound  English,  and  in  the 
invention  of  wholly  artificial  words.  The  first  phenomenon  has 
already  concerned  us.  Would  an  English  literary  critic  of  any 
pretensions  employ  such  a  locution  as  "all  by  her  lonesome'"*.  I 
have  a  doubt  of  it — and  yet  I  find  that  phrase  in  a  serious  book 
by  the  critic  of  the  New  Republic.66  Would  an  English  M.  P. 
use  "he  has  another  think  coming"  in  debate?  Again  I  doubt 
it — but  even  more  anarchistic  dedications  of  verbs  and  adjec- 
tives to  substantival  use  are  to  be  found  in  the  Congressional 
Record  every  day.  Jitney  is  an  old  American  substantive  lately 

es  New  York  Evening  Mail,  Feb.  2,  1918,  p.  1. 

es  Horizons,  by  Francis  Hackett;  New  York,  1918,  p.  53. 


TENDENCIES   IN   AMERICAN  165 

revived;  a  month  after  its  revival  it  was  also  an  adjective,  and 
before  long  it  may  also  be  a  verb  and  even  an  adverb.  To  lift  up 
was  turned  tail  first  and  made  a  substantive,  and  is  now  also  an 
adjective  and  a  verb.  Joy-ride  became  a  verb  the  day  after  it 
was  born  as  a  noun.  And  what  of  livest?  An  astounding  inflec- 
tion, indeed — but  with  quite  sound  American  usage  behind  it. 
The  Metropolitan  Magazine,  of  which  Col.  Roosevelt  is  an  editor, 
announces  on  its  letter  paper  that  it  is  "the  livest  magazine  in 
America,"  and  Poetry,  the  organ  of  the  new  poetry  movement, 
prints  at  the  head  of  its  contents  page  the  following  encomium 
from  the  New  York  Tribune:  "the  livest  art  in  America  today  is 
poetry,  and  the  livest  expression  of  that  art  is  in  this  little  Chi- 
cago monthly." 

Now  and  then  the  spirit  of  American  shows  a  transient  falter- 
ing, and  its  inventiveness  is  displaced  by  a  banal  extension  of 
meaning,  so  that  a  single  noun  comes  to  signify  discrete  things. 
Thus  laundry,  meaning  originally  a  place  where  linen  is  washed, 
has  come  to  mean  also  the  linen  itself.  So,  again,  gun  has  come 
to  mean  fire-arms  of  all  sorts,  and  has  entered  into  such  com- 
pounds as  gun-man  and  gun-play.  And  in  the  same  way  party 
has  been  borrowed  from  the  terminology  of  the  law  and  made  to 
do  colloquial  duty  as  a  synonym  for  person.  But  such  evidences 
of  poverty  are  rare  and  abnormal;  the  whole  movement  of  the 
language  is  toward  the  multiplication  of  substantives.  A  new 
object  gets  a  new  name,  and  that  new  name  enters  into  the  com- 
mon vocabulary  at  once.  Sundae  and  hokum  are  late  examples ; 
their  origin  is  dubious  and  disputed,  but  they  met  genuine  needs 
and  so  they  seem  to  be  secure.  A  great  many  more  such  sub- 
stantives are  deliberate  inventions,  for  example,  kodak,  protec- 
tograph,  conductorette,  bevo,  klaxon,  vaseline,  jap-a-lac,  resinol, 
autocar,  postum,  crisco,  electrolier,  addressograph,  alabastine, 
orangeade,  pianola,  victrola,  dictagraph,  kitchenette,  crispette, 
cellarette,  uneeda,  triscuit  and  peptomint.  Some  of  these  indi- 
cate attempts  at  description:  oleomargarine,  phonograph  and 
gasoline  are  older  examples  of  that  class.  Others  represent 
efforts  to  devise  designations  that  will  meet  the  conditions  of 
advertising  psychology  and  the  trade-marks  law,  to  wit,  that  they 


166  THE   AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

be  (a)  new,  (&)  easily  remembered,  and  (c)  not  directly  descrip- 
tive. Probably  the  most  successful  invention  of  this  sort  is 
kodak,  which  was  devised  by  George  Eastman,  inventor  of  the 
portable  camera  so  called.  Kodak  has  so  far  won  acceptance  as 
a  common  noun  that  Eastman  is  often  forced  to  assert  his  pro- 
prietary right  to  it.67  Vaseline  is  in  the  same  position.  The 
annual  crop  of  such  inventions  in  the  United  States  is  enormous.68 
The  majority  die,  but  a  hearty  few  always  survive. 

Of  analogous  character  are  artificial  words  of  the  scalawag  and 
rambunctious  class,  the  formation  of  which  constantly  goes  on. 
Some  of  them  are  shortened  compounds:  grandificent  (from 
grand  and  magnificent),  sodalicious  (from  soda  and  delicious) 
and  warphan  ( age )  ( from  war  and  orphan  ( age ) )  ,69  Others  are 
made  up  of  common  roots  and  grotesque  affixes:  swelldoodle, 
splendiferous  and  peacharino.  Yet  others  are  mere  extravagant 
inventions:  scallywampus,  supergobsloptious  and  floozy.  Most 
of  these  are  devised  by  advertisement  writers  or  college  students, 
and  belong  properly  to  slang,  but  there  is  a  steady  movement  of 
selected  specimens  into  the  common  vocabulary.  The  words  in 
-doodle  hint  at  German  influences,  and  those  in  -ino  owe  some- 
thing to  Italian,  or  at  least  to  popular  burlesques  of  what  is  con- 
ceived to  be  Italian. 

§6 

Pronunciation — " Language,"  said  Sayce,  in  1879,  "does  not 
consist  of  letters,  but  of  sounds,  and  until  this  fact  has  been 
brought  home  to  us  our  study  of  it  will  be  little  better  than  an 

a?  It  has  even  got  into  the  Continental  languages.  In  October,  1917, 
the  Verband  Deutscher  Amateurphotographen-Vereine  was  moved  to  issue 
the  following  warning:  "Es  gibt  kein  deutschen  Kodaks.  Kodak,  als  Sam- 
melname  fur  photographische  Erzeugnisse  1st  falsch  und  bezeichnet  nur  die 
Fabrikate  der  Eastman-JSTodafc-Company.  Wer  von  einem  Kodak  spricht 
und  nur  allgemein  eine  photographische  Kamera  meint,  bedenkt  nicht,  dass 
er  mit  der  Weiterverbreitung  dieses  Wortes  die  deutsche  Industrie  sugun- 
sten  der  amerikanisch-englischen  schadigt." 

«8  Cf.  Word-Coinage  and  Modern  Trade  Names,  by  Louise  Pound,  Dialect 
Notes,  vol.  iv,  pt.  i,  1913,  pp.  29-41.  Most  of  these  coinages  produce  de- 
rivatives, e.  g.,  bevo-officer,  to  kodak,  kodaker. 

6»  This  conscious  shortening,  of  course,  is  to  be  distinguished  from  the 
shortening  that  goes  on  in  words  by  gradual  decay,  as  in  Christmas  (from 
Chritt't  matt)  and  daity  (from  day't  eye). 


TENDENCIES   IN   AMERICAN  167 

exercise  of  memory. ' ' 70  The  theory,  at  that  time,  was  somewhat 
strange  to  English  grammarians  and  etymologists,  despite  the 
investigations  of  A.  J.  Ellis  and  the  massive  lesson  of  Grimm's 
law;  their  labors  were  largely  wasted  upon  deductions  from  the 
written  word.  But  since  then,  chiefly  under  the  influence  of 
Continental  philologists,  and  particularly  of  the  Dane,  J.  0.  H. 
Jespersen,  they  have  turned  from  orthographical  futilities  to  the 
actual  sounds  of  the  tongue,  and  the  latest  and  best  grammar  of 
it,  that  of  Sweet,  is  frankly  based  upon  the  spoken  English  of 
educated  Englishmen — not,  remember,  of  conscious  purists,  but 
of  the  general  body  of  cultivated  folk.  Unluckily,  this  new 
method  also  has  its  disadvantages.  The  men  of  a  given  race  and 
time  usually  write  a  good  deal  alike,  or,  at  all  events,  attempt  to 
write  alike,  but  in  their  oral  speech  there  are  wide  variations. 
"No  two  persons,"  says  a  leading  contemporary  authority  upon 
English  phonetics,71  "pronounce  exactly  alike."  Moreover, 
"even  the  best  speaker  commonly  uses  more  than  one  style." 
The  result  is  that  it  is  extremely  difficult  to  determine  the  pre- 
vailing pronunciation  of  a  given  combination  of  letters  at  any 
time  and  place.  The  persons  whose  speech  is  studied  pronounce 
it  with  minute  shades  of  difference,  and  admit  other  differences 
according  as  they  are  conversing  naturally  or  endeavoring  to 
exhibit  their  pronunciation.  Worse,  it  is  impossible  to  represent 
a  great  many  of  these  shades  in  print.  Sweet,  trying  to  do  it.72 
found  himself,  in  the  end,  with  a  preposterous  alphabet  of  125 
letters.  Prince  L.-L.  Bonaparte  more  than  doubled  this  number, 
and  Ellis  brought  it  to  390.73  Other  phonologists,  English  and 
Continental,  have  gone  floundering  into  the  same  bog.  The  dic- 
tionary-makers, forced  to  a  far  greater  economy  of  means,  are 
brought  into  obscurity.  The  difficulties  of  the  enterprise,  in 
fact,  are  probably  unsurmountable.  It  is,  as  White  says, ' '  almost 
impossible  for  one  person  to  express  to  another  by  signs  the 

TO  The  Science  of  Language,  vol.  ii,  p.  339. 

71  Daniel  Jones:  The  Pronunciation  of  English,  2nd  ed.;  Cambridge,  1914, 
p.  1.     Jones  is  lecturer  in  phonetics  at  University  College,  London. 

72  Vide  his  Handbook  of  Phonetics,  p.  xv,  et  seq. 

73  It  is  given  in  Ellis'  Early  English  Pronunciation,  p.  1293  et  seq.  and 
in  Sayce's  The  Science  of  Language,  vol.  i,  p.  353  et  seq. 


168  THE   AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

sound  of  any  word. "  "  Only  the  voice, ' '  he  goes  on,  ' '  is  capable 
of  that ;  for  the  moment  a  sign  is  used  the  question  arises,  What  is 
the  value  of  that  sign?  The  sounds  of  words  are  the  most  deli- 
cate, fleeting  and  inapprehensible  things  in  nature.  .  .  .  More- 
over, the  question  arises  as  to  the  capability  to  apprehend  and 
distinguish  sounds  on  the  part  of  the  person  whose  evidence  is 
given. ' ' 74  Certain  German  orthoepists,  despairing  of  the  printed 
page,  have  turned  to  the  phonograph,  and  there  is  a  Deutsche 
Grammophon-Gesellschaft  in  Berlin  which  offers  records  of  speci- 
men speeches  in  a  great  many  languages  and  dialects,  including 
English.  The  phonograph  has  also  been  put  to  successful  use  in 
language  teaching  by  various  American  correspondence  schools. 
In  view  of  all  this  it  would  be  hopeless  to  attempt  to  exhibit  in 
print  the  numerous  small  differences  between  English  and  Ameri- 
can pronunciation,  for  many  of  them  are  extremely  delicate  and 
subtle,  and  only  their  aggregation  makes  them  plain.  According 
to  a  recent  and  very  careful  observer,75  the  most  important  of 
them  do  not  lie  in  pronunciation  at  all,  properly  so  called,  but  in 
intonation.  In  this  direction,  he  says,  one  must  look  for  the  true 
characters  "of  the  English  accent."  I  incline  to  agree  with 
White,76  that  the  pitch  of  the  English  voice  is  somewhat  higher 
than  that  of  the  American,  and  that  it  is  thus  more  penetrating. 
The  nasal  twang  which  Englishmen  observe  in  the  vox  Ameri- 
cana, though  it  has  high  overtones,  is  itself  not  high  pitched,  but 
rather  low  pitched,  as  all  constrained  and  muffled  tones  are  apt 
to  be.  The  causes  of  that  twang  have  long  engaged  phonologists, 
and  in  the  main  they  agree  that  there  is  a  physical  basis  for  it — 
that  our  generally  dry  climate  and  rapid  changes  of  temperature 
produce  an  actual  thickening  of  the  membranes  concerned  in  the 
production  of  sound.77  We  are,  in  brief,  a  somewhat  snuffling 

74Every-Day  English,  p.  29. 

75  Robert  J.  Menner:  The  Pronunciation  of  English  in  America,  Atlantic 
Monthly,  March,  1915,  p.  366. 

re  Words  and  Their  Uses,  p.  58. 

77  The  following  passage  from  Kipling's  American  Notes,  ch.  i,  will  be  re- 
called: "Oliver  Wendell  Holmes  says  that  the  Yankee  schoolmarm,  the 
cider  and  the  salt  codfish  of  the  Eastern  states  are  responsible  for  what 


TENDENCIES   IN   AMERICAN  169 

people,  and  much  more  given  to  catarrhs  and  coryzas  than  the 
inhabitants  of  damp  Britain.  Perhaps  this  general  impediment 
to  free  and  easy  utterance,  subconsciously  apprehended,  is  re- 
sponsible for  the  American  tendency  to  pronounce  the  separate 
syllables  of  a  word  with  much  more  care  than  an  Englishman 
bestows  upon  them;  the  American,  in  giving  extraordinary  six 
distinct  syllables  instead  of  the  Englishman's  grudging  four, 
may  be  seeking  to  make  up  for  his  natural  disability.  Marsh,  in 
his  ' '  Lectures  on  the  English  Language, ' ' 78  sought  two  other 
explanations  of  the  fact.  On  the  one  hand,  he  argued  that  the 
Americans  of  his  day  read  a  great  deal  more  than  the  English, 
and  were  thus  much  more  influenced  by  the  spelling  of  words, 
and  on  the  other  hand  he  pointed  out  that  ' '  our  flora  shows  that 
the  climate  of  even  our  Northern  States  belongs  ...  to  a  more 
Southern  type  than  that  of  England,"  and  that  "in  Southern 
latitudes  .  .  .  articulation  is  generally  much  more  distinct  than 
in  Northern  regions."  In  support  of  the  latter  proposition  he 
cited  the  pronunciation  of  Spanish,  Italian  and  Turkish,  as  com- 
pared with  that  of  English,  Danish  and  German — rather  unfor- 
tunate examples,  for  the  pronunciation  of  German  is  at  least  as 
clear  as  that  of  Italian.  Swedish  would  have  supported  his  case 
far  better:  the  Swedes  debase  their  vowels  and  slide  over  their 
consonants  even  more  markedly  than  the  English.  Marsh  be- 
lieved that  there  was  a  tendency  among  Southern  peoples  to 
throw  the  accent  back,  and  that  this  helped  to  ' '  bring  out  all  the 
syllables."  One  finds  a  certain  support  for  this  notion  in  vari- 
ous American  peculiarities  of  stress.  Advertisement  offers  an 
example.  The  prevailing  American  pronunciation,  despite  in- 
cessant pedagogical  counterblasts,  puts  the  accent  on  the  penult, 
whereas  the  English  pronunciation  stresses  the  second  syllable. 
Paresis  illustrates  the  same  tendency.  The  English  accent  the 
first  syllable,  but,  as  Krapp  says,  American  usage  clings  to  the 

he  calls  a  nasal  accent.  I  know  better.  They  stole  books  from  across 
the  water  without  paying  for  'em,  and  the  snort  of  delight  was  fixed  in 
their  nostrils  for  ever  by  a  just  Providence.  That  is  why  they  talk  a 
foreign  tongue  today." 

78  Lecture  xxx.  The  English  Language  in  America. 


170  THE   AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

accent  on  the  second  syllable.79  There  are,  again,  pianist,  pri- 
marily and  telegrapher.  The  English  accent  the  first  syllable  of 
each;  we  commonly  accent  the  second.  In  temporarily  they  also 
accent  the  first;  we  accent  the  third.  Various  other  examples 
might  be  cited.  But  when  one  had  marshalled  them  their  signifi- 
cance would  be  at  once  set  at  naught  by  four  very  familiar 
words,  mamma,  papa,  inquiry  and  ally.  Americans  almost  inva- 
riably accent  each  on  the  first  syllable;  Englishmen  stress  the 
second.  For  months,  during  1918,  the  publishers  of  the  Stand- 
ard Dictionary,  advertising  that  work  in  the  street-cars,  explained 
that  ally  should  be  accented  on  the  second  syllable,  and  pointed 
out  that  owners  of  their  dictionary  were  safeguarded  against  the 
vulgarism  of  accenting  it  on  the  first.  Nevertheless,  this  free  and 
highly  public  instruction  did  not  suffice  to  exterminate  al'ly.  I 
made  note  of  the  pronunciations  overheard,  with  the  word  con- 
stantly on  all  lips.  But  one  man  of  my  acquaintance  regularly 
accented  the  second  syllable,  and  he  was  an  eminent  scholar, 
professionally  devoted  to  the  study  of  language. 

Thus  it  is  unsafe,  here  as  elsewhere,  to  generalize  too  f acilely, 
and  particularly  unsafe  to  exhibit  causes  with  too  much  assur- 
ance. "Man  frage  nicht  warum,"  says  Philipp  Karl  Buttmann. 
' '  Der  Sprachgebrauch  lasst  sich  nur  beobachten. ' ' 80  But  the 
greater  distinctness  of  American  utterance,  whatever  its  genesis 
and  machinery,  is  palpable  enough  in  many  familiar  situations. 
"The  typical  American  accent,"  says  Vizetelly,  "is  often  harsh 
and  unmusical,  but  it  sounds  all  of  the  letters  to  be  sounded,  and 
slurs,  but  does  not  distort,  the  rest. ' ' 81  An  American,  for  ex- 
ample, almost  always  sounds  the  first  I  in  fulfill;  an  Englishman 
makes  the  first  syllable  foo.  An  American  sounds  every  syllable 
in  extraordinary,  literary,  military,  secretary  and  the  other 
words  of  the  -ary -group ;  an  Englishman  never  pronounces  the  a 
of  the  penultimate  syllable.  Kindness,  with  the  d  silent,  would 
attract  notice  in  the  United  States;  in  England,  according  to 

78  Modern  English,  p.  166.  Cf.  A  Desk-Book  of  25,000  Words  Frequently 
Mispronounced,  by  Frank  H.  Vizetelly,  p.  652. 

soLexilogus,  2nd  ed.;  Berlin,  1860,  p.  239.  An  English  translation  was 
published  in  London  in  1846. 

si  A  Desk-Book  of  25,000  Words  Frequently  Mispronounced,  p.  xvi. 


TENDENCIES    IN   AMERICAN  171 

Jones,82  the  d  is  "very  commonly,  if  not  usually"  omitted. 
Often,  in  America,  commonly  retains  a  full  t;  in  England  it  is 
actually  and  officially  off  en.  Let  an  American  and  an  English- 
man pronounce  program  (me) .  Though  the  Englishman  retains 
the  long  form  of  the  last  syllable  in  writing,  he  reduces  it  in 
speaking  to  a  thick  triple  consonant,  grm;  the  American  enunci- 
ates it  clearly,  rhyming  it  with  damn.  Or  try  the  two  with  any 
word  ending  in  -g,  say  sporting  or  ripping.  Or  with  any  word 
having  r  before  a  consonant,  say  card,  harbor,  lord  or  preferred. 
"The  majority  of  Englishmen,"  says  Menner,  "certainly  do  not 
pronounce  the  r  .  .  . ;  just  as  certainly  the  majority  of  educated 
Americans  pronounce  it  distinctly. ' ' 83  Henry  James,  visiting 
the  United  States  after  many  years  of  residence  in  England,  was 
much  harassed  by  this  persistent  r-sound,  which  seemed  to  him  to 
resemble  ' '  a  sort  of  morose  grinding  of  the  back  teeth. "  **  So 
sensitive  to  it  did  he  become  that  he  began  to  hear  where  it  was 
actually  non-existent,  save  as  an  occasional  barbarism,  for  exam- 
ple, in  Cuba-r,  vanilla-r  and  Calif ornia-r.  He  put  the  blame  for 
it,  and  for  various  other  departures  from  the  strict  canon  of  con- 
temporary English,  upon  "the  American  common  school,  the 
American  newspaper,  and  the  American  Dutchman  and  Dago." 
Unluckily  for  his  case,  the  full  voicing  of  the  r  came  into  Ameri- 
can long  before  the  appearance  of  any  of  these  influences.  The 
early  colonists,  in  fact,  brought  it  with  them  from  England,  and 
it  still  prevailed  there  in  Dr.  Johnson's  day,  for  he  protested 
publicly  against  the  "rough  snarling  sound"  and  led  the  move- 
ment which  finally  resulted  in  its  extinction.85  Today,  extinct, 
it  is  mourned  by  English  purists,  and  the  Poet  Laureate  de- 
nounces the  clergy  of  the  Established  Church  for  saying  "the 
sawed  of  the  Laud"  instead  of  "the  sword  of  the  Lord."  88 

But  even  in  the  matter  of  elided'  consonants  American  is  not 
always  the  conservator.     We  cling  to  the  r,  we  preserve  the  final 

82  The  Pronunciation  of  English,  p.   17. 

83  The  Pronunciation  of  English  in  America,  op.  cit.,  p.  362. 

84  The  Question  of  Our  Speech,  p.  29  et  seq. 

ss  Cf.     The  Cambridge  History  of  English  Literature,  vol.  xiv,  p.  487. 
86  Robert  Bridges:  A  Tract  on  the  Present  State  of  English  Pronuncia- 
tion; Oxford,  1913. 


172  THE   AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

g,  we  give  nephew  a  clear  /-sound  instead  of  the  clouded  English 
v-sound,  and  we  boldly  nationalize  trait  and  pronounce  its  final  t, 
but  we  drop  the  second  p  from  pumpkin  and  change  the  m  to  n, 
we  change  the  ph(=f) -sound  to  plain  p  in  diphtheria,  diph- 
thong and  naphtha,87  we  relieve  rind  of  its  final  d,  and,  in  the 
complete  sentence,  we  slaughter  consonants  by  assimilation.  I 
have  heard  Englishmen  say  brand-new,  but  on  American  lips  it 
is  almost  invariably  bran-new.  So  nearly  universal  is  this  nasal- 
ization in  the  United  States  that  certain  American  lexicographers 
have  sought  to  found  the  term  upon  bran  and  not  upon  brand. 
Here  the  national  speech  is  powerfully  influenced  by  Southern 
dialectical  variations,  which  in  turn  probably  derive  partly  from 
French  example  and  partly  from  the  linguistic  limitations  of  the 
negro.  The  latter,  even  after  two  hundred  years,  has  great  diffi- 
culties with  our  consonants,  and  often  drops  them.  A  familiar 
anecdote  well  illustrates  his  speech  habit.  On  a  train  stopping 
at  a  small  station  in  Georgia  a  darkey  threw  up  a  window  and 
yelled  "Wah  ee?"  The  reply  from  a  black  on  the  platform,  was 
"Wah  oo?"  A  Northerner  aboard  the  train,  puzzled  by  this 
inarticulate  dialogue,  sought  light  from  a  Southern  passenger, 
who  promptly  translated  the  first  question  as  " Where  is  he?" 
and  the  second  as  "Where  is  who?"  A  recent  viewer  with 
alarm88  argues  that  this  conspiracy  against  the  consonants  is 
spreading,  and  that  English  printed  words  no  longer  represent 
the  actual  sounds  of  the  American  language.  ' '  Like  the  French, ' ' 
he  says,  "we  have  a  marked  liaison — the  borrowing  of  a  letter 
from  the  preceding  word.  We  invite  one  another  to  'c'meer' 
(=come  here)  .  .  .  'Hoo-zat?'  (=who  is  that?)  has  as  good  a 
liaison  as  the  French  vois  avez."  This  critic  believes  that  Ameri- 
can tends  to  abandon  t  for  d,  as  in  Sadd'y  (=  Saturday)  and 
siddup  (=sit  up),  and  to  get  rid  of  h,  as  in  "ware-zee?" 
(=  where  is  he?).  But  here  we  invade  the  vulgar  speech,  which 
belongs  to  the  next  chapter. 

87  An  interesting  discussion  of  this  peculiarity  is  in  Some  Variant  Pro- 
nunciations in  the  New  South,  by  William  A.  Read,  Dialect  Notes,  vol.  iii, 
pt.  vii,  1911,  p.  504  et  seq. 

ss  Hugh  Mearns :  Our  Own,  Our  Native  Speech,  McClure's  Magazine,  Oct., 
1916. 


TENDENCIES   IN   AMERICAN  173 

Among  the  vowels  the  most  salient  difference  between  English 
and  American  pronunciation,  of  course,  is  marked  off  by  the  flat 
American  a.  This  flat  a,  as  we  have  seen,  has  been  under  attack 
at  home  for  nearly  a  century.  The  New  Englanders,  very  sen- 
sitive to  English  example,  substitute  a  broad  a  that  is  even 
broader  than  the  English,  and  an  a,  of  the  same  sort  survives  in 
the  South  in  a  few  words,  e.  g.,  master,  tomato  and  tassel,  but 
everywhere  else  in  the  country  the  flat  a  prevails.  Fashion  and 
the  example  of  the  stage  oppose  it,89  and  it  is  under  the  ban  of 
an  active  wing  of  schoolmasters,  but  it  will  not  down.  To  the 
average  American,  indeed,  the  broad  a  is  a  banner  of  affectation, 
and  he  associates  it  unpleasantly  with  spats,  Harvard,  male  tea- 
drinking,  wrist  watches  and  all  the  other  objects  of  his  social 
suspicion.  He  gets  the  flat  sound,  not  only  into  such  words  as 
last,  calf,  dance  and  pastor,  but  even  into  piano  and  drama. 
Drama  is  sometimes  drayma  west  of  Connecticut,  but  almost 
never  drahma  or  drawma.  Tomato  with  the  a  of  bat,  may  some- 
times borrow  the  a  of  plate,  but  tomahto  is  confined  to  New  Eng- 
land and  the  South.  Hurrah,  in  American,  has  also  borrowed 
the  a  of  plate;  one  hears  hurray  much  oftener  than  hurraw. 
Even  amen  frequently  shows  that  a,  though  not  when  sung. 
Curiously  enough,  it  is  displaced  in  patent  by  the  true  flat  a. 
The  English  rhyme  the  first  syllable  of  the  word  with  rate;  in 
America  it  always  rhymes  with  rat. 

The  broad  a  is  not  only  almost  extinct  outside  of  New  England ; 
it  begins  to  show  signs  of  decay  even  there.  At  all  events,  it  has 
gradually  disappeared  from  many  words,  and  is  measurably  less 
sonorous  in  those  in  which  it  survives  than  it  used  to  be.  A 
century  ago  it  appeared,  not  only  in  dance,  aunt,  glass,  past,  etc., 
but  also  in  Daniel,  imagine,  rational  and  travel.90  And  in  1857 
Oliver  Wendell  Holmes  reported  it  in  matter,  handsome,  cater- 
pillar, apple  and  satisfaction.  It  has  been  displaced  in  virtually 
all  of  these,  even  in  the  most  remote  reaches  of  the  back  country, 

8»  The  American  actor  imitates,  not  only  English  pronunciation  in  all  its 
details,  but  also  English  dress  and  bearing.  His  struggles  with  such 
words  as  extraordinary  are  often  very  amusing. 

so  Cf.  Duncan  Mackintosh :  Essai  RaissonS  dur  la  Grammaire  et  la  Pro- 
nonciation  Anglais;  Boston,  1797, 


174  THE    AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

by  the  national  flat  a.     Grandgent 91  says  that  the  broad  a  is  now 
restricted  in  New  England  to  the  following  situations : 

1.  when  followed  by  s  or  ns,  as  in  last  and  dance. 

2.  when  followed  by  r  preceding  another  consonant,  as  in  cart. 

3.  when  followed  by  lm,  as  in  calm. 

4.  when  followed  by  f,  s  or  th,  as  in  laugh,  pass  and  path. 

The  w-sound  also  shows  certain  differences  between  English 
and  American  usage.  The  English  reduce  the  last  syllable  of 
figure  to  ger;  the  educated  American  preserves  the  it-sound  as 
in  nature.  The  English  make  the  first  syllable  of  courteous 
rhyme  with  fort;  the  American  standard  rhymes  it  with  hurt. 
The  English  give  an  00-sound  to  the  u  of  brusque;  in  America 
the  word  commonly  rhymes  with  tusk.  A  w-sound,  as  everyone 
knows,  gets  into  the  American  pronunciation  of  clerk,  by  analogy 
with  insert;  the  English  cling  to  a  broad  a-sound,  by  analogy 
with  hearth.  Even  the  latter,  in  the  United  States,  is  often  pro- 
nounced to  rhyme  with  dearth.  The  American,  in  general,  is 
much  less  careful  than  the  Englishman  to  preserve  the  shadowy 
2/-sound  before  u  in  words  of  the  duke-class.  He  retains  it  in 
few,  but  surely  not  in  new.  Nor  in  duke,  Hue,  stew,  due,  duty 
and  true.  Nor  even  in  Tuesday.  Purists  often  attack  the  sim- 
ple oo-sound.  In  1912,  for  example,  the  Department  of  Educa- 
tion of  New  York  City  warned  all  the  municipal  high-school 
teachers  to  combat  it.92  But  it  is  doubtful  that  one  pupil  in  a 
hundred  was  thereby  induced  to  insert  the  y  in  induced.  Finally 
there  is  lieutenant.  The  Englishman  pronounces  the  first  sylla- 
ble left;  the  American  invariably  makes  it  loot.  White  says  that 
the  prevailing  American  pronunciation  is  relatively  recent.  "I 
never  heard  it, ' '  he  reports,  ' '  in  my  boyhood. ' ' 93  He  was  born 
in  New  York  in  1821. 

The  i-sound  presents  several  curious  differences.  The  Eng- 
lish make  it  long  in  all  words  of  the  hostile-class ;  in  America  it 
is  commonly  short,  even  in  puerile.  The  English  also  lengthen 
it  in  sliver;  in  America  the  word  usually  rhymes  with  liver.  The 

»i  Fashion  and  the  Broad  A,  Nation,  Jan  7,  1915. 
02  High  School  Circular  No.  17,  June  19,  1912. 
»3  Every-Day  English,  p.  243. 


TENDENCIES   IN   AMERICAN  175 

short  i,  in  England,  is  almost  universally  substituted  for  the  e 
in  pretty,  and  this  pronunciation  is  also  inculcated  in  most  Amer- 
ican schools,  but  I  often  hear  an  unmistakable  e-sound  in  the 
United  States,  making  the  first  syllable  rhyme  with  bet.  Con- 
trariwise, most  Americans  put  the  short  i  into  been,  making  it 
rhyme  with  sin.  In  England  it  shows  a  long  e-sound,  as  in  seen. 
A  recent  poem  by  an  English  poet  makes  the  word  rhyme  with 
submarine,  queen  and  unseen.9*  The  0-sound,  in  American, 
tends  to  convert  itself  into  an  aw-sound.  Cog  still  retains  a 
pure  o,  but  one  seldom  hears  it  in  log  or  dog.  Henry  James 
denounces  this  "flatly-drawling  group"  in  "The  Question  of 
Our  Speech, ' ' 95  and  cites  gawd,  dawg,  sawft,  lawft,  gawne, 
lawst  and  frawst  as  horrible  examples.  But  the  English  them- 
selves are  not  guiltless  of  the  same  fault.  Many  of  the  accusa- 
tions that  James  levels  at  American,  in  truth,  are  echoed  by  Rob- 
ert Bridges  in  "A  Tract  on  the  Present  State  of  English  Pro- 
nunciation." Both  spend  themselves  upon  opposing  what,  at 
bottom,  are  probably  natural  and  inevitable  movements — for 
example,  the  gradual  decay  of  all  the  vowels  to  one  of  neutral 
color,  represented  by  the  e  of  danger,  the  u  of  suggest,  the  sec- 
ond o  of  common  and  the  a  of  prevalent.  This  decay  shows 
itself  in  many  languages.  In  both  English  and  High  German, 
during  their  middle  periods,  all  the  terminal  vowels  degenerated 
to  e — now  sunk  to  the  aforesaid  neutral  vowel  in  many  German 
words,  and  expunged  from  English  altogether.  The  same  sound 
is  encountered  in  languages  so  widely  differing  otherwise  as 
Arabic,  French  and  Swedish.  "Its  existence,"  says  Sayce,  "is 
a  sign  of  age  and  decay;  meaning  has  become  more  important 
than  outward  form,  and  the  educated  intelligence  no  longer 
demands  a  clear  pronunciation  in  order  to  understand  what  is 
said."96 

All  these  differences  between  English  and  American  pronun- 
ciation, separately  considered,  seem  slight,  but  in  the  aggregate 
they  are  sufficient  to  place  serious  impediments  between  mutual 

»*  Open  Boats,  by  Alfred  Noyes,  New  York,  1917,  pp.  89-91. 

»5  P.  30. 

96  The  Science  of  Language,  vol.  i,  p.  259. 


176     .      THE   AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

comprehension.  Let  an  Englishman  and  an  American  (not  of 
New  England)  speak  a  quite  ordinary  sentence,  "My  aunt  can't 
answer  for  my  dancing  the  lancers  even  passably,"  and  at  once 
the  gap  separating  the  two  pronunciations  will  be  manifest. 
Here  only  the  a  is  involved.  Add  a  dozen  everyday  words — 
military,  schedule,  trait,  hostile,  been,  lieutenant,  patent,  nephew, 
secretary,  advertisement,  and  so  on — and  the  strangeness  of  one 
to  the  other  is  augmented.  "Every  Englishman  visiting  the 
States  for  the  first  time,"  said  an  English  dramatist  some  time 
ago,  "has  a  difficulty  in  making  himself  understood.  He  often 
has  to  repeat  a  remark  or  a  request  two  or  three  times  to  make 
his  meaning  clear,  especially  on  railroads,  in  hotels  and  at  bars. 
The  American  visiting  England  for  the  first  time  has  the  same 
trouble."  97  Despite  the  fact  that  American  actors  imitate  Eng- 
lish pronunciation  to  the  best  of  their  skill,  this  visiting  Eng- 
lishman asserted  that  the  average  American  audience  is  inca- 
pable of  understanding  a  genuinely  English  company,  at  least 
"when  the  speeches  are  rattled  off  in  conversational  style." 
When  he  presented  one  of  his  own  plays  with  an  English  com- 
pany, he  said,  many  American  acquaintances,  after  witnessing 
the  performance,  asked  him  to  lend  them  the  manuscript,  "that 
they  might  visit  it  again  with  some  understanding  of  the  dia- 
logue."98 

»7  B.  MacDonald  Hastings,  New  York  Tribune,  Jan.  19,  1913. 

98  Various  minor  differences  between  English  and  American  pronunciation, 
not  noted  here,  are  discussed  in  British  and  American  Pronunciation,  by 
Louise  Pound,  School  Review,  vol.  xxiii,  no.  6,  June,  1915. 


VI 

The  Common  Speech 

§1 

Grammarians  and  Their  Ways — So  far,  in  the  main,  the  lan- 
guage examined  has  been  of  a  relatively  pretentious  and  self- 
conscious  variety — the  speech,  if  not  always  of  formal  discourse, 
then  at  least  of  literate  men.  Most  of  the  examples  of  its  vocab- 
ulary and  idiom,  in  fact,  have  been  drawn  from  written  docu- 
ments or  from  written  reports  of  more  or  less  careful  utterances, 
for  example,  the  speeches  of  members  of  Congress  and  of  other 
public  men.  The  whole  of  Thornton's  excellent  material  is  of 
this  character.  In  his  dictionary  there  is  scarcely  a  locution 
that  is  not  supported  by  printed  examples. 

It  must  be  obvious  that  such  materials,  however  lavishly  set 
forth,  cannot  exhibit  the  methods  and  tendencies  of  a  living 
speech  with  anything  approaching  completeness,  nor  even  with 
accuracy.  What  men  put  into  writing  and  what  they  say  when 
they  take  sober  thought  are  very  far  from  what  they  utter  in 
everyday  conversation.  All  of  us,  no  matter  how  careful  our 
speech  habits,  loosen  the  belt  a  bit,  so  to  speak,  when  we  speak 
familiarly  to  our  fellows,  and  pay  a  good  deal  less  heed  to 
precedents  and  proprieties,  perhaps,  than  we  ought  to.  It  was 
a  sure  instinct  that  made  Ibsen  put  "bad  grammar"  into  the 
mouth  of  Nora  Helmar  in  "A  Doll's  House."  She  is  a-  gen- 
eral's daughter  and  the  wife  of  a  professor,  but  even  professor's 
wives  are  not  above  occasional  bogglings  of  the  cases  of  pro- 
nouns and  the  conjugations  of  verbs.  The  professors  them- 
selves, in  truth,  must  have  the  same  habit,  for  sometimes  they 
show  plain  signs  of  it  in  print.  More  than  once,  plowing  through 
profound  and  interminable  treatises  of  grammar  and  syntax  in 

177 


178  THE    AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

preparation  for  the  present  work,  I  have  encountered  the  cheer- 
ing spectacle  of  one  grammarian  exposing,  with  contagious  joy, 
the  grammatical  lapses  of  some  other  grammarian.  And  nine 
times  out  of  ten,  a  few  pages  further  on,  I  have  found  the  en- 
chanted purist  erring  himself.1  The  most  funereal  of  the  sci- 
ences is  saved  from  utter  horror  by  such  displays  of  human 
malice  and  fallibility.  Speech  itself,  indeed,  would  become  al- 
most impossible  if  the  grammarians  could  follow  their  own  rules 
unfailingly,  and  were  always  right. 

But  here  we  are  among  the  learned;  and  their  sins,  when 
detected  and  exposed,  are  at  least  punished  by  conscience.  What 
are  of  more  importance,  to  those  interested  in  language  as  a 
living  thing,  are  the  offendings  of  the  millions  who  are  not 
conscious  of  any  wrong.  It  is  among  these  millions,  ignorant 
of  regulation  and  eager  only  to  express  their  ideas  clearly  and 
forcefully,  that  language  undergoes  its  great  changes  and  con- 
stantly renews  its  vitality.  These  are  the  genuine  makers  of 
grammar,  marching  miles  ahead  of  the  formal  grammarians. 
Like  the  Emperor  Sigismund,  each  man  among  them  may  well 
say:  "Ego  sum  .  .  .  super  grammaticam."  It  is  competent  for 
any  individual  to  offer  his -contribution — his  new  word,  his  bet- 
ter idiom,  his  novel  figure  of  speech,  his  short  cut  in  grammar 
or  syntax — and  it  is  by  the  general  vote  of  the  whole  body,  not 
by  the  verdict  of  a  small  school,  that  the  fate  of  the  innova- 
tion is  decided.  As  Brander  Matthews  says,  there  is  not  even 
representative  government  in  the  matter;  the  posse  comitatus 
decides  directly,  and  despite  the  sternest  protest,  finally.  The 
ignorant,  the  rebellious  and  the  daring  come  forward  with  their 
brilliant  barbarisms;  the  learned  and  conservative  bring  up 
their  objections.  "And  when  both  sides  have  been  heard,  there 
is  a  show  of  hands;  and  by  this  the  irrevocable  decision  of  the 
community  itself  is  rendered. ' ' 2  Thus  it  was  that  the  Romance 
languages  were  fashioned  out  of  the  wreck  of  Latin,  the  vast  in- 

1  Sweet,  perhaps  the  abbot  of  the  order,  makes  almost  indecent  haste 
to  sin.     See  the  second  paragraph  on  the  very  first  page  of  vol.  i  of  his  New 
English  Grammar. 

2  Tale  Review,  April,  1918,  p.  548. 


THE    COMMON   SPEECH  179 

fluence  of  the  literate  minority  to  the  contrary  notwithstanding. 
Thus  it  was,  too,  that  English  lost  its  case  inflections  and  many 
of  its  old  conjugations,  and  that  our  yes  came  to  be  substituted 
for  the  gea-se  (=so  be  it)  of  an  earlier  day,  and  that  we  got  rid 
of  whom  after  man  in  the  man  I  saw,  and  that  our  stark  pro- 
noun -of  the  first  person  was  precipitated  from  the  German  ich. 
And  thus  it  is  that,  in  our  own  day,  the  language  faces  forces 
in  America  which,  not  content  with  overhauling  and  greatly 
enriching  its  materials,  now  threaten  to  work  changes  in  its  very 
structure. 

Where  these  tendencies  run  strongest,  of  course,  is  on  the 
plane  of  the  vulgar  spoken  language.  Among  all  classes  the 
everyday  speech  departs  very  far  from  orthodox  English,  and 
even  very  far  from  any  recognizable  spoken  English,  but  among 
those  lower  classes  which  make  up  the  great  body  of  the  people 
it  gets  so  far  from  orthodox  English  that  it  gives  promise,  soon 
or  late,  of  throwing  off  its  old  bonds  altogether,  or,  at  any  rate, 
all  save  the  loosest  of  them.  Behind  it  is  the  gigantic  impulse  ._- 
that  I  have  described  in  earlier  chapters:  the  impulse  of  an 
egoistic  and  iconoclastic  people,  facing  a  new  order  of  life  in 
highly  self-conscious  freedom,  to  break  a  relatively  stable  lan- 
guage, long  since  emerged  from  its  period  of  growth,  to  their 
novel  and  multitudinous  needs,  and,  above  all,  to  their  experi- 
mental and  impatient  spirit.  This  impulse,  it  must  be  plain, 
would  war  fiercely  upon  any  attempt  at  formal  regulation,  how- 
ever prudent  and  elastic ;  it  is  often  rebellious  for  the  mere  sake 
of  rebellion.  But  what  it  comes  into  conflict  with,  in  America, 
is  nothing  so  politic,  and  hence  nothing  so  likely  to  keep  the 
brakes  upon  it.  What  it  actually  encounters  here  is  a  formal- 
ism that  is  artificial,  illogical  and  almost  unintelligible — a 
formalism  borrowed  from  English  grammarians,  and  by  them 
brought  into  English,  against  all  fact  and  reason,  from  the  Latin. 
' '  In  most  of  our  grammars,  perhaps  in  all  of  those  issued  earlier 
than  the  opening  of  the  twentieth  century,"  says  Matthews,  "we 
find  linguistic  laws  laid  down  which  are  in  blank  contradiction* 
with  the  genius  of  the  language. " 3  In  brief,  the  American 

s  Yale  Review,  op.  cit.,  p.  560. 


180  THE   AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

school-boy,  hauled  before  a  pedagogue  to  be  instructed  in  the 
structure  and  organization  of  the  tongue  he  speaks,  is  actually 
instructed  in  the  structure  and  organization  of  a  tongue  that  he 
never  hears  at  all,  and  seldom  reads,  and  that,  in  more  than  one 
of  the  characters  thus  set  before  him,  does  not  even  exist. 

The  effects  of  this  are  two-fold.  On  the  one  hand  he  conceives 
an  antipathy  to  a  subject  so  lacking  in  intelligibility  and  utility. 
As  one  teacher  puts  it,  ' '  pupils  tire  of  it ;  often  they  see  noth- 
ing in  it,  because  there  is  nothing  in  it. "  4  And  on  the  other 
hand,  the  school-boy  goes  entirely  without  sympathetic  guidance 
in  the  living  language  that  he  actually  speaks,  in  and  out  of  the 
classroom,  and  that  he  will  probably  speak  all  the  rest  of  his 
life.  All  he  hears  in  relation  to  it  is  a  series  of  sneers  and  pro- 
hibitions, most  of  them  grounded,  not  upon  principles  deduced 
from  its  own  nature,  but  upon  its  divergences  from  the  theoret- 
ical language  that  he  is  so  unsuccessfully  taught.  The  net  result 
is  that  all  the  instruction  he  receives  passes  for  naught.  It  is 
not  sufficient  to  make  him  a  master  of  orthodox  English  and  it 
is  not  sufficient  to  rid  him  of  the  speech-habits  of  his  home  and 
daily  life.  Thus  he  is  thrown  back  upon  these  speech-habits 
without  any  helpful  restraint  or  guidance,  and  they  make  him 
a  willing  ally  of  the  radical  and  often  extravagant  tendencies 
which  show  themselves  in  the  vulgar  tongue.  In  other  words, 
the  very  effort  to  teach  him  an  excessively  tight  and  formal 
English  promotes  his  use  of  a  loose  and  rebellious  English.  And 
so  the  grammarians,  with  the  traditional  fatuity  of  their  order, 
labor  for  the  destruction  of  the  grammar  they  defend,  and  for 
the  decay  of  all  those  refinements  of  speech  that  go  with  it. 

The  folly  of  this  system,  of  course,  has  not  failed  to  attract 
the  attention  of  the  more  intelligent  teachers,  nor  have  they 
failed  to  observe  the  causes  of  its  failure.  "Much  of  the  fruit- 
lessness  of  the  study  of  English  grammar,"  says  Wilcox,5  "and 

4  The  Difficulties  Created  by  Grammarians  Are  to  be  Ignored,  by  W.  H. 
Wilcox,  Atlantic  Educational  Journal,  Nov.,  1912,  p.  8.  The  title  of  this 
article  is  quoted  from  ministerial  instructions  of  1909  to  the  teachers  of 
French  lycees. 

s  Op  cit.  p.  7.  Mr.  Wilcox  is  an  instructor  in  the  Maryland  State  Normal 
School. 


THE    COMMON   SPEECH  181 

many  of  the  obstacles  encountered  in  its  study  are  due  to  'the 
difficulties  created  by  the  grammarians.'  These  difficulties  arise 
chiefly  from  three  sources — excessive  classification,  multiplica- 
tion of  terms  for  a  single  conception,  and  the  attempt  to  treat 
the  English  language  as  if  it  were  highly  inflected."  So  long 
ago  as  the  60  's  Richard  Grant  White  began  an  onslaught  upon 
all  such  punditic  stupidities.  He  saw  clearly  that  "the  attempt 
to  treat  English  as  if  it  were  highly  inflected"  was  making  its 
intelligent  study  almost  impossible,  and  proposed  boldly  that 
all  English  grammar-books  be  burned.6  Of  late  his  ideas  have 
begun  to  gain  a  certain  acceptance,  and  as  the  literature  of  de- 
nunciation has  grown  7  the  grammarians  have  been  constrained 
to  overhaul  their  texts.  When  I  was  a  school-boy,  during  the 
penultimate  decade  of  the  last  century,  the  chief  American  gram- 
mar was  "A  Practical  Grammar  of  the  English  Language,"  by 
Thomas  W.  Harvey.8  This  formidable  work  was  almost  purely 
synthetical :  it  began  with  a  long  series  of  definitions,  wholly  un- 
intelligible to  a  child,  and  proceeded  into  a  maddening  maze  of 
pedagogical  distinctions,  puzzling  even  to  an  adult.  The  latter- 
day  grammars,  at  least  those  for  the  elementary  schools,  are  far 
more  analytical  and  logical.  For  example,  there  is  ' '  Longmans ' 
Briefer  Grammar,"  by  George  J.  Smith,9  a  text  now  in  very 
wide  use.  This  book  starts  off,  not  with  page  after  page  of 
abstractions,  but  with  a  well-devised  examination  of  the  complete 
sentence,  and  the  characters  and  relations  of  the  parts  of  speech 
are  very  simply  and  clearly  developed.  But  before  the  end  the 
author  begins  to  succumb  to  precedent,  and  on  page  114  I  find 

6  See  especially  chapters  ix  and  x  of  Words  and  Their  Uses  and  chapters 
xvii,  xviii  and  xix  of  Every-Day  English;  also  the  preface  to  the  latter, 
p.  xi  et  seq.  The  study  of  other  languages  has  been  made  difficult  by  the 
same  attempt  to  force  the  characters  of  Greek  and  Latin  grammar  upon 
them.  One  finds  a  protest  against  the  process,  for  example,  in  E.  H. 
Palmer's  Grammar  of  Hindustani,  Persian  and  Arabic;  London,  1906.  In 
all  ages,  indeed,  grammarians  appear  to  have  been  fatuous.  The  learned  will 
remember  Aristophanes'  ridicule  of  them  in  The  Clouds,  660-690. 

?  The  case  is  well  summarized  in  Simpler  English  Grammar,  by  Patterson 
Wardlaw,  Bull,  of  the  University  of  8.  Carolina,  No.  38,  pt.  iii,  July,  1914. 

s  Cincinnati,  1868;  rev.  ed.,  1878. 

» New  York,    1903;    rev.   ed.,    1915. 


182  THE   AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

paragraph  after  paragraph  of  such  dull,  flyblown  pedantry  as 
this: 

Some  Intransitive  Verbs  are  used  to  link  the  Subject  and  some  Ad- 
jective or  Noun.  These  Verbs  are  called  Copulative  Verbs,  and  the 
Adjective  or  Noun  is  called  the  Attribute. 

The  Attribute  always  describes  or  denotes  the  person  or  thing  de- 
noted by  the  Subject. 

Verbals  are  words  that  are  derived  from  Verbs  and  express  action 
or  being  without  asserting  it.  Infinitives  and  Participles  are  Verbals. 

And  so  on.  Smith,  in  his  preface,  says  that  his  book  is  in- 
tended, "not  so  much  to  'cover'  the  subject  of  grammar  as  to 
teach  it, ' '  and  calls  attention  to  the  fact,  somewhat  proudly,  that 
he  has  omitted  "the  rather  hard  subject  of  gerunds,"  all  men- 
tion of  conjunctive  adverbs,  and  even  the  conjugation  of  verbs. 
Nevertheless,  he  immerses  himself  in  the  mythical  objective  case 
of  nouns  on  page  108,  and  does  not  emerge  until  the  end.10 
"The  New-Webster-Cooley  Course  in  English,"  "  another  popu- 
lar text,  carries  reform  a  step  further.  The  subject  of  case  is 
approached  through  the  personal  pronouns,  where  it  retains  its 
only  surviving  intelligibility,  and  the  more  lucid  object  form 
is  used  in  place  of  objective  case.  Moreover,  the  pupil  is  plainly 
informed,  later  on,  that  "a  noun  has  in  reality  but  two  case- 
forms  :  a  possessive  and  a  common  case- form. ' '  This  is  the  best 
concession  to  the  facts  yet  made  by  a  text-book  grammarian. 
But  no  one  familiar  with  the  habits  of  the  pedagogical  mind  need 
be  told  that  its  interior  pull  is  against  even  such  mild  and  obvi- 
ous reforms.  'Defenders  of  the  old  order  are  by  no  means  silent ; 
a  fear  seems  to  prevail  that  grammar,  robbed  of  its  imbecile 
classifications,  may  collapse  entirely.  Wilcox  records  how  the 
Council  of  English  Teachers  of  New  Jersey,  but  a  few  years  ago, 
spoke  out  boldly  for  the  recognition  of  no  less  than  five  cases 

10  Even  Sweet,  though  he  bases  his  New  English  Grammar  upon  the  spoken 
language  and  thus  sets  the  purists  at  defiance,  quickly  succumbs  to  the 
labelling  mania.     Thus  his  classification  of  tenses  includes  such  fabulous 
monsters  as  these:  continuous,  recurrent,  neutral,  definite,  indefinite,  secon- 
dary, incomplete,  inchoate,  short  and  long. 

11  By  W.  F.  Webster  and  Alice  Woodworth  Cooley ;  Boston,  1903 ;  rev.  eds., 
1905  and  1909.     The  authors  are  Minneapolis  teachers. 


THE    COMMON   SPEECH  183 

in  English.  "Why  five?"  asks  Wilcox.  "Why  not  eight,  or 
ten,  or  even  thirteen?  Undoubtedly  because  there  are  five  cases 
in  Latin. " 12  Most  of  the  current  efforts  at  improvement,  in 
fact,  tend  toward  a  mere  revision  and  multiplication  of  classifi- 
cations; the  pedant  is  eternally  convinced  that  pigeon-holing 
and  relabelling  are  contributions  to  knowledge.  A  curious  proof 
in  point  is  offered  by  a  pamphlet  entitled  "Reorganization  of 
English  in  Secondary  Schools,"  compiled  by  James  Fleming 
Hosic  and  issued  by  the  National  Bureau  of  Education.13  The 
aim  of  this  pamphlet  is  to  rid  the  teaching  of  English,  including 
grammar,  of  its  accumulated  formalism  and  ineffectiveness — to 
make  it  genuine  instruction  instead  of  a  pedantic  and  meaning- 
less routine.  And  how  is  this  revolutionary  aim  set  forth  ?  By 
a  meticulous  and  merciless  splitting  of  hairs,  a  gigantic  manu- 
facture of  classifications  and  sub-classifications,  a  colossal  dis- 
play of  professorial  bombast  and  flatulence. 

I  could  cite  many  other  examples.  Perhaps,  after  all,  the  dis- 
ease is  incurable.  What  such  laborious  stupidity  shows  at  bot- 
tom is  simply  this :  that  the  sort  of  man  who  is  willing  to  devote 
his  life  to  teaching  grammar  to  children,  or  to  training  school- 
marms  to  do  it,  is  not  often  the  sort  of  man  who  is  intelligent 
enough  to  do  it  competently.  In  particular,  he  is  not  often  in- 
telligent enough  to  grapple  with  the  fluent  and  ever-amazing- per- 
mutations of  a  living  and  rebellious  speech.  The  only  way  he 
can  grapple  with  it  at  all  is  by  first  reducing  it  to  a  fixed  and  for- 
mal organization — in  brief,  by  first  killing  it  and  embalming  it. 
The  difference  in  the  resultant  proceedings  is  not  unlike  that  be- 
tween a  gross  dissection  and  a  surgical  operation.  The  difficul- 
ties of  the  former  are  quickly  mastered  by  any  student  of  normal 
sense,  but  even  the  most  casual  of  laparotomies  calls  for  a  man  of 
special  skill  and  address.  Thus  the  elementary  study  of  the  na- 
tional language,  at  least  in  America,  is  almost  monopolized  by 
dullards.  Children  are  taught  it  by  men  and  women  who  ob- 
serve it  inaccurately  and  expound  it  ignorantly.  In  most  other 
fields  the  pedagogue  meets  a  certain  corrective  competition  and 

12  Op.  cit.  p.  8. 

is  Bulletin  No.  2;  Washington,  1917. 


184 

criticism.  The  teacher  of  any  branch  of  applied  mathematics, 
fbr  example,  has  practical  engineers  at  his  elbow  and  they  quickly 
expose  and  denounce  his  defects;  the  college  teacher  of  chem- 
istry, however  limited  his  equipment,  at  least  has  the  aid  of  text- 
books written  by  actual  chemists.  But  English,  even  in  its  most 
formal  shapes,  is  chiefly  taught  by  those  who  cannot  write  it 
decently  and  who  get  no  aid  from  those  who  can.  One  wades 
through  treatise  after  treatise  on  English  style  by  pedagogues 
whose  own  style  is  atrocious.  A  Huxley  or  a  Stevenson  might 
have  written  one  of  high  merit  and  utility — but  Huxley  and 
Stevenson  had  other  fish  to  fry,  and  so  the  business  was  left 
to  Prof.  Balderdash.  Consider  the  standard  texts  on  prosody — 
vast  piles  of  meaningless  words — hollow  babble  about  spondees, 
iambics,  trochees  and  so  on — idiotic  borrowings  from  dead  lan- 
guages. Two  poets,  Poe  and  Lanier,  blew  blasts  of  fresh  air 
through  that  fog,  but  they  had  no  successors,  and  it  has  appar- 
ently closed  in  again.  In  the  department  of  prose  it  lies  wholly 
unbroken ;  no  first-rate  writer  of  English  prose  has  ever  written 
a  text-book  upon  the  art  of  writing  it. 

§2 

Spoken  American  As  It  Is — But  here  I  wander  afield.  The 
art  of  prose  has  little  to  do  with  the  stiff  and  pedantic  English 
taught  in  grammar-schools  and  a  great  deal  less  to  do  with  the 
loose  and  lively  English  spoken  by  the  average  American  in  his 
daily  traffic.  The  thing  of  importance  is  that  the  two  differ 
from  each  other  even  more  than  they  differ  from  the  English  of 
a  Huxley  or  a  Stevenson.  The  school-marm,  directed  by  gram- 
marians, labors  heroically,  but  all  her  effort  goes  for  naught. 
The  young  American,  like  the  youngster  of  any  other  race,  in- 
clines irresistibly  toward  the  dialect  that  he  hears  at  home, 
and  that  dialect,  with  its  piquant  neologisms,  its  high  disdain 
of  precedent,  its  complete  lack  of  self-consciousness,  is  almost 
the  antithesis  of  the  hard  and  stiff  speech  that  is  expounded  out 
of  books.  It  derives  its  principles,  not  from  the  subtle  logic 


THE    COMMON   SPEECH  185 

of  learned  and  stupid  men,  but  from  the  rough-and-ready  logic 
of  every  day.  It  has  a  vocabulary  of  its  own,  a  syntax  of  its 
own,  even  a  grammar  of  its  own.  Its  verbs  are  conjugated  in 
a  way  that  defies  all  the  injunctions  of  the  grammar  books;  it 
has  its  contumacious  rules  of  tense,  number  and  case;  it  has 
boldly  re-established  the  double  negative,  once  sound  in  Eng- 
lish ;  it  admits  double  comparatives,  confusions  in  person,  clipped 
infinitives ;  it  lays'  hands  on  the  vowels,  changing  them  to  fit  its 
obscure  but  powerful  spirit ;  it  disdains  all  the  finer  distinctions 
between  the  parts  of  speech. 

This  highly  virile  and  defiant  dialect,  and  not  the  fossilized 
English  of  the  school-marm  and  her  books,  is  the  speech  of  the 
Middle  American  of  Joseph  Jacobs'  composite  picture — the  mill- 
hand  in  a  small  city  of  Indiana,  with  his  five  years  of  common 
schooling  behind  him,  his  diligent  reading  of  newspapers,  and 
his  proud  membership  in  the  Order  of  Foresters  and  the  Knights 
of  the  Maccabees.14  Go  into  any  part  of  the  country,  North, 
East,  South  or  West,  and  you  will  find  multitudes  of  his  broth- 
ers— car  conductors  in  Philadelphia,  immigrants  of  the  second 
generation  in  the  East  Side  of  New  York,  iron-workers  in  the 
Pittsburgh  region,  corner  grocers  in  St.  Louis,  holders  of  petty 
political  jobs  in  Atlanta  and  New  Orleans,  small  farmers  in 
Kansas  or  Kentucky,  house  carpenters  in  Ohio,  tinners  and 
plumbers  in  Chicago, — genuine  Americans  all,  hot  for  the  home 
team,  marchers  in  parades,  readers  of  the  yellow  newspapers, 
fathers  of  families,  sheep  on  election  day,  undistinguished  norms 
of  the  Homo  Americanus.  Such  typical  Americans,  after  a 
fashion,  know  English.  They  can  read  it — all  save  the  "hard" 
words,  i.  e.,  all  save  about  90  per  cent  of  the  words  of  Greek  and 
Latin  origin.15  They  can  understand  perhaps  two-thirds  of  it 
as  it  comes  from  the  lips  of  a  political  orator  or  clergyman. 
They  have  a  feeling  that  it  is,  in  some  recondite  sense,  superior 
to  the  common  speech  of  their  kind.  They  recognize  a  fluent 
command  of  it  as  the  salient  mark  of  a  "smart"  and  "edu- 

i*  The  Middle   American,   American  Magazine,   March,   1907. 
is  Cf.  White:  Every-Day  English,  p.  367  et  seq. 


186  THE   AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

cated"  man,  one  with  "the  gift  of  gab."  But  they  themselves 
never  speak  it  or  try  to  speak  it,  nor  do  they  look  with  approba- 
tion on  efforts  in  that  direction  by  their  fellows. 

In  no  other  way,  indeed,  is  the  failure  of  popular  education 
made  more  vividly  manifest.  Despite  a  gigantic  effort  to  en- 
force certain  speech  habits,  universally  in  operation  from  end 
to  end  of  the  country,  the  masses  of  the  people  turn  almost 
unanimously  to  very  different  speech  habits,  nowhere  advocated 
and  seldom  so  much  as  even  accurately  observed.  The  literary 
critic,  Francis  Hackett,  somewhere  speaks  of  "the  enormous  gap 
between  the  literate  and  unliterate  American."  He  is  appar- 
ently the  first  to  call  attention  to  it.  It  is  the  national  assump- 
tion that  no  such  gap  exists — that  all  Americans,  at  least  if  they 
be  white,  are  so  outfitted  with  sagacity  in  the  public  schools  that 
they  are  competent  to  consider  any  public  question  intelligently 
and  to  follow  its  discussion  with  understanding.  But  the  truth 
is,  of  course,  that  the  public  school  accomplishes  no  such  magic. 
The  inferior  man,  in  America  as  elsewhere,  remains  an  inferior 
man  despite  the  hard  effort  made  to  improve  him,  and  his 
thoughts  seldom  if  ever  rise  above  the  most  elemental  concerns. 
What  lies  above  not  only  does  not  interest  him;  it  actually  ex- 
cites his  derision,  and  he  has  coined  a  unique  word,  high-brow, 
to  express  his  view  of  it.  Especially  in  speech  is  he  suspicious 
of  superior  pretension.  The  school-boy  of  the  lower  orders  would 
bring  down  ridicule  upon  himself,  and  perhaps  criticism  still 
more  devastating,  if  he  essayed  to  speak  what  his  teachers  con- 
ceive to  be  correct  English,  or  even  correct  American,  outside 
the  school-room.  On  the  one  hand  his  companions  would  laugh 
at  him  as  a  prig,  and  on  the  other  hand  his  parents  would  prob- 
ably cane  him  as  an  impertinent  critic  of  their  own  speech. 
Once  he  has  made  his  farewell  to  the  school-marm,  all  her  dili- 
gence in  this  department  goes  for  nothing.16  The  boys  with 
whom  he  plays  baseball  speak  a  tongue  that  is  not  the  one  taught 
in  school,  and  so  do  the  youths  with  whom  he  will  begin  learn- 
ing a  trade  tomorrow,  and  the  girl  he  will  marry  later  on,  and 
the  saloon-keepers,  star  pitchers,  vaudeville  comedians,  business 

i«  Cf.  Sweet :  New  English  Grammar,  vol.  i,  p.  5. 


THE    COMMON   SPEECH  187 

sharpers  and  political  mountebanks  he  will  look  up  to  and  try 
to  imitate  all  the  rest  of  his  life. 

So  far  as  I  can  discover,  there  has  been  but  one  attempt  by 
a  competent  authority  to  determine  the  special  characters  of 
this  general  tongue  of  the  mobile  vulgus.  That  authority  is  Dr. 
W.  W.  Charters,  now  head  of  the  School  of  Education  at  the 
University  of  Illinois.  In  1914  Dr.  Charters  was  dean  of  the 
faculty  of  education  and  professor  of  the  theory  of  teaching  in 
the  University  of  Missouri,  and  one  of  the  problems  he  was 
engaged  upon  was  that  of  the  teaching  of  grammar.  In  the 
course  of  this  study  he  encountered  the  theory  that  such  instruc- 
tion should  be  confined  to  the  rules  habitually  violated — that  the 
one  aim  of  teaching  grammar  was  to  correct  the  speech  of  the 
pupils,  and  that  it  was  useless  to  harass  them  with  principles 
which  they  already  instinctively  observed.  Apparently  inclin- 
ing to  this  somewhat  dubious  notion,  Dr.  Charters  applied  to 
the  School  Board  of  Kansas  City  for  permission  to  undertake 
an  examination  of  the  language  actually  used  by  the  children 
in  the  elementary  schools  of  that  city,  and  this  permission  was 
granted.  The  materials  thereupon  gathered  were  of  two  classes. 
First,  the  teachers  of  grades  III  to  VII  inclusive  in  all  the 
Kansas  City  public-schools  were  instructed  to  turn  over  to  Dr. 
Charters  all  the  written  work  of  their  pupils,  ' '  ordinarily  done  in 
the  regular  order  of  school  work"  during  a  period  of  four  weeks. 
Secondly,  the  teachers  of  grades  II  to  VII  inclusive  were  in- 
structed to  make  note  of  "all  oral  errors  in  grammar  made  in 
the  school-room  and  around  the  school-building"  during  the 
five  school-days  of  one  week,  by  children  of  any  age,  and  to  dis- 
patch these  notes  to  Dr.  Charters  also.  The  result  was  an  ac- 
cumulation of  material  so  huge  that  it  was  unworkable  with  the 
means  at  hand,  and  so  the  investigator  and  his  assistants  reduced 
it.  Of  the  oral  reports,  two  studies  were  made,  the  first  of 
those  from  grades  III  and  VII  and  the  second  of  those  from 
grades  VI  and  VII.  Of  the  written  reports,  only  those  from 
grades  VI  and  VII  of  twelve  typical  schools  were  examined. 

The  ages  thus  covered  ran  from  nine  or  ten  to  fourteen  or 
fifteen,  and  perhaps  five-sixths  of  the  material  studied  came  from 


188  THE   AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

children  above  twelve.  Its  examination  threw  a  brilliant  light 
upon  the  speech  actually  employed  by  children  near  the  end 
of  their  schooling  in  a  typical  American  city,  and,  per  corollary, 
upon  the  speech  employed  by  their  parents  and  other  older  asso- 
ciates. If  anything,  the  grammatical  and  syntactical  habits 
revealed  were  a  bit  less  loose  than  those  of  the  authentic  Volks- 
sprache,  for  practically  all  of  the  written  evidence  was  gathered 
under  conditions  which  naturally  caused  the  writers  to  try  to 
write  what  they  conceived  to  be  correct  English,  and  even  the 
oral  evidence  was  conditioned  by  the  admonitory  presence  of  the 
teachers.  Moreover,  it  must  be  obvious  that  a  child  of  the  lower 
classes,  during  the  period  of  its  actual  study  of  grammar,  prob- 
ably speaks  better  English  than  at  any  time  before  or  afterward, 
for  it  is  only  then  that  any  positive  pressure  is  exerted  upon  it 
to  that  end.  But  even  so,  the  departures  from  standard  usage 
that  were  unearthed  were  numerous  and  striking,  and  their 
tendency  to  accumulate  in  definite  groups  showed  plainly  the 
working  of  general  laws.17 

Thus,  no  less  than  57  per  cent  of  the  oral  errors  reported  by 
the  teachers  of  grades  III  and  VII  involved  the  use  of  the  verb, 
and  nearly  half  of  these,  or  24  per  cent,  of  the  total,  involved 
a  confusion  of  the  past  tense  form  and  the  perfect  participle. 
Again,  double  negatives  constituted  11  per  cent  of  the  errors,  and 
the  misuse  of  adjectives  or  of  adjectival  forms  for  adverbs  ran 
to  4  per  cent.  Finally,  the  difficulties  of  the  objective  case 
among  the  pronouns,  the  last  stronghold  of  that  case  in  English, 
were  responsible  for  7  per  cent,  thus  demonstrating  a  clear  tend- 
ency to  get  rid  of  it  altogether.  Now  compare  the  errors  of 
these  children,  half  of  whom,  as  I  have  just  said,  were  in  grade 
III,  and  hence  wholly  uninstructed  in  formal  grammar,  with  the 
errors  made  by  children  of  the  second  oral  group — that  is,  chil- 
dren of  grades  VI  and  VII,  in  both  of  which  grammar  is  studied. 
Dr.  Charters'  tabulations  show  scarcely  any  difference  in  the 

IT  Dr.  Charters'  report  appears  as  Vol.  XVI,  No.  2,  University  of  Mis- 
souri Bulletin,  Education  Series  No.  9,  Jan.,  1915.  He  was  aided  in  his 
inquiry  by  Edith  Miller,  teacher  of  English  in  one  of  the  St.  Louis  high- 
schools. 


THE    COMMON   SPEECH  189 

character  and  relative  rank  of  the  errors  discovered.  Those  in 
the  use  of  the  verb  drop  from  57  per  cent  of  the  total  to  52  per 
cent,  but  the  double  negatives  remain  at  7  per  cent  and  the 
errors  in  the  case  of  pronouns  at  11  per  cent. 

In  the  written  work  of  grades  VI  and  VII,  however,  certain 
changes  appear,  no  doubt  because  of  the  special  pedagogical  ef- 
fort against  the  more  salient  oral  errors.  The  child,  pen  in  hand, 
has  in  mind  the  cautions  oftenest  heard,  and  so  reveals  some- 
thing of  that  greater  exactness  which  all  of  us  show  when  we 
do  any  writing  that  must  bear  critical  inspection.  Thus,  the 
relative  frequency  of  confusions  between  the  past  tense  forms 
of  verbs  and  the  perfect  participles  drops  from  24  per  cent  to 
5  per  cent,  and  errors  based  on  double  negatives  drop  to  1 
per  cent.  But  this  improvement  in  one  direction  merely  serves 
to  unearth  new  barbarisms  in  other  directions,  concealed  in  the 
oral  tables  by  the  flood  of  errors  now  remedied.  It  is  among 
the  verbs  that  they  are  still  most  numerous;  altogether,  the 
errors  here  amount  to  exactly  50  per  cent  of  the  total.  Such 
locutions  as  /  had  went  and  he  seen  diminish  relatively  and  abso- 
lutely, but  in  all  other  situations  the  verb  is  treated  with  the 
lavish  freedom  that  is  so  characteristic  of  the  American  common 
speech.  Confusions  of  the  past  and  present  tenses  jump  from 
2  per  cent  to  19  per  cent,  thus  eloquently  demonstrating  the 
tenacity  of  the  error.  And  mistakes  in  the  forms  of  nouns  and 
pronouns  increase  from  2  per  cent  to  16:  a  shining  proof  of  a 
shakiness  which  follows  the  slightest  effort  to  augment  the  vo- 
cabulary of  everyday. 

The  materials  collected  by  Dr.  Charters  and  his  associates  are 
not,  of  course,  presented  in  full,  but  his  numerous  specimens 
must  strike  familiar  chords  in  every  ear  that  is  alert  to  the 
sounds  and  ways  of  the  sermo  vulgus.  What  he  gathered  in 
Kansas  City  might  have  been  gathered  just  as  well  in  San  Fran- 
cisco, or  New  Orleans,  or  Chicago,  or  New  York,  or  in  Youngs- 
town,  0.,  or  Little  Rock,  Ark.,  or  Waterloo,  Iowa.  In  each  of 
these  places,  large  or  small,  a  few  localisms  might  have  been 
noted — oi  substituted  for  ur  in  New  York,  you-all  in  the  South, 
a  few  Germanisms  in  Pennsylvania  and  in  the  upper  Mississippi 


190  THE   AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

Valley,  a  few  Spanish  locutions  in  the  Southwest,  certain  pe- 
culiar vowel-forms  in  New  England — but  in  the  main  the  report 
would  have  been  identical  with  the  report  he  makes.  That  vast 
uniformity  which  marks  the  people  of  the  United  States,  in 
political  doctrine,  in  social  habit,  in  general  information,  in  re- 
action to  ideas,  in  prejudices  and  enthusiasms,  in  the  veriest  de- 
tails of  domestic  custom  and  dress,  is  nowhere  more  marked  than 
in  language.  The  incessant  neologisms  of  the  national  speech 
sweep  the  whole  country  almost  instantly,  and  the  iconoclastic 
changes  which  its  popular  spoken  form  are  undergoing  show 
themselves  from  coast  to  coast.  ' '  He  hurt  /mself , ' '  cited  by  Dr. 
Charters,  is  surely  anything  but  a  Missouri  localism;  one  hears 
it  everywhere.  And  so,  too,  one  hears  "she  invited  him  and  I," 
and  "it  hurt  terrible,"  and  "I  set  there,"  and  "this  here  man," 
and  "no,  I  never,  neither,  and  "he  ain't  here,"  and  "where  is 
he  at?"  and  "it  seems  like  I  remember,"  and  "if  I  was  you," 
and  "us  fellows,"  and  "he  give  her  hell."  And  "he  taken  and 
kissed  her,"  and  "he  loaned  me  a  dollar,"  and  "the  man  was 
found  two  dollars,"  and  "the  bee  stang  him,"  and  "I  wouldda 
thought,"  and  "can  I  have  one?"  and  "he  got  hisn,"  and  "the 
boss  left  him  off,"  and  "the  baby  et  the  soap,"  and  "them  are 
the  kind  I  like,"  and  "he  don't  care,"  and  "no  one  has  their 
ticket,"  and  "how  is  the  folks?"  and  "if  you  would  of  gotten 
in  the  car  you  could  of  rode  down. ' ' 

Curiously  enough,  this  widely  dispersed  and  highly  savory 
dialect — already,  as  I  shall  show,  come  to  a  certain  grammatical 
regularity — has  attracted  the  professional  writers  of  the  coun- 
try almost  as  little  as  it  has  attracted  the  philologists.  There 
are  f oreshadowings  of  it  in  "  Huckleberry  Finn, "  in  "  The  Big- 
low  Papers"  and  even  in  the  rough  humor  of  the  period  that 
began  with  J.  C.  Neal  and  company  and  ended  with  Artemus 
Ward  and  Josh  Billings,  but  in  those  early  days  it  had  not  yet 
come  to  full  flower;  it  wanted  the  influence  of  the  later  immi- 
grations to  take  on  its  present  character.  The  enormous  dialect 
literature  of  twenty  years  ago  left  it  almost  untouched.  Local- 
isms were  explored  diligently,  but  the  general  dialect  went  vir- 
tually unobserved.  It  is  not  in  "  Chimmie  Fadden" ;  it  is  not  in 


THE    COMMON  SPEECH  191 

"David  Harum" ;  it  is  not  even  in  the  pre-fable  stories  of  George 
Ade,  perhaps  the  most  acute  observer  of  average,  undistinguished 
American  types,  urban  and  rustic,  that  American  literature  has 
yet  produced.  The  business  of  reducing  it  to  print  had  to  wait 
for  Ring  W.  Lardner,  a  Chicago  newspaper  reporter.  In  his 
grotesque  tales  of  base-ball  players,  so  immediately  and  so  de- 
servedly successful  and  now  so  widely  imitated,18  Lardner  re- 
ports the  common  speech  not  only  with  humor,  but  also  with  the 
utmost  accuracy.  The  observations  of  Charters  and  his  asso- 
ciates are  here  reinforced  by  the  sharp  ear  of  one  specially  com- 
petent, and  the  result  is  a  mine  of  authentic  American. 

In  a  single  story  by  Lardner,  in  truth,  it  is  usually  possible 
to  discover  examples  of  almost  every  logical  and  grammatical 
peculiarity  of  the  emerging  language,  and  he  always  resists  very 
stoutly  the  temptation  to  overdo  the  thing.  Here,  for  example, 
are  a  few  typical  sentences  from  "The  Busher's  Honeymoon": 1S> 

I  and  Florrie  was  married  the  day  before  yesterday  just  like  I  told 
you  we  was  going  to  be.  ...  You  was  wise  to  get  married  in  Bedford, 
where  not  nothing  is  nearly  half  so  dear.  .  .  .  The  sum  of  what  I  have 
wrote  down  is  $29.40.  .  .  .  Allen  told  me  I  should  ought  to  give  the 
priest  $5.  ...  I  never  seen  him  before.  ...  I  didn't  used  to  eat  no 
lunch  in  the  playing  season  except  when  I  knowed  I  was  not  going  to 
work.  ...  I  guess  the  meals  has  cost  me  all  together  about  $1.50,  and 
I  have  eat  very  little  myself.  .  .  . 

I  was  willing  to  tell  her  all  about  them  two  poor  girls.  .  .  .  They 
must  not  be  no  mistake  about  who  is  the  boss  in  my  house.  Some  men 
lets  their  wife  run  all  over  them.  .  .  .  Allen  has  went  to  a  college  foot- 
ball game.  One  of  the  reporters  give  him  a  pass.  .  .  .  He  called  up 
and  said  he  hadn't  only  the  one  pass,  but  he  was  not  hurting  my  feel- 
ings none.  .  .  .  The  flat  across  the  hall  from  this  here  one  is  for  rent. 
...  If  we  should  of  boughten  furniture  it  would  cost  us  in  the  neigh- 
borhood of  $100,  even  without  no  piano.  ...  I  consider  myself  lucky 
to  of  found  out  about  this  before  it  was  too  late  and  somebody  else 
had  of  gotten  the  tip.  ...  It  will  always  be  ourn,  even  when  we  move 
away.  .  .  .  Maybe  you  could  of  did  better  if  you  had  of  went  at  it  in  a 
different  way.  .  .  .  Both  her  and  you  is  welcome  at  my  house.  ...  I 
never  seen  so  much  wine  drank  in  my  life.  .  .  . 

is  You  Know  Me  Al:  New  York,  1916. 
i»  Saturday  Evening  Post,  July  11,  1914. 


192  THE   AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

Here  are  specimens  to  fit  into  most  of  Charters'  categories — 
verbs  confused  as  to  tense,  pronouns  confused  as  to  case,  double 
and  even  triple  negatives,  nouns  and  verbs  disagreeing  in  num- 
ber, have  softened  to  of,  n  marking  the  possessive  instead  of  s, 
like  used  in  place  of  as,  and  the  personal  pronoun  substituted 
for  the  demonstrative  adjective.  A  study  of  the  whole  story 
would  probably  unearth  all  the  remaining  errors  noted  in  Kansas 
City.  Lardner's  baseball  player,  though  he  has  pen  in  hand 
and  is  on  his  guard,  and  is  thus  very  careful  to  write  would  not 
instead  of  wouldn't  and  even  am  not  instead  of  ain't,  offers  a 
comprehensive  and  highly  instructive  panorama  of  popular 
speech  habits.  To  him  the  forms  of  the  subjunctive  mood  have 
no  existence,  and  will  and  shall  are  identical,  and  adjectives  and 
adverbs  are  indistinguishable,  and  the  objective  case  is  merely  a 
variorum  form  of  the  nominative.  His  past  tense  is,  more  often 
than  not,  the  orthodox  present  tense.  All,  fine  distinctions  are 
obliterated  in  his  speech.  He  uses  invariably  the  word  that  is 
simplest,  the  grammatical  form  that  is  handiest.  And  so  he 
moves  toward  the  philological  millennium  dreamed  of  by  George 
T.  Lanigan,  when  "the  singular  verb  shall  lie  down  with  the 
plural  noun,  and  a  little  conjugation  shall  lead  them. ' ' 

§3 

The  Verb — A  study  of  the  materials  amassed  by  Charters  and 
Lardner,  if  it  be  reinforced  by  observation  of  what  is  heard  on 
the  streets  every  day,  will  show  that  the  chief  grammatical  pecul- 
iarities of  spoken  American  lie  among  the  verbs  and  pronouns. 
The  nouns  in  common  use,  in  the  overwhelming  main,  are  quite 
sound  in  form.  Very  often,  of  course,  they  do  not  belong  to 
the  vocabulary  of  English,  but  they  at  least  belong  to  the  vocab- 
ulary of  American:  the  proletariat,  setting  aside  transient  slang, 
calls  things  by  their  proper  names,  and  pronounces  those  names 
more  or  less  correctly.  The  adjectives,  too,  are  treated  rather 
politely,  and  the  adverbs,  though  commonly  transformed  into 
adjectives,  are  not  further  mutilated.  But  the  verbs  and  pro- 
nouns undergo  changes  which  set  off  the  common  speech  very 


THE    COMMON   SPEECH  193 

sharply  from  both  correct  English  and  correct  American.  Their 
grammatical  relationships  are  thoroughly  overhauled  and  some- 
times they  are  radically  modified  in  form. 

This  process  is  natural  and  inevitable,  for  it  is  among  the 
verbs  and  pronouns,  as  we  have  seen,  that  the  only  remaining 
grammatical  inflections  in  English,  at  least  of  any  force  or  conse- 
quence, are  to  be  found,  and  so  they  must  bear  the  chief  pressure 
of  the  influences  that  have  been  warring  upon  all  inflections 
since  the  earliest  days.  The  primitive  Indo-European  language, 
it  is  probable,  had  eight  cases  of  the  noun ;  the  oldest  known  Teu- 
tonic dialect  reduced  them  to  six;  in  Anglo-Saxon  they  fell  to 
four,  with  a  weak  and  moribund  instrumental  hanging  in  the 
air ;  in  Middle  English  the  dative  and  accusative  began  to  decay ; 
in  Modern  English  they  have  disappeared  altogether,  save  as 
ghosts  to  haunt  grammarians.  But  we  still  have  two  plainly 
defined  conjugations  of  the  verb,  and  we  still  inflect  it  for  num- 
ber, and,  in  part,  at  least,  for  person.  And  we  yet  retain  an 
objective  case  of  the  pronoun,  and  inflect  it  for  person,  number 
and  gender. 

Some  of  the  more  familiar  conjugations  of  verbs  in  the  Amer- 
ican common  speech,  as  recorded  by  Charters  or  Lardner  or  de- 
rived from  my  own  collectanea,  are  here  set  down : 

Present  Preterite  Perfect  Participle 

Am  was  bin  (or  ben)  20 

Attack  attackted  attackted 

(Be)  21  was  bin  (or  ben)  20 

Beat  beaten  beat 

Become 22  become  became 

Begin  begun  began 

Bend  bent  bent 

Bet  bet  bet 

Bind  bound  bound 

Bite  bitten  bit 

20  Bin  is  the  correct  American  pronunciation.     Bean,  as  we  have  seen, 
is  the  English.     But  I  have  often  found  ben,  rhyming  with  pen,  in  such 
phrases  as  "I  ben  there." 

21  See  p.  209. 

22  Seldom  used.     Get  is  used  in  the  place  of  it,  as  in  "I  am  getting  old" 
and  "he  got  sick." 


194 


Present 

Preterite 

Perfect  Participle 

Bleed 

bled 

bled 

Blow 

blowed    (or  blew) 

blowed  (or  blew) 

Break 

broken 

broke 

Bring 

brought  (or  brung,  or 

brung 

brang) 

Broke    (passive) 

broke 

broke 

Build 

built 

built 

Burn 

T>-,_~,4-  24 

burnt  23 

burnt 

.Burst 
Bust 

busted 

busted 

Buy 

bought   (or  boughten) 

bought   (or  boughten) 

Can 

could 

could'a 

Catch 

caught  25 

caught 

Choose 

chose 

choose 

Climb 

clum 

clum 

Cling    (to   hold   fast) 

clung 

clung 

Cling   (to  ring) 

clang 

clang 

Come 

come 

came 

Creep 

crep  (or  crope) 

crep 

Crow 

crew 

crew 

Cut 

cut 

cut 

Dare 

dared 

dared 

Deal 

dole 

dealt 

Dig 

dug 

dug 

Dive 

dove 

dived 

Do 

done 

done  (or  did) 

Drag 

drug 

dragged 

Draw 

drawed  26 

drawed  (or  drew) 

Dream 

dreampt 

dreampt 

Drink 

drank  (or  drunk) 

drank 

Drive 

drove 

drove 

Drown 

drownded 

drownded 

Eat 

et  (or  eat) 

ate 

Fall 

fell  (or  fallen) 

fell 

Feed 

fed 

fed 

Feel 

felt 

felt 

23  Burned,  with  a  distinct  d-sound,  is  almost  unknown  in  American.  See 
p.  201. 

2*  Not  used. 

25  Cotched  is  heard  only  in  the  South,  and  mainly  among  the  negroes. 
Catch,  of  course,  is  always  pronounced  ketch. 

29  But  "I  drew  three  jacks,"  in  poker. 


THE    COMMON   SPEECH 


195 


Preterite 

Perfect  Participle 

fetched  27 

fetch 

fought  28 
found 

fought 
found 

found 

found 

flang 
flew 

flung 
flowed 

flew 

flew 

forgotten 
forsaken 

forgotten 
forsook 

frozen  (or  friz) 
got  (or  gotten) 

frozen 
gotten 

give 
glode  29 

give 
glode 

went 

went 

growed 
hung  30 
had 
heerd 
hetai 

growed 
hung 
had  (or  hadden) 
heerd  (or  heern) 
het 

hove 

hove 

hidden 

hid 

h'isted 

h'isted 

hit 

hit 

helt 
hollered 

held  (or  helt) 
hollered 

hurt 

hurt 

kep 
knelt 

kep 
knelt 

knowed 

knew 

laid  (or  lain) 
led 

laid 
led 

lent 

lent 

lep 

lep 

Present 
Fetch 
Fight 
Find 
Fine 
Fling 
Flow 
Fly 
Forget 
Forsake 
Freeze 
Get 
Give 
Glide 
Go 
Grow 
Hang 
Have 
Hear 
Heat 
Heave 
Hide 
H'ist 32 
Hit 
Hold 
Holler 
Hurt 
Keep 
Kneel 
Know 
Lay 
Lead 
Lean 
Leap 

27  Fotch  is  also  heard,  but  it  is  not  general. 

28  Fit  and  fitten,  unless  my  observation  errs,  are  heard  only  in  dialect. 
Fit  is  archaic  English.     Cf.  Thornton,  vol.  i,  p.  322. 

29  Glode  once  enjoyed  a  certain  respectability  in  America.     It  occurs  in 
the  Knickerbocker  Magazine  for  April,  1856. 

so  Hanged  is  never  heard. 

31  Het  is  incomplete  without  the  addition  of  up.     "He  was  het  up"  is 
always  heard,  not  "he  was  het." 

32  Always  so  pronounced.     See  p.  236. 


196 


THE   AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 


Present 

Preterite 

Perfect  Participle 

Learn 

learnt 

learnt 

Lend 

loaned  33 

loaned 

Lie  (to  falsify) 

lied 

lied 

Lie  (to  recline) 

laid  (or  lain) 

laid 

Light 

lit 

lit 

Lose 

lost 

lost 

Make 

made 

made 

May 

might'a 

Mean 

meant 

meant 

Meet 

met 

met 

Mow 

mown 

mowed 

Pay 

paid 

paid 

Plead 

pled 

pled 

Prove 

proved  (or  proven) 

proven 

Put 

put 

put 

Quit 

quit 

quit 

Raise 

raised 

raised 

Read 

read 

read 

Rench  8* 

renched 

renched 

Rid 

rid 

rid 

Ride 

ridden 

rode 

Rile85 

riled 

riled 

Ring 

rung 

rang 

Rise 

riz  (or  rose) 

riz 

Run 

run 

ran 

Say 

sez 

said 

See 

seen 

saw 

Sell 

sold 

sold 

Send 

sent 

sent 

Set 

set38 

sat 

Shake 

shaken  (or  shuck) 

shook 

Shave 

shaved 

shaved 

Shed 

shed 

shed 

Shine   (to  polish) 

shined 

shined 

Shoe 

shoed 

shoed 

Shoot 

shot 

shot 

Show 

shown 

showed 

Sing 

sung 

sang 

Sink 

sunk 

sank 

83  See  pp.  57  and  202. 
34  Always  used  in  place  of  rinse. 
33  Always  used  in  place  of  roil. 
86  Sot  is  heard  as  a  localism  only. 


THE    COMMON    SPEECH 


197 


Present  Preterite  Perfect  Participle 

Sit37 

Skin 

Sleep 

Slide 

Sling 

Slit 

Smell 

Sneak 

Speed 

Spell 

Spill 

Spin 

Spit 

Spoil 

Spring 

Steal 

Sting 

Stink 

Strike 

Swear 

Sweep 

Swell 

Swim 

Swing 

Take 

Teach 

Tear 

Tell 

Think 

Thrive 

Throw 

Tread 

Wake 

Wear 

Weep 

Wet 

Win 

Wind 

Wish   (wisht) 

Wring 

Write 

37  See  set,  which  is  used  almost  invariably  in  place  of  sit. 

ss  Thunk  is  never  used  seriously;  it  always  shows  humorous  intent. 

39  See  pp.  201  and  211. 


skun 

skun 

slep 
slid 

slep 
slid 

slang 
slitted 

slung 
slitted 

smelt 

smelt 

snuck 

snuck 

speeded 
spelt 
spilt 

speeded 
spelt 
spilt 

span 
spit 
spoilt 

span 
spit 
spoilt 

sprung 
stole 

sprang 
stole 

stang 
stank 

stang 
stank 

struck 

struck 

swore 

swore 

swep 
swole 

swep 
swollen 

swum 

swam 

swang 
taken 

swung 
took 

taught 
tore 

taught 
torn 

tole 

tole 

thought  38 
throve 

thought 
throve 

throwed 

threw 

tread 

tread 

woke 

woken 

wore 

wore 

wep 

wet 

wep 

wet 

won  (or  wan)  39 
wound 

won   (or  wan) 
wound 

wisht 

wisht 

wrung 
written 

wrang 
wrote 

198  THE   AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

A  glance  at  these  conjugations  is  sufficient  to  show  several 
general  tendencies,  some  of  them  going  back,  in  their  essence, 
to  the  earliest  days  of  the  English  language.  The  most  obvious 
is  that  leading  to  the  transfer  of  verbs  from  the  so-called  strong 
conjugation  to  the  weak — a  change  already  in  operation  before 
the  Norman  Conquest,  and  very  marked  during  the  Middle  Eng- 
lish period.  Chaucer  used  growed  for  grew  in  the  prologue 
to  "The  Wife  of  Bath's  Tale,"  and  rised  for  rose  and  smited 
for  smote  are  in  John  Purvey 's  edition  of  the  Bible,  circa  1385.40 
Many  of  these  transformations  were  afterward  abandoned,  but 
a  large  number  survived,  for  example,  climbed  for  clomb  as  the 
preterite  of  to  climb,  and  melted  for  molt  as  the  preterite  of  to 
melt.  Others  showed  themselves  during  the  early  part  of  the 
Modern  English  period.  Corned  as  the  perfect  participle  of  to 
come  and  digged  as  the  preterite  of  to  dig  are  both  in  Shake- 
speare, and  the  latter  is  also  in  Milton  and  in  the  Authorized 
Version  of  the  Bible.  This  tendency  went  furthest,  of  course, 
in  the  vulgar  speech,  and  it  has  been  embalmed  in  the  English 
dialects.  I  seen  and  I  knowed,  for  example,  are  common  to  many 
of  them.  But  during  the  seventeenth  century  it  seems  to  have 
been  arrested,  and  even  to  have  given  way  to  a  contrary  tend- 
ency— that  is,  toward  strong  conjugations.  The  English  of  Ire- 
land, which  preserves  many  seventeenth  century  forms,  shows 
this  plainly.  Fed  for  paid,  gother  for  gathered,  and  ruz  for 
raised  are  still  in  use  there,  and  Joyce  says  flatly  that  the  Irish, 
"retaining  the  old  English  custom  [i.  e.}  the  custom  of  the  pe- 
riod of  Cromwell's  invasion,  circa  1650],  have  a  leaning  toward 
the  strong  inflection. ' ' 41  Certain  verb  forms  of  the  American 
colonial  period,  now  reduced  to  the  estate  of  localisms,  are  also 
probably  survivors  of  the  seventeenth  century. 

"The  three  great  causes  of  change  in  language,"  says  Sayce, 
"may  be  briefly  described  as  (1)  imitation  or  analogy,  (2)  a  wish 
to  be  clear  and  emphatic,  and  (3)  laziness.  Indeed,  if  we  choose 
to  go  deep  enough  we  might  reduce  all  three  causes  to  the  gen- 
eral one  of  laziness,  since  it  is  easier  to  imitate  than  to  say 

*o  Cf.  Lounsbury :  History  of  the  English  Language,  pp.  309-10. 
«i  English  As  We  Speak  It  In  Ireland,  p.  77. 


THE    COMMON   SPEECH  199 

something  new. ' ' 42  This  tendency  to  take  well- worn  paths, 
paradoxically  enough,  is  responsible  both  for  the  transfer  of 
verbs  from  the  strong  to  the  weak  declension,  and  for  the  trans- 
fer of  certain  others  from  the  weak  to  the  strong.  A  verb  in 
everyday  use  tends  almost  inevitably  to  pull  less  familiar  verbs 
with  it,  whether  it  be  strong  or  weak.  Thus  fed  as  the  preterite 
of  to  feed  and  led  as  the  preterite  of  to  lead  paved  the  way  for 
pled  as  the  preterite  of  to  plead,  and  rode  as  plainly  performed 
the  same  office  for  glode,  and  rung  for  brung,  and  drove  for  dove 
and  hove,  and  stole  for  dole,  and  won  for  skun.  Moreover,  a 
familiar  verb,  itself  acquiring  a  faulty  inflection,  may  fasten 
a  similar  inflection  upon  another  verb  of  like  sound.  Thus  het, 
as  the  preterite  of  to  heat,  no  doubt  owes  its  existence  to  the 
example  of  et,  the  vulgar  preterite  of  to  eat.  So  far  the  irreg- 
ular verbs.  The  same  combination  of  laziness  and  imitativeness 
works  toward  the  regularization  of  certain  verbs  that  are  his- 
torically irregular.  In  addition,  of  course,  there  is  the  fact  that 
regularization  is  itself  intrinsically  simplification — that  it  makes 
the  language  easier.  One  sees  the  antagonistic  pull  of  the  two 
influences  in  the  case  of  verbs  ending  in  -ow.  The  analogy  of 
knew  suggests  snew  as  the  preterite  of  to  snow,  and  it  is  some- 
times encountered  in  the  American  vulgate.  But  the  analogy  of 
snowed  also  suggests  knowed,  and  the  superior  regularity  of  the 
form  is  enough  to  overcome  the  greater  influence  of  knew  as  a 
more  familiar  word  than  snowed.  Thus  snew  grows  rare  and 
is  in  decay,  but  knowed  shows  vigor,  and  so  do  growed  and 
throwed.  The  substitution  of  heerd  for  heard  also  presents  a 
case  of  logic  and  convenience  supporting  analogy.  The  form  is 
suggested  by  steered,  feared  and  cheered,  but  its  main  advantage 
lies  in  the  fact  that  it  gets  rid  of  a  vowel  change,  always  an  im- 
pediment to  easy  speech.  Here,  as  in  the  contrary  direction,  one 
barbarism  breeds  another.  Thus  taken,  as  the  preterite  of  to 
take,  has  undoubtedly  helped  to  make  preterites  of  two  other 
perfects,  shaken  and  forsaken. 

But  in  the  presence  of  two  exactly  contrary  tendencies,  the 
one  in  accordance  with  the  general  movement  of  the  language 

42  The  Science  of  Language,  vol.  i,  p.  166. 


200  THE    AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

since  the  Norman  Conquest  and  the  ather  opposed  to  it,  it  is  un- 
safe, of  course,  to  attempt  any  very  positive  generalizations.  All 
one  may  exhibit  with  safety  is  a  general  habit  of  treating  the 
verb  conveniently.  Now  and  then,  disregarding  grammatical 
tendencies,  it  is  possible  to  discern  what  appear  to  be  logical 
causes  for  verb  phenomena.  That  lit  is  preferred  to  lighted 
and  hung  to  hanged  is  probably  the  result  of  an  aversion  to  fine 
distinctions,  and  perhaps,  more  fundamentally,  to  the  passive. 
Again,  the  use  of  found  as  the  preterite  of  to  fine  is  obviously 
due  to  an  ignorant  confusion  of  fine  and  find,  due  to  the  wearing 
off  of  -d  in  find,  and  that  of  lit  as  the  preterite  of  to  alight  to  a 
confusion  of  alight  and  light.  Yet  again,  the  use  of  tread  as  its 
own  preterite  in  place  of  trod  is  probably  the  consequence  of  a 
vague  feeling  that  a  verb  ending  with  d  is  already  of  preterite 
form.  Shed  exhibits  the  same  process.  Both  are  given  a  logical 
standing  by  such  preterites  as  bled,  fed,  fled,  led,  read,  dead  and 
spread.  But  here,  once  more,  it  is  hazardous  to  lay  down  laws, 
for  shredded,  headed,  dreaded,  threaded  and  breaded  at  once 
come  to  mind.  In  other  cases  it  is  still  more  difficult  to  account 
for  preterites  in  common  use.  Drug  is  wholly  illogical,  and  so 
are  clum  and  friz.  Neither,  fortunately,  has  yet  supplanted  the 
more  intelligible  form  of  its  verb,  and  so  it  is  not  necessary  to 
speculate  about  them.  As  for  crew,  it  is  archaic  English  sur- 
viving in  American,  and  it  was  formed,  perhaps,  by  analogy 
with  knew,  which  has  succumbed  in  American  to  knowed. 

Some  of  the  verbs  of  the  vulgate  show  the  end  products  of 
language  movements  that  go  back  to  the  Anglo-Saxon  period,  and 
even  beyond.  There  is,  for  example,  the  disappearance  of  the 
final  t  in  such  words  as  crep,  slep,  lep,  swep  and  wep.  Most  of 
these,  in  Anglo-Saxon,  were  strong  verbs.  The  preterite  of  to 
sleep  (sldepan),  for  example,  was  slep,  and  that  of  to  weep  was 
weop.  But  in  the  course  of  time  both  to  sleep  and  to  weep  ac- 
quired weak  preterite  endings,  the  first  becoming  sldepte  and 
the  second  wepte.  This  weak  conjugation  was  itself  degenerated. 
Originally,  the  inflectional  suffix  had  been  -de  or  -ede  and  in  some 
cases  -ode,  and  the  vowels  were  always  pronounced.  The  wear- 
ing down  process  that  set  in  in  the  twelfth  century  disposed 


THE    COMMON    SPEECH  201 

of  the  final  e,  but  in  certain  words  the  other  vowel  survived  for 
a  good  while,  and  we  still  observe  it  in  such  archaisms  as  beloved. 
Finally,  however,  it  became  silent  in  other  preterites,  and  loved, 
for  example,  began  to  be  pronounced  (and  often  written)  as 
a  word  of  one  syllable :  lov'd.*3  This  final  cZ-sound  now  fell  upon 
difficulties  of  its  own.  After  certain  consonants  it  was  hard  to 
pronounce  clearly,  and  so  the  sonant  was  changed  into  the  easier 
surd,  and  such  words  as  pushed  and  clipped  became,  in  ordinary 
conversation,  pusht  and  dipt.  In  other  verbs  the  tf-sound  had 
come  in  long  before,  with  the  degenerated  weak  ending,  and  when 
the  final  e  was  dropped  their  stem  vowels  tended  to  change. 
Thus  arose  such  forms  as  slept.  In  vulgar  American  another 
step  is  taken,  and  the  suffix  is  dropped  altogether.  Thus,  by  a 
circuitous  route,  verbs  originally  strong,  and  for  many  centuries 
hovering  between  the  two  conjugations,  have  eventually  become 
strong  again. 

The  case  of  helt  is  probably  an  example  of  change  by  false 
analogy.  During  the  thirteenth  century,  according  to  Sweet,44 
"d  was  changed  to  t  in  the  weak  preterites  of  verbs  [ending]  in 
rd,  Id  and  nd."  Before  that  time  the  preterite  of  sende  (send) 
had  been  sende;  now  it  became  sente.  It  survives  in  our  mod- 
ern sent,  and  the  same  process  is  also  revealed  in  built,  girt, 
lent,  rent  and  bent.  The  popular  speech,  disregarding  the  fact 
that  to  hold  is  a  strong  verb,  arrives  at  helt  by  imitation.  In  the 
case  of  tole,  which  I  almost  always  hear  in  place  of  told,  there 
is  a  leaping  of  steps.  The  d  is  got  rid  of  without  any  transi- 
tional use  of  t.  So  also,  perhaps,  in  swole,  which  is  fast  dis- 
placing swelled..  Attackted  and  drownded  seem  to  be  examples 
of  an  effort  to  dispose  of  harsh  combinations  by  a  contrary  proc- 
ess. Both  are  very  old  in  English.  Boughten  and  dreampt  pre- 
43  The  last  stand  of  the  distinct  -ed  was  made  in  Addison's  day.  He 
was  in  favor  of  retaining  it,  and  in  the  Spectator  for  Aug.  4,  1711,  he 
protested  against  obliterating  the  syllable  in  the  termination  "of  our 
praeter  perfect  tense,  as  in  these  words,  drown'd,  walk'd,  arriv'd,  for 
drowned,  walked,  arrived,  which  has  very  much  disfigured  the  tongue,  and 
turned  a  tenth  part  of  our  smoothest  words  into  so  many  clusters  of  con- 
sonants." 

44  A  New  English  Grammar,  pt.  i,  p.  380. 


202  THE   AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

sent  greater  difficulties.  Lounsbury  says  that  boughten  prob- 
ably originated  in  the  Northern  [i.  e.,  Lowland  Scotch]  dialect 
of  English,  "which  .  .  .  inclined  to  retain  the  full  form  of  the 
past  participle,"  and  even  to  add  its  termination  "to  words  to 
which  it  did  not  properly  belong. " 45  I  record  dreampt  without 
attempting  to  account  for  it.  I  have  repeatedly  heard  a  distinct 
p-sound  in  the  word. 

The  general  tendency  toward  regularization  is  well  exhibited 
by  the  new  verbs  that  come  into  the  language  constantly.  Prac- 
tically all  of  them  show  the  weak  conjugation,  for  example,  to 
phone,  to  bluff,  to  rubber-neck,  to  ante,  to  bunt,  to  wireless,  to 
insurge  and  to  loop-the-loop.  Even  when  a  compound  has  as 
its  last  member  a  verb  ordinarily  strong,  it  remains  weak  itself. 
Thus  the  preterite  of  to  joy-ride  is  not  joy-rode,  nor  even  joy- 
ridden,  but  joy-rided.  And  thus  bust,  from  burst,  is  regular 
and  its  preterite  is  busted,  though  burst  is  irregular  and  its  pre- 
terite is  the  verb  itself  unchanged.  The  same  tendency  toward 
regularity  is  shown  by  the  verbs  of  the  kneel-class.  They  are 
strong  in  English,  but  tend  to  become  weak  in  colloquial  Amer- 
ican. Thus  the  preterite  of  to  kneel,  despite  the  example  of  to 
sleep  and  its  analogues,  is  not  knel',  nor  even  knelt,  but  kneeled. 
I  have  even  heard  feeled  as  the  preterite  of  to  feel,  as  in  "I 
feeled  my  way,"  though  here  felt  still  persists.  To  spread  also 
tends  to  become  weak,  as  in  "he  spreaded  a  piece  of  bread." 
And  to  peep  remains  so,  despite  the  example  of  to  leap.  The 
confusion  between  the  inflections  of  to  lie  and  those  of  to  lay 
extends  to  the  higher  reaches  of  spoken  American,  and  so  does 
that  between  lend  and  loan.  The  proper  inflections  of  to  lend 
are  often  given  to  to  loan,  and  so  leaned  becomes  lent,  as  in  "I 
lent  on  the  counter."  In  the  same  way  to  set  has  almost  com- 
pletely superseded  to  sit,  and  the  preterite  of  the  former,  set,  is 
used  in  place  of  sat.  But  the  perfect  participle  (which  is  also 
the  disused  preterite)  of  to  sit  has  survived,  as  in  "I  have 
sat  there. ' '  To  speed  and  to  shoe  have  become  regular,  not  only 
because  of  the  general  tendency  toward  the  weak  conjugation, 
but  also  for  logical  reasons.  The  prevalence  of  speed  contests 

*»  History  of  the  English  Language,  p.  398. 


THE    COMMON   SPEECH  203 

of  various  sorts,  always  to  the  intense  interest  of  the  proletariat, 
has  brought  such  words  as  speeder,  speeding,  speed-mania,  speed- 
maniac  and  speed-limit  into  daily  use,  and  speeded  harmonizes 
with  them  better  than  the  stronger  sped.  As  for  shoed,  it  merely 
reveals  the  virtual  disappearance  of  the  verb  in  its  passive  form. 
An  American  would  never  say  that  his  wife  was  well  shod; 
he  would  say  that  she  wore  good  shoes.  To  shoe  suggests  to  him 
only  the  shoeing  of  animals,  and  so,  by  way  of  shoeing  and 
horse-shoer,  he  comes  to  shoed.  His  misuse  of  to  learn  for  to 
teach  is  common  to  most  of  the  English  dialects.  More  peculiar 
to  his  speech  is  the  use  of  to  leave  for  to  let.  Charters  records 
it  in  ' '  Washington  left  them  have  it, ' '  and  there  are  many  exam- 
ples of  it  in  Lardner.  Spit,  in  American,  has  become  invariable ; 
the  old  preterite,  spat,  has  completely  disappeared.  But  slit, 
which  is  now  invariable  in  English  (though  it  was  strong  in 
Old  English  and  had  both  strong  and  weak  preterites  in  Mid- 
dle English),  has  become  regular  in  American,  as  in  "she  slitted 
her  skirt." 

In  studying  the  American  verb,  of  course,  it  is  necessary  to 
remember  always  that  it  is  in  a  state  of  transition,  and  that  in 
many  cases  the  manner  of  using  it  is  not  yet  fixed.  ' '  The  history 
of  language, ' '  says  Lounsbury,  ' '  when  looked  at  from  the  purely 
grammatical  point  of  view,  is  little  else  than  the  history  of  cor- 
ruptions." What  we  have  before  us  is  a  series  of  corruptions 
in  active  process,  and  while  some  of  them  have  gone  very  far, 
others  are  just  beginning.  Thus  it  is  not  uncommon  to  find 
corrupt  forms  side  by  side  with  orthodox  forms,  or  even  two  cor- 
rupt forms  battling  with  each  other.  Lardner,  in  the  case  of 
to  throw,  hears  "if  he  had  throwed" ;  my  own  observation  is 
that  threw  is  more  often  used  in  that  situation.  Again,  he  uses 
"the  rottenest  I  ever  seen  gave";  my  own  belief  is  that  give 
is  far  more  commonly  used.  The  conjugation  of  to  give,  how- 
ever, is  yet  very  uncertain,  and  so  Lardner  may  report  accurately. 
I  have  heard  "I  given"  and  "I  would  of  gave,"  but  "I  give" 
seems  to  be  prevailing,  and  "I  would  of  give"  with  it,  thus  re- 
ducing to  give  to  one  invariable  form,  like  those  of  to  cut,  to  hit, 
to  put,  to  cost,  to  hurt  and  to  spit.  My  table  of  verbs  shows 


204  THE   AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

various  other  uncertainties  and  confusions.  The  preterite  of  to 
hear  is  heerd;  the  perfect  may  be  either  heerd  or  heern.  That 
of  to  do  may  be  either  done  or  did,  with  the  latter  apparently  pre- 
vailing; that  of  to  draw  is  drew  if  the  verb  indicates  to  attract 
or  to  abstract  and  drawed  if  it  indicates  to  draw  with  a  pencil. 
Similarly,  the  preterite  of  to  blow  may  be  either  Wowed  or  blew, 
and  that  of  to  drink  oscillates  between  drank  and  drunk,  and 
that  of  to  fall  is  still  usually  fell,  though  fallen  has  appeared, 
and  that  of  to  shake  may  be  either  shaken  or  shuck.  The  conju- 
gation of  to  win  is  yet  far  from  fixed.  The  correct  English 
preterite,  won,  is  still  in  use,  but  against  it  are  arrayed  wan 
and  winned.  Wan  seems  to  show  some  kinship,  by  ignorant 
analogy,  with  ran  and  began.  It  is  often  used  as  the  perfect 
participle,  as  in  ' '  I  have  wan  $4. ' ' 

The  misuse  of  the  perfect  participle  for  the  preterite,  now 
almost  the  invariable  rule  in  vulgar  American,  is  common  to 
many  other  dialects  of  English,  and  seems  to  be  a  symptom  of 
a  general  decay  of  the  perfect  tenses.  That  decay  has  been  go- 
ing on  for  a  long  time,  and  in  American,  the  most  vigorous  and 
advanced  of  all  the  dialects  of  the  language,  it  is  particularly 
well  marked.  Even  in  the  most  pretentious  written  American  it 
shows  itself.  The  English,  in  their  writing,  still  use  the  future 
perfect,  albeit  somewhat  laboriously  and  self-consciously,  but  in 
America  it  has  virtually  disappeared:  one  often  reads  whole 
books  without  encountering  a  single  example  of  it.  Even  the 
present  perfect  and  the  past  perfect  seem  to  be  instinctively 
avoided.  The  Englishman  says  "I  have  dined,"  but  the  Amer- 
ican says  "I  am  through  dinner";  the  Englishman  says  "I  had 
slept,"  but  the  American  often  says  "I  was  done  sleeping." 
Thus  the  perfect  tenses  are  forsaken  for  the  simple  present  and 
the  past.  In  the  vulgate  a  further  step  is  taken,  and  "I  have 
been  there"  becomes  "I  been  there."  Even  in  such  phrases  as 
"he  hasn't  been  here,"  ain't  (=am  not]  is  commonly  substi- 
tuted for  have  not,  thus  giving  the  present  perfect  a  flavor  of 
the  simple  present.  The  step  from  "I  have  taken"  to  "I  taken" 
was  therefore  neither  difficult  nor  unnatural,  and  once  it  had 
been  made  the  resulting  locution  was  supported  by  the  greater 


THE    COMMON   SPEECH  205 

apparent  regularity  of  its  verb.  Moreover,  this  perfect  parti- 
ciple, thus  put  in  place  of  the  preterite,  was  further  reinforced 
by  the  fact  that  it  was  the  adjectival  form  of  the  verb,  and 
hence  collaterally  familiar.  Finally,  it  was  also  the  authentic 
preterite  in  the  passive  voice,  and  although  this  influence,  in 
view  of  the  decay  of  the  passive,  may  not  have  been  of  much 
consequence,  nevertheless  it  is  not  to  be  dismissed  as  of  no  conse- 
quence at  all. 

The  contrary  substitution  of  the  preterite  for  the  perfect  par- 
ticiple, as  in  "I  have  went"  and  "he  has  did,"  apparently  has 
a  double  influence  behind  it.  In  the  first  place,  there  is  the 
effect  of  the  confused  and  blundering  effort,  by  an  ignorant  and 
unanalytical  speaker,  to  give  the  perfect  some  grammatical  dif- 
ferentiation when  he  finds  himself  getting  into  it — an  excursion 
not  infrequently  made  necessary  by  logical  exigencies,  despite 
his  inclination  to  keep  out.  The  nearest  indicator  at  hand  is  the 
disused  preterite,  and  so  it  is  put  to  use.  Sometimes  a  sense  of 
its  uncouthness  seems  to  linger,  and  there  is  a  tendency  to  give 
it  an  ew-suffix,  thus  bringing  it  into  greater  harmony  with  its 
tense.  I  find  that  boughten,  just  discussed,  is  used  much  oftener 
in  the  perfect  than  in  the  simple  past  tense ; 46  for  the  latter 
bought  usually  suffices.  The  quick  ear  of  Lardner  detects  vari- 
ous other  coinages  of  the  same  sort,  among  them  tooken,  as  in 
"little  Al  might  of  tooken  sick."47  Hodden  is  also  met  with, 
as  in  "I  would  of  hadden."  But  the  majority  of  preterites  re- 
main unchanged.  Lardner 's  baseball  player  never  writes  ' '  I 
have  written"  or  "I  have  wroten,"  but  always  "I  have  wrote." 
And  in  the  same  way  he  always  writes,  "I  have  did,  ate,  went, 
drank,  rode,  ran,  saw,  sang,  woke  and  stole."  Sometimes  the 
simple  form  of  the  verb  persists  through  all  tenses.  This  is 
usually  the  case,  for  example,  with  to  give.  I  have  noted  "I 
give"  both  as  present  and  as  preterite,  and  "I  have  give,"  and 
even  "I  had  give."  But  even  here  "I  have  gave"  offers  rivalry 
to  ' '  I  have  give,"  and  usage  is  not  settled.  So,  too,  with  to  come. 
"I  have  come"  and  "I  have  came"  seem  to  be  almost  equally 

46  And  still  more  often  as  an  adjective,  as  in  "it  was  a  boughten  dress." 
*7  You  Know  Me  Al,  p.  180;  see  also  p.  122. 


206  THE    AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

favored,  with  the  former  supported  by  pedagogical  admonition 
and  the  latter  by  the  spirit  of  the  language. 

Whatever  the  true  cause  of  the  substitution  of  the  preterite 
for  the  perfect  participle,  it  seems  to  be  a  tendency  inherent  in 
English,  and  during  the  age  of  Elizabeth  it  showed  itself  even 
in  the  most  formal  speech.  An  examination  of  any  play  of 
Shakespeare's  will  show  many  such  forms  as  "I  have  wrote," 
"I  am  mistook"  and  "he  has  rode."  In  several  cases  this  trans- 
fer of  the  preterite  has  survived.  "I  have  stood,"  for  example, 
is  now  perfectly  correct  English,  but  before  1550  the  form  was 
"I  have  stonden."  To  hold  and  to  sit  belong  to  the  same  class; 
their  original  perfect  participles  were  not  held  and  sat,  but 
holden  and  sitten.  These  survived  the  movement  toward  the 
formalization  of  the  language  which  began  with  the  eighteenth 
century,  but  scores  of  other  such  misplaced  preterites  were 
driven  out.  One  of  the  last  to  go  was  wrote,  which  persisted 
until  near  the  end  of  the  century.48  Paradoxically  enough,  the 
very  purists  who  performed  the  purging  showed  a  preference 
for  got  (though  not  for  forgot),  and  it  survives  in  correct  Eng- 
lish today  in  the  preterite-present  form,  as  in  "I  have  got," 
whereas  in  American,  both  vulgar  and  polite,  the  elder  and  more 
regular  gotten  is  often  used.  In  the  polite  speech  gotten  indi- 
cates a  distinction  between  a  completed  action  and  a  continuing 
action, — between  obtaining  and  possessing.  "I  have  gotten 
what  I  came  for"  is  correct,  and  so  is  "I  have  got  the  measles." 
In  the  vulgar  speech,  much  the  same  distinction  exists,  but  the 
perfect  becomes  a  sort  of  simple  tense  by  the  elision  of  have. 
Thus  the  two  sentences  change  to  "I  gotten  what  I  come  for" 
and  "I  got  the  measles,"  the  latter  being  understood,  not  as 
past,  but  as  present. 

In  "I  have  got  the  measles"  got  is  historically  a  sort  of  aux- 
iliary of  have,  and  in  colloquial  American,  as  we  have  seen  in 
the  examples  just  given,  the  auxiliary  has  obliterated  the  verb. 
To  have,  as  an  auxiliary,  probably  because  of  its  intimate  rela- 
tionship with  the  perfect  tenses,  is  under  heavy  pressure,  and 

«  Cf.  Lounsbury :  History  of  the  English  Language,  pp.  393  et  seq. 


THE    COMMON   SPEECH  207 

promises  to  disappear  from  the  situations  in  which  it  is  still 
used.  I  have  heard  was  used  in  place  of  it,  as  in  "before  the 
Elks  was  come  here. ' ' 49  Sometimes  it  is  confused  ignorantly 
with  a  distinct  of,  as  in  "  she  would  of  drove, ' '  and  ' '  I  would  of 
gave. ' '  More  often  it  is  shaded  to  a  sort  of  particle,  attached  to 
the  verb  as  an  inflection,  as  in  "  he  would  'a  tole  you, ' '  and  ' '  who 
could  'a  took  it?"  But  this  is  not  all.  Having  degenerated  to 
such  forms,  it  is  now  employed  as  a  sort  of  auxiliary  to  itself,  in 
the  subjunctive,  as  in  "if  you  had  of  went,"  "if  it  had  of  been 
hard,"  and  "if  I  had  of  had."50  I  have  encountered  some 
rather  astonishing  examples  of  this  doubling  of  the  auxiliary: 
one  appears  in  "I  wouldn't  had  'a  went."  Here,  however,  the 
a  may  belong  partly  to  had  and  partly  to  went;  such  forms  as 
a-going  are  very  common  in  American.  But  in  the  other  cases, 
and  in  such  forms  as  "I  had  'a  wanted,"  it  clearly  belongs  to 
had.  Sometimes  for  syntactical  reasons,  the  degenerated  form 
of  have  is  put  before  had  instead  of  after  it,  as  in  "I  could  of 
had  her  if  I  had  of  wanted  to. ' ' 51  Meanwhile,  to  have,  ceas- 
ing to  be  an  auxiliary,  becomes  a  general  verb  indicating  com- 
pulsion. Here  it  promises  to  displace  must.  The  American 
seldom  says  "I  must  go";  he  almost  invariably  says  "I  have 
to  go,"  or  "I  have  got  to  go,"  in  which  last  case,  as  we  have 
seen,  got  is  the  auxiliary. 

The  most  common  inflections  of  the  verb  for  mode  and  voice 
are  shown  in  the  following  paradigm  of  to  bite: 

ACTIVE  VOICE 
Indicative  Mode 

Present  I  bite  Past  Perfect         I  had  of  bit 

Present  Perfect    I  have  bit  Future  I  will  bite 

Past  I  bitten  Future  Perfect      (wanting) 

4»  Remark  of  a  policeman  talking  to  another.  What  he  actually  said 
was  "before  the  Elks  was  c'm  'ere."  Come  and  here  were  one  word,  ap- 
proximately cmear.  The  context  showed  that  he  meant  to  use  the  past 
perfect  tense. 

so  These  examples  are  from  Lardner's  story,  A  New  Busher  Breaks  In, 
in  You  Know  Me  Al,  pp.  122  et  seq. 

•i  You  Know  Me  Al,  op.  cit.,  p.  124. 


208 


THE   AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 


Present 
Past 


Future 
(wanting) 


Present 

Present  Perfect 
Past 


Present 
Past 


Present 
Present  Perfect 

(wanting) 
(wanting) 


Subjunctive  Mode 

If  I  bite  Past  Perfect 

If  I  bitten 

Potential  Mode 

I  can  bite  Past 

(wanting)          Past  Perfect 

Imperative  (or  Optative)  Mode 
I  shall  (or  will)  bite 

Infinitive  Mode 

PASSIVE  VOICE 
Indicative  Mode 

I  am  bit  Pas*  Perfect 

I  been  bit  Future 

I  was  bit  Future  Perfect 

Subjunctive  Mode 

If  I  am  bit  Past  Perfect 

If  I  was  bit 

Potential  Mode 

I  can  be  bit  Past 

(wanting)          Past  Perfect 

Imperative  Mode 
Infinitive  Mode 


If  I  had  of  bit 


I  could  bite 
I  could  of  bit 


I  had  been  bit 
I  will  be  bit 
(wanting) 


If  I  had  of  been 
bit 


I  could  be  bit 
I   could    of   been 
bit 


A  study  of  this  paradigm  reveals  several  plain  tendencies. 
One  has  just  been  discussed :  the  addition  of  a  degenerated  form 
of  have  to  the  preterite  of  the  auxiliary,  and  its  use  in  place  of 
the  auxiliary  itself.  Another  is  the  use  of  will  instead  of  shall 
in  the  first  person  future.  Shall  is  confined  to  a  sort  of  opta- 
tive, indicating  much  more  than  mere  intention,  and  even  here 
it  is  yielding  to  will.  Yet  another  is  the  consistent  use  of  the 
transferred  preterite  in  the  passive.  Here  the  rule  in  correct 
English  is  followed  faithfully,  though  the  perfect  participle 


THE    COMMON   SPEECH  209 

employed  is  not  the  English  participle.  "I  am  broke"  is  a 
good  example.  Finally,  there  is  the  substitution  of  was  for  were 
and  of  am  for  be  in  the  past  and  present  of  the  subjunctive.  In 
this  last  case  American  is  in  accord  with  the  general  movement 
of  English,  though  somewhat  more  advanced.  Be,  in  the  Shake- 
spearean form  of  "where  be  thy  brothers?"  was  expelled  from 
the  present  indicative  two  hundred  years  ago,  and  survives  to- 
day only  in  dialect.  And  as  it  thus  yielded  to  are  in  the  in- 
dicative, it  now  seems  destined  to  yield  to  am  and  is  in  the  sub- 
junctive. It  remains,  of  course,  in  the  future  indicative:  "I 
will  be."  In  American  its  conjugation  coalesces  with  that  of  am 
in  the  following  manner: 

I  am  Past  Perfect          I  had  of  ben 

I  bin  (or  ben)      Future  I  will  be 

I  was  Future  Perfect      (wanting) 

And  in  the  subjunction  : 

Present  If  I  am  Past  Perfect         If  I  had  of  ben 

If  I  was 


All  signs  of  the  subjunctive,  indeed,  seem  to  be  disappear- 
ing from  vulgar  American.  One  never  hears  "if  I  were  you," 
but  always  "if  I  was  you."  In  the  third  person  the  -s  is  not 
dropped  from  the  verb.  One  hears,  not  "if  she  go,"  but  "if 
she  goes."  "If  he  be  the  man"  is  never  heard;  it  is  always 
"if  he  is."  This  war  upon  the  forms  of  the  subjunctive,  of 
course,  extends  to  the  most  formal  English.  '  '  In  Old  English,  '  ' 
says  Bradley,52  "the  subjunctive  played  as  important  a  part  as 
in  modern  German,  and  was  used  in  much  the  same  way.  Its 
inflection  differed  in  several  respects  from  that  of  the  indicative. 
But  the  only  formal  trace  of  the  old  subjunctive  still  remaining, 
except  the  use  of  be  and  were,  is  the  omission  of  the  final  s  in 
the  third  person  singular.  And  even  this  is  rapidly  dropping 
out  of  use.  .  .  .  Perhaps  in  another  generation  the  subjunctive 
forms  will  have  ceased  to  exist  except  in  the  single  instance  of 
were,  which  serves  a  useful  function,  although  we  manage  to 

82  The  Making  of  English,  p.  53. 


210  THE    AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

dispense  with  a  corresponding  form  in  other  verbs."  Here,  as 
elsewhere,  unlettered  American  usage  simply  proceeds  in  ad- 
vance of  the  general  movement.  Be  and  the  omitted  s  are  already 
dispensed  with,  and  even  were  has  been  discarded. 

In  the  same  way  the  distinction  between  will  and  shall,  pre- 
served in  correct  English  but  already  breaking  down  in  the 
most  correct  American,  has  been  lost  entirely  in  the  American 
common  speech.  Will  has  displaced  shall  completely,  save  in  the 
imperative.  This  preference  extends  to  the  inflections  of  both. 
Sha'n't  is  very  seldom  heard;  almost  always  won't  is  used  in- 
stead. As  for  should,  it  is  displaced  by  ought  to  (degenerated 
to  oughter  or  ought 'a},  and  in  its  negative  form  by  hadn't 
ought 'a,  as  in  "he  hadn't  oughter  said  that,"  reported  by  Char- 
ters. Lardner  gives  various  redundant  combinations  of  should 
and  ought,  as  in  ' '  I  don 't  feel  as  if  I  should  ought  to  leave ' '  and 
"they  should  not  ought  to  of  had."  I  have  encountered  the 
same  form,  but  I  don't  think  it  is  as  common  as  the  simple 
ought 'a- forms.  In  the  main,  should  is  avoided,  sometimes  at 
considerable  pains.  Often  its  place  is  taken  by  the  more  posi- 
tive don't.  Thus  ' '  I  don't  mind ' '  is  used  instead  of  " I  shouldn 't 
mind."  Don't  has  also  completely  displaced  doesn't,  which  is 
very  seldom  heard.  "He  don't"  and  "they  don't"  are  prac- 
tically universal.  In  the  same  way  ain't  has  displaced  is  not,  am 
not,  isn't  and  aren't,  and  even  have  not  and  haven't.  One  re- 
calls a  famous  speech  in  a  naval  melodrama  of  twenty  years  ago : 
"We  ain't  got  no  manners,  but  we  can  fight  like  hell."  Such 
forms  as  "he  ain't  here,"  "I  ain't  the  man,"  "them  ain't  what 
I  want"  and  "I  ain't  heerd  of  it"  are  common. 

This  extensive  use  of  ain't,  of  course,  is  merely  a  single  symp- 
tom of  a  general  disregard  of  number,  obvious  throughout  the 
verbs,  and  also  among  the  pronouns,  as  we  shall  see.  Charters 
gives  many  examples,  among  them,  "how  is  Uncle  Wallace  and 
Aunt  Clara?"  "you  was,"  "there  is  six"  and  the  incomparable 
"it  ain't  right  to  say,  'He  ain't  here  today.'  '  In  Lardner 
there  are  many  more,  for  instance,  "them  Giants  is  not  such 
rotten  hitters,  is  they?"  "the  people  has  all  wanted  to  shake 
hands  with  Matthewson  and  I"  and  "some  of  the  men  has 


THE    COMMON   SPEECH  211 

brung  their  wife  along."  Sez  (=says),  used  as  the  preterite 
of  to  say,  shows  the  same  confusion.  One  observes  it  again  in 
such  forms  as  "then  I  goes  up  to  him."  Here  the  decay  of 
number  helps  in  what  threatens  to  become  a  decay  of  tense. 
Examples  of  it  are  not  hard  to  find.  The  average  race-track 
follower  of  the  humbler  sort  seldom  says  "I  won  $2,"  or  even  "I 
wan  $2, ' '  but  almost  always  ' '  I  win  $2. ' '  And  in  the  same  way 
he  says  "I  see  him  come  in,"  not  "I  saw  him"  or  "seen  him." 
Charters'  materials  offers  other  specimens,  among  them  "we 
help  distributed  the  fruit,"  "she  recognize,  hug,  and  kiss  him" 
and  "her  father  ask  her  if  she  intended  doing  what  he  ask." 
Perhaps  the  occasional  use  of  eat  as  the  preterite  of  to  eat,  as  in 
"I  eat  breakfast  as  soon  as  I  got  up,"  is  an  example  of  the 
same  flattening  out  of  distinctions.  Lardner  has  many  speci- 
mens, among  them  "if  Weaver  and  them  had  not  of  begin  kick- 
ing ' '  and  ' '  they  would  of  knock  down  the  fence. ' '  I  notice  that 
used,  in  used  to  be,  is  almost  always  reduced  to  simple  use,  as 
in  "it  use  to  be  the  rule. ' '  One  seldom,  if  ever,  hears  a  clear  d 
at  the  end.  Here,  of  course,  the  elision  of  the  d  is  due  prima- 
rily to  assimilation  with  the  t  of  to — a  second  example  of  one 
form  of  decay  aiding  another  form.  But  the  tenses  apparently 
tend  to  crumble  without  help.  I  frequently  hear  whole  narra- 
tives in  a  sort  of  debased  present:  "I  says  to  him.  .  .  .  Then 
he  ups  and  says.  ...  I  land  him  one  on  the  ear.  .  .  .  He  goes 
down  and  out,  ..."  and  so  on.53  Still  under  the  spell  of  our 
disintegrating  inflections,  we  are  prone  to  regard  the  tense  in- 
flections of  the  verb  as  absolutely  essential,  but  there  are  plenty 
of  languages  that  get  on  without  them,  and  even  in  our  own 
language  children  and  foreigners  often  reduce  them  to  a  few 
simple  forms.  Some  time  ago  an  Italian  contractor  said  to  me 
"I  have  go  there  often."  Here  one  of  our  few  surviving  inflec- 
tions was  displaced  by  an  analytical  devise,  and  yet  the  man's 
meaning  was  quite  clear,  and  it  would  be  absurd  to  say  that  his 
sentence  violated  the  inner  spirit  of  English.  That  inner  spirit, 
in  fact,  has  inclined  steadily  toward  "I  have  go"  for  a  thou- 
sand years. 

53  Cf.  Dialect  Notes,  vol.  iii,  pt.  i,  p.  59;  ibid.,  vol.  Ill,  pt.  iv,  p.  283. 


212 


THE   AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 


§4 

The  Pronoun — The  following  paradigm  shows  the  inflections 
of  the  personal  pronoun  in  the  American  common  speech: 


FIRST  PERSON 
Common  Gender 


Singular 


Nominative 

I 

Possessive 
Objective 

(Conjoint                 my 
\Absolute                mine 
me 

SECOND  PERSON 

Common  Gender 

Nominative 
Possessive 
Objective 

Singular 
you 
(Conjoint                your 
\Absolute                yourn 
you 

THIRD  PERSON 

Masculine  Gender 

Nominative 

he 

Possessive 
Objective 

f  Conjoint                 his 
\Absolute                 hisn 
him 

Feminine  Gender 

Nominative 

she 

Possessive 
Objective 

f  Conjoint                her 
\Absolute                hern 
her 

Neuter  Gender 

Nominative 

it 

Possessive 
Objective 

f  Con  joint                its 
\Absolute                its 
it 

Plural 

we 

our 

ourn 

us 


yous 
your 
yourn 
yous 


they 
their 
theirn 
them 


they 
their 
theirn 
them 


they 
theirn 
their 
them 

These  inflections,  as  we  shall  see,  are  often  disregarded  in 
use,  but  nevertheless  it  is  profitable  to  glance  at  them  as  they 


THE    COMMON   SPEECH  213 

stand.  The  only  variations  that  they  show  from  standard  Eng- 
lish are  the  substitution  of  n  for  s  as  the  distinguishing  mark  of 
the  absolute  form  of  the  possessive,  and  the  attempt  to  differenti- 
ate between  the  logical  and  the  merely  polite  plurals  in  the 
second  person  by  adding  the  usual  sign  of  the  plural  to  the 
former.  The  use  of  n  in  place  of  s  is  not  an  American  innova- 
tion. It  is  found  in  many  of  the  dialects  of  English,  and  is,  in 
fact,  historically  quite  as  sound  as  the  use  of  s.  In  John  Wiclif 's 
translation  of  the  Bible  (circa  1380)  the  first  sentence  of  the 
Sermon  on  the  Mount  (Mark  v,  3)  is  made:  "Blessed  be  the 
pore  in  spirit,  for  the  kyngdam  in  hevenes  is  heren."  And  in 
his  version  of  Luke  xxiv,  24,  is  this:  "And  some  of  ouren 
wentin  to  the  grave."  Here  her  en  (or  herun)  represents,  of 
course,  not  the  modern  hers,  but  theirs.  In  Anglo-Saxon  the 
word  was  heora,  and  down  to  Chaucer's  day  a  modified  form  of 
it,  here,  was  still  used  in  the  possessive  plural  in  place  of  the 
modern  their,  though  they  had  already  displaced  hie  in  the 
nominative.54  But  in  John  Purvey 's  revision  of  the  Wiclif 
Bible,  made  a  few  years  later,  hern  actually  occurs  in  II  Kings 
viii,  6,  thus:  "Restore  thou  to  hir  alle  things  that  ben  hern." 
In  Anglo-Saxon  there  had  been  no  distinction  between  the  con- 
joint and  absolute  forms  of  the  possessive  pronouns;  the  simple 
genitive  sufficed  for  both  uses.  But  with  the  decay  of  that  lan- 
guage the  surviving  remnants  of  its  grammar  began  to  be  put 
to  service  somewhat  recklessly,  and  so  there  arose  a  genitive 
inflection  of  this  genitive — a  true  double  inflection.  In  the 
Northern  dialects  of  English  that  inflection  was  made  by  simply 
adding  s,  the  sign  of  the  possessive.  In  the  Southern  dialects 
the  old  w-declension  was  applied,  and  so  there  arose  such  forms 
as  minum  and  eowrum  (—mine  and  yours),  from  min  and 
eower  (=  my  and  your)  .B5  Meanwhile,  the  original  simple  gen- 
itive, now  become  youre,  also  survived,  and  so  the  literature  of 

s*  Henry  Bradley,  in  The  Making  of  English,  pp.  54-5 :  "In  the  parts  of 
England  which  were  largely  inhabited  by  Danes  the  native  pronouns  (i.e., 
heo,  hie,  heom  and  heora)  were  supplanted  by  the  Scandinavian  pronouns 
which  are  represented  by  the  modern  she,  they,  them  and  their."  This  sub- 
stitution, at  first  dialectical,  gradually  spread  to  the  whole  language. 

55  Cf.  Sweet:  A  New  English  Grammar,  pt.  i,  p.  344,  par.  1096. 


214  THE    AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

the  fourteenth  century  shows  the  three  forms  nourishing  side 
by  side :  youre,  youres  and  youren.  All  of  them  are  in  Chaucer. 

Thus,  yourn,  hern,  hisn,  ourn  and  theirn,  whatever  their  pres- 
ent offense  to  grammarians,  are  of  a  genealogy  quite  as  respec- 
table as  that  of  yours,  hers,  his,  ours  and  theirs.  Both  forms 
represent  a  doubling  of  inflections,  and  hence  grammatical  de- 
basement. On  the  side  of  the  yours-form  is  the  standard  usage 
of  the  past  five  hundred  years,  but  on  the  side  of  the  yourn- 
f  orm  there  is  no  little  force  of  analogy  and  logic,  as  appears  on 
turning  to  mine  and  thine.  In  Anglo-Saxon,  as  we  have  seen, 
my  was  mm;  in  the  same  way  thy  was  thin.  During  the  de- 
cadence of  the  language  the  final  n  was  dropped  in  both  cases 
before  nouns — that  is,  in  the  conjoint  form — but  it  was  retained 
in  the  absolute  form.  This  usage  survives  to  our  own  day.  One 
says  "my  book,"  but  "the  book  is  mine";  "thy  faith,"  but  "I 
am  thine."56  Also,  one  says  "no  matter,"  but  "I  have  none." 
Without  question  this  retention  of  the  n  in  these  pronouns  had 
something  to  do  with  the  appearance  of  the  7i-declension  in  the 
treatment  of  your,  her,  his  and  our,  and,  after  their  had  dis- 
placed here  in  the  third  person  plural,  in  their.  And  equally 
without  question  it  supports  the  vulgar  American  usage  today. 
What  that  usage  shows  is  simply  the  strong  popular  tendency 
to  make  language  as  simple  and  as  regular  as  possible — to  abol- 
ish subtleties  and  exceptions.  The  difference  between  "his 
book"  and  "the  book  is  his'n"  is  exactly  that  between  my  and 
mine,  they  and  thine,  in  the  examples  just  given.  "Perhaps  it 
would  have  been  better,"  says  Bradley,  "if  the  literary  lan- 
guage had  accepted  hisn,  but  from  some  cause  it  did  not  do  so. ' ' 57 

As  for  the  addition  of  s  to  you  in  the  nominative  and  objec- 
tive of  the  second  person  plural,  it  exhibits  no  more  than  an  ef- 
fort to  give  clarity  to  the  logical  difference  between  the  true 
plural  and  the  mere  polite  plural.  In  several  other  dialects  of 

56  Before  a  noun  beginning  with  a  vowel  thine  and  mine  are  commonly 
substituted  for  thy  and  my,  as  in  "thine  eyes"  and  "mine  infirmity."  But 
this  is  solely  for  the  sake  of  euphony.  There  is  no  compensatory  use  of 
my  and  thy  in  the  absolute. 

37  The  Making  of  English,  p.  58. 


THE    COMMON   SPEECH  215 

English  the  same  desire  has  given  rise  to  cognate  forms,  and  there 
are  even  secondary  devices  in  American.  In  the  South,  for  ex- 
ample, the  true  plural  is  commonly  indicated  by  you-all,  which, 
despite  a  Northern  belief  to  the  contrary,  is  never  used  in  the 
singular  by  any  save  the  most  ignorant.58  You-all,  like  yous, 
simply  means  you-jointly  as  opposed  to  the  you  that  means  thou. 
Again,  there  is  the  form  observed  in  "you  can  all  of  you  go  to 
hell" — another  plain  effort  to  differentiate  between  singular  and 
plural.  The  substitution  of  you  for  thou  goes  back  to  the  end 
of  the  thirteenth  century.  It  appeared  in  late  Latin  and  in  the 
other  continental  languages  as  well  as  in  English,  and  at  about 
the  same  time.  In  these  languages  the  true  singular  survives 
alongside  the  transplanted  plural,  but  English  has  dropped  it 
entirely,  save  in  its  poetical  and  liturgical  forms  and  in  a  few 
dialects.  It  passed  out  of  ordinary  polite  speech  before  Eliza- 
beth's day.  By  that  time,  indeed,  its  use  had  acquired  an  air 
of  the  offensive,  such  as  it  has  today,  save  between  intimates  or 
to  children,  in  Germany.  Thus,  at  the  trial  of  Sir  Walter 
Raleigh  in  1603,  Sir  Edward  Coke,  then  attorney-general,  dis- 
played his  animosity  to  Raleigh  by  addressing  him  as  thou,  and 
finally  burst  into  the  contemptuous  ' '  I  thou  thee,  thou  traitor ! ' ' 
And  in  "Twelfth  Night"  Sir  Toby  Belch  urges  Sir  Andrew 
Aguecheek  to  provoke  the  disguised  Viola  to  combat  by  thouing 
her.  In  our  own  time,  with  thou  passed  out  entirely,  even  as 
a  pronoun  of  contempt,  the  confusion  between  you  in  the  plural 
and  you  in  the  singular  presents  plain  difficulties  to  a  man  of 
limited  linguistic  resources.  He  gets  around  them  by  setting  up 
a  distinction  that  is  well  supported  by  logic  and  analogy.  "I 
seen  yous"  is  clearly  separated  from  "I  seen  you."  And  in  the 
conjoint  position  "yous  guys"  is  separated  from  (<you  liar." 

So  much  for  the  personal  pronouns.  As  we  shall  see,  they  are 
used  in  such  a  manner  that  the  distinction  between  the  nomina- 
tive and  the  objective  forms,  though  still  existing  grammatically, 
has  begun  to  break  down.  But  first  it  may  be  well  to  glance  at 
the  demonstrative  and  relative  pronouns.  Of  the  former  there 

58  Cf.  The  Dialect  of  Southeastern  Missouri,  by  D.  S.  Crumb,  Dialect 
Notes,  vol.  ii,  pt.  iv,  1903,  p.  337. 


216  THE   AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

are  but  two  in  English,  this  and  that,  with  their  plural  forms, 
these  and  those.  To  them,  American  adds  a  third,  them,  which 
is  also  the  personal  pronoun  of  the  third  person,  objective  case.59 
In  addition  it  has  adopted  certain  adverbial  pronouns,  this-here, 
these-here,  that-there,  those-there  and  them-there,  and  set  up 
inflections  of  the  original  demonstratives  by  analogy  with  mine, 
hisn  and  yourn,  to  wit,  thisn,  thesen,  thatn  and  thosen.  I  pre- 
sent some  examples  of  everyday  use: 

Them  are  the  kind  I  like. 

Them  men  all  work  here. 

Who  is  this-here  Smith  I  hear  about? 

These-here  are  mine. 

That-there  medicine  ain't  no  good. 

Those-there  wops  has  all  took  to  the  woods. 

I  wisht  I  had  one  of  them-there  Fords. 

Thisn  is  better'n  thatn. 

I  like  thesen  better'n  thosen. 

The  origin  of  the  demonstratives  of  the  thisn-group  is  plain : 
they  are  degenerate  forms  of  this-one,  that-one,  etc.,  just  as  none 
is  a  degenerate  composition  form  of  no (t}  -one.  In  every  case 
of  their  use  that  I  have  observed  the  simple  demonstratives  might 
have  been  set  free  and  one  actually  substituted  for  the  terminal 
n.  But  it  must  be  equally  obvious  that  they  have  been  rein- 
forced very  greatly  by  the  absolutes  of  the  hisn-group,  for  in 
their  relation  to  the  original  demonstratives  they  play  the  part 
of  just  such  absolutes  and  are  never  used  conjointly.  Thus,  one 
says,  in  American,  "I  take  thisn"  or  "thisn  is  mine,"  but  one 
never  says  "I  take  thisn  hat"  or  te thisn  dog  is  mine."  In  this 
conjoint  situation  plain  this  is  always  used,  and  the  same  rule 

39  It  occurs,  too,  of  course,  in  other  dialects  of  English,  though  by  no 
means  in  all.  The  Irish  influence  probably  had  something  to  do  with 
its  prosperity  in  vulgar  American.  At  all  events,  the  Irish  use  it  in  the 
American  manner.  Joyce,  in  English  As  We  Speak  It  in  Ireland,  pp.  34-5, 
argues  that  this  usage  was  suggested  by  Gaelic.  In  Gaelic  the  accusative 
pronouns,  e,  i  and  iad  (=him,  her  and  them)  are  often  used  in  place  of 
the  nominatives,  se,  si  and  siad  (=  he,  she  and  they),  as  in  "is  iad  sin  na 
buachaillidhe"  ( =  them  are  the  boys ) .  This  is  "good  grammar"  in  Gaelic,, 
and  the  Irish,  when  they  began  to  learn  English,  translated  the  locution 
literally.  The  familiar  Irish  "John  is  dead  and  him  always  so  hearty" 
shows  the  same  influence. 


THE    COMMON   SPEECH  217 

applies  to  these,  those  and  that.  Them,  being  a  newcomer  among 
the  demonstratives,  has  not  yet  acquired  an  inflection  in  the 
absolute.  I  have  never  heard  them'n,  and  it  will  probably  never 
come  in,  for  it  is  forbiddingly  clumsy.  One  says,  in  American, 
both  "them  are  mine"  and  "them  collars  are  mine." 

This-here,  these-here,  thai-there,  those-there  and  them-there 
are  plainly  combinations  of  pronouns  and  adverbs,  and  their 
function  is  to  support  the  distinction  between  proximity,  as  em- 
bodied in  this  and  these,  and  remoteness,  as  embodied  in  that, 
those  and  them.  "This-here  coat  is  mine"  simply  means  "this 
coat,  here,  or  this  present  coat,  is  mine. ' '  But  the  adverb  prom- 
ises to  coalesce  with  the  pronoun  so  completely  as  to  obliterate  all 
sense  of  its  distinct  existence,  even  as  a  false  noun  or  adjective. 
As  commonly  pronounced,  this-here  becomes  a  single  word,  some- 
what like  thish-yur,  and  these-here  becomes  these-yur,  and  that- 
there  and  them-there  become  that-ere  and  them-ere.  Those-there, 
if  I  observed  accurately,  is  still  pronounced  more  distinctly,  but 
it,  too,  may  succumb  to  composition  in  time.  The  adverb  will 
then  sink  to  the  estate  of  a  mere  inflectional  particle,  as  one  has 
done  in  the  absolutes  of  the  thisn-group.  Them,  as  a  personal 
pronoun  in  the  absolute,  of  course,  is  commonly  pronounced  em, 
as  in  "I  seen  em,"  and  sometimes  its  vowel  is  almost  lost,  but 
this  is  also  the  case  in  all  save  the  most  exact  spoken  English. 
Sweet  and  Lounsbury,  following  the  German  grammarians,  argue 
that  this  em  is  not  really  a  debased  form  of  them,  but  the  off- 
spring of  hem,  which  survived  as  the  regular  plural  of  the  third 
person  in  the  objective  case  down  to  the  beginning  of  the  fif- 
teenth century.  But  in  American  them  is  clearly  pronounced 
as  a  demonstrative.  I  have  never  heard  "em  men"  or  "em  are 
the  kind  I  like,"  but  always  "them  men"  and  "them  are  the 
kind  I  like." 

The  relative  pronouns,  so  far  as  I  have  been  able  to  make  out, 
are  declined  as  follows: 

Nominative  who  which  what  that 

(Conjoint      whose  whose 

Possessive  T  ,**.».«          i.  i, 

\Absolute      wnosen         wnosen 

Objective  who  which  what  that 


218  THE   AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

Two  things  will  be  noted  in  this  paradigm.  First  there  is  the 
disappearance  of  whom  as  the  objective  form  of  who,  and  sec- 
ondly there  is  the  appearance  of  an  inflected  form  of  whose  in 
the  absolute,  by  analogy  with  mine,  hisn  and  thesen.  Whom, 
as  we  have  seen,  is  fast  disappearing  from  standard  spoken 
American ; 60  in  the  vulgar  language  it  is  already  virtually  ex- 
tinct. Not  only  is  who  used  in  such  constructions  as  "who  did 
you  find  there?"  where  even  standard  spoken  English  would 
tolerate  it,  but  also  in  such  constructions  as  "the  man  who  I 
saw,"  ''them  who  I  trust  in"  and  "to  who?"  Krapp  explains 
this  use  of  who  on  the  ground  that  there  is  a  "  general  feeling, ' ' 
due  to  the  normal  word-order  in  English,  that  "the  word  which 
precedes  the  verb  is  the  subject  word,  or  at  least  the  subject 
form."01  But  this  explanation  is  probably  fanciful.  Among 
the  plain  people  no  such  "general  feeling"  for  case  exists.  Their 
only  "general  feeling"  is  a  prejudice  against  case  inflections  in 
any  form  whatsoever.  They  use  who  in  place  of  whom  simply 
because  they  can  discern  no  logical  difference  between  the  sig- 
nificance of  the  one  and  the  significance  of  the  other. 

Whosen  is  obviously  the  offspring  of  the  other  absolutes  in  n. 
In  the  conjoint  relation  plain  whose  is  always  used,  as  in  "whose 
hat  is  that?"  and  "the  man  whose  dog  bit  me."  But  in  the 
absolute  whosen  is  often  substituted,  as  in  "if  it  ain't  hisn,  then 
whosen  is  it  ? "  The  imitation  is  obvious.  There  is  an  analogous 
form  of  which,  to  wit,  whichn,  resting  heavily  on  which  one. 
Thus,  "whichn  do  you  like?"  and  "I  didn't  say  whichn"  are 
plainly  variations  of  "which  one  do  you  like?"  and  "I  didn't 
say  which  one."  That,  as  we  have  seen,  has  a  like  form,  thatn, 
but  never,  of  course,  in  the  relative  situation.  "I  like  thatn," 
is  familiar,  but  "the  one  thatn  I  like"  is  never  heard.  If  that, 
as  a  relative,  could  be  used  absolutely,  I  have  no  doubt  that  it 
would  change  to  thatn,  as  it  does  as  a  demonstrative.  So  with 
what.  As  things  stand,  it  is  sometimes  substituted  for  that, 
as  in  "them's  the  kind  what  I  like."  Joined  to  but  it  can  also 
take  the  place  of  that  in  other  situations,  as  in  "I  don't  know 
but  what." 

eo  Pp.  144-50.  ei  Modern  English,  p.  300. 


THE    COMMON   SPEECH  219 

The  substitution  of  who  for  whom  in  the  objective  case,  just 
noticed,  is  typical  of  a  general  movement  toward  breaking  down 
all  case  distinctions  among  the  pronouns,  where  they  make  their 
last  stand  in  English  and  its  dialects.  This  movement,  of  course, 
is  not  peculiar  to  vulgar  American ;  nor  is  it  of  recent  beginning. 
So  long  ago  as  the  fifteenth  century  the  old  clear  distinction  be- 
tween ye,  nominative,  and  you,  objective,  disappeared,  and  today 
the  latter  is  used  in  both  cases.  Sweet  says  that  the  phonetic 
similarity  between  ye  and  thee,  the  objective  form  of  the  true 
second  singular,  was  responsible  for  this  confusion.62  At  the 
start  ye  actually  went  over  to  the  objective  case,  and  the  usage 
thus  established  shows  itself  in  such  survivors  of  the  period  as 
harkee  (hark  ye)  and  look  ye.  In  modern  spoken  English,  in- 
deed, you  in  the  objective  often  has  a  sound  far  more  like  that 
of  ye  than  like  that  of  you,  as,  for  example,  in  "how  do  y'  do?" 
and  in  American  its  vowel  takes  the  neutral  form  of  the  e  in 
the  definite  article,  and  the  word  becomes  a  sort  of  shortened 
yuh.  But  whenever  emphasis  is  laid  upon  it,  you  becomes  quite 
distinct,  even  in  American.  In  "I  mean  you,"  for  example, 
there  is  never  any  chance  of  mistaking  it  for  ye. 

In  Shakespeare's  time  the  other  personal  pronouns  of  the 
objective  case  threatened  to  follow  you  into  the  nominative,  and 
there  was  a  compensatory  movement  of  the  nominative  pronouns 
toward  the  objective.  Lounsbury  has  collected  many  examples.63 
Marlowe  used  "is  it  him  you  seek?"  "  'tis  her  I  esteem"  and 
"nor  thee  nor  them  shall  want";  Fletcher  used  "  'tis  her  I 
admire";  Shakespeare  himself  used  "that's  me."  Contrari- 
wise, Webster  used  "what  difference  is  between  the  duke  and  If" 
and  Greene  used  "nor  earth  nor  heaven  shall  part  my  love  and 
I."  Krapp  has  unearthed  many  similar  examples  from  the 
Restoration  dramatists.64  Etheredge  used  "  'tis  them,"  "it 
may  be  him,"  "let  you  and  I"  and  "nor  is  it  me";  Matthew 
Prior,  in  a  famous  couplet,  achieved  this: 

62  A  New  English  Grammar,  pt.  i,  p.  339. 

63  History  of  the  English  Language,  pp.  274-5. 
«*  Modern  English,  p.  288-9. 


220  THE   AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

For  thou  art  a  girl  as  much  brighter  than  her. 
As  he  was  a  poet  sublimer  than  me. 

The  free  exchange  continued,  in  fact,  until  the  eighteenth 
century  was  well  advanced;  there  are  examples  of  it  in  Addi- 
son.  Moreover,  it  survived,  at  least  in  part,  even  the  attack 
that  was  then  made  upon  it  by  the  professors  of  the  new-born 
science  of  English  grammar,  and  to  this  day  "it  is  me"  is  still 
in  more  or  less  good  colloquial  use.  Sweet  thinks  that  it  is  sup- 
ported in  such  use,  though  not,  of  course,  grammatically,  by  the 
analogy  of  the  correct  "it  is  he"  and  "it  is  she."  Lounsbury, 
following  Dean  Alford,  says  it  came  into  English  in  imitation 
of  the  French  c'est  moi,  and  defends  it  as  at  least  as  good  as  "it 
is  I."  65  The  contrary  form,  "between  you  and  I,"  has  no  de- 
fenders, and  is  apparently  going  out.  But  in  the  shape  of  "be- 
tween my  wife  and  I"  it  is  seldom  challenged,  at  least  in  spoken 
English. 

All  these  liberties  with  the  personal  pronouns,  however,  fade 
to  insignificance  when  put  beside  the  thoroughgoing  confusion 
of  the  case  forms  in  vulgar  American.  "Us  fellers"  is  so  far 
established  in  the  language  that  "we  fellers,"  from  the  mouth 
of  a  car  conductor,  would  seem  almost  an  affectation.  So,  too, 
is  "me  and  her  are  friends."  So,  again,  are  "I  seen  you  and 
her,"  "her  and  I  set  down  together,"  "him  and  his  wife,"  and 
"I  knowed  it  was  her."  Here  are  some  other  characteristic 
examples  of  the  use  of  the  objective  forms  in  the  nominative 
from  Charters  and  Lardner: 

Me  and  her  was  both  late. 

His  brother  is  taller  than  him. 

That  little  boy  was  me. 

Us  girls  went  home. 

They  were  John  and  him. 

Her  and  little  Al  is  to  stay  here. 

She  says  she  thinks  us  and  the  Aliens. 

If  Weaver  and  them  had  not  of  begin  kicking. 

But  not  me. 

Him  and  I  are  friends. 

Me  and  them  are  friends. 

es  Cf.  p.  145n. 


THE    COMMON   SPEECH  221 

Less  numerous,  but  still  varied  and  plentiful,  are  the  substi- 
tutions of  nominative  forms  for  objective  forms : 

She  gave  it  to  mother  and  I. 

She  took  all  of  we  children. 

I  want  you  to  meet  lie  and  I  at  29th  street. 

He  gave  Tie  and  I  both  some. 

It  is  going  to  cost  me  $6  a  week  for  a  room  for  she  and  the  baby. 

Anything  she  has  is  0.  K.  for  I  and  Florrie. 

Here  are  some  grotesque  confusions,  indeed.  Perhaps  the  best 
way  to  get  at  the  principles  underlying  them  is  to  examine  first, 
not  the  cases  of  their  occurrence,  but  the  cases  of  their  non- 
occurrence.  Let  us  begin  with  the  transfer  of  the  objective 
form  to  the  nominative  in  the  subject  relation.  "Me  and  her 
was  both  late"  is  obviously  sound  American;  one  hears  it,  or 
something  like  it,  on  the  streets  every  day.  But  one  never  hears 
"me  was  late"  or  "her  was  late"  or  "us  was  late"  or  "him 
was  late"  or  "them  was  late."  Again,  one  hears  "us  girls  was 
there"  but  never  "us  was  there."  Yet  again,  one  hears  "her 
and  John  was  married,"  but  never  "her  was  married."  The 
distinction  here  set  up  should  be  immediately  plain.  It  exactly 
parallels  that  between  her  and  hern,  our  and  ourn,  their  and 
theirn:  the  tendency,  as  Sweet  says,  is  "to  merge  the  distinction 
of  nominative  and  objective  in  that  of  conjoint  and  absolute."  66 
The  nominative,  in  the  subject  relation,  takes  the  usual  nomina- 
tive form  only  when  it  is  in  immediate  contact  with  its  verb. 
If  it  be  separated  from  its  verb  by  a  conjunction  or  any  other 
part  of  speech,  even  including  another  pronoun,  it  takes  the 
objective  form.  Thus  "me  went  home"  would  strike  even  the 
most  ignorant  shopgirl  as  "bad  grammar,"  but  she  would  use 
"me  and  my  friend  went,"  or  "me  and  him/'  or  "he  and  her/' 
or  "me  and  them"  without  the  slightest  hesitation.  What  is 
more,  if  the  separation  be  effected  by  a  conjunction  and  another 
pronoun,  the  other  pronoun  also  changes  to  the  objective  form, 
even  though  its  contact  with  the  verb  may  be  immediate.  Thus 
one  hears  "me  and  her  was  there,"  not  "me  and  she";  her  and 
him  kissed,"  not  "her  and  he."  Still  more,  this  second  pro- 

•«  A  New  English  Grammar,  pt.  i,  p.  341. 


222  THE   AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

noun  commonly  undergoes  the  same  inflection  even  when  the 
first  member  of  the  group  is  not  another  pronoun,  but  a  noun. 
Thus  one  hears  "John  and  her  were  married,"  not  "John  and 
she."  To  this  rule  there  is  but  one  exception,  and  that  is  in  the 
case  of  the  first  person  pronoun,  especially  in  the  singular. . 
"Him  and  me  are  friends"  is  heard  often,  but  "him  and  /  are 
friends"  is  also  heard.  I  seems  to  suggest  the  subject  very  pow- 
erfully; it  is  actually  the  subject  of  perhaps  a  majority  of  the 
sentences  uttered  by  an  ignorant  man.  At  all  events,  it  resists 
the  rule,  at  least  partially,  and  may  even  do  so  when  actually 
separated  from  the  verb  by  another  pronoun,  itself  in  the  ob- 
jective form,  as  for  example,  in  "I  and  him  were  there." 

In  the  predicate  relation  the  pronouns  respond  to  a  more 
complex  regulation.  When  they  follow  any  form  of  the  simple 
verb  of  being  they  take  the  objective  form,  as  in  "it's  me," 
"it  ain't  him,"  and  "I  am  him,"  probably  because  the  transi- 
tiveness  of  this  verb  exerts  a  greater  pull  than  its  function  as 
a  mere  copula,  and  perhaps,  too,  because  the  passive  naturally 
tends  to  put  the  speaker  in  the  place  of  the  object.  "I  seen  he" 
or  "he  kissed  she"  or  "he  struck  I"  would  seem  as  ridiculous 
to  an  ignorant  American  as  to  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury, 
and  his  instinct  for  simplicity  and  regularity  naturally  tends 
to  make  him  reduce  all  similar  expressions,  or  what  seem  to  him 
to  be  similar  expressions,  to  coincidence  with  the  more  seemly 
"I  seen  him."  After  all,  the  verb  of  being  is  fundamentally 
transitive,  and,  in  some  ways,  the  most  transitive  of  all  verbs, 
and  so  it  is  not  illogical  to  bring  its  powers  over  the  pronoun 
into  accord  with  the  powers  exerted  by  the  others.  I  incline  to 
think  that  it  is  some  such  subconscious  logic,  and  not  the  analogy 
of  "it  is  he,"  as  Sweet  argues,  that  has  brought  "it  is  me"  to 
conversational  respectability,  even  among  rather  careful  speak- 
ers of  English.67 

But  against  this  use  of  the  objective  form  in  the  nominative 

e*  It  may  be  worth  noting  here  that  the  misuse  of  me  for  my,  as  in  "I 
lit  me  pipe"  is  quite  unknown  in  American,  either  standard  or  vulgar. 
Even  "me  own"  is  seldom  heard.  This  boggling  of  the  cases  is  very  common 
in  spoken  English. 


THE    COMMON    SPEECH  223 

position  after  the  verb  of  being  there  also  occurs  in  American 
a  use  of  the  nominative  form  in  the  objective  position,  as  in 
"she  gave  it  to  mother  and  I"  and  "she  took  all  of  we  chil- 
dren. ' '  What  lies  at  the  bottom  of  it  seems  to  be  a  feeling  some- 
what resembling  that  which  causes  the  use  of  the  objective  form 
before  the  verb,  but  exactly  contrary  in  its  effects.  That  is  to 
say,  the  nominative  form  is  used  when  the  pronoun  is  separated 
from  its  governing  verb,  whether  by  a  noun,  a  noun-phrase  or 
another  pronoun,  as  in  "she  gave  it  to  mother  and  I,"  "she  took 
all  of  we  children"  and  "he  paid  her  and  I"  respectively.  But 
here  usage  is  far  from  fixed,  and  one  observes  variations  in  both 
directions — that  is,  toward  using  the  correct  objective  when 
the  pronoun  is  detached  from  the  verb,  and  toward  using  the 
nominative  even  when  it  directly  follows  the  verb.  "She  gave 
it  to  mother  and  me,"  "she  took  all  of  us  children"  and  "he 
paid  her  and  me"  would  probably  sound  quite  as  correct,  to  a 
Knight  of  Pythias,  as  the  forms  just  given.  And  at  the  other 
end  Charters  and  Lardner  report  such  forms  as  "I  want  you  to 
meet  he  and  I"  and  "it  is  going  to  cost  me  $6  a  week  for  a 
room  for  she  and  the  baby."  I  have  noticed,  however,  that,  in 
the  overwhelming  main,  the  use  of  the  nominative  is  confined 
to  the  pronoun  of  the  first  person,  and  particularly  to  its  singu- 
lar. Here  again  we  have  an  example  of  the  powerful  way  in 
which  I  asserts  itself.  And  superimposed  upon  that  influence 
is  a  cause  mentioned  by  Sweet  in  discussing  "between  you  and 
7."  68  It  is  a  sort  of  by-product  of  the  pedagogical  war  upon 
"it  is  me."  "As  such  expressions,"  he  says,  "are  still  de- 
nounced by  the  grammars,  many  people  try  to  avoid  them  in 
speech  as  well  as  in  writing.  The  result  of  this  reaction  is  that 
the  me  in  such  constructions  as  'between  John  and  me'  and  'he 
saw  John  and  me'  sounds  vulgar  and  ungrammatical,  and  is 
consequently  corrected  into  I."  Here  the  pedagogues,  seeking 
to  impose  an  inelastic  and  illogical  grammar  upon  a  living 
speech,  succeed  only  in  corrupting  it  still  more. 

Following  than  and  as  the  American  uses  the  objective  form 
of  the  pronoun,  as  in  "he  is  taller  than  me"  and  "such  as  her." 

«sA  New  English  Grammar,  pt.  i,  p.  341. 


224  THE   AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

He  also  uses  it  following  like,  but  not  when,  as  often  happens, 
he  uses  the  word  in  place  of  as  or  as  if.  Thus  he  says  "do  it 
like  him,"  but  "do  it  like  he  does"  and  "she  looks  like  she  was 
sick."  What  appears  here  is  an  instinctive  feeling  that  these 
words,  followed  by  a  pronoun  only,  are  not  adverbs,  but  prepo- 
sitions, and  that  they  should  have  the  same  power  to  put  the 
pronoun  into  an  oblique  case  that  other  prepositions  have.  Just 
as  "the  taller  of.  we"  would  sound  absurd  to  all  of  us,  so  "taller 
than  he,"  to  the  unschooled  American,  sounds  absurd.  This 
feeling  has  a  good  deal  of  respectable  support.  "As  her"  was 
used  by  Swift,  "than  me"  by  Burke,  and  "than  whom"  by 
Milton.  The  brothers  Fowler  show  that,  in  some  cases,  "than 
him,"  is  grammatically  correct  and  logically  necessary.69  For 
example,  compare  "I  love  you  more  than  him"  and  "I  love  you 
more  than  he."  The  first  means  "I  love  you  more  than  (I  love) 
him";  the  second,  "I  love  you  more  than  he  (loves  you)."  In 
the  first  him  does  not  refer  to  I,  which  is  nominative,  but  to  you, 
which  is  objective,  and  so  it  is  properly  objective  also.  But  the 
American,  of  course,  uses  him  even  when  the  preceding  noun  is 
in  the  nominative,  save  only  when  another  verb  follows  the  pro- 
noun. Thus,  he  says,  "I  love  you  better  than  him,"  but  "I 
love  you  better  than  he  does. ' ' 

In  the  matter  of  the  reflexive  pronouns  the  American  vulgate 
exhibits  forms  which  plainly  show  that  it  is  the  spirit  of  the 
language  to  regard  self,  not  as  an  adjective,  which  it  is  his- 
torically, but  as  a  noun.  This  confusion  goes  back  to  Anglo- 
Saxon  days;  it  originated  at  a  time  when  both  the  adjectives 
and  the  nouns  were  losing  their  old  inflections.  Such  forms  as 
Petrussylf  (=  Peter's  self),  Cristsylf  (=  Christ's  self)  and 
Icsylf  (=  /,  self)  then  came  into  use,  and  along  with  them  came 
combinations  of  self  and  the  genitive,  still  surviving  in  hisself 
and  theirselves  (or  theirself).  Down  to  the  sixteenth  century 
these  forms  remained  in  perfectly  good  usage.  "Each  for  his- 
self," for  example,  was  written  by  Sir  Philip  Sidney,  and  is  to 
be  found  in  the  dramatists  of  the  time,  though  modern  editors 
always  change  it  to  himself.  How  the  dative  pronoun  got  itself 

«9  The  King's  English,  p.  63. 


THE    COMMON   SPEECH  225 

fastened  upon  self  in  the  third  person  masculine  and  neuter  is 
one  of  the  mysteries  of  language,  but  there  it  is,  and  so,  against 
all  logic,  history  and  grammatical  regularity,  himself,  them- 
selves and  itself  (not  its-self)  are  in  favor  today.  But  the 
American,  as  usual,  inclines  against  these  illogical  exceptions  to 
the  rule  set  by  myself.  I  constantly  hear  hisself  and  their- 
selves,  as  in  "he  done  it  hisself"  and  "they  don't  know  their- 
selves."  Sometimes  their  self  is  substituted  for  theirselves,  as 
in  "they  all  seen  it  their  self ."  Also,  the  emphatic  own  is  often 
inserted  between  the  pronoun  and  the  noun,  as  in  "let  every 
man  save  his  own  self. ' ' 

The  American  pronoun  does  not  necessarily  agree  with  its 
noun  in  number.  I  find  "I  can  tell  each  one  what  they  make," 
"each  fellow  put  their  foot  on  the  line,"  "nobody  can  do  what 
they  like"  and  "she  was  one  of  these  kind  of  people"  in  Char- 
ters, and  "I  am  not  the  kind  of  man  that  is  always  thinking 
about  their  record,"  "if  he  was  to  hit  a  man  in  the  head  .  .  . 
they  would  think  their  nose  tickled"  in  Lardner.  At  the  bot- 
tom of  this  error  there  is  a  real  difficulty :  the  lack  of  a  pronoun 
of  the  true  common  gender  in  English,  corresponding  to  the 
French  soi  and  son.  His,  after  a  noun  or  pronoun  connoting 
both  sexes,  often  sounds  inept,  and  his-or-her  is  intolerably 
clumsy.  Thus  the  inaccurate  plural  is  often  substituted.  The 
brothers  Fowler  have  discovered  "anybody  else  who  have  only 
themselves  in  view"  in  Richardson  and  "everybody  is  discon- 
tented with  their  lot"  in  Disraeli,  and  Ruskin  once  wrote  "if  a 
customer  wishes  you  to  injure  their  foot."  In  spoken  Amer- 
ican, even  the  most  careful,  they  and  their  often  appear ;  I  turn 
to  the  Congressional  Record  at  random  and  in  two  minutes  find 
"if  anyone  will  look  at  the  bank  statements  they  will  see."70 
In  the  lower  reaches  of  the  language  the  plural  seems  to  get  into 
every  sentence  of  any  complexity,  even  when  the  preceding  noun 
or  pronoun  is  plainly  singular. 

TO  "Hon."  Edward  E.  Browne,  of  Wisconsin,  in  the  House  of  Representa- 
tives, July  18,  1918,  p.  9965. 


226  THE   AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

§5 

The  Adverb — All  the  adverbial  endings  in  English,  save  -ly, 
have  gradually  fallen  into  decay;  it  is  the  only  one  that  is  ever 
used  to  form  new  adverbs.  At  earlier  stages  of  the  language 
various  other  endings  were  used,  and  some  of  them  survive  in 
a  few  old  words,  though  they  are  no  longer  employed  in  making 
new  words.  The  Anglo-Saxon  endings  were  -e  and  -lice.  The 
latter  was,  at  first,  merely  an  -e-ending  to  adjectives  in  -lie,  but 
after  a  time  it  attained  to  independence  and  was  attached  to 
adjectives  not  ending  in  -lie.  In  early  Middle  English  this 
-lice  changes  to  -like,  and  later  on  to  -li  and  -ly.  Meanwhile, 
the  -e-ending,  following  the  -e-endings  of  the  nouns,  adjectives 
and  verbs,  ceased  to  be  pronounced,  and  so  it  gradually  fell  away. 
Thus  a  good  many  adverbs  came  to  be  indistinguishable  from 
their  ancestral  adjectives,  for  example,  hard  in  to  pull  hard, 
loud  in  to  speak  loud,  and  deep  in  to  bury  deep  (=  Anglo-Saxon, 
deop-e).  Worse,  not  a  few  adverbs  actually  became  adjectives, 
for  example,  wide,  which  was  originally  the  Anglo-Saxon  ad- 
jective wid  (=wide)  with  the  adverbial  -e-ending,  and  late, 
which  was  originally  the  Anglo-Saxon  adjective  laet  (=slow) 
with  the  same  ending. 

The  result  of  this  movement  toward  identity  in  form  was  a 
confusion  between  the  two  classes  of  words,  and  from  the  time 
of  Chaucer  down  to  the  eighteenth  century  one  finds  innumer- 
able instances  of  the  use  of  the  simple  adjective  as  an  adverb. 
"He  will  answer  trewe"  is  in  Sir  Thomas  More;  "and  soft  unto 
himself  he  sayd"  in  Chaucer;  "the  singers  sang  loud"  in  the 
Revised  Version  of  the  Bible  (Nehemiah  xii,  42),  and  "indiffer- 
ent well"  in  Shakespeare.  Even  after  the  purists  of  the  eight- 
eenth century  began  their  corrective  work  this  confusion  con- 
tinued. Thus,  one  finds,  "the  people  are  miserable  poor"  in 
Hume,  ' '  how  unworthy  you  treated  mankind ' '  in  The  Spectator, 
and  "wonderful  silly"  in  Joseph  Butler.  To  this  day  the  gram- 
marians battle  with  the  barbarism,  still  without  complete  suc- 
cess; every  new  volume  of  rules  and  regulations  for  those  who 
would  speak  by  the  book  is  full  of  warnings  against  it.  Among 


: 


THE    COMMON   SPEECH  227 

the  great  masses  of  the  plain  people,  it  goes  without  saying,  it 
flourishes  unimpeded.  The  cautions  of  the  school-marm,  in  a 
matter  so  subtle  and  so  plainly  lacking  in  logic  or  necessity,  are 
forgotten  as  quickly  as  her  prohibition  of  the  double  negative, 
and  thereafter  the  adjective  and  the  adverb  tend  more  and  more 
to  coalesce  in  a  part  of  speech  which  serves  the  purposes  of  both, 
and  is  simple  and  intelligible  and  satisfying. 

Charters  gives  a  number  of  characteristic  examples  of  its  use : 
"wounded  very  bad,"  "I  sure  was  stiff,"  "drank  out  of  a  cup 
easy,"  "he  looked  up  quick."  Many  more  are  in  Lardner:  "a 
chance  to  see  me  work  regular,"  "I  am  glad  I  was  lucky  enough 
to  marry  happy,"  "I  beat  them  easy,"  and  so  on.  And  others 
fall  upon  the  ear  every  day:  "he  done  it  proper,"  "he  done 
himself  proud,"  "she  was  dressed  neat,"  "she  was  awful  ugly," 
"the  horse  ran  0.  K.,"  "it  near  finished  him,"  "it  sells  quick," 
"I  like  it  fine,"  "he  et  hoggish,"  "she  acted  mean,"  "they 
keep  company  steady."  The  bob-tailed  adverb,  indeed,  enters 
into  a  large  number  of  the  commonest  coins  of  vulgar  speech. 
Near-silk,  I  daresay,  is  properly  nearly-silk.  The  grammarians 
protest  that  "run  slow"  should  be  "run  slowly."  But  near- 
silk  and  "run  slow"  remain,  and  so  do  "to  be  in  bad,"  "to  play 
it  up  strong"  and  their  brothers.  What  we  have  here  is  sim- 
ply an  incapacity  to  distinguish  any  ponderable  difference  be- 
tween adverb  and  adjective,  and  beneath  it,  perhaps,  is  the  in- 
capacity, already  noticed  in  dealing  with  "it  is  me,"  to  distin- 
guish between  the  common  verb  of  being  and  any  other  verb. 
If  "it  is  bad"  is  correct,  then  why  should  "it  leaks  bad" 
be  incorrect?  It  is  just  this  disdain  of  purely  grammatical 
reasons  that  is  at  the  bottom  of  most  of  the  phenomena  visible 
in  vulgar  American,  and  the  same  impulse  is  observable  in  all 
other  languages  during  periods  of  inflectional  decay.  During 
the  highly  inflected  stage  of  a  language  the  parts  of  speech  are 
sharply  distinct,  but  when  inflections  fall  off  they  tend  to  dis- 
appear. The  adverb,  being  at  best  the  step-child  of  grammar — 
as  the  old  Latin  grammarians  used  to  say,  "Omnis  pars  orationis 
migrat  in  adv erbium" — is  one  of  the  chief  victims  of  this  an- 
archy. John  Home  Tooke,  despairing  of  bringing  it  to  any 


228  THE   AMEEICAN   LANGUAGE 

order,  even  in  the  most  careful  English,  called  it,  in  his  "Epea 
Ptercenta, "  "the  common  sink  and  repository  of  all  hetero- 
geneous and  unknown  corruptions." 

Where  an  obvious  logical  or  lexical  distinction  has  grown  up 
between  an  adverb  and  its  primary  adjective  the  unschooled 
American  is  very  careful  to  give  it  its  terminal  -ly.  For  exam- 
ple, he  seldom  confuses  hard  and  hardly,  scarce  and  scarcely, 
real  and  really.  These  words  convey  different  ideas.  Hard 
means  unyielding;  hardly  means  barely.  Scarce  means  present 
only  in  small  numbers;  scarcely  is  substantially  synonymous 
with  hardly.  Real  means  genuine;  really  is  an  assurance  of 
veracity.  So,  again,  with  late  and  lately.  Thus,  an  American 
says  "I  don't  know,  scarcely,"  not  "I  don't  know,  scarce";  "he 
died  lately,  "not  "he  died  late."  But  in  nearly  all  such  cases 
syntax  is  the  preservative,  not  grammar.  These  adverbs  seem 
to  keep  their  tails  largely  because  they  are  commonly  put  before 
and  not  after  verbs,  as  in,  for  example,  "I  hardly  (or  scarcely) 
know, ' '  and  ' '  I  really  mean  it. ' '  Many  other  adverbs  that  take 
that  position  habitually  are  saved  as  well,  for  example,  gener- 
ally, usually,  surely,  certainly.  But  when  they  follow  verbs 
they  often  succumb,  as  in  "I'll  do  it  sure"  and  "I  seen  him 
recent."  And  when  they  modif}*-  adjectives  they  sometimes  suc- 
cumb, too,  as  In  "it  was  sure  hot."  Practically  all  the  adverbs 
made  of  adjectives  in  -y  lose  the  terminal  -ly  and  thus  become 
identical  with  their  adjectives.  I  have  never  heard  mightily 
used ;  it  is  always  mighty,  as  in  "  he  hit  him  mighty  hard. ' '  So 
with  filthy,  dirty,  nasty,  lowly,  naughty  and  their  cognates. 
One  hears  "he  acted  dirty,"  "he  spoke  nasty,"  "the  child  be- 
haved naughty,"  and  so  on.  Here  even  standard  English  has 
had  to  make  concessions  to  euphony.  Cleanlily  is  seldom  used; 
cleanly  nearly  always  takes  its  place.  And  the  use  of  illy  is 
confined  to  pedants. 

Vulgar  American,  like  all  the  higher  forms  of  American  and 
all  save  the  most  precise  form  of  written  English,  has  aban- 
doned the  old  inflections  of  here,  there  and  where,  to  wit,  hither 
and  hence,  thither  and  thence,  whither  and  whence.  These  fossil 
remains  of  dead  cases  are  fast  disappearing  from  the  language. 


THE    COMMON   SPEECH  229 

In  the  case  of  hither  (=to  here}  even  the  preposition  has  been 
abandoned.  One  says,  not  "I  came  to  here,"  but  simply  "I 
came  here."  In  the  case  of  hence,  however,  from  here  is  still 
used,  and  so  with  from  there  and  from  where.  Finally,  it  goes 
without  saying  that  the  common  American  tendency  to  add  -s 
to  such  adverbs  as  towards  is  carried  to  full  length  in  the  vulgar 
language.  One  constantly  hears,  not  only  somewheres  and  for- 
wards, but  even  noways  and  anyways.  Here  we  have  but  one 
more  example  of  the  movement  toward  uniformity  and  simplicity. 
Anyways  is  obviously  fully  supported  by  sideways  and  always. 


The  Noun  and  Adjective — The  only  inflections  of  the  noun  re- 
maining in  English  are  those  for  number  and  for  the  genitive,  and 
so  it  is  in  these  two  regions  that  the  few  variations  to  be  noted 
in  vulgar  American  occur.  The  rule  that,  in  forming  the 
plurals  of  compound  nouns  or  noun-phrases,  the  -s  shall  be  at- 
tached to  the  principal  noun  is  commonly  disregarded,  and  it 
goes  at  the  end.  Thus,  "I  have  two  sons-in-law"  is  never  heard ; 
one  always  hears  "I  have  two  son-in-laws."  So  with  the  geni- 
tive. I  once  overheard  this:  "that  umbrella  is  the  young  lady 
I  go  with's."  Often  a  false  singular  is  formed  from  a  singular 
ending  in  s,  the  latter  being  mistaken  for  a  plural.  Chinee, 
Portugee  and  Japanee  are  familiar;  I  have  also  noted  trapee, 
tactic  and  summon  (from  trapeze,  tactics  and  summons).  Para- 
doxically, the  word  incidence  is  commonly  misused  for  incident, 
as  in  "he  told  an  incidence."  Here  incidence  (or  incident) 
seems  to  be  regarded  as  a  synonym,  not  for  happening,  but  for 
story.  I  have  never  heard  "he  told  of  an  incidence."  The  of 
is  always  omitted.  The  general  disregard  of  number  often  shows 
itself  when  the  noun  is  used  as  object.  I  have  already  quoted 
Lardner's  "some  of  the  men  has  brung  their  wife  along";  in 
a  popular  magazine  I  lately  encountered  "those  book  ethnol- 
ogists .  .  .  can't  see  what  is  before  their  nose."  Many  similar 
examples  might  be  brought  forward. 

The  adjectives  are  inflected  only  for  comparison,   and  the 


230  THE    AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

American  commonly  uses  them  correctly,  with  now  and  then  a 
double  comparative  or  superlative  to  ease  his  soul.  More  better 
is  the  commonest  of  these.  It  has  a  good  deal  of  support  in  logic. 
A  sick  man  is  reported  today  to  be  better.  Tomorrow  he  is  fur- 
ther improved.  Is  he  to  be  reported  better  again,  or  bestf  The 
standard  language  gets  around  the  difficulty  by  using  still  better. 
The  American  vulgate  boldly  employs  more  better.  In  the  case 
of  worse,  worser  is  used,  as  Charters  shows.  He  also  reports 
baddest,  more  queerer  and  beautifulest.  Littler,  which  he  notes, 
is  still  outlawed  from  standard  English,  but  it  has,  with  littlest, 
a  respectable  place  in  American.  The  late  Richard  Harding 
Davis  wrote  a  play  called  "The  Littlest  Girl."  The  American 
freely  compares  adjectives  that  are  incapable  of  the  inflection 
logically.  Charters  reports  most  principal,  and  I  myself  have 
heard  uniquer  and  even  more  uniquer,  as  in  "I  have  never  saw 
nothing  more  uniquer."  I  have  also  heard  more  ultra,  more 
worse,  idealer,  liver  (that  is,  more  alive),  and  wellest,  as  in  "he 
was  the  wellest  man  you  ever  seen."  In  general,  the  -er  and 
-est  terminations  are  used  instead  of  the  more  and  most  prefixes, 
as  in  beautiful,  beautifuller,  beautifullest.  The  fact  that  the 
comparative  relates  to  two  and  the  superlative  to  more  than  two 
is  almost  always  forgotten.  I  have  never  heard  "the  better  of 
the  two,"  but  always  "the  best  of  the  two."  Charters  also  re- 
ports "the  hardest  of  the  two"  and  "my  brother  and  I  meas- 
ured and  he  was  the  tallest."  I  have  frequently  heard  "it  ain't 
so  worse,"  but  here  a  humorous  effect  seems  to  have  been  in- 
tended. 

Adjectives  are  made  much  less  rapidly  in  American  than 
either  substantives  or  verbs.  The  only  suffix  that  seems  to  be  in 
general  use  for  that  purpose  is  -y,  as  in  tony,  classy,  daffy,  nutty, 
dinky,  leery,  etc.  The  use  of  the  adjectival  prefix  super-  is  con- 
fined to  the  more  sophisticated  classes ;  the  plain  people  seem  to 
be  unaware  of  it.71  This  relative  paucity  of  adjectives  appears 
to  be  common  to  the  more  primitive  varieties  of  speech.  E.  J. 

TI  Cf.  Vogue  Affixes  in  Present-Day  Word-Coinage,  by  Louise  Pound, 
Dialect  Notes,  vol.  v,  pt.  i,  1918. 


THE    COMMON   SPEECH  231 

Hills,  in  his  elaborate  study  of  the  vocabulary  of  a  child  of  two,72 
found  that  it  contained  but  23  descriptive  adjectives,  of  which 
six  were  the  names  of  colors,  as  against  59  verbs  and  173  com- 
mon nouns.  Moreover,  most  of  the  23  minus  six  were  adjectives 
of  all  work,  such  as  nasty,  funny  and  nice.  Colloquial  American 
uses  the  same  rubber-stamps  of  speech.  Funny  connotes  the 
whole  range  of  the  unusual ;  hard  indicates  every  shade  of  diffi- 
culty; nice  is  everything  satisfactory;  ~bully  is  a  superlative  of 
almost  limitless  scope. 

The  decay  of  one  to  a  vague  w-sound,  as  in  this'n,  is  matched 
by  a  decay  of  than  after  comparatives.  Earlier  than  is  seldom 
if  ever  heard;  composition  reduces  the  two  words  to  earlier 'n. 
So  with  better 'n,  faster'n,  hotter 'n,  deader 'n,  etc.  Once  I  over- 
heard the  following  dialogue :  "I  like  a  belt  more  looser 'n  what 
this  one  is."  "Well,  then,  why  don't  you  unloosen  it  more'n 
you  got  it  unloosened?" 

§7 

The  Double  Negative — Syntactically,  perhaps  the  chief  charac- 
teristic of  vulgar  American  is  its  sturdy  fidelity  to  the  double 
negative.  So  freely  is  it  used,  indeed,  that  the  simple  negative 
appears  to  be  almost  abandoned.  Such  phrases  as  "I  see  no- 
body" or  "I  know  nothing  about  it"  are  heard  so  seldom  that 
they  appear  to  be  affectations  when  encountered;  the  well-nigh 
universal  forms  are  "I  don't  see  nobody"  and  "I  don't  know 
nothing  about  it."  Charters  lists  some  very  typical  examples, 
among  them,  "he  ain't  never  coming  back  no  more,"  "you  don't 
care  for  nobody  but  yourself,"  "couldn't  be  no  more  happier" 
and  "I  can't  see  nothing."  In  Lardner  there  are  innumerable 
examples:  "they  was  not  no  team,"  "I  have  not  never  thought 
of  that,"  "I  can't  write  no  more,"  "no  chance  to  get  no  money 
from  nowhere,"  "we  can't  have  nothing  to  do,"  and  so  on. 
Some  of  his  specimens  show  a  considerable  complexity,  for  ex- 

72  The  Speech  of  a  Child  Two  Years  of  Age,  Dialect  Notes,  vol.  iv,  pt.  ii, 
1914. 


232  THE   AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

ample,  "Matthewson  was  not  only  going  as  far  as  the  coast," 
meaning,  as  the  context  shows,  that  he  was  going  as  far  as  the 
coast  and  no  further.  Only  gets  into  many  other  examples,  e.  g., 
"he  hadn't  only  the  one  pass"  and  "I  don't  work  nights  no 
more,  only  except  Sunday  nights."  This  latter  I  got  from  a 
car  conductor.  Many  other  curious  specimens  are  in  my  col- 
lectanea, among  them:  "one  swaller  don't  make  no  summer," 
"I  never  seen  nothing  I  would  of  rather  saw,"  and  "once  a 
child  gets  burnt  once  it  won't  never  stick  its  hand  in  no  fire  no 
more,"  and  so  on.  The  last  embodies  a  triple  negative.  In 
"the  more  faster  you  go,  the  sooner  you  don't  get  there"  there 
is  an  elaborate  muddling  of  negatives  that  is  very  characteristic. 
Like  most  other  examples  of  "bad  grammar"  encountered 
in  American  the  compound  negative  is  of  great  antiquity  and 
was  once  quite  respectable.  The  student  of  Anglo-Saxon  en- 
counters it  constantly.  In  that  language  the  negative  of  the 
verb  was  formed  by  prefixing  a  particle,  ne.  Thus,  singan  (=  to 
sing)  became  ne  singan  (=not  to  sing).  In  case  the  verb  began 
with  a  vowel  the  ne  dropped  its  e  and  was  combined  with  the 
verb,  as  in  naefre  (never),  from  ne-aefre  (—not  ever).  In 
case  the  verb  began  with  an  h  or  a  w  followed  by  a  vowel,  the  h 
or  w  of  the  verb  and  the  e  of  ne  were  both  dropped,  as  in  naefth 
(=has  not),  from  ne-haefth  (=not  has),  and  nolde  (=  would 
not),  from  ne-wolde.  Finally,  in  case  the  vowel  following  a  w 
was  an  i,  it  changed  to  y,  as  in  nyste  (—knew  not),  from  ne- 
wiste.  But  inasmuch  as  Anglo-Saxon  was  a  fully  inflected  lan- 
guage the  inflections  for  the  negative  did  not  stop  with  the 
verbs;  the  indefinite  article,  the  indefinite  pronoun  and  even 
some  of  the  nouns  were  also  inflected,  and  survivors  of  those 
forms  appear  to  this  day  in  such  words  as  none  and  nothing. 
Moreover,  when  an  actual  inflection  was  impossible  it  was  the 
practise  to  insert  this  ne  before  a  word,  in  the  sense  of  our  no 
or  not.  Still  more,  it  came  to  be  the  practise  to  reinforce  ne, 
before  a  vowel,  with  na  (=not)  or  naht  (=  nothing),  which 
later  degenerated  to  nat  and  not.  As  a  result,  there  were  fear- 
ful and  wonderful  combinations  of  negatives,  some  of  them  fully 
matching  the  best  efforts  of  Lardner's  baseball  player.  Sweet 


THE    COMMON   SPEECH  233 

gives  several  curious  examples.73  "Nan  ne  dorste  nan  thing 
ascian,"  translated  literally,  becomes  "no  one  dares  not  ask  noth- 
ing." "Thaet  hus  na  ne  feoll"  becomes  "the  house  did  not 
fall  not."  As  for  the  Middle  English  "he  never  nadde  noth- 
ing," it  has  too  modern  and  familiar  a  ring  to  need  translating 
at  all.  Chaucer,  at  the  beginning  of  the  period  of  transition  to 
Modern  English,  used  the  double  negative  with  the  utmost  free- 
dom. In  ' '  The  Knight 's  Tale  "  is  this : 

He  nevere  yet  no  vileynye  ne  sayde 
In  al  his  lyf  unto  no  maner  wight. 

By  the  time  of  Shakespeare  this  license  was  already  much  re- 
stricted, but  a  good  many  double  negatives  are  nevertheless  to 
be  found  in  his  plays,  and  he  was  particularly  shaky  in  the  use 
of  nor.  In  "Richard  III"  one  finds  "I  never  was  nor  never 
will  be";  in  "Measure  for  Measure,"  "harp  not  on  that  nor  do 
not  banish  treason,"  and  in  "Romeo  and  Juliet,"  "thou  ex- 
pectedst  not,  nor  I  looked  not  for."  This  misuse  of  nor  is  still 
very  frequent.  In  other  directions,  too,  the  older  forms  show 
a  tendency  to  survive  all  the  assaults  of  grammarians.  "No  it 
doesn't/'  heard  every  day  and  by  no  means  from  the  ignorant 
only,  is  a  sort  of  double  negative.  The  insertion  of  but  before 
that,  as  in  "I  doubt  but  that"  and  "there  is  no  question  but 
that,"  makes  a  double  negative  that  is  probably  full-blown. 
Nevertheless,  as  we  have  seen,  it  is  heard  on  the  floor  of  Con- 
gress every  day,  and  the  Fowlers  show  that  it  is  also  common  in 
England.74  Even  worse  forms  get  into  the  Congressional  Record. 
Not  long  ago,  for  example,  I  encountered  "without  hardly  an 
exception"  in  a  public  paper  of  the  utmost  importance.75  There 
are,  indeed,  situations  in  which  the  double  negative  leaps  to  the 
lips  or  from  the  pen  almost  irresistibly ;  even  such  careful  writ- 
ers as  Huxley,  Robert  Louis  Stevenson  and  Leslie  Stephen  have 

73  A  New  English  Grammar,  pt.  i,  pp.  437-8. 

T*  The  King's  English,  p.  322.  See  especially  the  quotation  from  Fred- 
erick Greenwood,  the  distinguished  English  journalist. 

75  Report  of  Edward  J.  Brundage,  attorney-general  of  Illinois,  on  the 
East  St.  Louis  massacre,  Congressional  Record,  Jan.  7,  1918,  p.  661. 


234  THE   AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

occasionally  dallied  with  it.76  It  is  perfectly  allowable  in  the 
Romance  languages,  and,  as  we  have  seen,  is  almost  the  rule  in 
the  American  vulgate.  Now  and  then  some  anarchistic  student 
of  the  language  boldly  defends  and  even  advocates  it.  "The 
double  negative,"  said  a  writer  in  the  London  Review  a  long 
time  ago,77  ' '  has  been  abandoned  to  the  great  injury  of  strength 
of  expression."  Surely  "I  won't  take  nothing"  is  stronger 
than  either  "I  will  take  nothing"  or  "I  won't  take  anything." 

"Language  begins,"  says  Sayce,  "with  sentences,  not  with 
single  words."  In  a  speech  in  process  of  rapid  development, 
unrestrained  by  critical  analysis,  the  tendency  to  sacrifice  the 
integrity  of  words  to  the  needs  of  the  complete  sentence  is  espe- 
cially marked.  One  finds  it  clearly  in  American.  Already  we 
have  examined  various  assimilation  and  composition  forms: 
that'n,  use'  to,  would' a,  them  'ere  and  so  on.  Many  others  are  ob- 
servable. Off'n  is  a  good  example ;  it  comes  from  off  of  and  shows 
a  preposition  decaying  to  the  form  of  a  mere  inflectional  particle. 
One  constantly  hears  "I  bought  it  off'n  John."  Sort 'a,  kind 'a 
and  their  like  follow  in  the  footsteps  of  would' a.  Usen't  follows 
the  analogy  of  don't  and  wouldn't.  Would  've  and  should  've 
are  widely  used ;  Lardner  commonly  hears  them  as  would  of  and 
should  of.  The  neutral  o-particle  also  appears  in  other  situa- 
tions, especially  before  way,  as  in  that 'a  way  and  this' a  way. 
It  is  found  again  in  a  tall,  a  liaison  form  of  at.  all.™ 

§8 

Pronunciation — Before  anything  approaching  a  thorough  and 
profitable  study  of  the  sounds  of  the  American  common  speech 
is  possible,  there  must  be  a  careful  assembling  of  the  materials, 
and  this,  unfortunately,  still  awaits  a  philologist  of  sufficient  en- 
terprise and  equipment.  Dr.  William  A.  Read,  of  the  State 
University  of  Louisiana,  has  made  some  excellent  examinations 

76  The  King's  English,  op.  cit. 
"Oct.  1,  1864. 

78  At  all,  by  the  way,  is  often  displaced  by  any  or  none,  as  in  "he  don't 
lover  her  any"  and  "it  didn't  hurt  me  none." 


THE    COMMON   SPEECH  235 

of  vowel  and  consonant  sounds  in  the  South,  Dr.  Louise  Pound 
has  done  capital  work  of  the  same  sort  in  the  Middle  West,79 
and  there  have  been  other  regional  studies  of  merit.  But  most 
of  these  become  misleading  by  reason  of  their  lack  of  scope; 
forms  practically  universal  in  the  nation  are  discussed  as  dia- 
lectical variations.  This  is  the  central  defect  in  the  work  of 
the  American  Dialect  Society,  otherwise  very  industrious  and 
meritorious.  It  is  essaying  to  study  localisms  before  having  first 
platted  the  characteristics  of  the  general  speech.  The  diction- 
aries of  Americanisms  deal  with  pronunciation  only  casually, 
and  often  very  inaccurately;  the  remaining  literature  is  meagre 
and  unsatisfactory.80  Until  the  matter  is  gone  into  at  length  it 
will  be  impossible  to  discuss  any  phase  of  it  with  exactness.  No 
single  investigator  can  examine  the  speech  of  the  whole  coun- 
try; for  that  business  a  pooling  of  forces  is  necessary.  But 
meanwhile  it  may  be  of  interest  to  set  forth  a  few  provisional 
ideas. 

At  the  start  two  streams  of  influence  upon  American  pronun- 
ciation may  be  noted,  the  one  an  inheritance  from  the  English 
of  the  colonists  and  the  other  arising  spontaneously  within  the 
country,  and  apparently  much  colored  by  immigration.  The 
first  influence,  it  goes  without  saying,  is  gradually  dying  out. 
Consider,  for  example,  the  pronunciation  of  the  diphthong  oi. 
In  Middle  English  it  was  as  in  'boy,  but  during  the  early  Mod- 
ern English  period  it  was  assimilated  with  that  of  the  i  in  wine, 
and  this  usage  prevailed  at  the  time  of  the  settlement  of  Amer- 
ica. The  colonists  thus  brought  it  with  them,  and  at  the  same 
time  it  lodged  in  Ireland,  where  it  still  prevails.  But  in  Eng- 
land, during  the  pedantic  eighteenth  century,  this  i-sound  was 
displaced  by  the  original  w-sound,  not  by  historical  research  but 
by  mere  deduction  from  the  spelling,  and  the  new  pronunciation 
soon  extended  to  the  polite  speech  of  America.  In  the  common 
speech,  however,  the  i-sound  persisted,  and  down  to  the  time  of 

™  See  the  bibliography  for  the  publication  of  Drs.  Read  and  Pound. 

so  The  only  book  that  I  can  find  definitely  devoted  to  American  sounds  is 
A  Handbook  of  American  Speech,  by  Calvin  L.  Lewis;  Chicago,  1916.  It 
has  many  demerits.  For  example,  the  author  gives  a  z-sound  to  the  «  in 
venison  (p.  52).  This  is  surely  not  American. 


236  THE   AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

the  Civil  "War  it  was  constantly  heard  in  such  words  as  boil, 
hoist,  oil,  join,  poison  and  roil,  which  thus  became  bile,  hist,  He, 
jine,  pisen  and  rile.  Since  then  the  school-marm  has  combatted 
it  with  such  vigor  that  it  has  begun  to  disappear,  and  such  forms 
as  pisen,  jine,  bile  and  He  are  now  very  seldom  heard,  save  as 
dialectic  variations.  But  in  certain  other  words,  perhaps  sup- 
ported by  Irish  influence,  the  i-sound  still  persists.  Chief 
among  them  are  hoist  and  roil.  An  unlearned  American,  wish- 
ing to  say  that  he  was  enraged,  never  says  that  he  was  roiled, 
but  always  that  he  was  riled.  Desiring  to  examine  the  hoof  of 
his  horse,  he  never  orders  the  animal  to  hoist  but  always  to  hist. 
In  the  form  of  booze-hister,  the  latter  is  almost  in  good  usage. 
I  have  seen  booze-hister  thus  spelled  and  obviously  to  be  thus 
pronounced,  in  an  editorial  article  in  the  American  Issue,  organ 
of  the  Anti-Saloon  League  of  America.81 

Various  similar  misplaced  vowels  were  brought  from  Eng- 
land by  the  colonists  and  have  persisted  in  America,  while  dying 
out  of  good  England  usage.  There  is,  for  example,  short  i  in 
place  of  long  e,  as  in  critter  for  creature.  Critter  is  common  to 
almost  all  the  dialects  of  English,  but  American  has  embedded 
the  vowel  in  a  word  that  is  met  with  nowhere  else  and  has  thus 
become  characteristic,  to  wit,  crick  for  creek.  Nor  does  any 
other  dialect  make  such  extensive  use  of  slick  for  sleek.  Again, 
there  is  the  substitution  of  the  flat  a  for  the  broad  a  in  sauce. 
England  has  gone  back  to  the  broad  a,  but  in  America  the  flat  a 
persists,  and  many  Americans  who  use  sassy  every  day  would 
scarcely  recognize  saucy  if  they  heard  it.  Yet  again,  there  is 
quoit.  Originally,  the  English  pronounced  it  quote,  but  now 
they  pronounce  the  diphthong  as  in  doily.  In  the  United  States 
the  quate  pronunciation  remains.  Finally,  there  is  deaf.  Its 
proper  pronunciation,  in  the  England  that  the  colonists  left, 
was  deef,  but  it  now  rhymes  with  Jeff.  That  new  pronuncia- 
tion has  been  adopted  by  polite  American,  despite  the  protests 
of  Noah  "Webster,  but  in  the  common  speech  the  word  is  still 
always  deef. 

However,  a  good  many  of  the  vowels  of  the  early  days  have 

si  Maryland  edition,  July  18,  1914,  p.  1. 


THE    COMMON   SPEECH  237 

succumbed  to  pedagogy.  The  American  proletarian  may  still 
use  sheer  for  scare,  but  in  most  of  the  other  words  of  that  class 
he  now  uses  the  vowel  approved  by  correct  English  usage.  Thus 
he  seldom  permits  himself  such  old  forms  as  dreen  for  drain, 
keer  for  care,  skeerce  for  scarce  or  even  cheer  for  chair.  The 
Irish  influence  supported  them  for  a  while,  but  now  they  are 
fast  going  out.  So,  too,  are  kivver  for  cover,  crap  for  crop, 
and  chist  for  chest.  But  kittle  for  kettle  still  shows  a  certain 
vitality,  rench  is  still  used  in  place  of  rinse,  and  squinch  in  place 
of  squint,  and  a  flat  a  continues  to  displace  various  e-sounds  in 
such  words  as  rare  for  rear  (e.  g.,  as  a  horse)  and  wrassle  for 
wrestle.  Contrariwise,  e  displaces  a  in  catch  and  radish,  which 
are  commonly  pronounced  ketch  and  reddish.  This  e-sound  was 
once  accepted  in  standard  English;  when  it  got  into  spoken 
American  it  was  perfectly  sound ;  one  still  hears  it  from  the  most 
pedantic  lips  in  any.82  There  are  also  certain  other  ancients 
that  show  equally  unbroken  vitality  among  us,  for  example, 
stomp  for  stamp,*3  snoot  for  snout,  guardeen  for  guardian,  and 
champeen  for  champion. 

But  all  these  vowels,  whether  approved  or  disapproved,  have 
been  under  the  pressure,  for  the  past  century,  of  a  movement 
toward  a  general  vowel  neutralization,  and  in  the  long  run  it 
promises  to  dispose  of  many  of  them.  The  same  movement  also 
affects  standard  English,  as  appears  by  Robert  Bridges'  "Tract 
on  the  Present  State  of  English  Pronunciation,"  but  I  believe 
that  it  is  stronger  in  America,  and  will  go  farther,  at  least  with 
the  common  speech,  if  only  because  of  our  unparalleled  immigra- 
tion. Standard  English  has  19  separate  vowel  sounds.  No 
other  living  tongue  of  Europe,  save  Portuguese,  has  so  many; 
most  of  the  others  have  a  good  many  less;  Modern  Greek  has 
but  five.  The  immigrant,  facing  all  these  vowels,  finds  some 
of  them  quite  impossible;  the  Russian  Jew,  as  we  have  seen, 
cannot  manage  ur.  As  a  result,  he  tends  to  employ  a  neutralized 

82  Cf.  Lounsbury:  The  Standard  of  Pronunciation  in  English,  p.  172 
et  seq. 

sz  Stomp  is  used  only  in  the  sense  of  to  stamp  with  the  foot.  One  al- 
ways stamps  a  letter.  An  analogue  of  ttomp,  accepted  in  correct  English, 
ii  strop  (e.  g.,  razor-strop ) ,  from  strap. 


238  THE   AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

vowel  in  all  the  situations  which  present  difficulties,  and  this 
neutralized  vowel,  supported  by  the  slip-shod  speech-habits  of 
the  native  proletariat,  makes  steady  progress.  It  appears  in 
many  of  the  forms  that  we  have  been  examining — in  the  final  a 
of  would' a,  vaguely  before  the  n  in  this'n  and  off'n,  in  place  of 
the  original  d  in  use'  to,  and  in  the  common  pronunciation  of 
such  words  as  been,  come  and  have,  particularly  when  they  are 
sacrificed  to  sentence  exigencies,  as  in  "I  b'n  thinking,"  "c'm 
'ere,"  and  "he  would  've  saw  you." 

Here  we  are  upon  a  wearing  down  process  that  shows  many 
other  symptoms.  One  finds,  not  only  vowels  disorganized,  but 
also  consonants.  Some  are  displaced  by  other  consonants,  meas- 
urably more  facile ;  others  are  dropped  altogether.  D  becomes  t, 
as  in  holt,  or  is  dropped,  as  in  tole,  han'kerchief,  bran-new  and 
fine  (for  find).  In  ast  (for  ask)  t  replaces  k:  when  the  same 
word  is  used  in  place  of  asked,  as  often  happens,  e.  g.,  in  "I  ast 
him  his  name,"  it  shoulders  out  ked.  It  is  itself  lopped  off  in 
bankrup,  quan'ity,  crep,  slep,  wep,  kep,  gris'-mill  and  les 
(=  let's  =  let  us),  and  is  replaced  by  d  in  kindergarden  and 
pardner.  L  disappears,  as  in  a'ready  and  gent 'man.  S  becomes 
tsh,  as  in  pincers.  The  same  tsh  replaces  c,  as  in  pitcher  for 
picture,  and  t,  as  in  amachoor.  G  disappears  from  the  ends  of 
words,  and  sometimes,  too,  in  the  middle,  as  in  stren'th  and 
reco'nize.  R,  though  it  is  better  preserved  in  American  than 
in  English,  is  also  under  pressure,  as  appears  by  bust,  stuck  on 
(for  struck  on),  cuss  (for  curse),  yestiddy,  sa's'parella,  pa'- 
tridge,  ca'tridge,  they  is  (for  there  is)  and  Sadd'y  (for  Satur- 
day). An  excrescent  t  survives  in  a  number  of  words,  e.  g., 
onc't,  twic't,  clos't,  wisht  (for  wish)  and  chanc't;  it  is  an  heir- 
loom from  the  English  of  two  centuries  ago.  So  is  the  final  h 
in  heighth.  An  excrescent  b,  as  in  chimbley  and  fambly,  seems 
to  be  native.  Whole  syllables  are  dropped  out  of  words,  parallel- 
ing the  English  butchery  of  extraordinary;  for  example,  in 
bound'ry,  hist'ry,  lib'ry  and  prob'ly.  Ordinary,  like  extraordi- 
nary, is  commonly  enunciated  clearly,  but  it  has  bred  a  degener- 
ated form,  onry  or  onery,  differentiated  in  meaning.  Conso- 
nants are  misplaced  by  metathesis,  as  in  prespiration,  hunderd, 


THE    COMMON   SPEECH  239 

brethern,  childern,  interduce,  apern,  calvary,  govrenment, 
modren  and  wosterd  (for  worsted).  Ow  is  changed  to  er,  as  in 
feller,  swatter,  yeller,  better,  umbreller  and  holler;  ice  is  changed 
to  ers  in  jaunders.  Words  are  given  new  syllables,  as  in  ettum, 
mischievious  and  municipial. 

In  the  complete  sentence,  assimilation  makes  this  disorganiza- 
tion much  more  obvious.  Mearns,  in  a  brief  article 8*  gives  many 
examples  of  the  extent  to  which  it  is  carried.  He  hears  "wah 
zee  say?"  for  "what  does  he  say?"  "ware  zee?"  for  "where 
is  he?"  "ast  'er  in"  for  "ask  her  in,"  "itt'm  owd"  for  "hit 
them  out,"  "sry"  for  "that  is  right,"  and  "c'meer"  for  "come 
here."  He  believes  that  t  is  gradually  succumbing  to  d,  and 
cites  "ass  bedder"  (for  "that's  better"),  "wen  juh  ged  din?" 
(for  "when  did  you  get  in?"),  and  "siddup"  (for  "sit  up"). 
One  hears  countless  other  such  decayed  forms  on  the  street  every 
day.  Have  to  is  almost  invariably  made  hafta,  with  the  neutral 
vowel  where  I  have  put  the  second  a.  Let's,  already  noticed,  is 
le'  's.  The  neutral  vowel  replaces  the  oo  of  good  in  g'by. 
"What  did  you  say"  reduces  itself  to  "wuz  ay?"  Maybe  is 
mebby,  perhaps  is  p'raps,  so  long  is  s'long,  excuse  me  is  skus  me; 
the  common  salutation,  ' '  How  are  you  ? "  is  so  dismembered  that 
it  finally  emerges  as  a  word  almost  indistinguishable  from  high. 
Here  there  is  room  for  inquiry,  and  that  inquiry  deserves  the 
best  effort  of  American  phonologists,  for  the  language  is  under- 
going rapid  changes  under  their  very  eyes,  or,  perhaps  more 
accurately,  under  their  very  ears,  and  a  study  of  those  changes 
should  yield  a  great  deal  of  interesting  matter.  How  did  the 
word  stint,  on  American  lips,  first  convert  itself  into  stent  and 
then  into  stunt  f  By  what  process  was  baulk  changed  into  buck  f 
Both  stunt  and  buck  are  among  the  commonest  words  in  the 
everyday  American  vocabulary,  and  yet  no  one,  so  far,  has  in- 
vestigated them  scientifically. 

A  by-way  that  is  yet  to  be  so  much  as  entered  is  that  of  nat- 
uralized loan-words  in  the  common  speech.  A  very  character- 
istic word  of  that  sort  is  sashay.  Its  relationship  to  the  French 
chasse  seems  to  be  plain,  and  yet  it  has  acquired  meanings  in 

s*  Our  Own,  Our  Native  Speech,  McClure's  Magazine,  Oct.,  1916. 


240  THE   AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

American  that  differ  very  widely  from  the  meaning  of  chasse. 
How  widely  it  is  dispersed  may  be  seen  by  the  fact  that  it  is  re- 
ported in  popular  use,  as  a  verb  signifying  to  prance  or  to  walk 
consciously,  in  Southeastern  Missouri,  Nebraska,  Northwestern 
Arkansas,  Eastern  Alabama  and  Western  Indiana,  and,  with 
slightly  different  meaning,  on  Cape  Cod.  The  travels  of  cafe 
in  America  would  repay  investigation;  particularly  its  varia- 
tions in  pronunciation.  I  believe  that  it  is  fast  becoming  kaif. 
Plaza,  boulevard,  vaudeville,  menu  and  rathskeller  have  entered 
into  the  common  speech  of  the  land,  and  are  pronounced  as  Amer- 
ican words.  Such  words,  when  they  come  in  verbally,  by  actual 
contact  with  immigrants,  commonly  retain  some  measure  of  their 
correct  native  pronunciation.  Spiel,  kosher,  ganof  and  matzoh 
are  examples;  their  vowels  remain  un-American.  But  words 
that  come  in  visually,  say  through  street-signs  and  the  news- 
papers, are  immediately  overhauled  and  have  thoroughly  Amer- 
icanized vowels  and  consonants  thereafter.  School-teachers  have 
been  trying  to  establish  various  pseudo-French  pronunciations 
of  vase  for  fifty  years  past,  but  it  still  rhymes  with  face  in  the 
vulgate.  Vaudeville  is  vawd-vill;  boulevard  has  a  hard  d  at  the 
end;  plaza  has  two  flat  a's;  the  first  syllable  of  menu  rhymes 
with  bee;  the  first  of  rathskeller  with  cats;  fiancee  is  fy-ance-y; 
nee  rhymes  with  see;  decollete  is  de-coll-ty;  hofbrdu  is  huffbrow; 
the  German  w  has  lost  its  v-sound  and  becomes  an  American  w. 
I  have,  in  my  day,  heard  proteege  for  protege,  habichoo  for 
habitue,  connisoor  for  connisseur,  shirtso  for  scherzo,  premeer 
for  premiere,  eetood  for  etude  and  prelood  for  prelude.  Divorcee 
is  divorcey,  and  has  all  the  rakishness  of  the  adjectives  in  -y. 
The  first  syllable  of  mayonnaise  rhymes  with  hay.  Creme  de 
menthe  is  cream  de  mint.  Schweizer  is  swite-ser.  Rochefort  is 
roke-fort.  I  have  heard  debut  with  the  last  syllable  rhyming 
with  nut.  I  have  heard  minoot  for  minuet.  I  have  heard  tchef 
doover  for  chef  d'ceuvre.  And  who  doesn't  remember 


As  I  walked  along  the  Boys  Boo-long 
With  an  independent  air 


and 


THE    COMMON   SPEECH  241 

Say  aw  re-vore, 
But  not  good-by! 

Charles  James  Fox,  it  is  said,  called  the  red  wine  of  France 
Bordox  to  the  end  of  his  days.  He  had  an  American  heart ;  his 
great  speeches  for  the  revolting  colonies  were  more  than  mere 
oratory. 


VII 


Differences  in  Spelling 

§1 

Typical  Forms — Some  of  the  salient  differences  between  Amer- 
ican and  English  spelling  are  shown  in  the  following  list  of  com- 
mon words : 


American 
Anemia 
aneurism 
annex  (noun) 
arbor 
-armor 
asphalt 
ataxia 
ax 

balk   (verb) 
baritone 
bark  (ship) 
behavior 
behoove 
buncombe 
burden  (ship's) 
cachexia 
caliber 
candor 
center 

check  (bank) 
checkered 
cider 
clamor 
clangor 
cloture 


English 
anaemia 
aneurysm 
annexe 
arbour 
armour 
asphalte 
ataxy 
axe 
baulk 
barytone 
barque 
behaviour 
behove 
bunkum 
burthen 
cachexy 
calibre 
candour 
centre 
cheque 
chequered 
cyder 
clamour 
clangour 
closure  l 


i  Fowler  &  Fowler,  in  The  King's  English,  p.  23,  say  that  "when  it 
was  proposed  to  borrow  from  France  what  we  [i.  e.,  the  English]  now  know 

242 


DIFFERENCES   IN   SPELLING 


243 


American 
color 

connection 
councilor 
counselor 
cozy 
curb 

cyclopedia 
defense 
demeanor 
diarrhea 
draft  (ship's) 
dreadn aught 
dryly 
ecology 
ecumenical 
edema 

encyclopedia 
endeavor 
eon 

epaulet 
esophagus 
fagot 
favor 
favorite 
fervor 
flavor 

font  (printer's) 
foregather 
forego 

form    (printer's) 
fuse 

gantlet   (to  run  the — ) 
glamor 
good-by 
gram 
gray 
harbor 
honor 


English 

colour 

connexion 

councillor 

counsellor 

cosy 

kerb 

cyclopaedia 

defence 

demeanour 

diarrhoea 

draught 

dreadnought 

drily 

oecology 

oecumenical 

oedema 

encyclopaedia 

endeavour 

aeon 

epaulette 

oesophagus 

faggot 

favour 

favourite 

fervour 

flavour 

fount 

forgather 

forgo 

forme 

fuze 

gauntlet 

glamour 

good-bye 

gramme 

grey 

harbour 

honour 


as  the  closure,  it  seemed  certain  for  some  time  that  with  the  thing  we 
should  borrow  the  name,  cldture;  a  press  campaign  resulted  in  closure." 
But  in  the  Congressional  Record  it  is  still  cloture,  though  with  the  loss 
of  the  circumflex  accent,  and  this  form  is  generally  retained  by  American 
newspapers. 


244 


THE   AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 


American 

hostler 
humor 
inclose 
u  indorse 
inflection 
inquiry 
jail 

jewelry 

jimmy   (burglar's) 
labor 
laborer 
liter 

maneuver 
medieval 
meter 

misdemeanor 
mold 
mollusk 
molt 

mustache 
neighbor 
neighborhood 
net  (adj.) 
odor 
offense 
pajamas 
parlor 

peas  (plu.  of  pea) 
picket   (military) 
plow 
pretense 
program 
pudgy 

pygmy 

rancor 

rigor 

rumor 

savory 

scimitar 

septicemia 

show   (verb) 

siphon 

siren 


English 

ostler 

humour 

enclose 

endorse 

inflexion 

enquiry 

gaol 

jewellery 

jemmy 

labour 

labourer 

litre 

manoeuvre 

mediaeval 

metre 

misdemeanoiTr 

mould 

mollusc 

moult 

moustache 

neighbour 

neighbourhood 

nett 

odour 

offence 

pyjamas 

parlour 

pease 

piquet 

plough 

pretence 

programme 

podgy 

pigmy 

rancour 

rigour 

rumour 

savoury 

scimetar 

septicaemia 

shew 

syphon 

syren 


DIFFERENCES   IN   SPELLING 


245 


American 
skeptic 
slug  (verb) 
slush 
splendor 
stanch 

story  (of  a  house) 
succor 
taffy 

tire  (noun) 
toilet 
traveler 
tumor 
valor 
vapor 
veranda 
vial 
vigor 

vise  (a  tool) 
wagon 
woolen 


English 

sceptic 

slog 

slosh 

splendour 

staunch 

storey 

succour 

toffy 

tyre 

toilette 

traveller 

tumour 

valour 

vapour 

verandah 

phial 

vigour 

vice 

waggon 

woollen 


§2 


General  Tendencies — This  list  is  by  no  means  exhaustive. 
According  to  a  recent  writer  upon  the  subject,  "there  are  812 
words  in  which  the  prevailing  American  spelling  differs  from 
the  English. ' ' 2  But  enough  examples  are  given  to  reveal  a 
number  of  definite  tendencies.  American,  in  general,  moves  to- 
ward simplified  forms  of  spelling  more  rapidly  than  English, 
and  has  got  much  further  along  the  road.  Redundant  and  un- 
necessary letters  have  been  dropped  from  whole  groups  of  words 
— the  u  from  the  group  of  nouns  in  -our,  with  the  sole  exception 
of  Saviour,  and  from  such  words  as  mould  and  baulk;  the  e  from 
annexe,  asphalte,  axe,  forme,  pease,  storey,  etc.;  the  duplicate 
consonant  from  waggon,  nett,  faggot,  woollen,  jeweller,  coun- 
cillor, etc.,  and  the  silent  foreign  suffixes  from  toilette,  epaulette, 
programme,  verandah,  etc.  In  addition,  simple  vowels  have  been 
substituted  for  degenerated  diphthongs  in  such  words  as  anaemia, 

2  Richard  P.  Read:  The  American  Language,  New  York  Sun,  March  7, 
1918. 


246  THE   AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

oesophagus,  diarrhoea  and  mediaeval,  most  of  them  from  the 
Greek. 

Further  attempts  in  the  same  direction  are  to  be  seen  in  the 
substitution  of  simple  consonants  for  compound  consonants,  as 
in  plow,  bark,  check,  vial  and  draft;  in  the  substitution  of  i  for  y 
to  bring  words  into  harmony  with  analogues,  as  in  tire,  cider 
and  baritone  (cf.  wire,  rider,  merriment),  and  in  the  general 
tendency  to  get  rid  of  the  somewhat  uneuphonious  y,  as  in  ataxia 
and  pajamas.  Clarity  and  simplicity  are  also  served  by  sub- 
stituting ct  for  x  in  such  words  as  connection  and  inflection,  and 
s  for  c  in  words  of  the  defense  group.  The  superiority  of  jail 
to  gaol  is  made  manifest  by  the  common  mispronunciation  of  the 
latter,  making  it  rhyme  with  coal.  The  substitution  of  i  for  e 
in  such  words  as  indorse,  inclose  and  jimmy  is  of  less  patent 
utility,  but  even  here  there  is  probably  a  slight  gain  in  euphony. 
Of  more  obscure  origin  is  what  seems  to  be  a  tendency  to  avoid 
the  o-sound,  so  that  the  English  slog  becomes  slug,  podgy  becomes 
pudgy,  nought  becomes  naught,  slosh  becomes  slush,  toffy  be- 
comes taffy,  and  so  on.  Other  changes  carry  their  own  justifica- 
tion. Hostler  is  obviously  better  American  than  ostler,  though 
it  may  be  worse  English.  Show  is  more  logical  than  shew.3 
Cozy  is  more  nearly  phonetic  than  cosy.  Curb  has  analogues  in 
curtain,  curdle,  curfew,  curl,  currant,  curry,  curve,  curtsey, 
curse,  currency,  cursory,  curtail,  cur,  curt  and  many  other  com- 
mon words:  kerb  has  very  few,  and  of  them  only  kerchief  and 
kernel  are  in  general  use.  Moreover,  the  English  themselves 
use  curb  as  a  verb  and  in  all  noun  senses  save  that  shown  in 
kerbstone. 

But  a  number  of  anomalies  remain.  The  American  substitu- 
tion of  a  for  e  in  gray  is  not  easily  explained,  nor  is  the  sub- 
stitution of  k  for  c  in  skeptic  and  mollusk,  nor  the  retention  of 
e  in  forego,  nor  the  unphonetic  substitution  of  s  for  z  in  fuse, 

s  To  shew  has  completely  disappeared  from  American,  but  it  still  survives 
in  English  usage.  Cf.  The  8hewing-\Jp  of  Blanco  Posnet,  by  George  Ber- 
nard Shaw.  The  word,  of  course,  is  pronounced  show,  not  shoe.  Shrew,  a 
cognate  word,  still  retains  the  early  pronunciation  of  shrow  in  English, 
but  is  now  phonetic  in  American. 


DIFFERENCES    IN   SPELLING          247 

nor  the  persistence  of  the  first  y  in  pygmy.  Here  we  have  plain 
vagaries,  surviving  in  spite  of  attack  by  orthographers.  Web- 
ster, in  one  of  his  earlier  books,  denounced  the  k  in  skeptic  as 
"a  mere  pedantry,"  but  later  on  he  adopted  it.  In  the  same 
way  pygmy,  gray  and  mollusk  have  been  attacked,  but  they  still 
remain  sound  American.  The  English  themselves  have  many 
more  such  illogical  forms  to  account  for.  In  the  midst  of  the 
our-words  they  cling  to  a  small  number  in  or,  among  them, 
stupor.  Moreover,  they  drop  the  u  in  many  derivatives,  for 
example,  in  arboreal,  armory,  clamorously,  clangorous,  odorifer- 
ous, humorist,  laborious  and  rigorism.  If  it  were  dropped  in 
all  derivatives  the  rule  would  be  easy  to  remember,  but  it  is  re- 
tained in  some  of  them,  for  example,  colourable,  favourite,  mis- 
demeanour, coloured  and  labourer.  The  derivatives  of  honour 
exhibit  the  confusion  clearly.  Honorary,  honorarium  and  hon- 
orific drop  the  u,  but  honourable  retains  it.  Furthermore,  the 
English  make  a  distinction  between  two  senses  of  rigor.  When 
used  in  its  pathological  sense  (not  only  in  the  Latin  form  of 
rigor  mortis,  but  as  an  English  word)  it  drops  the  u;  in  all  other 
senses  it  retains  the  u.  The  one  American  anomaly  in  this  field 
is  Saviour.  In  its  theological  sense  it  retains  the  u;  but  in  that 
sense  only.  A  jipilor  who  saves  his  ship  is  its  savior,  not  its 
saviour. 

§3 

The  Influence  of  Webster — At  the  time  of  the  first  settlement 
of  America  the  rules  of  English  orthography  were  beautifully 
vague,  and  so  we  find  the  early  documents  full  of  spellings  that 
would  give  an  English  lexicographer  much  pain  today.  Now 
and  then  a  curious  foreshadowing  of  later  American  usage  is 
encountered.  On  July  4,  1631,  for  example,  John  Winthrop 
wrote  in  his  journal  that  "the  governour  built  a  bark  at  Mistick, 
which  was  launched  this  day. ' '  But  during  the  eighteenth  cen- 
tury, and  especially  after  the  publication  of  Johnson's  diction- 
ary, there  was  a  general  movement  in  England  toward  a  more 
inflexible  orthography,  and  many  hard  and  fast  rules,  still  sur- 
viving, were  then  laid  down.  It  was  Johnson  himself  who  es- 


248  THE   AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

tablished  the  position  of  the  u  in  the  our  words.  Bailey,  Dyche 
and  the  other  lexicographers  before  him  were  divided  and  un- 
certain ;  Johnson  declared  for  the  u,  and  though  his  reasons  were 
very  shaky 4  and  he  often  neglected  his  own  precept,  his  author- 
ity was  sufficient  to  set  up  a  usage  which  still  defies  attack  in 
England.  Even  in  America  this  usage  was  not  often  brought 
into  question  until  the  last  quarter  of  the  eighteenth  century. 
True  enough,  honor  appears  in  the  Declaration  of  Independence, 
but  it  seems  to  have  got  there  rather  by  accident  than  by  design. 
In  Jefferson's  original  draft  it  is  spelled  honour.  So  early  as 
1768  Benjamin  Franklin  had  published  his  "Scheme  for  a  New 
Alphabet  and  a  Reformed  Mode  of  Spelling,  with  Remarks  and 
Examples  Concerning  the  Same,  and  an  Enquiry  Into  its  Uses" 
and  induced  a  Philadelphia  typefounder  to  cut  type  for  it,  but 
this  scheme  was  too  extravagant  to  be  adopted  anywhere,  or  to 
have  any  appreciable  influence  upon  spelling.5 
0  It  was  Noah  Webster  who  finally  achieved  the  divorce  between 
English  example  and  American  practise.  He  struck  the  first 
blow  in  his  "Grammatical  Institute  of  the  English  Language," 
published  at  Hartford  in  1783.  Attached  to  this  work  was  an 
appendix  bearing  the  formidable  title  of  "An  Essay  on  the 
Necessity,  Advantages  and  Practicability  of  Reforming  the 
Mode  of  Spelling,  and  of  Rendering  the  Orthography  of  Words 
Correspondent  to  the  Pronunciation,"  and  during  the  same 
year,  at  Boston,  he  set  forth  his  ideas  a  second  time  in  the  first 
edition  of  his  ' '  American  Spelling  Book. ' '  The  influence  of  this 
spelling  book  was  immediate  and  profound.  It  took  tne  place 
in  the  schools  of  Dilworth's  "Aby-sel-pha,"  the  favorite  of  the 
generation  preceding,  and  maintained  its  authority  for  fully  a 
century.  Until  Lyman  Cobb  entered  the  lists  with  his  "New 
Spelling  Book,"  in  1842,  its  innumerable  editions  scarcely  had 

*  Cf.  Lounsbury;  English  Spelling  and  Spelling  Reform;  p.  209  et  seq. 
Johnson  even  advocated  translatour,  emperour,  oratour  and  horrour.  But, 
like  most  other  lexicographers,  he  was  often  inconsistent,  and  the  conflict 
between  interiour  and  exterior,  and  anteriour  and  posterior,  in  his  diction- 
ary, laid  him  open  to  much  mocking  criticism. 

s  In  a  letter  to  Miss  Stephenson,  Sept.  20,  1768,  he  exhibited  the  use  of 
his  new  alphabet.  The  letter  is  to  be  found  in  most  editions  of  his  writings. 


DIFFERENCES    IN   SPELLING          249 

any  rivalry,  and  even  then  it  held  its  own.  I  have  a  New  York 
edition,  dated  1848,  which  contains  an  advertisement  stating 
that  the  annual  sale  at  that  time  was  more  than  a  million  copies, 
and  that  more  than  30,000,000  copies  had  been  sold  since  1783. 
In  the  late  40 's  the  publishers,  George  F.  Cooledge  &  Bro.,  de- 
voted the  whole  capacity  of  the  fastest  steam  press  in  the  United 
States  to  the  printing  of  it.  This  press  turned  out  525  copies 
an  hour,  or  5,250  a  day.  It  was  "constructed  expressly  for 
printing  Webster's  Elementary  Spelling  Book  [the  name  had 
been  changed  in  1829]  at  an  expense  of  $5,000."  Down  to 
1889,  62,000,000  copies  of  the  book  had  been  sold. 
O  The  appearance  of  Webster's  first  dictionary,  in  1806,  greatly 
strengthened  his  influence.  The  best  dictionary  available  to 
Americans  before  this  was  Johnson's  in  its  various  incarnations, 
but  against  Johnson's  stood  a  good  deal  of  animosity  to  its  com- 
piler, whose  implacable  hatred  of  all  things  American  was  well 
known  to  the  citizens  of  the  new  republic.  John  Walker's  dic- 
tionary, issued  in  London  in  1791,  was  also  in  use,  but  not  ex- 
tensively. A  home-made  school  dictionary,  issued  at  New  Ha- 
ven in  1798  or  1799  by  one  Samuel  Johnson,  Jr. — apparently  no 
relative  of  the  great  Sam — and  a  larger  work  published  a  year 
later  by  Johnson  and  the  Rev.  John  Elliott,  pastor  in  East  Guil- 
ford,  Conn.,  seem  to  have  made  no  impression,  despite  the  fact 
that  the  latter  was  commended  by  Simeon  Baldwin,  Chauncey 
Goodrich  and  other  magnificoes  of  the  time  and  place,  and  even 
by  Webster  himself.  The  field  was  thus  open  to  the  laborious 
and  truculent  Noah.  He  was  already  the  acknowledged  magister 
of  lexicography  in  America,  and  there  was  an  active  public  de- 
mand for  a  dictionary  that  should  be  wholly  American.  The 
appearance  of  his  first  duodecimo,  according  to  Williams,6 
thereby  took  on  something  of  the  character  of  a  national  event. 
It  was  received,  not  critically,  but  patriotically,  and  its  imper- 
fections were  swallowed  as  eagerly  as  its  merits.  Later  on  Web- 
ster had  to  meet  formidable  critics,  at  home  as  well  as  abroad, 
but  for  nearly  a  quarter  of  a  century  he  reigned  almost  unchal- 
lenged. Edition  after  edition  of  his  dictionary  was  published, 
eR.  C.  Williams:  Our  Dictionaries;  New  York,  1890,  p.  30. 


250  THE   AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

each  new  one  showing  additions  and  improvements.  Finally,  in 
1828,  he  printed  his  great  "  American  Dictionary  of  the  English 
Language,"  in  two  large  octavo  volumes.  It  held  the  field  for 
half  a  century,  not  only  against  Worcester  and  the  other  Amer- 
ican lexicographers  who  followed  him,  but  also  against  the  best 
dictionaries  produced  in  England.  Until  very  lately,  indeed, 
America  remained  ahead  of  England  in  practical  dictionary  mak- 
ing. 

Webster  had  declared  boldly  for  simpler  spellings  in  his  early 
spelling  books;  in  his  dictionary  of  1806  he  made  an  assault  at 
all  arms  upon  some  of  the  dearest  prejudices  of  English  lexicog- 
raphers. Grounding  his  wholesale  reforms  upon  a  saying  by 
Franklin,  that  "those  people  spell  best  who  do  not  know  how 
to  spell" — i.  e.,  who  spell  phonetically  and  logically — he  made 
an  almost  complete  sweep  of  whole  classes  of  silent  letters — the 
u  in  the  -our  words,  the  final  e  in  determine  and  requisite,  the 
silent  a  in  thread,  feather  and  steady,  the  silent  b  in  thumb,  the 
s  in  island,  the  o  in  leopard,  and  the  redundant  consonants  in 
traveler,  wagon,  jeweler,  etc.  (English:  traveller,  waggon,  jew- 
eller). More,  he  lopped  the  final  k  from  frolick,  physick  and 
their  analogues.  Yet  more,  he  transposed  the  e  and  the  r  in  all 
words  ending  in  re,  such  as  theatre,  lustre,  centre  and  calibre. 
Yet  more,  he  changed  the  c  in  all  words  of  the  defence  class  to  s. 
Yet  more,  he  changed  ph  to  /  in  words  of  the  phantcfm  class, 
ou  to  oo  in  words  of  the  group  class,  ow  to  ou  in  crowd,  porpoise 
to  porpess,  acre  to  aker,  sew  to  soe,  woe  to  wo,  soot  to  sut,  gaol 
to  jail,  and  plough  to  plow.  Finally,  he  antedated  the  simpli- 
fied spellers  by  inventing  a  long  list  of  boldly  phonetic  spellings, 
ranging  from  tung  for  tongue  to  wimmen  for  women,  and  from 
hainous  for  heinous  to  cag  for  keg. 

A  good  many  of  these  new  spellings,  of  course,  were  not 
actually  Webster's  inventions.  For  example,  the  change  from 
-our  to  -or  in  words  of  the  honor  class  was  a  mere  echo  of  an 
earlier  English  usage,  or,  more  accurately,  of  an  earlier  English 
uncertainty.  In  the  first  three  folios  of  Shakespeare,  1623,  1632 
and  1663-6,  honor  and  honour  were  used  indiscriminately  and 
in  almost  equal  proportions ;  English  spelling  was  still  fluid,  and 


DIFFERENCES   IN   SPELLING          251 

the  -owr-form  was  not  consistently  adopted  until  the  fourth  folio 
of  1685.  Moreover,  John  Wesley,  the  founder  of  Methodism," 
is  authority  for  the  statement  that  the  -or-form  was  "a  fashion- 
able impropriety"  in  England  in  1791.  But  the  great  author- 
ity of  Johnson  stood  against  it,  and  Webster  was  surely  not  one 
to  imitate  fashionable  improprieties.  He  deleted  the  u  for 
purely  etymological  reasons,  going  back  to  the  Latin  honor,  favor 
and  odor  without  taking  account  of  the  intermediate  French 
honneur,  faveur  and  odeur.  And  where  no  etymological  rea- 
sons presented  themselves,  he  made  his  changes  by  analogy  and 
for  the  sake  of  uniformity,  or  for  euphony  or  simplicity,  or  be- 
cause it  pleased  him,  one  guesses,  to  stir  up  the  academic  animals. 
Webster,  in  fact,  delighted  in  controversy,  and  was  anything  but 
free  from  the  national  yearning  to  make  a  sensation. 

A  great  many  of  his  innovations,  of  course,  failed  to  take  root, 
and  in  the  course  of  time  he  abandoned  some  of  them  himself. 
In  his  early  ' '  Essay  on  the  Necessity,  Advantage  and  Practicabil- 
ity of  Reforming  the  Mode  of  Spelling"  he  advocated  reforms 
which  were  already  discarded  by  the  time  he  published  the  first 
edition  of  his  dictionary.  Among  them  were  the  dropping  of 
the  silent  letter  in  such  words  as  head,  give,  built  and  realm, 
making  them  hed,  giv,  bilt  and  relm;  the  substitution  of  doubled 
vowels  for  decayed  diphthongs  in  such  words  as  mean,  zeal  and 
near,  making  them  meen,  zeel  and  neer;  and  the  substitution  of 
sh  for  ch  in  such  French  loan-words  as  machine  and  chevalier, 
making  them  macheen  and  shevaleer.  He  also  declared  for  stile 
in  place  of  style,  and  for  many  other  such  changes,  and  then 
quietly  abandoned  them.  The  successive  editions  of  his  diction- 
ary show  still  further  concessions.  Croud,  f ether,  groop,  gillotin, 
iland,  insted,  leperd,  soe,  sut,  steddy,  thret,  thred,  thum  and 
wimmen  appear  only  in  the  1806  edition.  In  1828  he  went  back 
to  crowd,  feather,  group,  island,  instead,  leopard,  sew,  soot, 
steady,  thread,  threat,  thumb  and  women,  and  changed  gillotin 
to  guillotin.  In  addition,  he  restored  the  final  e  in  determine, 
discipline,  requisite,  imagine,  etc.  In  1838,  revising  his  dic- 
tionary, he  abandoned  a  good  many  spellings  that  had  appeared 
in  either  the  1806  or  the  1828  edition,  notably  maiz  for  maize, 


252  THE   AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

suveran  for  sovereign  and  guillotin  for  guillotine.  But  he  stuck 
manfully  to  a  number  that  were  quite  as  revolutionary — for  ex- 
ample, aker  for  acre,  cag  for  keg,  grotesk  for  grotesque,  hainous 
for  heinous,  porpess  for  porpoise  and  tung  for  tongue — and  they 
did  not  begin  to  disappear  until  the  edition  of  1854,  issued  by 
other  hands  and  eleven  years  after  his  death.  Three  of  his  fa- 
vorites, chimist  for  chemist,  neger  for  negro  and  zeber  for  zebra, 
are  incidentally  interesting  as  showing  changes  in  American  pro- 
nunciation. He  abandoned  zeber  in  1828,  but  remained  faith- 
ful to  chimist  and  neger  to  the  last. 

But  though  he  was  thus  forced  to  give  occasional  ground,  and 
in  more  than  one  case  held  out  in  vain,  Webster  lived  to  see  the 
majority  of  his  reforms  adopted  by  his  countrymen.  He  left 
the  ending  in  -or  triumphant  over  the  ending  in  -our,  he  shook 
the  security  of  the  ending  in  -re,  he  rid  American  spelling  of  a 
great  many  doubled  consonants,  he  established  the  s  in  words  of 
the  defense  group,  and  he  gave  currency  to  many  characteristic 
American  spellings,  notably  jail,  wagon,  plow,  mold  and  ax. 
These  spellings  still  survive,  and  are  practically  universal  in  the 
United  States  today ;  their  use  constitutes  one  of  the  most  obvi- 
ous differences  between  written  English  and  written  American. 
Moreover,  they  have  founded  a  general  tendency,  the  effects  of 
which  reach  far  beyond  the  field  actually  traversed  by  Webster 
himself.  New  words,  and  particularly  loan-words,  are  simpli- 
fied, and  hence  naturalized  in  American  much  more  quickly  than 
in  English.  Employe  has  long  since  become  employee  in  our 
newspapers,  and  asphalte  has  lost  its  final  e,  and  manoeuvre  has 
become  maneuver,  and  pyjamas  has  become  pajamas.  Even  the 
terminology  of  science  is  simplified  and  Americanized.  In  medi- 
cine, for  example,  the  highest  American  usage  countenances  many 
forms  which  would  seem  barbarisms  to  an  English  medical  man  if 
he  encountered  them  in  the  Lancet.  In  derivatives  of  the  Greek 
haima  it  is  the  almost  invariable  American  custom  to  spell  the 
root  syllable  hem,  but  the  more  conservative  English  make  it 
haem — e.  g.,  in  haemorrhage  and  haemiplegia.  In  an  exhaustive 
list  of  diseases  issued  by  the  United  States  Public  Health  Serv- 


DIFFERENCES   IN   SPELLING          253 

ice 7  the  haem-form  does  not  appear  once.  In  the  same  way 
American  usage  prefers  esophagus,  diarrhea  and  gonorrhea  to 
the  English  oesophagus,  diarrhoea  and  gonorrhoea.  In  the  style- 
book  of  the  Journal  of  the  American  Medical  Association  8  I 
find  many  other  spellings  that  would  shock  an  English  medical 
author,  among  them  curet  for  curette,  cocain  for  cocaine,  gage 
for  gauge,  intern  for  interne,  lacrimal  for  lachrymal,  and  a  whole 
group  of  words  ending  in  -er  instead  of  in  -re. 

Webster 's  reforms,  it  goes  without  saying,  have  not  passed  un- 
challenged by  the  guardians  of  tradition.  A  glance  at  the  lit- 
erature of  the  first  years  of  the  nineteenth  century  shows  that 
most  of  the  serious  authors  of  the  time  ignored  his  new  spellings, 
though  they  were  quickly  adopted  by  the  newspapers.  Ban- 
croft's "Life  of  Washington"  contains  -our  endings  in  all  such 
words  as  honor,  ardor  and  favor.  Washington  Irving  also  threw 
his  influence  against  the  -or  ending,  and  so  did  Bryant  and  most 
of  the  other  literary  big-wigs  of  that  day.  After  the  appear- 
ance of  "An  American  Dictionary  of  the  English  Language," 
in  1828,  a  formal  battle  was  joined,  with  Lyman  Cobb  and  Jo- 
seph E.  Worcester  as  the  chief  opponents  of  the  reformer.  Cobb 
and  Worcester,  in  the  end,  accepted  the  -or  ending  and  so  sur- 
rendered on  the  main  issue,  but  various  other  champions  arose 
to  carry  on  the  war.  Edward  S.  Gould,  in  a  once  famous  essay,9 
denounced  the  whole  Websterian  orthography  with  the  utmost 
fury,  and  Bryant,  reprinting  this  philippic  in  the  Evening  Post, 
said  that  on  account  of  Webster  ' '  the  English  language  has  been 
undergoing  a  process  of  corruption  for  the  last  quarter  of  a  cen- 
tury," and  offered  to  contribute  to  a  fund  to  have  Gould's  de- 
nunciation "read  twice  a  year  in  every  school-house  in  the 
United  States,  until  every  trace  of  Websterian  spelling  disap- 
pears from  the  land."  But  Bryant  was  forced  to  admit  that, 
even  in  1856,  the  chief  novelties  of  the  Connecticut  school-master 
"who  taught  millions  to  read  but  not  one  to  sin"  were  "adopted 

7  Nomenclature  of  Diseases  and  Condition,  prepared  by  direction  of  the 
Surgeon  General;  Washington,  1916. 

s  American  Medical  Association  Style  Book;  Chicago,  1915. 

8  Democratic  Review,  March,   1856. 


254  THE   AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

and  propagated  by  the  largest  publishing  house,  through  the 
columns  of  the  most  widely  circulated  monthly  magazine,  and 
through  one  of  the  ablest  and  most  widely  circulated  newspapers 
in  the  United  States" — which  is  to  say,  the  Tribune  under 
Greeley.  The  last  academic  attack  was  delivered  by  Bishop 
Coxe  in  1886,  and  he  contented  himself  with  the  resigned  state- 
ment that  "Webster  has  corrupted  our  spelling  sadly."  Louns- 
bury,  with  his  active  interest  in  spelling  reform,  ranged  himself 
on  the  side  of  AVebster,  and  effectively  disposed  of  the  contro- 
versy by  showing  that  the  great  majority  of  his  spellings  were 
supported  by  precedents  quite  as  respectable  as  those  behind  the 
fashionable  English  spellings.  In  Lounsbury's  opinion,  a  good 
deal  of  the  opposition  to  them  was  no  more  than  a  symptom  of 
antipathy  to  all  things  American  among  certain  Englishmen 
and  of  subservience  to  all  things  English  among  certain  Amer- 
icans.10 

Webster's  inconsistency  gave  his  opponents  a  formidable 
weapon  for  use  against  him — until  it  began  to  be  noticed  that 
the  orthodox  English  spelling  was  quite  as  inconsistent.  He 
sought  to  change  acre  to  aker,  but  left  lucre  unchanged.  He  re- 
moved the  final  /  from  bailiff,  mastiff,  plaintiff  and  pontiff,  but 
left  it  in  distaff.  He  changed  c  to  s  in  words  of  the  offense  class, 
but  left  the  c  in  fence.  He  changed  the  ck  in  frolick,  physich, 
etc.,  into  a  simple  c,  but  restored  it  in  such  derivatives  as  frolick- 
some.  He  deleted  the  silent  u  in  mould,  but  left  it  in  court. 
These  slips  were  made  the  most  of  by  Cobb  in  a  pamphlet  printed 
in  1831.11  He  also  detected  Webster  in  the  frequent  faux  pas 
of  using  spellings  in  his  definitions  and  explanations  that  con- 
flicted with  the  spellings  he  advocated.  Various  other  purists 
joined  in  the  attack,  and  it  was  renewed  with  great  fury  after 
the  appearance  of  Worcester's  dictionary,  in  1846.  Worcester, 
who  had  begun  his  lexicographical  labors  by  editing  Johnson's 
dictionary,  was  a  good  deal  more  conservative  than  Webster, 
and  so  the  partisans  of  conformity  rallied  around  him,  and  for 

10  Vide  English  Spelling  and  Spelling  Reform,  p.  229. 
11 A   Critical   Review   of   the   Orthography   of   Dr.   Webster's   Series   of 
Books  .  .  .;  New  York,  1831. 


DIFFERENCES   IN   SPELLING          255 

a  while  the  controversy  took  on  all  the  rancor  of  a  personal 
quarrel.  Even  the  editions  of  Webster  printed  after  his  death, 
though  they  gave  way  on  many  points,  were  violently  arraigned. 
Gould,  in  1867,  belabored  the  editions  of  1854  and  1866,12  and 
complained  that  "for  the  past  twenty-five  years  the  Websterian 
replies  have  uniformly  been  bitter  in  tone,  and  very  free  in  the 
imputation  of  personal  motives,  or  interested  or  improper  mo- 
tives, on  the  part  of  opposing  critics."  At  this  time  Webster 
himself  had  been  dead  for  twenty-two  years.  Schele  de  Vere, 
during  the  same  year,  denounced  the  publishers  of  the  Webster 
dictionaries  for  applying  ' '  immense  capital  and  a  large  stock  of 
energy  and  perseverance"  to  the  propagation  of  his  "new  and 
arbitrarily  imposed  orthography. ' ' 13 


§4 

Exchanges — As  in  vocabulary  and  in  idiom,  there  are  constant 
exchanges  between  English  and  American  in  the  department 
of  orthography.  Here  the  influence  of  English  usage  is  almost 
uniformly  toward  conservatism,  and  that  of  American  usage  is 
as  steadily  in  the  other  direction.  The  logical  superiority  of 
American  spelling  is  well  exhibited  by  its  persistent  advance  in 
the  face  of  the  utmost  hostility.  The  English  objection  to  our 
simplifications,  as  Brander  Matthews  points  out,  is  not  wholly 
or  even  chiefly  etymological ;  its  roots  lie,  to  borrow  James  Russell 
Lowell's  phrase,  in  an  esthetic  hatred  burning  "with  as  fierce  a 
flame  as  ever  did  theological  hatred."  There  is  something  in- 
ordinately offensive  to  English  purists  in  the  very  thought  of 
taking  lessons  from  this  side  of  the  water,  particularly  in  the 
mother  tongue.  The  opposition,  transcending  the  academic, 
takes  on  the  character  of  the  patriotic.  "Any  American,"  con- 
tinues Matthews,  "who  chances  to  note  the  force  and  the  fervor 
and  the  frequency  of  the  objurgations  against  American  spelling 
in  the  columns  of  the  Saturday  Review,  for  example,  and  of  the 
Athenaeum,  may  find  himself  wondering  as  to  the  date  of  the 

12  Good  English;  p.  137  et  seq. 
i»  Studies  in  English;  pp.  64-5. 


256  THE   AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

papal  bull  which  declared  the  infallibility  of  contemporary  Brit- 
ish orthography,  and  as  to  the  place  where  the  council  of  the 
Church  was  held  at  which  it  was  made  an  article  of  faith. ' ' 14 
This  was  written  more  than  a  quarter  of  a  century  ago.  Since 
then  there  has  been  a  lessening  of  violence,  but  the  opposition 
still  continues.  No  self-respecting  English  author  would  yield 
up  the  -our  ending  for  an  instant,  or  write  check  for  cheque, 
or  transpose  the  last  letters  in  the  -re  words. 

Nevertheless,  American  spelling  makes  constant  gains  across 
the  water,  and  they  more  than  offset  the  occasional  fashions  for 
English  spellings  on  this  side.  Schele  de  Vere,  in  1867,  con- 
soled himself  for  Webster's  "arbitrarily  imposed  orthography" 
by  predicting  that  it  could  be  "only  temporary" — that,  in  the 
long  run,  "North  America  depends  exclusively  on  the  mother- 
country  for  its  models  of  literature."  But  the  event  has  blasted 
this  prophecy  and  confidence,  for  the  English,  despite  their  furi- 
ous reluctance,  have  succumbed  to  Webster  more  than  once. 
The  New  English  Dictionary,  a  monumental  work,  shows  many 
silent  concessions,  and  quite  as  many  open  yieldings — for  exam- 
ple, in  the  case  of  ax,  which  is  admitted  to  be  "better  than  axe 
on  every  ground."  Moreover,  English  usage  tends  to  march 
ahead  of  it,  outstripping  the  liberalism  of  its  editor,  Sir  James 
A.  H.  Murray.  In  1914,  for  example,  Sir  James  was  still  pro- 
testing against  dropping  the  first  e  from  judgement,  a  character- 
istic Americanism,  but  during  the  same  year  the  Fowlers,  in 
their  Concise  Oxford  Dictionary,  put  judgment  ahead  of  judge- 
ment; and  two  years  earlier  the  Authors'  and  Printers'  Diction- 
ary, edited  by  Horace  Hart,15  had  dropped  judgement  alto- 
gether. Hart  is  Controller  of  the  Oxford  University  Press,  and 
the  Authors'  and  Printers'  Dictionary  is  an  authority  accepted 
by  nearly  all  of  the  great  English  book  publishers  and  news- 
papers. Its  last  edition  shows  a  great  many  American  spellings. 
For  example,  it  recommends  the  use  of  jail  and  jailer  in  place 

i*  Americanisms  and   Briticisms;    New  York,    1892,   p.   37. 

IB  Authors'  &  Printers'  Dictionary  ...  an  attempt  to  codify  the  best 
typographical  practices  of  the  present  day,  by  F.  Howard  Collins;  4th 
ed.,  revised  by  Horace  Hart;  London,  1912. 

! 


DIFFERENCES   IN   SPELLING          257 

of  the  English  gaol  and  gaoler,  says  that  ax  is  better  than  axe, 
drops  the  final  e  from  asphalte  and  forme,  changes  the  y  to  i 
in  cyder,  cypher  and  si/ren  and  advocates  the  same  change  in 
tyre,  drops  the  redundant  t  from  nett,  changes  burthen  to  bur- 
den, spells  wagon  with  one  0,  prefers  /use  to  fuze,  and  takes  the 
e  out  of  storey.  "Rules  for  Compositors  and  Readers  at  the 
University  Press,  Oxford,"  also  edited  by  Hart  (with  the  ad- 
vice of  Sir  James  Murray  and  Dr.  Henry  Bradley),  is  another 
very  influential  English  authority.16  It  gives  its  imprimatur 
to  bark  (a  ship),  cipher,  siren,  jail,  story,  tire  and  wagon,  and 
even  advocates  kilogram,  and  omelet.  Finally,  there  is  Cassell's 
English  Dictionary.17  It  clings  to  the  -our  and  -re  endings  and 
to  annexe,  waggon  and  cheque,  but  it  prefers  jail  to  gaol,  net  to 
nett,  asphalt  to  asphalte  and  story  to  storey,  and  comes  out  flatly 
for  judgment,  fuse  and  siren. 

Current  English  spelling,  like  our  own,  shows  a  number  of 
uncertainties  and  inconsistencies,  and  some  of  them  are  undoubt- 
edly the  result  of  American  influences  that  have  not  yet  become 
fully  effective.  The  lack  of  harmony  in  the  -our  words,  leading 
to  such  discrepancies  as  honorary  and  honourable,  I  have  already 
mentioned.  The  British  Board  of  Trade,  in  attempting  to  fix 
the  spelling  of  various  scientific  terms,  has  often  come  to  grief. 
Thus  it  detaches  the  final  -me  from  gramme  in  such  compounds 
as  kilogram  and  milligram,  but  insists  upon  gramme  when  the 
word  stands  alone.  In  American  usage  gram  is  now  common, 
and  scarcely  challenged.  All  the  English  authorities  that  I 
have  consulted  prefer  metre  and  calibre  to  the  American  meter 
and  caliber.™  They  also  support  the  ae  in  such  words  as  aetiol- 
ogy, aesthetics,  mediaeval  and  anaemia,  and  the  oe  in  oesophagus, 

i<5  Horace  Hart :  Rules  for  Compositors  and  Readers  at  the  University 
Press,  Oxford:  23rd  ed.;  London,  1914.  I  am  informed  by  Mr.  Humphrey 
Davy,  of  the  London  Times,  that,  with  one  or  two  minor  exceptions,  the 
Times  observes  the  rules  laid  down  in  this  book. 

IT  Cassell's  English  Dictionary,  ed.  by  John  Williams,  37th  thousand: 
London,  1908.  This  work  is  based  upon  the  larger  Encyclopaedic  Diction- 
ary, also  edited  by  Williams. 

is  Caliber  is  now  the  official  spelling  of  the  United  States  Army.  Cf. 
Description  and  Rules  for  the  Management  of  the  U.  S.  Rifle,  Caliber  .30 
Model  of  1903;  Washington,  1915.  But  calibre  is  still  official  in  England 


258  THE    AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

manoeuvre  and  diarrhoea.  They  also  cling  to  such  forms  as 
mollusc,  kerb,  pyjamas  and  ostler,  and  to  the  use  of  x  instead 
of  ct  in  connexion  and  inflexion.  The  Authors'  and  Printers' 
Dictionary  admits  the  American  curb,  but  says  that  the  English 
kerb  is  more  common.  It  gives  barque,  plough  and  fount,  but 
grants  that  bark,  plow  and  font  are  good  in  America.  As  be- 
tween inquiry  and  enquiry,  it  prefers  the  American  inquiry  to 
the  English  enquiry,  but  it  rejects  the  American  inclose  and 
indorse  in  favor  of  the  English  enclose  and  endorse.19  Here 
American  spelling  has  driven  in  a  salient,  but  has  yet  to  take 
the  whole  position.  A  number  of  spellings,  nearly  all  Amer- 
ican, are  trembling  on  the  brink  of  acceptance  in  both  countries. 
Among  them  is  rime  (for  rhyme}.  This  spelling  was  correct  in 
England  until  about  1530,  but  its  recent  revival  was  of  American 
origin.  It  is  accepted  by  the  Oxford  Dictionary  and  by  the 
editors  of  the  Cambridge  History  of  English  Literature,  but  it 
seldom  appears  in  an  English  journal.  The  same  may  be  said 
of  grewsome.  It  has  got  a  footing  in  both  countries,  but  the 
weight  of  English  opinion  is  still  against  it.  Develop  (instead 
of  develope)  has  gone  further  in  both  countries.  So  has  engulf, 
for  engulph.  So  has  gipsy  for  gypsy. 

American  imitation  of  English  orthography  has  two  impulses 
behind  it.  First,  there  is  the  colonial  spirit,  the  desire  to  pass 
as  English — in  brief,  mere  affectation.  Secondly,  there  is  the 
wish  among  printers,  chiefly  of  books  and  periodicals,  to  reach 
a  compromise  spelling  acceptable  in  both  countries,  thus  avoid- 
ing expensive  revisions  in  case  of  republication  in  England.20 

as  appears  by  the  Field  Service  Pocket-Book  used  in  the  European  war 
(London,  1914,  p.  viii. ) 

19  Even    worse    inconsistencies    are    often    encountered.     Thus    enquiry 
appears  on  p.  3  of  the  Dardanelles  Commission's  First  Report;   London, 
1917;  but  inquiring  is  on  p.  1. 

20  Mere  stupid  copying  may  perhaps  be  added.     An  example  of  it  appears 
on  a  map  printed  with  a  pamphlet  entitled  Conquest  and  Kultur,  compiled 
by  two  college  professors  and  issued  by  the  Creel  press  bureau   (Washing- 
ton,   1918).     On   this   map,   borrowed   from    an   English   periodical   called 
New  Europe  without   correction,   annex  is   spelled   annexe.     In   the   same 
way    English    spellings    often    appear    in   paragraphs    reprinted    from    the 
English  newspapers.     As  compensation  in  the  case  of  annexe  I  find  annex 


DIFFERENCES    IN   SPELLING          259 

The  first  influence  need  not  detain  us.  It  is  chiefly  visible  among 
folk  of  fashionable  pretensions,  and  is  not  widespread.  At  Bar 
Harbor,  in  Maine,  some  of  the  summer  residents  are  at  great 
pains  to  put  harbour  instead  of  harbor  on  their  stationery,  but 
the  local  postmaster  still  continues  to  stamp  all. mail  Bar  Harbor, 
the  legal  name  of  the  place.  In  the  same  way  American  haber- 
dashers sometimes  advertise  pyjamas  instead  of  pajamas,  just 
as  they  advertise  braces  instead  of  suspenders  and  vests  instead 
of  undershirts.  But  this  benign  folly  does  not  go  very  far. 
Beyond  occasionally  clinging  to  the  -re  ending  in  words  of  the 
theatre  group,  all  American  newspapers  and  magazines  employ 
the  native  orthography,  and  it  would  be  quite  as  startling  to 
encounter  honour  or  jewellery  in  one  of  them  as  it  would  be  to 
encounter  gaol  or  waggon.  Even  the  most  fashionable  jewelers 
in  Fifth  avenue  still  deal  in  jewelry,  not  in  jewellery. 

The  second  influence  is  of  more  effect  and  importance.  In 
the  days  before  the  copyright  treaty  between  England  and  the 
United  States,  one  of  the  standing  arguments  against  it  among 
the  English  was  based  upon  the  fear  that  it  would  flood  England 
with  books  set  up  in  America,  and  so  work  a  corruption  of  Eng- 
lish spelling.21  This  fear,  as  we  have  seen,  had  a  certain  plausi- 
bility; there  is  not  the  slightest  doubt  that  American  books  and 
American  magazines  have  done  valiant  missionary  service  for 
American  orthography.  But  English  conservatism  still  holds 
out  stoutly  enough  to  force  American  printers  to  certain  com- 
promises. When  a  book  is  designed  for  circulation  in  both 
countries  it  is  common  for  the  publisher  to  instruct  the  printer 
to  employ  "English  spelling."  This  English  spelling,  at  the 
Riverside  Press,22  embraces  all  the  -our  endings  and  the  follow- 
ing further  forms : 

on  pages  11  and  23  of  A  Report  on  the  Treatment  by  the  Enemy  of  British 
Prisoners  of  War  Behind  the  Firing  Lines  in  France  and  Belgium;  Mis- 
cellaneous No.  7  (1918).  When  used  as  a  verb  the  English  always  spell  the 
word  annex.  Annexe  is  only  the  noun  form. 

21  Vide  Matthews:     Americanisms  and  Briticisms,  pp.  33-34. 

22  Handbook  of  Style  in  Use  at  the  Riverside  Press,  Cambridge,  Mass. ; 
Boston,  1913. 


260  THE   AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

cheque  grey 

chequered  inflexion 

connexion  jewellery 

dreamt  leapt 

faggot  premises   (in  logic) 

forgather  waggon 

forgo 

It  will  be  noted  that  gaol,  tyre,  storey,  kerb,  asphalte,  annexe, 
ostler,  mollusc  and  pyjamas  are  not  listed,  nor  are  the  words 
ending  in  -re.  These  and  their  like  constitute  the  English  con- 
tribution to  the  compromise.  Two  other  great  American  book 
presses,  that  of  the  Macmillan  Company  23  and  that  of  the  J.  S. 
Gushing  Company,24  add  gaol  and  storey  to  the  list,  and  also 
behove,  briar,  drily,  enquire,  gaiety,  gipsy,  instal,  judgement,  lac- 
quey, moustache,  nought,  pigmy,  postillion,  reflexion,  shily,  slily, 
staunch  and  verandah.  Here  they  go  too  far,  for,  as  we  have 
seen,  the  English  themselves  have  begun  to  abandon  briar,  en- 
quire and  judgement.  Moreover,  lacquey  is  going  out  over  there, 
and  gipsy  is  not  English,  but  American.  The  Riverside  Press, 
even  in  books  intended  only  for  America,  prefers  certain  Eng- 
lish forms,  among  them,  anaemia,  axe,  mediaeval,  mould,  plough, 
programme  and  quartette,  but  in  compensation  it  stands  by  such 
typical  Americanisms  as  caliber,  calk,  center,  cozy,  defense,  fore- 
gather, gray,  hemorrhage,  luster,  maneuver,  mustache,  theater 
and  woolen.  The  Government  Printing  Office  at  Washington 
follows  Webster's  New  International  Dictionary,25  which  sup- 
ports most  of  the  innovations  of  Webster  himself.  This  dic- 
tionary is  the  authority  in  perhaps  a  majority  of  American 
printing  offices,  with  the  Standard  and  the  Century  supporting 
it.  The  latter  two  also  follow  Webster,  notably  in  his  -er  end- 

23  Notes  for  the  Guidance  of  Authors;  New  York,  1918. 

24  Preparation  of  Manuscript,  Proof  Reading,  and  Office  Style  at  J.  S. 
Gushing  Company's;  Norwood,  Mass.,  n.  d. 

25  Style  Book,  a  Compilation  of  Rules  Governing  Executive,  Congressional 
and   Departmental    Printing,   Including   the   Congressional   Record,   ed.   of 
Feb.,  1917;  \Yashington,  1917.     A  copy  of  this  style  book  is  in  the  proof- 
room of  nearly  every  American  daily  newspaper  and  its  rules  are  generally 
observed. 


DIFFERENCES   IN   SPELLING          261 

ings  and  in  his  substitution  of  s  for  c  in  words  of  the  defense 
class.  The  Worcester  Dictionary  is  the  sole  exponent  of  Eng- 
lish spelling  in  general  circulation  in  the  United  States.  It  re- 
mains faithful  to  most  of  the  -re  endings,  and  to  manoeuvre, 
gramme,  plough,  sceptic,  woollen,  axe  and  many  other  English 
forms.  But  even  Worcester  favors  such  characteristic  Amer- 
ican spellings  as  behoove,  brier,  caliber,  checkered,  dryly,  jail 
and  wagon. 

§5 

Simplified  Spelling — The  current  movement  toward  a  general 
reform  of  English- American  spelling  is  of  American  origin,  and 
its  chief  supporters  are  Americans  today.  Its  actual  father  was 
Webster,  for  it  was  the  long  controversy  over  his  simplified  spell- 
ings  that  brought  the  dons  of  the  American  Philological  Asso- 
ciation to  a  serious  investigation  of  the  subject.  In  1875  they 
appointed  a  committee  to  inquire  into  the  possibility  of  reform, 
and  in  1876  this  committee  reported  favorably.  During  the 
same  year  there  was  an  International  Convention  for  the  Amend- 
ment of  English  Orthography  at  Philadelphia,  with  several 
delegates  from  England  present,  and  out  of  it  grew  the  Spelling 
Reform  Association.28  In  1878  a  committee  of  American  philol- 
ogists began  preparing  a  list  of  proposed  new  spellings,  and  two 
years  later  the  Philological  Society  of  England  joined  in  the 
work.  In  1883  a  joint  manifesto  was  issued,  recommending 
various  general  simplifications.  In  1886  the  American  Phil- 
ological Association  issued  independently  a  list  of  recommenda- 
tions affecting  about  3,500  words,  and  falling  under  ten  head- 
ings. Practically  all  of  the  changes  proposed  had  been  put 
forward  80  years  before  by  Webster,  and  some  of  them  had 
entered  into  unquestioned  American  usage  in  the  meantime,  e.  g., 
the  deletion  of  the  u  from  the  -our  words,  the  substitution  of 

26  Accounts  of  earlier  proposals  of  reform  in  English  spelling  are  to  be 
found  in  Sayce's  Introduction  to  the  Science  of  Language,  vol.  i,  p.  330 
et  seq.,  and  White's  Everyday  English,  p.  152  et  seq.  The  best  general 
treatment  of  the  subject  is  in  Lounsbury's  English  Spelling  and  Spelling 
Reform;  New  York,  1909. 


262  THE   AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

er  for  re  at  the  end  of  words,  the  reduction  of  traveller  to  trav- 
eler, and  the  substitution  of  z  for  s  wherever  phonetically  de- 
manded, as  in  advertize  and  cozy. 

The  trouble  with  the  others  was  that  they  were  either  too 
uncouth  to  be  adopted  without  a  struggle  or  likely  to  cause  errors 
in  pronunciation.  To  the  first  class  belonged  tung  for  tongue, 
ruf  for  rough,  bail  for  battle  and  abuv  for  above,  and  to  the 
second  such  forms  as  each  for  catch  and  troble  for  trouble. 
The  result  was  that  the  whole  reform  received  a  set-back:  the 
public  dismissed  the  industrious  professors  as  a  pack  of  dream- 
ers. Twelve  years  later  the  National  Education  Association  re- 
vived the  movement  with  a  proposal  that  a  beginning  be  made 
with  a  very  short  list  of  reformed  spellings,  and  nominated  the 
following  by  way  of  experiment :  tho,  altho,  thru,  thruout,  thoro, 
thoroly,  thorofare,  program,  prolog,  catalog,  pedagog  and  deca- 
log.  This  scheme  of  gradual  changes  was  sound  in  principle, 
and  in  a  short  time  at  least  two  of  the  recommended  spellings, 
program  and  catalog,  were  in  general  use.  Then,  in  1906,  came 
the  organization  of  the  Simplified  Spelling  Board,  with  an  en- 
dowment of  $15,000  a  year  from  Andrew  Carnegie,  and  a  formi- 
dable membership  of  pundits.  The  board  at  once  issued  a  list 
of  300  revised  spellings,  new  and  old,  and  in  August,  1906, 
President  Roosevelt  ordered  their  adoption  by  the  Government 
Printing  Office.  But  this  unwise  effort  to  hasten  matters,  com- 
bined with  the  buffoonery  characteristically  thrown  about  the 
matter  by  Roosevelt,  served  only  to  raise  up  enemies,  and  since 
then,  though  it  has  prudently  gone  back  to  more  discreet  en- 
deavors and  now  lays  main  stress  upon  the  original  12  words  of 
the  National.  Education  Association,  the  Board  has  not  made  a 
great  deal  of  progress.27  From  time  to  time  it  issues  impressive 
lists  of  newspapers  and  periodicals  that  are  using  some,  at  least, 
of  its  revised  spellings  and  of  colleges  that  have  made  them 
optional,  but  an  inspection  of  these  lists  shows  that  very  few 

27  Its  second  list  was  published  on  January  28,  1908,  its  third  on  January 
25,  1909,  and  its  fourth  on  March  24,  1913,  and  since  then  there  have  been 
several  others.  But  most  of  its  literature  is  devoted  to  the  12  words  and 
to  certain  reformed  spellings  of  Webster,  already  in  general  use. 


DIFFERENCES   IN   SPELLING          263 

publications  of  any  importance  have  been  converted  28  and  that 
most  of  the  great  universities  still  hesitate.  It  has,  however, 
greatly  reinforced  the  authority  behind.many  of  Webster's  spell- 
ings, and  it  has  done  much  to  reform  scientific  orthography. 
Such  forms  as  gram,  cocain,  chlorid,  anemia  and  anilin  are  the 
products  of  its  influence. 

Despite  the  large  admixture  of  failure  in  this  success  there 
is  good  reason  to  believe  that  at  least  two  of  the  spellings  on  the 
National  Education  Association  list,  tho  and  thru,  are  making 
not  a  little  quiet  progress.  I  read  a  great  many  manuscripts 
by  American  authors,  and  find  in  them  an  increasing  use  of 
both  forms,  with  the  occasional  addition  of  altho,  thoro  and 
thoroly.  The  spirit  of  American  spelling  is  on  their  side.  They 
promise  to  come  in  as  honor,  bark,  check,  wagon  and  story  came 
in  many  years  ago,  as  tire,29  esophagus  and  theater  came  in 
later  on,  as  program,  catalog  and  cyclopedia  came  in  only  yes- 
terday, and  as  airplane  (for  aeroplane)  30  is  coming  in  today.  A 
constant  tendency  toward  logic  and  simplicity  is  visible;  if  the 
spelling  of  English  and  American  does  not  grow  farther  and 
farther  apart  it  is  only  because  American  drags  English  along. 
There  is  incessant  experimentalization.  New  forms  appear,  are 
tested,  and  then  either  gain  general  acceptance  or  disappear. 
One  such,  now  struggling  for  recognition,  is  alright,  a  compound 
of  all  and  right,  made  by  analogy  with  already  and  almost.  I 
find  it  in  American  manuscripts  every  day,  and  it  not  infre- 
quently gets  into  print.31  So  far  no  dictionary  supports  it,  but 

28  The   Literary   Digest    is   perhaps   the   most   important.     Its   usage   is 
shown  by  the  Funk  &  Wagnalls  Company  Style  Card;  New  York,  1914. 

29  Tyre  was  still  in  use  in  America  in  the  70's.     It  will  be  found  on  p. 
150  of  Mark  Twain's  Roughing  It;  Hartford,  1872. 

so  Vide  the  Congressional  Record  for  March  26,  1918,  p.  4374.  It  is 
curious  to  note  that  the  French  themselves  are  having  difficulties  with  this 
and  the  cognate  words.  The  final  e  has  been  dropped  from  biplan,  monoplan 
and  hydroplan,  but  they  seem  to  be  unable  to  dispense  with  it  in  aeroplane. 

si  For  example,  in  Teepee  Neighbors,  by  Grace  Coolidge;  Boston,  1917, 
p.  220;  Duty  and  Other  Irish  Comedies,  by  Seumas  O'Brien;  New  York, 
1916,  p.  52;  Salt,  by  Charles  G.  Norris;  New  York,  1918,  p.  135,  and 
The  Ideal  Guest,  by  Wyndham  Lewis,  Little  Review,  May,  1918,  p.  3. 
O'Brien  is  an  Irishman  and  Lewis  an  Englishman,  but  the  printer  in  each 
case  was  American.  I  find  allright,  as  one  word  but  with  two  ll's,  in 


264  THE   AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

it  has  already  migrated  to  England.32  Meanwhile,  one  often 
encounters,  in  American  advertising  matter,  such  experimental 
forms  as  burlesk,  foto,  fonograph,  kandy,  kar,  holsum,  kumfort 
and  Q-room,  not  to  mention  sulfur.  Segar  has  been  more  or 
less  in  use  for  half  a  century,  and  at  one  time  it  threatened  to 
displace  cigar.  At  least  one  American  professor  of  English 
predicts  that  such  forms  will  eventually  prevail.  Even  fosfate 
and  fotograph,  he  says,  "are  bound  to  be  the  spellings  of  the 
future."33 

§6  - 

Minor  Differences — Various  minor  differences  remain  to  be  no- 
ticed. One  is  a  divergence  in  orthography  due  to  differences  in 
pronunciation.  Specialty,  aluminum  and  alarm  offer  examples. 
In  English  they  are  speciality,  aluminium  and  alarum,  though 
alarm  is  also  an  alternative  form.  Specialty,  in  America,  is  al- 
ways accented  on  the  first  syllable ;  speciality,  in  England,  on  the 
third.  The  result  is  two  distinct  words,  though  their  meaning 
is  identical.  How  aluminium,  in  America,  lost  its  fourth  sylla- 
ble I  have  been  unable  to  determine,  but  all  American  authori- 
ties now  make  it  aluminum  and  all  English  authorities  stick  to 
aluminium. 

Another  difference  in  usage  is  revealed  in  the  spelling  and 
pluralization  of  foreign  words.  .  Such  words,  when  they  appear 
in  an  English  publication,  even  a  newspaper,  almost  invariably 
bear  the  correct  accents,  but  in  the  United  States  it  is  almost  as 
invariably  the  rule  to  omit  these  accents,  save  in  publications 
of  considerable  pretensions.  This  is  notably  the  case  with  cafe 
crepe,  debut,  debutante,  portiere,  levee,  eclat,  fete,  regime,  role, 
soiree,  protege,  elite,  melee,  tete-a-tete  and  repertoire.  It  is  rare 
to  encounter  any  of  them  with  its  proper  accents  in  an  American 
newspaper;  it  is  rare  to  encounter  them  unaccented  in  an  Eng- 

Diplomatic  Correspondence  With  Belligerent  Governments,  etc.,  European 
War,  No.  4;  Washington,  1918,  p.  214. 

32  Vide  How  to  Lengthen  Our  Ears,  by  Viscount  Harberton;  London, 
1917,  p.  28. 

3sKrapp:  Modern  English,  p.  181. 


DIFFERENCES   IN   SPELLING          265 

lish  newspaper.  This  slaughter  of  the  accents,  it  must  be  obvi- 
ous, greatly  aids  the  rapid  naturalization  of  a  newcomer.  It 
loses  much  of  its  foreignness  at  once,  and  is  thus  easier  to  absorb. 
Depot  would  have  been  a  long  time  working  its  way  into  Amer- 
ican had  it  remained  depot,  but  immediately  it  became  plain 
depot  it  got  in.  The  process  is  constantly  going  on.  I  often 
encounter  naivete  without  its  accents,  and  even  deshabille,  hof- 
brdu,  senor  and  resume.  Canon  was  changed  to  canyon  years 
ago,  and  the  cases  of  expose,  divorcee,  schmierkase,  employe 
and  matinee  are  familiar.  At  least  one  American  dignitary  of 
learning,  Brander  Matthews,  has  openly  defended  and  even 
advocated  this  clipping  of  accents.  In  speaking  of  naif  and 
naivete,  which  he  welcomes  because  "we  have  no  exact  equiva- 
lent for  either  word,"  he  says:  "But  they  will  need  to  shed 
their  accents  and  to  adapt  themselves  somehow  to  the  traditions 
of  our  orthography. ' ' 34  He  goes  on :  "  After  we  have  decided 
that  the  foreign  word  we  find  knocking  at  the  doors  of  English 
[he  really  means  American,  as  the  context  shows]  is  likely  to 
be  useful,  we  must  fit  it  for  naturalization  by  insisting  that  it 
shall  shed  its  accents,  if  it  has  any;  that  it  shall  change  its 
spelling,  if  this  is  necessary ;  that  it  shall  modify  its  pronuncia- 
tion, if  this  is  not  easy  for  us  to  compass ;  and  that  it  shall  con- 
form to  all  our  speech-habits,  especially  in  the  formation  of  the 
plural."35 

In  this  formation  of  the  plural,  as  elsewhere,  English  regards 
the  precedents  and  American  makes  new  ones.  All  the  English 
authorities  that  I  have  had  access  to  advocate  retaining  the  for- 
eign plurals  of  most  of  the  foreign  words  in  daily  use,  e.  g., 
sanatoria,  appendices,  virtuosi,  formulae  and  libretti.  But  Amer- 
ican usage  favors  plurals  of  native  cut,  and  the  Journal  of  the 
American  Medical  Association  goes  so  far  as  to  approve  curricu- 
lums  and  septums.  Banditti,  in  place  of  bandits,  would  seem 
an  affectation  in  America,  and  so  would  soprani  for  sopranos 

34  Why  Not  Speak  Your  Own  Language?  in  Delineator,  Nov.,  1917,  p.  12. 

as  I  once  noted  an  extreme  form  of  this  naturalization  in  a  leading 
Southern  newspaper,  the  Baltimore  Sun.  In  an  announcement  of  the  death 
of  an  American  artist  it  reported  that  he  had  studied  at  the  Bozart  in 
Paris.  In  New  York  I  have  also  encountered  chaufer. 


266  THE    AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

and  soli  for  solos.36  The  last  two  are  common  in  England. 
Both  English  and  American  labor  under  the  lack  of  native 
plurals  for  the  two  everyday  titles,  Mister  and  Missus.  In  the 
written  speech,  and  in  the  more  exact  forms  of  the  spoken 
speech,  the  French  plurals,  Messieurs  and  Mesdames,  are  used, 
but  in  the  ordinary  spoken  speech,  at  least  in  America,  they  are 
avoided  by  circumlocution.  When  Messieurs  has  to  be  spoken 
it  is  almost  invariably  pronounced  messers,  and  in  the  same  way 
Mesdames  becomes  mez-dames,  with  the  first  syllable  rhyming 
with  sez  and  the  second,  which  bears  the  accent,  with  games. 
In  place  of  Mesdames  a  more  natural  form,  Madames,  seems  to 
be  gaining  ground  in  America.  Thus,  I  lately  found  Dames  du 
Sacre  Coeur  translated  as  Madames  of  the  Sacred  Heart  in  a 
Catholic  paper  of  wide  circulation,37  and  the  form  is  apparently 
used  by  American  members  of  the  community. 

In  capitalization  the  English  are  a  good  deal  more  conserva- 
tive than  we  are.  They  invariably  capitalize  such  terms  as  Gov- 
ernment, Prime  Minister  and  Society,  when  used  as  proper 
nouns;  they  capitalize  Press,  Pulpit,  Bar,  etc.,  almost  as  often. 
In  America  a  movement  against  this  use  of  capitals  appeared 
during  the  latter  part  of  the  eighteenth  century.  In  Jefferson's 
first  draft  of  the  Declaration  of  Independence  nature  and  creator, 
and  even  god  are  in  lower  case.38  During  the  20  's  and  30 's  of 
the  succeeding  century,  probably  as  a  result  of  French  influence, 
the  disdain  of  capitals  went  so  far  that  the  days  of  the  week 
were  often  spelled  with  small  initial  letters,  and  even  Mr.  be- 
came mr.  Curiously  enough,  the  most  striking  exhibition  of 
this  tendency  of  late  years  is  offered  by  an  English  work  of 
the  highest  scholarship,  the  Cambridge  History  of  English  Lit- 
erature. It  uses  the  lower  case  for  all  titles,  even  baron  and 
colonel  before  proper  names,  and  also  avoids  capitals  in  such 

ss  Now  and  then,  of  course,  a  contrary  tendency  asserts  itself.  For 
example,  the  plural  of  medium,  in  the  sense  of  advertising  medium,  is  some- 
times made  media,  by  advertising  men.  Vide  the  Editor  and  Publisher, 
May  11,  1918. 

37  Irish  World,  June  26,  1918. 

38  Vide  The  Declaration  of  Independence,  by  Herbert  Friedenwald,  New 
York,  1904,  p.  262  et  seq. 


DIFFERENCES   IN   SPELLING          267 

words  as  presbyterian,  catholic  and  Christian,  and  in  the  second 
parts  of  such  terms  as  Westminster  abbey  and  Atlantic  ocean. 

Finally,  there  are  certain  differences  in  punctuation.  The 
English,  as  everyone  knows,  put  a  comma  after  the  street  num- 
ber of  a  house,  making  it,  for  example,  34,  St.  James  street. 
They  usually  insert  a  comma  instead  of  a  period  after  the  hour 
when  giving  the  time  in  figures,  e.  g.,  9,27,  and  omit  the  0  when 
indicating  less  than  10  minutes,  e.  g.,  8,7  instead  of  8.07.  They 
do  not  use  the  period  as  the  mark  of  the  decimal,  but  employ  a 
dot  at  the  level  of  the  upper  dot  of  a  colon,  as  in  3  -1416.  They 
cling  to  the  hyphen  in  such  words  as  to-day  and  to-night;  it  be- 
gins to  disappear  in  America.  They  use  an  before  hotel  and 
historical;  Kipling  has  even  used  it  before  hydraulic; 39  Amer- 
ican usage  prefers  a.  But  these  small  differences  need  not  be 
pursued  further. 

39  Now  and  then  the  English  flirt  with  the  American  usage.  Hart  says, 
.for  example,  that  "originally  the  cover  of  the  large  Oxford  Dictionary  had 
'a  historical.' "  But  "an  historical"  now  appears  there. 


VIII 

Proper  Names  in  America 

§1 

Surnames — A  glance  at  any  American  city  directory  is  suffi- 
cient to  show  that,  despite  the  continued  political  and  cultural 
preponderance  of  the  original  English  strain,  the  American  peo- 
ple have  quite  ceased  to  be  authentically  English  in  race,  or  even 
authentically  British.  The  blood  in  their  arteries  is  inordinately 
various  and  inextricably  mixed,  but  yet  not  mixed  enough  to  run 
a  clear  stream.  A  touch  of  foreignness  still  lingers  about  mil- 
lions of  them,  even  in  the  country  of  their  birth.  They  show 
their  alien  origin  in  their  speech,  in  their  domestic  customs,  in 
their  habits  of  mind,  and  in  their  very  names.  Just  as  the 
Scotch  and  the  Welsh  have  invaded  England,  elbowing  out  the 
actual  English  to  make  room  for  themselves,  so  the  Irish,  the 
Germans,  the  Italians,  the  Scandinavians  and  the  Jews  of  East- 
ern Europe,  and  in  some  areas,  the  French,  the  Slavs  and  the 
hybrid- Spaniards  have  elbowed  out  the  descendants  of  the  first 
colonists.  It  is  not  exaggerating,  indeed,  to  say  that  wherever 
the  old  stock  comes  into  direct  and  unrestrained  conflict  with 
one  of  these  new  stocks,  it  tends  to  succumb,  or,  at  all  events,  to 
give  up  the  battle.  The  Irish,  in  the  big  cities  of  the  East,  at- 
tained to  a  truly  impressive  political  power  long  before  the  first 
native-born  generation  of  them  had  grown  up.1  The  Germans, 
following  the  limestone  belt  of  the  Alleghany  foothills,  pre- 
empted the  best  lands  East  of  the  mountains  before  the  new 

i  The  great  Irish  famine,  which  launched  the  chief  emigration  to 
America,  extended  from  1845  to  1847.  The  Know  Nothing  movement,  which 
was  chiefly  aimed  at  the  Irish,  extended  from  1852  to  1860. 

268 


PROPER   NAMES    IN   AMERICA         269 

republic  was  born.2  And  so,  in  our  own  time,  we  have  seen  the 
Swedes  and  Norwegians  shouldering  the  native  from  the  wheat 
lands  of  the  Northwest,  and  the  Italians  driving  the  decadent 
New  Englanders  from  their  farms,  and  the  Jews  gobbling  New 
York,  and  the  Slavs  getting  a  firm  foothold  in  the  mining  re- 
gions, and  the  French  Canadians  penetrating  New  Hampshire 
and  Vermont,  and  the  Japanese  and  Portuguese  menacing  Ha- 
waii, and  the  awakened  negroes  gradually  ousting  the  whites 
from  the  farms  of  the  South.3  The  birth-rate  among  all  these 
foreign  stocks  is  enormously  greater  than  among  the  older  stock, 
and  though  the  death-rate  is  also  high,  the  net  increase  remains 
relatively  formidable.  Even  without  the  aid  of  immigration  it 
is  probable  that  they  would  continue  to  rise  in  numbers  faster 
than  the  original  English  and  so-called  Scotch-Irish.4 

Turn  to  the  letter  z  in  the  New  York  telephone  directory  and 
you  will  find  a  truly  astonishing  array  of  foreign  names,  some 
of  them  in  process  of  anglicization,  but  many  of  them  still  ar- 
restingly  outlandish.  The  only  Anglo-Saxon  surname  beginning 
with  z  is  Zacharias,5  and  even  that  was  originally  borrowed  from 
the  Greek.  To  this  the  Norman  invasion  seems  to  have  added 
only  Zouchy.  But  in  Manhattan  and  the  Bronx,  even  among 
the  necessarily  limited  class  of  telephone  subscribers,  there  are 
nearly  1500  persons  whose  names  begin  with  the  letter,  and 
among  them  one  finds  fully  150  different  surnames.  The  Ger- 
man Zimmermann,  with  either  one  n  or  two,  is  naturally  the 
most  numerous  single  name,  and  following  close  upon  it  are  its 
derivatives,  Zimmer  and  Zimmern.  With  them  are  many  more 
German  names:  Zahn,  Zechendorf,  Zeffert,  Zeitler,  Zeller, 
Zellner,  Zeltmacher,  Zepp,  Ziegfeld,  Zabel,  Zucker,  Zucker- 
mann,  Ziegler,  Zillman,  Zinser  and  so  on.  They  are  all  repre- 
sented heavily,  but  they  indicate  neither  the  earliest  nor  the 
most  formidable  accretion,  for  underlying  them  are  many  Dutch 

2  A.  B.  Faust :  The  German  Element  in  the  United  States,  2  vols. ;  Boston, 
1909,  vol.  ii,  pp.  34  et  seq. 

3  Richard  T.  Ely:  Outlines  of  Economics,  3rd  rev.  ed.;  New  York,  1916,  p. 
68. 

*Cf.  Seth  K.  Humphrey:  Mankind;  New  York,  1917,  p.  45. 

P  Cf.  William  G.  Searle:  Onomasticon  Anglo-Saxonicum ;  Cambridge,  1897. 


270  THE    AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

names,  e.  g.,  Zeeman  and  Zuurmond,  and  over  them  are  a  large 
number  of  Slavic,  Italian  and  Jewish  names.  Among  the  first  I 
note  Zcibludosky,  Zabriskie,  Zachczynski,  Zapinkow,  Zaretsky, 
Zechnowitz,  Zenzalsky  and  Zywachevsky;  among  the  second, 
Zaccardi,  Zaccarini,  Zaccaro,  Zapparano,  Zanelli,  Zicarelli  and 
Zucca;  among  the  third,  Zukor,  Zipkin  and  Ziskind.  There 
are,  too,  various  Spanish  names:  Zelaya,  Zingaro,  etc.  And 
Greek:  Zapeion,  Zervakos  and  Zouvelekis.  And  Armenian: 
Zaloom,  Zaron  and  Zatmajian,  And  Hungarian:  Zadek, 
Zagor  and  Zichy.  And  Swedish :  Zetterholm  and  Zetterlund. 
And  a  number  that  defy  placing:  Zrike,  Zvan,  Zwipf,  Zula, 
Zur  and  Zeve. 

Any  other  American  telephone  directory  will  show  the  same 
extraordinary  multiplication  of  exotic  patronymics.  I  choose,  at 
random,  that  of  Pittsburgh,  and  confine  myself  to  the  saloon- 
keepers and  clergymen.  Among  the  former  I  find  a  great  many 
German  names :  Artz,  Bartels,  Blum,  Gaertner,  Dittmer,  Hdhn, 
Pfeil,  Schuman,  Schlegel,  von  Hedemann,  Weiss  and  so  on.  And 
Slavic  names:  Blaszkiewicz,  Bukosky,  Puwalowski,  Krzykolski, 
Tuladziecke  and  Stratkiewicz.  And  Greek  and  Italian  names: 
Markopoulos,  Martinelli,  Foglia,  Gigliotti  and  Karabinos.  And 
names  beyond  my  determination:  Tyburski,  Volongiatica,  He- 
risko  and  Hajduk.  Very  few  Anglo-Saxon  names  are  on  the 
list;  the  continental  foreigner  seems  to  be  driving  out  the  na- 
tive, and  even  the  Irishman,  from  the  saloon  business.  Among 
the  clerics,  naturally  enough,  there  are  more  men  of  English 
surname,  but  even  here  I  find  such  strange  names  as  Auroroff, 
Ashinsky,  Bourajanis,  Duic,  Cillo,  Mazure,  Przvblski,  Pniak, 
Bazilevich,  Smelsz  and  Vrhunec.  But  Pittsburgh  and  New  York, 
it  may  be  argued,  are  scarcely  American ;  unrestricted  immigra- 
tion has  swamped  them;  the  newcomers  crowd  into  the  cities. 
Well,  examine  the  roster  of  the  national  House  of  Representa- 
tives, which  surely  represents  the  whole  country.  On  it  I  find 
Bacharaeh,  Dupre,  Esch,  Estopinal,  Focht,  Heintz,  Kahn,  Kiess, 
Kreider,  La  Guardia,  Kraus,  Lazaro,  Lehbach,  Eomjue,  Siegel 
and  Zihlman,  not  to  mention  the  insular  delegates,  Kalanianole, 


PROPER   NAMES    IN   AMERICA          271 

de  Veyra,  Davila  and  Yangko,  and  enough  Irishmen  to  organize 
a  parliament  at  Dublin. 

In  the  New  York  city  directory  the  fourth  most  common  name 
is  now  Murphy,  an  Irish  name,  and  the  fifth  most  common  is 
Meyer,  which  is  German  and  chiefly  Jewish.  The  Meyers  are 
the  Smiths  of  Austria,  and  of  most  of  Germany.  They  outnum- 
ber all  other  clans.  After  them  come  the  Schultzes  and  Krauses, 
just  as  the  Joneses  and  Williamses  follow  the  Smiths  in  Great 
Britain.  Schultze  and  Kraus  do  not  seem  to  be  very  common 
names  in  New  York,  but  Schmidt,  Mutter,  Schneider  and  Klein 
appear  among  the  fifty  commonest.6  Cohen  and  Levy  rank 
eighth  and  ninth,  and  are  both  ahead  of  Jones,  which  is  second 
in  England,  and  Williams,  which  is  third.  Taylor,  a  highly 
typical  British  name,  ranking  fourth  in  England  and  Wales,  is 
twenty-third  in  New  York.  Ahead  of  it,  beside  Murphy,  Meyer, 
Cohen  and  Levy,  are  Schmidt,  Ryan,  O'Brien,  Kelly  and  Sulli- 
van. Robinson,  which  is  twelfth  in  England,  is  thirty-ninth  in 
New  York ;  even  Schneider  and  Mutter  are  ahead  of  it.  In  Chi- 
cago Olson,  Schmidt,  Meyer,  Hansen  and  Larsen  are  ahead  of 
Taylor,  and  Hoffman  and  Becker  are  ahead  of  Ward;  in  Boston 
Sullivan  and  Murphy  are  ahead  of  any  English  name  save  Smith; 
in  Philadelphia  Myers  is  just  below  Robinson.  Nor,  as  I  have 
said,  is  this  large  proliferation  of  foreign  surnames  confined  to 
the  large  cities.  There  are  whole  regions  in  the  Southwest  in 
which  Lopez  and  Gonzales  are  far  commoner  names  than  Smith, 
Brown  or  Jones,  and  whole  regions  in  the  Middle  West  wherein 
Olson  is  commoner  than  either  Taylor  or  Williams,  and  places 
both  North  and  South  where  Duval  is  at  least  as  common  as 
Brown. 

Moreover,  the  true  proportions  of  this  admixture  of  foreign 
blood  are  partly  concealed  by  a  wholesale  anglicization  of  sur- 
names, sometimes  deliberate  and  sometimes  the  fruit  of  mere 
confusion.  That  Smith,  Brown  and  Miller  remain  in  first,  sec- 
ond and  third  places  among  the  surnames  of  New  York  is  surely 
no  sound  evidence  of  Anglo-Saxon  survival.  The  German  and 

e  New  York  World  Almanac,  1914,  p.  668. 


272  THE   AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

Scandinavian  Schmidt  has  undoubtedly  contributed  many  a 
Smith,  and  Braun  many  a  Brown,  and  Mutter  many  a  Miller. 
In  the  same  way  Johnson,  which  holds  first  place  among  Chicago 
surnames,  and  Anderson,  which  holds  third,  are  plainly  rein- 
forced from  Scandinavian  sources,  and  the  former  may  also  owe 
something  to  the  Russian  Ivanof.  Miller  is  a  relatively  rare 
name  in  England ;  it  is  not  among  the  fifty  most  common.  But 
it  stands  thirtieth  in  Boston,  fourth  in  New  York  and  Balti- 
more, and  second  in  Philadelphia.7  In  the  last-named  city  the 
influence  of  Muller,  probably  borrowed  from  the  Pennsylvania 
Dutch,  is  plainly  indicated,  and  in  Chicago  it  is  likely  that  there 
are  also  contributions  from  the  Scandinavian  Moller,  the  Polish 
Jannszewski  and  the  Bohemian  Mlindr.  Myers,  as  we  have  seen, 
is  a  common  surname  in  Philadelphia.  So  are  Fox  and  Snyder. 
In  some  part,  at  least,  they  have  been  reinforced  by  the  Penn- 
sylvania Dutch  Meyer,  Fuchs  and  Schneider.  Sometimes  Muller 
changes  to  Miller,  sometimes  to  Muller,  and  sometimes  it  remains 
unchanged,  but  with  the  spelling  made  Mueller.  Muller  and 
Mueller  do  not  appear  among  the  commoner  names  in  Phila- 
delphia ;  all  the  Mutters  seem  to  have  become  Millers,  thus  putting 
Miller  in  second  place.  But  in  Chicago,  with  Miller  in  fourth 
place,  there  is  also  Mueller  in  thirty-first  place,  and  in  New 
York,  with  Miller  in  third  place,  there  is  also  Muller  in  twenty- 
fourth  place. 

Such  changes,  chiefly  based  upon  transliterations,  are  met  with 
in  all  countries.  The  name  of  Taaffe,  familiar  in  Austrian  his- 
tory, had  an  Irish  prototype,  probably  Taft.  General  Demikof, 
one  of  the  Russian  commanders  at  the  battle  of  Zorndorf,  in 
1758,  was  a  Swede  born  Themicoud.  Franz  Maria  von  Thugut, 
the  Austrian  diplomatist,  was  a  member  of  an  Italian  Tyrolese 
family  named  Tunicotto.  This  became  Thunichgut  (=  do  no 
good)  in  Austria,  and  was  changed  to  Thugut  (—do  good) 
to  bring  it  into  greater  accord  with  its  possessor's  deserts.8  In 

7  It  was  announced  by  the  Bureau  of  War  Risk  Insurance  on  March  30, 
1918,  that  there  were  then  15,000  Millers  in  the  United  States  Army.  On 
the  same  day  there  were  262  John  J.  O'Briens,  of  whom  50  had  wives,  named 
Mary. 

s  Cf.  Carlyle'a  Frederick  the  Great,  bk.  xxi,  ch.  vi, 


273 

Bonaparte  the  Italian  buon(o)  became  the  French  bon.  Many 
English  surnames  are  decayed  forms  of  Norman-French  names, 
for  example,  Sidney  from  St.  Denis,  Divver  from  De  Vere, 
Bridgewater  from  Burgh  de  Walter,  Montgomery  from  de  Mun- 
gumeri,  Garnett  from  Guarinot,  and  Seymour  from  Saint-Maure. 
A  large  number  of  so-called  Irish  names  are  the  products  of 
rough-and-ready  transliterations  of  Gaelic  patronymics,  for  ex- 
ample, Findlay  from  Fionnlagh,  Dermott  from  Diarmuid,  and 
McLane  from  Mac  Illeathiain.  In  the  same  way  the  name  of 
Phoenix  Park,  in  Dublin,  came  from  Fion  Uisg  (=  fine  water) . 
Of  late  some  of  the  more  ardent  Irish  authors  and  politicians 
have  sought  to  return  to  the  originals.  Thus,  O' Sullivan  has 
become  0  Suilleabhdin,  Pearse  has  become  Piarais,  Mac  Sweeney 
has  become  Mac  Suibhne,  and  Patrick  has  suffered  a  widespread 
transformation  to  Padraic.  But  in  America,  with  a  language 
of  peculiar  vowel-sounds  and  even  consonant-sounds  struggling 
against  a  foreign  invasion  unmatched  for  strength  and  variety, 
such  changes  have  been  far  more  numerous  than  across  the 
ocean,  and  the  legal  rule  of  idem  sonans  is  of  much  wider  utility 
than  anywhere  else  in  the  world.  If  it  were  not  for  that  rule 
there  would  be  endless  difficulties  for  the  Wises  whose  grand- 
fathers were  Weisses,  and  the  Leonards  born  Leonhards,  Leon- 
hardts  or  Lehnerts,  and  the  Manneys  who  descend  and  inherit 
from  Le  Maines. 

"A  crude  popular  etymology,"  says  a  leading  authority  on 
surnames,9  "often  begins  to  play  upon  a  name  that  is  no  longer 
significant  to  the  many.  So  the  Thurgods  have  become  Thor- 
oughgoods,  and  the  Todenackers  have  become  the  Pennsylvania 
Dutch  Toothakers,  much  as  asparagus  has  become  sparrow- 
grass."  So,  too,  the  Wittnachts  of  Boyle  county,  Kentucky, 
descendants  of  a  Hollander,  have  become  Whitenecks,  and  the 
Lehns  of  lower  Pennsylvania,  descendants  of  some  far-off  Ger- 
man, have  become  Lanes.10  Edgar  Allan  Poe  was  a  member  of 
a  family  long  settled  in  Western  Maryland,  the  founder  being 
one  Poh  or  Pfau,  a  native  of  the  Palatinate.  Major  George 

»  S.  Grant  Oliphant,  in  the  Baltimore  Sun,  Dec.  2,  1906. 
10  Harriet  Lane  Johnston  was  of  this  family. 


274  THE    AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

Armistead,  who  defended  Fort  McHenry  in  1814,  when  Francis 
Scott  Key  wrote  ' '  The  Star-Spangled  Banner, ' '  was  the  descend- 
ant of  an  Armstddt  who  came  to  Virginia  from  Hesse-Darmstadt. 
General  George  A.  Custer,  the  Indian  fighter,  was  the  great- 
grandson  of  one  Kuster,  a  Hessian  soldier  paroled  after  Bur- 
goyne's  surrender.  William  Wirt,  anti-Masonic  candidate  for 
the  presidency  in  1832,  was  the  son  of  one  Worth.  William 
Paca,  a  signer  of  the  Declaration  of  Independence,  was  the  great- 
grandson  of  a  Bohemian  named  Paka.  General  W.  S.  Rosecrans 
was  really  a  Rosenkrantz.  Even  the  surname  of  Abraham  Lin- 
coln, according  to  some  authorities,  was  an  anglicized  form  of 
Linkhorn.11 

Such  changes,  in  fact,  are  almost  innumerable;  every  work 
upon  American  genealogy  is  full  of  examples.  The  first  foreign 
names  to  undergo  the  process  were  Dutch  and  French.  Among 
the  former,  Reiger  was  debased  to  Riker,  Van  de  Veer  to  Van- 
diver,  Van  Huys  to  Vannice,  Van  Siegel  to  Van  Sickle,  Van 
Arsdale  to  Vannersdale,  and  Haerlen  (or  Haerlem)  to  Har- 
lan; 12  among  the  latter,  Petit  became  Poteet,  Caille  changed  to 
Kyle,  De  la  Haye  to  Dillehay,  Dejean  to  Deshong,  Guizot  to 
Gossett,  Guereant  to  Caron,  Soule  to  Sewell,  Gervaise  to  Jarvis, 
Bayle  to  Bailey,  Fontaine  to  Fountain,  Denis  to  Denny,  Pe- 
baudiere  to  Peabody,  Bon  Pas  to  Bumpus  and  de  I' Hot  el  to  Doo- 
little.  "Frenchmen  and  French  Canadians  who  came  to  New 
England,"  says  Schele  de  Vere,  "had  to  pay  for  such  hospi- 
tality as  they  there  received  by  the  sacrifice  of  their  names. 
The  brave  Bon  Coeur,  Captain  Marryatt  tells  us  in  his  Diary, 
became  Mr.  Bunker,  and  gave  his  name  to  Bunker's  Hill."13 
But  it  was  the  German  immigration  that  provoked  the  first 
really  wholesale  slaughter.  A  number  of  characteristic  Ger- 
man sounds — for  example,  that  of  u  and  the  guttural  in  ch  and  g 
— are  almost  impossible  to  the  Anglo-Saxon  pharynx,  and  so  they 
had  to  go.  Thus,  Bloch  was  changed  to  Block  or  Black,  Ochs  to 

11  Cf.  Faust,  op.  tit.,  vol.  ii,  pp.  183HL 

12  A  Tragedy  of  Surnames,  by  Fayette  Dunlap,  Dialect  Notes,  vol.  iv,  pt. 
1,  1913,  p.  7-8. 

is  Americanisms,  p.  112. 


PROPER   NAMES   IN   AMERICA         275 

Oakes,  Hoch  to  Hoke,  Fischbach  to  Fishback,  Albrecht  to  Albert 
or  Albright,  and  Steinweg  to  Steinway,  and  the  Grundivort,  bach, 
was  almost  universally  changed  to  baugh,  as  in  Brumbaugh. 
The  M  met  the  same  fate:  Grun  was  changed  to  Green,  Fiihr 
to  Fear  or  Fw/ir,  Warner  to  Warner,  During  to  Deering,  and 
Schndbele  to  Snavely,  Snabely  or  Snively.  In  many  other  cases 
there  were  changes  in  spelling  to  preserve  vowel  sounds  differ- 
ently represented  in  German  and  English.  Thus,  Blum  was 
changed  to  Bloom,14  Reuss  to  Royce,  Koester  to  Kester,  Kuehle 
to  Keeley,  Schroeder  to  Schrader,  Stehli  to  Staley,  Weymann  to 
Way  man,  Friedmann  to  Freedman,  Bauman  to  Bowman,  and 
Langr  (as  the  best  compromise  possible)  to  Long.  The  change 
of  Oehm  to  Ames  belongs  to  the  same  category ;  the  addition  of 
the  final  s  represents  a  typical  effort  to  substitute  the  nearest 
related  Anglo-Saxon  name.  Other  examples  of  that  effort  are 
to  be  found  in  Michaels  for  Michaelis,  Bowers  for  Bauer,  John- 
son for  Johannsen,  Ford  for  Furth,  Hines  for  Heintz,  Kemp  for 
Kempf,  Foreman  for  Fuhrmann,  Kuhns  or  Coons  for  Kuntz, 
Hoover  for  Huber,  Levering  for  Liebering,  Jones  for  Jonas, 
Swope  for  Schwab,  Hite  or  Hyde  for  Heid,  Andrews  for  Andre, 
Young  for  Jung,  and  Pence  for  Pentz.15 

The  American  antipathy  to  accented  letters,  mentioned  in  the 
chapter  on  spelling,  is  particularly  noticeable  among  surnames. 
An  immigrant  named  Fiirst  inevitably  becomes  plain  Furst  in 
the  United  States,  and  if  not  the  man,  then  surely  his  son. 
Lowe,  in  the  same  way,  is  transformed  into  Lowe  (pro.  low),10 

n  Henry  Harrison,  in  his  Dictionary  of  the  Surnames  of  the  United  King- 
dom; London,  1912,  shows  that  such  names  as  Bloom,  Cline,  etc.,  always 
represent  transliterations  of  German  names.  They  are  unknown  to  genu- 
inely British  nomenclature. 

is  A  great  many  more  such  transliterations  and  modifications  are  listed 
by  Faust,  op.  cit.,  particularly  in  his  first  volume.  Others  are  in  Pennsyl- 
vania Dutch,  by  S.  S.  Haldemann;  London,  1872,  p.  60  et  seq.,  and  in  The 
Origin  of  Pennsylvania  Surnames,  by  L.  Oscar  Kuhns,  Lippincott's  Maga- 
zine, March,  1897,  p.  395. 

is  I  lately  encountered  the  following  sign  in  front  of  an  automobile 
repair  shop: 

For  puncture  or  blow 
Bring  it  to  Lowe. 


THE   AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

Liirmann  into  Lurman,  Schon  into  Schon,  Suplee  into  Suplee 
or  Supplee,  Luders  into  Luders  and  Bruhl  into  Brill.  Even 
when  no  accent  betrays  it,  the  foreign  diphthong  is  under  hard 
pressure.  Thus  the  German  oe  disappears,  and  Loeb  is  changed 
to  Lobe  or  Laib,  Oehler  to  Ohler,  Loeser  to  Leser,  and  Schoen 
to  Schon  or  Shane.  In  the  same  way  the  aw  in  such  names  as 
Rosenau  changes  to  aw.  So  too,  the  French  oi-sound  is  dis- 
posed of,  and  Dubois  is  pronounced  Doo-boys,  and  Boileau  ac- 
quires a  first  syllable  rhyming  with  toil.  So  with  the  kn  in  the 
German  names  of  the  Knapp  class;  they  are  all  pronounced, 
probably  by  analogy  with  Knight,  as  if  they  began  with  n.  So 
with  sch;  Schneider  becomes  Snyder,  Schlegel  becomes  Slagel, 
and  Schluter  becomes  Sluter.  If_a  foreigner  clings  to/ the  orig- 
inal spelling  of  his  name  he  must  usually  expect  to  hear  it  mis- 
pronounced. Roth,  in  American,  quickly  becomes  Rawth;  Fre- 
mont, losing  both  accent  and  the  French  e,  become  Freemont; 
Blum  begins  to  rhyme  with  dumb;  Mann  rhymes  with  van,  and 
Lang  with  hang;  Krantz,  Lantz  and  their  cognates  with  chance; 
Kurtz  with  shirts;  the  first  syllable  of  Gutmann  with  but;  the 
first  of  Kahler  with  bay;  the  first  of  Werner  with  turn;  the 
first  of  Wagner  with  nag.  Uhler,  in  America,  is  always  Touler. 
Berg  loses  its  German  e-sound  for  an  English  w-sound,  and  its 
German  hard  g  for  an  English  g;  it  becomes  identical  with  the 
berg  of  iceberg.  The  same  change  in  the  vowel  occurs  in  Erd- 
mann.  In  Konig  the  German  diphthong  succumbs  to  a  long 
o,  and  the  hard  g  becomes  k;  the  common  pronunciation  is 
Cone-ik.  Often,  in  Berger,  the  g  becomes  soft,  and  the  name 
rhymes  with  verger.  It  becomes  soft,  too,  in  Bittinger.  In 
Wilstach  and  Welsbach  the  ch  becomes  a  k.  In  Anheuser  the 
eu  changes  to  a  long  i.  The  final  e,  important  in  German,  is 
nearly  always  silenced;  Dohme  rhymes  with  foam;  Kuhne  be- 
comes Keen. 

In  addition  to  these  transliterations,  there  are  constant  trans- 
lations of  foreign  proper  names.  "Many  a  Pennsylvania  Car- 
penter," says  Dr.  Oliphant,17  "bearing  a  surname  that  is  Eng- 
lish, from  the  French,  from  the  Latin,  and  there  a  Celtic  loan- 

17  Baltimore  Sun,  March  17,  1907. 


PROPER   NAMES   IN   AMERICA         277 

word  in  origin,  is  neither  English,  nor  French,  nor  Latin,  nor 
Celt,  but  an  original  German 'Zimmermann."  18  A  great  many 
other  such  translations  are  under  everyday  observation.  Pfund 
becomes  Pound;  Becker,  Baker;  Schumacher,  Shoemaker;  Ko'nig, 
King;  Weisberg,  Whitehill;  Koch,  Cook;19  Neuman,  Newman; 
Schaefer,  Shepherd  or  Sheppard;  Gutmann,  Goodman;  Gold- 
schmidt,  Goldsmith;  Edelstein,  Noblestone;  Steiner,  Stoner; 
Meister,  Master  (s) ;  Schwartz,  Black;  Weiss,  White;  Weber, 
Weaver;  Bucher,  Booker;  Vogelgesang,  Birdsong;  Sontag,  Sun- 
day, and  so  on.  Partial  translations  are  also  encountered,  e.  g., 
Studebaker  from  Studebecker,  and  Reindollar  from  Rheinthaler. 
By  the  same  process,  among  the  newer  immigrants,  the  Polish 
Wilkiewicz  becomes  Wilson,  the  Bohemian  Bohumil  becomes 
Godfrey,  and  the  Bohemian  Kovdr  and  the  Russian  Kuznetzov 
become  Smith.  Some  curious  examples  are  occasionally  en- 
countered. Thus  Henry  Woodhouse,  a  gentleman  prominent  in 
aeronautical  affairs,  came  to  the  United  States  ffbm  Italy  as 
Mario  Terenzio  Enrico  Casalegno;  his  new  surname  is  simply 
a  translation  of  his  old  one.  And  the  Belmonts,  the  bankers, 
unable  to  find  a  euphonious  English  equivalent  for  their  German- 
Jewish  patronymic  of  Schonberg,  chose  a  French  one  that  Amer- 
icans could  pronounce. 

In  part,  as  I  say,  these  changes  in  surname  are  enforced  by 
the  sheer  inability  of  Americans  to  pronounce  certain  Con- 
tinental consonants,  and  their  disinclination  to  remember  the 
Continental  vowel  sounds.  Many  an  immigrant,  finding  his 
name  constantly  mispronounced,  changes  its  vowels  or  drops 
some  of  its  consonants;  many  another  shortens  it,  or  translates 
it,  .or  changes  it  entirely  for  the  same  reason.  Just  as  a  well- 
known  Graeco-French  poet  changed  his  Greek  name  of  Papadia- 
mantopoulos  to  Moreas  because  Papadiamantopoulos  was  too 
much  for  Frenchmen,  and  as  an  eminent  Polish-English  novelist 

is  Cf.  The  Origin  of  Pennsylvania  Surnames,  op.  tit. 

is  Koch,  a  common  German  name,  has  very  hard  sledding  in  America. 
Its  correct  pronunciation  is  almost  impossible  to  Americans;  at  best  it  be- 
comes Coke.  Hence  it  is  often  changed,  hot  only  to  Cook,  but  to  Cox,  Kok? 
or  even  Cockey. 


278  THE    AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

changed  his  Polish  name  of  Karzeniowski  to  Conrad  because  few 
Englishmen  could  pronounce  owski  correctly,  so  the  Italian  or 
Greek  or  Slav  immigrant,  coming  up  for  naturalization,  very 
often  sheds  his  family  name  with  his  old  allegiance,  and  emerges 
as  Taylor,  Jackson  or  Wilson.  I  once  encountered  a  firm  of 
Polish  Jews,  showing  the  name  of  Robinson  &  Jones  on  its  sign- 
board, whose  partners  were  born  Rubinowitz  and  Jonas.  I  lately 
heard  of  a  German  named  Knoche — a  name  doubly  difficult  to 
Americans,  what  with  the  kn  and  the  ch — who  changed  it  boldly 
to  Knox  to  avoid  being  called  Nokky.  A  Greek  named  Zoyio- 
poulous,  Kolokotronis,  Mavrokerdatos  or  Const antinopolous 
would  find  it  practically  impossible  to  carry  on  amicable  business 
with  Americans ;  his  name  would  arouse  their  mirth,  if  not  their 
downright  ire.  And  the  same  burden  would  lie  upon  a  Hun- 
garian named  Beniczkyne  or  Gyalui,  or  Szilagyi,  or  Vezercsil- 
lagok.  Or  a  Finn  named  Kyyhkysen,  or  Jaaskelainen,  or  Tuulen- 
suu,  or  Uotinen, — all  honorable  Finnish  patronymics.  Or  a 
Swede  named  Sjogren,  or  Schjtt,  or  Leijonhufvud.  Or  a  Bo- 
hemian named  Srb,  or  Hrubka.  Or,  for  that  matter,  a  German 
named  Kannengiesser,  or  Schnapaupf,  or  Pfannenbecker. 

But  more  important  than  this  purely  linguistic  hostility,  there 
is  a  deeper  social  enmity,  and  it  urges  the  immigrant  to  change 
his  name  with  even  greater  force.  For  a  hundred  years  past  all 
the  heaviest  and  most  degrading  labor  of  the  United  States  has 
been  done  by  successive  armies  of  foreigners,  and  so  a  concept 
of  inferiority  has  come  to  be  attached  to  mere  foreignness.  In 
addition,  these  newcomers,  pressing  upward  steadily  in  the  man- 
ner already  described,  have  offered  the  native  a  formidable, 
and  considering  their  lower  standards  of  living,  what  has  ap- 
peared to  him  to  be  an  unfair  competition  on  his  own  plane,  and 
as  a  result  a  hatred  born  of  disastrous  rivalry  has  been  added  to 
his  disdain.  Our  unmatchable  vocabulary  of  derisive  names  for 
foreigners  reveals  the  national  attitude.  The  French  boche,  the 
German  hunyadi  (for  Hungarian),20  and  the  old  English  froggy 
(for  Frenchman)  seem  lone  and  feeble  beside  our  great  reper- 

20  This  is  army  slang,  but  promises  to  survive.  The  Germans,  during  the 
war,  had  no  opprobrious  nicknames  for  their  foes.  The  French  were  always 


PROPER   NAMES    IN   AMERICA         279 

toire:  dago,  wop,  guinea,  kike,  goose,  mick,  harp,21  bohick,  bo- 
hunk,  square-head,  greaser,  canuck,  spiggoty,22  chink,  polack, 
dutchie,  scowegian,  hunkie  and  yellow-belly.  This  disdain  tends 
to  pursue  an  immigrant  with  extraordinary  rancor  when  he 
bears  a  name  that  is  unmistakably  foreign  and  hence  difficult 
to  the  native,  and  open  to  his  crude  burlesque.  Moreover,  the 
general  feeling  penetrates  the  man  himself,  particularly  if  he 
be  ignorant,  and  he  comes  to  believe  that  his  name  is  not  only  a 
handicap,  but  also  intrinsically  discreditable — that  it  wars  subtly 
upon  his  worth  and  integrity.23  This  feeling,  perhaps,  accounted 
for  a  good  many  changes  of  surnames  among  Germans  upon  the 
entrance  of  the  United  States  into  the  war.  But  in  the  majority 
of  cases,  of  course,  the  changes  so  copiously  reported — e.  g.,  from 
Bielefelder  to  Benson,  and  from  Pulvermacher  to  Pullman — 
were  merely  efforts  at  protective  coloration.  The  immigrant,  in 
a  time  of  extraordinary  suspicion  and  difficulty,  tried  to  get  rid 
of  at  least  one  handicap.2* 

die  Franzosen,  the  English  were  die  Engldnder,  and  so  on,  even  when  most 
violently  abused.  Even  der  Yankee  was  rare. 

21  Cf.  Some  Current  Substitutes  for  Irish,  by  W.  A.  McLaughlin,  Dialect 
Notes,  vol.  iv,  pt.  ii. 

22  Spiggoty,  originating  at  Panama,  now  means  a  native  of  any  Latin- 
American   region  under   American   protection,   and   in  general   any  Latin- 
American.     It  is  navy  slang,  but  has  come  into  extensive  civilian  use.     It 
is  a  derisive  daughter  of  "No  spik  Inglese." 

23  Cf.  Reaction  to  Personal  Names,  by  Dr.  C.  P.  Oberndorf,  Psychoanalytic 
Review,  vol.  v,  no.  1,  January,  1918,  p.  47  et  seq.     This,  so  far  as  I  know, 
is  the  only  article  in  English  which  deals  with  the  psychological  effects  of 
surnames    upon    their    bearers.     Abraham,    Silberer    and    other    German 
psychoanalysts  have  made  contributions  to  the  subject.     Dr.  Oberndorf  al- 
ludes, incidentally,  to  the  positive  social  prestige  which  goes  with  an  Eng- 
lish air,  and,  to  a  smaller  extent,  with  a  French  air  in  America.     He  tells 
of  an  Italian  who  changed  his  patronymic  of  Dipucci  into  de  Pucci  to  make 
it  more  "aristocratic."     And  of   a  German   bearing  the  genuinely  aristo- 
cratic name  of  von  Landsschaffshausen  who  changed  it  to  "a  typically  Eng- 
lish name"  because  the  latter  seemed  more  distinguished  to  his  neighbors. 

24  The  effects  of  race  antagonism  upon  language  are  still  to  be  investi- 
gated.    The   etymology   of   slave  indicates   that   the   inquiry   might   yield 
interesting  results.     The  word  French,  in  English,  is  largely  used  to  sug- 
gest  sexual   perversion.     In   German  anything  Russian  is  barbarous,   and 
English   education   hints    at   flaggelation.     The   French,    for   many   years, 
called   a   certain  contraband  appliance  a  capote  Anglaise,  but  after   the 
entente  cordiale  they  changed  the  name  to  capote  Allemande.     The  com- 


280  THE   AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

This  motive  constantly  appears  among  the  Jews,  who  face  an 
anti-Semitism  that  is  imperfectly  concealed  and  may  be  expected 
to  grow  stronger  hereafter.  Once  they  have  lost  the  faith  of 
their  fathers,  a  phenomenon  almost  inevitable  in  the  first  native- 
born  generation,  they  shrink  from  all  the  disadvantages  that  go 
with  Jewishness,  and  seek  to  conceal  their  origin,  or,  at  all 
events,  to  avoid  making  it  unnecessarily  noticeable.25  To  this 
end  they  modify  the  spelling  of  the  more  familiar  Jewish  sur- 
names, turning  Levy  into  Lewy,  Lewyt,  Levitt,  Levin,  Levine, 
Levey,  Levie  26  and  even  Lever,  Cohen  into  Cohn,  Cahn,  Kahn, 
Kann,  Coyne  and  Conn,  Aarons  into  Arens  and  Ahrens  and 
Solomon  into  Salmon,  Salomon  and  Solmson.  In  the  same  way 
they  shorten  their  long  names,  changing  Wolfsheimer  to  Wolf, 
Goldschmidt  to  Gold,  and  Rosenblatt,  Rosenthal,  Rosenbaum,  Ro- 
senau,  Rosenberg,  Roseribusch,  Rosenblum,  Rosenstein,  Rosen- 
heim  and  Rosenfeldt  to  Rose.  Like  the  Germans,  they  also  seek 
refuge  in  translations  more  or  less  literal.  Thus,  on  the  East 
Side  of  New  York,  Blumenthal  is  often  changed  to  Blooming  dale, 
Schneider  to  Taylor,  Reichman  to  Richman,  and  Schlachtfeld  to 
War  field.  Fiddler,  a  common  Jewish  name,  becomes  Harper; 
so  does  Pikler,  which  is  Yiddish  for  drummer.  Stolar,  which  is 
a  Yiddish  word  borrowed  from  the  Russian,  signifying  carpen- 
ter, is  often  changed  to  Carpenter.  Lichtman  and  Lichtenstein 
become  Chandler.  Meilach,  which  is  Hebrew  for  king,  becomes 
King,  and  so  does  Meilachson.  The  strong  tendency  to  seek 
English-sounding  equivalents  for  names  of  noticeably  foreign 
origin  changes  Sher  into  Sherman,  Michel  into  Mitchell,  Ro- 
gowsky  into  Rogers,  Kolinsky  into  Collins,  Rabinovitch  into  Rob- 
bins,  Davidovitch  into  Davis,  Moiseyev  into  Macy  or  Mason,  and 
Jacobson,  Jacobovitch  and  Jacobovsky  into  Jackson.  This  last 

mon  English  name  to  this  day  is  French  letter.     Cf.   The  Criminal,  by 
Havelock  Ellis;  London,  1910,  p.  208. 

25  Cf.  The  Jews,  by  Maurice  Fishberg;  New  York,  1911,  ch.  xxii,  and  espe- 
cially p.  485  et  seq. 

26  The  English  Jews  usually  change  Levy  to  Lewis,  a  substitution  almost 
unknown  in  America.     They  also  change  A braham  to  Braham  and  Moses 
to  Moss.     Vide  Surnames,  Their  Origin  and  Nationality,  by  L.  B.  McKenna; 
Quincy  (111.),  1913,  pp.  13-14. 


PROPER   NAMES   IN   AMERICA         281 

change  proceeds  by  way  of  a  transient  change  to  Jake  or  Jack 
as  a  nickname.  Jacob  is  always  abbreviated  to  one  or  the  other 
on  the  East  Side.  Yankelevitch  also  becomes  Jackson,  for  Yankel 
is  Yiddish  for  Jacob.27 

Among  the  immigrants  of  other  stocks  some  extraordinarily 
radical  changes  in  name  are  to  be  observed.  Greek  names  of 
five,  and  even  eight  syllables  shrink  to  Smith;  Hungarian  names 
that  seem  to  be  all  consonants  are  reborn  in  such  euphonious 
forms  as  Martin  and  Lacy.  I  have  encountered  a  Gregory  who 
was  born  Grgurevich  in  Serbia ;  a  Uhler  who  was  born  Uhlyarik; 
a  Graves  who  descends  from  the  fine  old  Dutch  family  of  'sGrav- 
enhage.  I  once  knew  a  man  named  Lawton  whose  grandfather 
had  been  a  Lautenberger.  First  he  shed  the  berger  and  then 
he  changed  the  spelling  of  Lauten  to  make  it  fit  the  inevitable 
American  mispronunciation.  There  is,  again,  a  family  of  Dicks 
in  the  South  whose  ancestor  was  a  Schwettendieck — apparently 
a  Dutch  or  Low  German  name.  There  is,  yet  again,  a  celebrated 
American  artist,  of  the  Bohemian  patronymic  of  Hrubka,  who 
has  abandoned  it  for  a  surname  which  is  common  to  all  the 
Teutonic  languages,  and  is  hence  easy  for  Americans.  The 
Italians,  probably  because  of  the  relations  established  by  the 
Catholic  church,  often  take  Irish  names,  as  they  marry  Irish 
girls;  it  is  common  to  hear  of  an  Italian  pugilist  or  politician 
named  Kelly  or  O'Brien.  The  process  of  change  is  often  in- 
formal, but  even  legally  it  is  quite  facile.  The  Naturalization 
Act  of  June  29,  1906,  authorizes  the  court,  as  a  part  of  the 
naturalization  of  any  alien,  to  make  an  order  changing  his  name. 
This  is  frequently  done  when  he  receives  his  last  papers;  some- 
times, if  the  newspapers  are  to  be  believed,  without  his  solicita- 
tion, and  even  against  his  protest.  If  the  matter  is  overlooked 
at  the  time,  he  may  change  his  name  later  on,  like  any  other 
citizen,  by  simple  application  to  a  court  of  record. 

Among  names  of  Anglo-Saxon  origin  and  names  naturalized 
long  before  the  earliest  colonization,  one  notes  certain  American 
peculiarities,  setting  off  the  nomenclature  of  the  United  States 

27  For  these  observations  of  name  changes  among  the  Jews  I  am  indebted 
to  Abraham  Cahan. 


282  THE   AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

from  that  of  the  mother  country.  The  relative  infrequency  of 
hyphenated  names  in  America  is  familiar ;  when  they  appear  at 
all  it  is  almost  always  in  response  to  direct  English  influences.28 
Again,  a  number  of  English  family  names  have  undergone 
modification  in  the  New  World.  V enable  may  serve  as  a  speci- 
men. The  form  in  England  is  almost  invariably  Venables,  but 
in  America  the  final  s  has  been  lost,  and  every  example  of  the 
name  that  I  have  been  able  to  find  in  the  leading  American 
reference-books  is  without  it.  And  where  spellings  have  re- 
mained unchanged,  pronunciations  have  been  frequently  modi- 
fied. This  is  particularly  noticeable  in  the  South.  Callowhill, 
down  there,  is  commonly  pronounced  Carrol;  Crenshawe  is 
Granger;  Hawthorne,  Horton;  Heyward,  Howard;  Norsworthy, 
Nazary;  Ironimonger,  Hunger;  Farinholt,  F email;  Camp,  Kemp; 
Buchanan,  Bohannan;  Drewry,  Droit,  Enroughty,  Darby;  and 
Taliaferro,  Tolliver.29  The  English  Crowninshields  pronounce 
every  syllable  of  their  name ;  the  American  Cronminshields  com- 
monly make  it  Crunshel.  Van  Schaick,  an  old  New  York  name, 
is  pronounced  Von  Scoik.  A  good  many  American  Jews,  aim- 
ing at  a  somewhat  laborious  refinement,  change  the  pronuncia- 
tion of  the  terminal  stein  in  their  names  so  that  it  rhymes,  not 
with  line,  but  with  bean.  Thus,  in  fashionable  Jewish  circles, 
there  are  no  longer  any  Epsteins,  Goldsteins  and  Hammer- 
steins  but  only  Epsteens,  Goldsteens  and  Hammersteens.  The 
American  Jews  differ  further  from  the  English  in  pronounc- 
ing Levy  to  make  the  first  syllable  rhyme  with  tea;  the 
English  Jews  always  make  the  name  Lev-vy,  To  match  such 

28  They  arose  in  England  through  the  custom  of  requiring  an  heir  by  the 
female  line  to  adopt  the  family  name  on  inheriting  the  family  property. 
Formerly  the  heir  dropped  his  own  surname.  Thus  the  ancestor  of  the 
present  Duke  of  Northumberland,  born  Smithson,  took  the  ancient  name  of 
Percy  on  succeeding  to  the  underlying  earldom  in  the  eighteenth  century. 
But  about  a  hundred  years  ago,  heirs  in  like  case  began  to  join  the  two 
names  by  hyphenation,  and  such  names  are  now  very  common  in  the  British 
peerage.  Thus  the  surname  of  Lord  Barrymore  is  Smith-Barry,  that  of 
Lord  Vernon  is  Venables-Vemon,  and  that  of  the  Earl  of  Wharncliffe  is 
Montagu-Stuart-Wortley-Hackenzie. 

20  B.  W.  Green :  Word-Book  of  Virginia  Folk-Speech ;  Richmond,  1899,  pp. 
13-16. 


PROPER   NAMES   IN   AMERICA         283 

American  prodigies  as  Darby  for  Enroughty,  the  English  them- 
selves have  Hools  for  Howells,  Sillinger  for  St.  Leger,  Sinjin 
for  St.  John,  Pool  for  Powell,  Weems  for  Wemyss,  Kerduggen 
for  Cadogen,  Mobrer  for  Marlborough,  Key  for  Cains,  March- 
banks  for  Marjoribanks,  Beecham  for  Beauchamp,  Chumley  for 
Cholmondeley,  Trosley  for  Trotterscliffe,  and  Dcw%  for  Derby, 
not  to  mention  Maudlin  for  Magdalen. 


§2 

Given  Names — The  non- Anglo  Saxon  American's  willingness 
to  anglicize  his  patronymic  is  far  exceeded  by  his  eagerness  to 
give  "American"  baptismal  names  to  his  children.  The  fa- 
vorite given  names  of  the  old  country  almost  disappear  in  the 
first  native-born  generation.  The  Irish  immigrants  quickly 
dropped  such  names  as  Terence,  Dennis  and  Patrick,  and  adopted 
in  their  places  the  less  conspicuous  John,  George  and  Wittiam. 
The  Germans,  in  the  same  way,  abandoned  Otto,  August,  Her- 
mann, Ludwig,  Heinrich,  Wolfgang,  Albrecht,  Wilhelm,  Kurt, 
Hans,  Rudolf,  Gottlieb,  Johann  and  Franz.  For  some  of  these 
they  substituted  the  English  equivalents :  Charles,  Lewis,  Henry, 
William,  John,  Frank  and  so  on.  In  the  room  of  others  they 
began  afflicting  their  offspring  with  more  fanciful  native  names : 
Milton  and  Raymond  were  their  chief  favorites  thirty  or  forty 
years  ago.30  The  Jews  carry  the  thing  to  great  lengths.  At 
present  they  seem  to  take  most  delight  in  Sidney,  Irving,  Milton, 
Roy,  Stanley  and  Monroe,  but  they  also  call  their  sons  John, 
Charles,  Henry,  Harold,  William,  Richard,  James,  Albert,  Ed- 
ward, Alfred,  Frederick,  Thomas,  and  even  Mark,  Luke  and 
Matthew,  and  their  daughters  Mary,  Gertrude,  Estelle,  Pauline, 
Alice  and  Edith.  As  a  boy  I  went  to  school  with  many  Jewish 
boys.  The  commonest  given  names  among  them  were  Isadore, 
Samuel,  Jonas,  Isaac  and  Israel.  These  are  seldom  bestowed  by 

so  The  one  given  name  that  they  have  clung  to  is  Karl.  This,  in  fact, 
has  been  adopted  by  Americans  of  other  stocks,  always,  however,  spelled 
Carl.  Such  combinations  as  Carl  Gray,  Carl  Williams  and  even  Carl 
Murphy  are  common.  Here  intermarriage  has  doubtless  had  its  effect. 


284  THE    AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

the  rabbis  of  today.  In  the  same  school  were  a  good  many  Ger- 
man pupils,  boy  and  girl.  Some  of  the  girls  bore  such  fine  old 
German  given  names  as  Katharina,  Wilhelmina,  Elsa,  Lotta, 
Ermentrude  and  Frankziska.  All  these  have  begun  to  disap- 
pear. 

The  newer  immigrants,  indeed,  do  not  wait  for  the  birth  of 
children  to  demonstrate  their  naturalization;  they  change  their 
own  given  names  immediately  they  land.  I  am  told  by  Abra- 
ham Cahan  that  this  is  done  almost  universally  on  the  East  Side 
of  New  York.  "Even  the  most  old-fashioned  Jews  immigrating 
to  this  country,"  he  says,  "change  Yosel  to  Joseph,  Yankel  to 
Jacob,  Liebel  to  Louis,  Feivel  to  Philip,  Itzik  to  Isaac,  Ruven  to 
Robert,  and  Moise  or  Motel  to  Morris."  Moreover,  the  spelling 
of  Morris,  as  the  position  of  its  bearer  improves,  commonly 
changes  to  Maurice,  though  the  pronunciation  may  remain 
Mawruss,  as  in  the  case  of  Mr.  Perlmutter.  The  immigrants  of 
other  stocks  follow  the  same  habit.  Every  Bohemian  Vaclav  or 
Vojtech  becomes  a  William,  every  Jaroslav  becomes  a  Jerry, 
every  Bronislav  a  Barney,  and  every  Stanislav  a  Stanley.  The 
Italians  run  to  Frank  and  Joe;  so  do  the  Hungarians  and  the 
Balkan  peoples ;  the  Russians  quickly  drop  their  national  system 
of  nomenclature  and  give  their  children  names  according  to  the 
American  plan.  Even  the  Chinese  laundrymen  of  the  big  cities 
become  John,  George,  Charlie  and  Frank;  I  once  encountered  one 
boasting  the  name  of  Emil. 

The  Puritan  influence,  in  names  as  in  ideas,  has  remained  a 
good  deal  more  potent  in  American  than  in  England.  The  given 
name  of  the  celebrated  Praise-God  Barebones  marked  a  fashion 
which  died  out  in  England  very  quickly,  but  one  still  finds  traces 
of  it  in  America,  e.  g.,  in  such  women 's  names  as  Faith,  Hope, 
Prudence,  Charity  and  Mercy,  and  in  such  men's  names  as  Pere- 
grine.31 The  religious  obsession  of  the  New  England  colonists  is 
also  kept  in  mind  by  the  persistence  of  Biblical  names:  Ezra, 
Hiram,  Ezekial,  Zachariah,  Elijah,  Elihu,  and  so  on.  These 

si  Cf.  Curiosities  of  Puritan  Nomenclature,  by  Charles  W.  Bardsley; 
London,  1880. 


PROPER   NAMES   IN   AMERICA         285 

names  excite  the  derision  of  the  English;  an  American  comic 
character,  in  an  English  play  or  novel,  always  bears  one  of  them. 
Again,  the  fashion  of  using  surnames  as  given  names  is  far  more 
widespread  in  America  than  in  England.  In  this  country,  in- 
deed, it  takes  on  the  character  of  a  national  habit ;  fully  three  out 
of  four  eldest  sons,  in  families  of  any  consideration,  bear  their 
mothers'  surnames  as  middle  names.  This  fashion  arose  in  Eng- 
land during  the  seventeenth  century,  and  one  of  its  fruits  was 
the  adoption  of  such  well-known  surnames  as  Stanley,  Cecil,  How- 
ard, Douglas  and  Duncan  as  common  given  names.32  It  died  out 
over  there  during  the  eighteenth  century,  and  today  the  great 
majority  of  Englishmen  bear  such  simple  given  names  as  John, 
Charles  and  William — often  four  or  five  of  them — but  in  America 
it  has  persisted.  A  glance  at  a  roster  of  the  Presidents  of  the 
United  States  will  show  how  firmly  it  has  taken  root.  Of  the  ten 
that  have  had  middle  names  at  all,  six  have  had  middle  names 
that  were  family  surnames,  and  two  of  the  six  have  dropped  their 
other  given  names  and  used  these  surnames.  This  custom,  per- 
haps, has  paved  the  way  for  another :  that  of  making  given  names 
of  any  proper  nouns  that  happen  to  strike  the  fancy.  Thus 
General  Sherman  was  named  after  an  Indian  chief,  Tecumseh, 
and  a  Chicago  judge  was  baptized  Kenesaw  Mountain 33  in  mem- 
ory of  the  battle  that  General  Sherman  fought  there.  A  late 
candidate  for  governor  of  New  York  had  the  curious  given  name 
of  D-Cady.S4  Various  familiar  American  given  names,  originally 
surnames,  are  almost  unknown  in  England,  among  them,  Wash- 
ington, Jefferson,  Jackson,  Lincoln,  Colvfrnbus  and  Lee.  Chaun- 
cey  forms  a  curious  addition  to  the  list.  It  was  the  surname  of 
the  second  president  of  Harvard  College,  and  was  bestowed  upon 
their  offspring  by  numbers  of  his  graduates.  It  then  got  into 

32  Cf.  Bardsley,  op.  tit.,  p.  205  et  seq. 

as  The  Geographic  Board  has  lately  decided  that  Kenesaw  should  be 
Kennesaw,  but  the  learned  jurist  sticks  to  one  n. 

34  Thornton  reprints  a  paragraph  from  the  Congressional  Globe  of  June 
15,  1854,  alleging  that  in  1846,  during  the  row  over  the  Oregon  boundary, 
when  "Fifty-four  forty  or  fight"  was  a  political  slogan,  many  "canal-boats, 
and  even  some  of  the  babies,  .  .  .  were  christened  54°  W" 


286  THE    AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

general  use  and  acquired  a  typically  American  pronunciation, 
with  the  «  of  the  first  syllable  flat.  It  is  never  encountered  in 
England. 

In  the  pronunciation  of  various  given  names,  as  in  that  of 
many  surnames,  English  and  American  usages  differ.  Evelyn, 
in  England,  is  given  two  syllables  instead  of  three,  and  the  first 
is  made  to  rhyme  with  leave.  Irene  is  given  two  syllables,  making 
it  Irene-y.  Ralph  is  pronounced  Rafe.  Jerome  is  accented  on 
the  first  syllable ;  in  America  it  is  always  accented  on  the  second.35 

§3 

Geographical  Names — "There  is  no  part  of  the  world,"  said 
Robert  Louis  Stevenson, ' '  where  nomenclature  is  so  rich,  poetical, 
humorous  and  picturesque  as  in  the  United  States  of  America." 
A  glance  at  the  latest  United  States  Official  Postal  Guide 36  or 
report  of  the  United  States  Geographic  Board  37  quite  bears  out 
this  opinion.  The  map  of  the  country  is  besprinkled  with  place 
names  from  at  least  half  a  hundred  languages,  living  and  dead, 
and  among  them  one  finds  examples  of  the  most  daring  and  elab- 
orate fancy.  There  are  Spanish,  French  and  Indian  names  as 
melodious  and  charming  as  running  water;  there  are  names  out 
of  the  histories  and  mythologies  of  all  the  great  races  of  man; 
there  are  names  grotesque  and  names  almost  sublime.  No  other 
country  can  match  them  for  interest  and  variety.  When  there 
arises  among  us  a  philologist  who  will  study  them  as  thoroughly 
and  intelligently  as  the  Swiss,  Johann  Jakob  Egli,  studied  the 
place  names  of  Central  Europe,  his  work  will  be  an  invaluable 
contribution  to  the  history  of  the  nation,  and  no  less  to  an  under- 
standing of  the  psychology  of  its  people. 

The  original  English  settlers,  it  would  appear,  displayed  little 
imagination  in  naming  the  new  settlements  and  natural  features 

35  The  Irish  present  several  curious  variations.  Thus,  they  divide  Charles 
into  two  syllables.  They  also  take  liberties  with  various  English  surnames. 
Bermingham,  for  example,  is  pronounced  Brimmingham  in  Ireland. 

3«  Issued  annually  in  July,  with  monthly  supplements. 

37  The  latest  report  is  the  fourth,  covering  the  period  1890-1916;  Wash- 
ington, 1916. 


PROPER   NAMES   IN   AMERICA         287 

of  the  land  that  they  came  to.  Their  almost  invariable  tendency, 
at  the  start,  was  to  make  use  of  names  familiar  at  home,  or  to 
invent  banal  compounds.  Plymouth  Rock  at  the  North  and 
Jamestown  at  the  South  are  examples  of  their  poverty  of  fancy ; 
they  filled  the  narrow  tract  along  the  coast  with  new  Bostons, 
Cambridges,  Bristols  and  Londons,  and  often  used  the  adjective 
as  a  prefix.  But  this  was  only  in  the  days  of  beginning.  Once 
they  had  begun  to  move  back  from  the  coast  and  to  come  into 
contact  with  the  aborigines  and  with  the  widely  dispersed  settlers 
of  other  races,  they  encountered  rivers,  mountains,  lakes  and  even 
towns  that  bore  far  more  engaging  names,  and  these,  after  some 
resistance,  they  perforce  adopted.  The  native  names  of  such 
rivers  as  the  James,  the  York  and  the  Charles  succumbed,  but 
those  of  the  Potomac,  the  Patapsco,  the  Merrimack  and  the  Pendb- 
scot  survived,  and  they  were  gradually  reinforced  as  the  country 
was  penetrated.  Most  of  these  Indian  names,  in  getting  upon 
the  early  maps,  suffered  somewhat  severe  simplifications.  Poto- 
wdnmeac  was  reduced  to  Potomack  and  then  to  Potomac;  Uneau- 
kara  became  Niagara;  Reckawackes,  by  the  law  of  Hobson-Jobson, 
was  turned  into  Rockaway,  and  Pentapang  into  Port  Tobacco.38 
But,  despite  such  elisions  and  transformations,  the  charm  of  thou- 
sands of  them  remained,  and  today  they  are  responsible  for  much 
of  the  characteristic  color  of  American  geographical  nomencla- 
ture. Such  names  as  Tallahassee,  Susquehanna,  Mississippi, 
Allegheny,  Chicago,  Kennebec,  Patuxent  and  Arkansas  give  a 
barbaric  brilliancy  to  the  American  map.  Only  the  map  of 
Australia,  with  its  mellifluous  Maori  names,  can  match  it. 

The  settlement  of  the  American  continent,  once  the  eastern 
coast  ranges  were  crossed,  proceeded  with  unparalleled  speed, 
and  so  the  naming  of  the  new  rivers,  lakes,  peaks  and  valleys, 
and  of  the  new  towns  and  districts  no  less,  strained  the  inventive- 
ness of  the  pioneers.  The  result  is  the  vast  duplication  of  names 
that  shows  itself  in  the  Postal  Guide.  No  less  than  eighteen  imi- 

38  The  authority  here  is  River  and  Lake  Names  in  the  United  States,  by 
Edmund  T.  Ker;  New  York,  1911.  Stephen  G.  Boyd,  in  Indian  Local 
Names;  York  (Pa.),  1885,  says  that  the  original  Indian  name  was 
Pootuppag. 


288  THE   AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

tative  Bostons  and  New  Bostons  still  appear,  and  there  are  nine- 
teen Bristols,  twenty-eight  Newports,  and  twenty-two  Londons 
and  New  Londons.  Argonauts  starting  out  from  an  older  settle- 
ment on  the  coast  would  take  its  name  with  them,  and  so  we  find 
Philadelphias  in  Illinois,  Mississippi,  Missouri  and  Tennessee, 
Richmonds  in  Iowa,  Kansas  and  nine  other  western  states,  and 
Princetons  in  fifteen.  Even  when  a  new  name  was  hit  upon  it 
seems  to  have  been  hit  upon  simultaneously  by  scores  of  scattered 
bands  of  settlers ;  thus  we  find  the  whole  land  bespattered  with 
Washingtons,  Lafayettes,  Jeffersons  and  Jacksons,  and  with 
names  suggested  by  common  and  obvious  natural  objects,  e.  g., 
Bear  Creek,  Bald  Knob  and  Buffalo.  The  Geographic  Board, 
in  its  last  report,  made  a  belated  protest  against  this  excessive 
duplication.  "The  names  Elk,  Beaver,  Cottonwood  and  Bald/' 
it  said,  ' '  are  altogether  too  numerous. "  39  Of  postoffices  alone 
there  are  fully  a  hundred  embodying  Elk;  counting  in  rivers, 
lakes,  creeks,  mountains  and  valleys,  the  map  of  the  United 
States  probably  shows  at  least  twice  as  many  such  names. 

A  study  of  American  geographical  and  place  names  reveals 
eight  general  classes,  as  follows:  (a)  those  embodying  personal 
names,  chiefly  the  surnames  of  pioneers  or  of  national  heroes; 
(6)  those  transferred  from  other  and  older  places,  either  in  the 
eastern  states  or  in  Europe ;  (c)  Indian  names;  (d)  Dutch,  Span- 
ish and  French  names;  (e)  Biblical  and  mythological  names; 
(/)  names  descriptive  of  localities;  (g)  names  suggested  by  the 
local  flora,  fauna  or  geology;  (h)  purely  fanciful  names.  The 
names  of  the  first  class  are  perhaps  the  most  numerous.  Some 
consist  of  surnames  standing  alone,  as  Washington,  Cleveland, 
Bismarck,  Lafayette,  Taylor  and  Randolph;  others  consist  of  sur- 
names in  combination  with  various  old  and  new  Grundwb'rter, 
as  Pittsburgh,  Knoxville,  Bailey's  Switch,  Hagerstown,  Frank- 
linton,  Dodge  City,  Fort  Riley,  Wayne  Junction  and  McKees- 
port;  and  yet  others  are  contrived  of  given  names,  either  alone 
or  in  combination,  as  Louisville,  St.  Paul,  Elizabeth,  Johnstown, 
Charlotte,  Williamsburg  and  Marysville.  The  number  of  towns 
in  the  United  States  bearing  women's  given  names  is  enormous. 

"P.  17. 


PROPER   NAMES   IN   AMERICA         289 

I  find,  for  example,  eleven  postoffices  called  Charlotte,  ten  called 
Ada  and  no  less  than  nineteen  called  Alma.  Most  of  these  places 
are  small,  but  there  is  an  Elizabeth  with  75,000  population,  an 
Elmira  with  40,000,  and  an  Augusta  with  nearly  45,000. 

The  names  of  the  second  class  we  have  already  briefly  ob- 
served. They  are  betrayed  in  many  cases  by  the  prefix  New; 
more  than  600  such  postoffices  are  recorded,  ranging  from  New 
Albany  to  New  Windsor.  Others  bear  such  prefixes  as  West, 
North  and  South,  or  various  distinguishing  affixes,  e.  g.,  Bos- 
tonia,  Pittsburgh  Landing,  Yorktown  and  Hartford  City.  One 
often  finds  eastern  county  names  applied  to  western  towns  and 
eastern  town  names  applied  to  western  rivers  and  mountains. 
Thus,  Cambria,  which  is  the  name  of  a  county  but  not  of  a  post- 
office  in  Pennsylvania,  is  a  town  name  in  seven  western  states; 
Baltimore  is  the  name  of  a  glacier  in  Alaska,  and  Princeton  is 
the  name  of  a  peak  in  Colorado.  In  the  same  way  the  names  of 
the  more  easterly  states  often  reappear  in  the  west,  e.  g.,  in 
Mount  Ohio,  Colo.,  Delaware,  Okla.,  and  Virginia  City,  Nev. 
The  tendency  to  name  small  American  towns  after  the  great  cap- 
itals of  antiquity  has  excited  the  derision  of  the  English  since 
the  earliest  days ;  there  is  scarcely  an  English  book  upon  the  states 
without  some  fling  at  it.  Of  late  it  has  fallen  into  abeyance, 
though  sixteen  Athenses  still  remain,  and  there  are  yet  many 
Carthages,  Uticas,  Syracuses,  Romes,  Alexandria^,  Ninevahs  and 
Troys.  The  third  city  of  the  nation,  Philadelphia,  got  its  name 
from  the  ancient  stronghold  of  Philadelphus  of  Pergamun.  To 
make  up  for  the  falling  off  of  this  old  and  flamboyant  custom, 
the  more  recent  immigrants  have  brought  with  them  the  names 
of  the  capitals  and  other  great  cities  of  their  fatherlands.  Thus 
the  American  map  bristles  with  Berlins,  Bremens,  Hamburgs, 
Warsaws  and  Leipzigs,  and  is  beginning  to  show  Stockholms, 
Venices,  Belgrades  and  Christianias. 

The  influence  of  Indian  names  upon  American  nomenclature 
is  quickly  shown  by  a  glance  at  the  map.  No  less  than  26  of  the 
states  have  names  borrowed  from  the  aborigines,  and  the  same 
thing  is  true  of  most  of  our  rivers  and  mountains.  There  was 
an  effort,  at  one  time,  to  get  rid  of  these  Indian  names.  Thus 


290  THE   AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

the  early  Virginians  changed  the  name  of  the  Powhatan  to  the 
James,  and  the  first  settlers  in  New  York  changed  the  name  of 
Horicon  to  Lake  George.  In  the  same  way  the  present  name  of 
the  White  Mountains  displaced  Agiochook,  and  New  Amsterdam, 
and  later  New  York,  displaced  Manhattan,  which  has  been  re- 
cently revived.  The  law  of  Hobson-Jobson  made  changes  in 
other  Indian  names,  sometimes  complete  and  sometimes  only  par- 
tial. Thus,  Mauwauwaming  became  Wyoming,  Maucwachoong 
became  Mauch  Chunk,  Ouabache  became  Wabash,  Asingsing  be- 
came Sing-Sing,  and  Machihiganing  became  Michigan.  But 
this  vandalism  did  not  go  far  enough  to  take  away  the  brilliant 
color  of  the  aboriginal  nomenclature.  The  second  city  of  the 
United  States  bears  an  Indian  name,  and  so  do  the  largest  Amer- 
ican river,  and  the  greatest  American  water-fall,  and  four  of  the 
five  great  Lakes,  and  the  scene  of  the  most  important  military 
decision  ever  reached  on  American  soil. 

The  Dutch  place-names  of  the  United  States  are  chiefly  con- 
fined to  the  vicinity  of  New  York,  and  a  good  many  of  them 
have  become  greatly  corrupted.  Brooklyn,  Wallabout  and 
Gramercy  offer  examples.  The  first-named  was  originally 
Breuckelen,  the  second  was  Waale  Bobht,  and  the  third  was 
De  Kromme  Zee.  Hell-Gate  is  a  crude  translation  of  the  Dutch 
Helle-Gat.  During  the  early  part  of  the  last  century  the  more 
delicate  New  Yorkers  transformed  the  term  into  Hurlgate,  but 
the  change  was  vigorously  opposed  by  Washington  Irving,  and 
so  Hell-Gate  was  revived.  The  law  of  Hobson-Jobson  early  con- 
verted the  Dutch  hoek  into  hook,  and  it  survives  in  various  place- 
names,  e.  g.,  Kinderhook  and  Sandy  Hook.  The  Dutch  kill  is  a 
Grundwort  in  many  other  names,  e.  g.,  Catskill,  Schuylkill, 
Peekskill,  Fishkill  and  Kill  van  Kull;  it  is  the  equivalent  of  the 
American  creek.  Many  other  Dutch  place-names  will  come  fa- 
miliarly to  mind:  Harlem,  Staten,  Flushing,  Cortlandt,  Calver 
Plaat,  Nassau,  Coenties,  Spuyten  Duyvel,  Yonkers,  Hoboken  and 
Bowery  (from  Bouvery).*0  Block  Island  was  originally  Blok, 
and  Cape  May,  according  to  Schele  de  Vere,  was  Mey,  both  Dutch. 

40  Cf.  Dutch  Contributions  to  the  Vocabulary  of  English  in  America,  by 
W.  H.  Carpenter,  Modern  Philology,  July,  1908. 


PROPER   NAMES   IN   AMERICA         291 

A  large  number  of  New  York  street  and  neighborhood  names 
come  down  from  Knickerbocker  days,  often  greatly  changed  in 
pronunciation.  Desbrosses  offers  an  example.  The  Dutch  called 
it  de  Broose,  but  in  New  York  today  it  is  commonly  spoken  of  as 
Dez-bros-sez. 

French  place-names  have  suffered  almost  as  severely.  Few 
persons  would  recognize  Smackover,  the  name  of  a  small  town 
in  Arkansas,  as  French,  and  yet  in  its  original  form  it  was 
Chemin  Convert.  Schele  de  Vere,  in  1871,  recorded  the  de- 
generation of  the  name  to  Smack  Cover;  the  Postoffice,  always 
eager  to  shorten  and  simplify  names,  has  since  made  one  word 
of  it  and  got  rid  of  the  redundant  c.  In  the  same  way  Bob  Ruly, 
a  Missouri  name,  descends  from  Bois  Brule.  "The  American 
tongue,"  says  W.  W.  Crane,  "seems  to  lend  itself  reluctantly 
to  the  words  of  alien  languages. ' ' 41  This  is  shown  plainly  by 
the  history  of  French  place-names  among  us.  A  large  number 
of  them,  e.  g.,  Lac  Superieur,  were  translated  into  English  at 
an  early  day,  and  most  of  those  that  remain  are  now  pronounced 
as  if  they  were  English.  Thus  Des  Moines  is  dee-moyns,  Terre 
Haute  is  terry-hut,  Beaufort  is  byu-fort,  New  Orleans  is  or-leens, 
Lafayette  has  a  flat  a,  Havre  de  Grace  has  another,  and  Versailles 
is  ver-sales.  The  pronunciation  of  sault,  as  in  Sault  Ste.  Marie, 
is  commonly  more  or  less  correct ;  the  Minneapolis,  St.  Paul  and 
Sault  Ste.  Marie  Railroad  is  popularly  called  the  Soo.  This 
may  be  due  to  Canadian  example,  or  to  some  confusion  between 
Sault  and  Sioux.  The  French  Louis,  in  St.  Louis  and  Louisville, 
is  usually  pronounced  correctly.  So  is  the  rouge  in  Baton 
Rouge,  though  the  baton  is  commonly  boggled.  It  is  possible 
that  familiarity  with  St.  Louis  influenced  the  local  pronuncia- 
tion of  Illinois,  which  is  Illinoy,  but  this  may  be  a  mere  attempt 
to  improve  upon  the  vulgar  Illin-i.42 

For  a  number  of  years  the  Geographic  Board  has  been  seek- 

41  Our  Naturalized  Names,  Lippincott's  Magazine,  April,   1899.     It  will 
be  recalled  how  Pinaud,  the  French  perfumer,  was  compelled  to  place  adver- 
tisements in  the  street-cars,  instructing  the  public  in  the  proper  pronuncia- 
tion of  his  name. 

42  The  same  compromise  is  apparent  in  the  pronunciation  of  Iroquoii, 
which  ia  Iro-quoy  quite  as  often  as  it  is  Iro-quoys. 


292  THE   AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

ing  vainly  to  reestablish  the  correct  pronunciation  of  the  name 
of  the  Purgatoire  river  in  Colorado.  Originally  named  the  Rio 
de  las  Animas  by  the  Spaniards,  it  was  renamed  the  Riviere  du 
Purgatoire  by  their  French  successors.  The  American  pioneers 
changed  this  to  Picketurire,  and  that  remains  the  local  name  of 
the  stream  to  this  day,  despite  the  effort  of  the  Geographic  Board 
to  compromise  on  Purgatoire  river.  Many  other  French  names 
are  being  anglicized  with  its  aid  and  consent.  Already  half  a 
dozen  Bellevues  have  been  changed  to  Belleviews  and  Bellviews, 
and  the  spelling  of  nearly  all  the  Belvederes  has  been  changed  to 
Belvidere.  Belair,  La.,  represents  the  end-product  of  a  process 
of  decay  which  began  with  Belle  Aire,  and  then  proceeded  to 
Bellaire  and  Bellair.  All  these  forms  are  still  to  be  found,  to- 
gether with  Bel  Air.  The  Geographic  Board's  antipathy  to 
accented  letters  and  to  names  of  more  than  one  word 43  has  con- 
verted Isle  Ste.  Therese,  in  the  St.  Lawrence  river,  to  Isle  Ste. 
Therese,  a  truly  abominable  barbarism,  and  La  Cygne,  in  Kansas, 
to  Lacygne,  which  is  even  worse.  Lamoine,  Labelle,  Lagrange 
and  Lamonte  are  among  its  other  improvements ;  Lafayette,  for 
La  Fayette,  long  antedates  the  beginning  of  its  labors. 

The  Spanish  names  of  the  Southwest  are  undergoing  a  like 
process  of  corruption,  though  without  official  aid.  San  Antonio 
has  been  changed  to  San  Antone  in  popular  pronunciation  and 
seems  likely  to  go  to  San  Tone;  El  Paso  has  acquired  a  flat 
American  a  and  a  2-sound  in  place  of  the  Spanish  s;  Los  Angeles 
presents  such  difficulties  that  no  two  of  its  inhabitants  agree 
upon  the  proper  pronunciation,  and  many  compromise  on  simple 
Los,  as  the  folks  of  Jacksonville  commonly  call  their  town  Jax. 
Some  of  the  most  mellifluous  of  American  place-names  are  in 
the  areas  once  held  by  the  Spaniards.  It  would  be  hard  to  match 
the  beauty  of  Santa  Margarita,  San  Anselmo,  Alamogordo,  Terra 
Amarilla,  Sabinoso,  Las  Paldmas,  Ensenada,  Nogales,  San  Pa- 
tricio  and  Bernalillo.  But  they  are  under  a  severe  and  double 
assault.  Not  only  do  the  present  lords  of  the  soil  debase  them 
in  speaking  them;  in  many  cases  they  are  formally  displaced 
by  native  names  of  the  utmost  harshness  and  banality.  Thus, 

**Vide  its  Fourth  Report   (1890-1916),  p.  15. 


PROPER   NAMES   IN   AMERICA         293 

one  finds  in  New  Mexico  such  absurdly-named  towns  as  Sugarite, 
Shoemaker,  Newhope,  Lordsburg,  Eastview  and  Central;  in 
Arizona  such  places  as  Old  Glory,  Springerville,  Wickenburg 
and  Congress  Junction,  and  even  in  California  such  abomina- 
tions as  Oakhurst,  Ben  Hur,  Drytown,  Skidoo,  Susanville,  Uno 
and  Ono. 

The  early  Spaniards  were  prodigal  with  place-names  testify- 
ing to  their  piety,  but  these  names,  in  the  overwhelming  main, 
were  those  of  saints.  Add  Salvador,  Trinidad  and  Conception, 
and  their  repertoire  is  almost  exhausted.  If  they  ever  named 
a  town  Jesus  the  name  has  been  obliterated  by  Anglo-Saxon 
prudery;  even  their  use  of  the  name  as  a  personal  appellation 
violates  American  notions  of  the  fitting.  The  names  of  the  Jew- 
ish patriarchs  and  those  of  the  holy  places  in  Palestine  do  not 
appear  among  their  place-names;  their  Christianity  seems  to 
have  been  exclusively  of  the  New  Testament.  But  the  Americans 
who  displaced  them  were  intimately  familiar  with  both  books 
of  the  Bible,  and  one  finds  copious  proofs  of  it  on  the  map  of 
the  United  States.  There  are  no  less  than  seven  Bethlehems 
in  the  Postal  Guide,  and  the  name  is  also  applied  to  various 
mountains,  and  to  one  of  the  reaches  of  the  Ohio  river.  I  find 
thirteen  Bethanys,  seventeen  Bethels,  eleven  Beulahs,  nine  Ca- 
naans,  eleven  Jordans  and  twenty-one  Sharons.  Adam  is  sponsor 
for  a  town  in  West  Virginia  and  an  island  in  the  Chesapeake,  and 
Eve  for  a  village  in  Kentucky.  There  are  five  postoffices  named 
Aaron,  two  named  Abraham,  two  named  Job,  and  a  town  and  a 
lake  named  Moses.  Most  of  the  St.  Pauls  and  St.  Josephs  of 
the  country  were  inherited  from  the  French,  but  the  two  St. 
Patricks  show  a  later  influence.  Eight  Wesleys  and  Wesley- 
miles,  eight  Asburys  and  twelve  names  embodying  Luther  indi- 
cate the  general  theological  trend  of  the  plain  people.  There 
is  a  village  in  Maryland,  too  small  to  have  a  postoffice,  named 
Gott,  and  I  find  Gotts  Island  in  Maine  and  Gottville  in  Cali- 
fornia, but  no  doubt  these  were  named  after  German  settlers 
of  that  awful  name,  and  not  after  the  Lord  God  directly.  There 
are  four  Trinities,  to  say  nothing  of  the  inherited  Spanish  Trini- 
dads. 


294  THE. AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

Names  wholly  or  partly  descriptive  of  localities  are  very 
numerous  throughout  the  country,  and  among  the  Grundworter 
embodied  in  them  are  terms  highly  characteristic  of  America 
and  almost  unknown  to  the  English  vocabulary.  Bald  Knob 
would  puzzle  an  Englishman,  but  the  name  is  so  common  in  the 
United  States  that  the  Geographic  Board  has  had  to  take  meas- 
ures against  it.  Others  of  that  sort  are  Council  Bluffs,  Patapsco 
Neck,  Delaware  Water  Gap,  Curtis  Creek,  Walden  Pond,  Sandy 
Hook,  Key  West,  Bull  Run,  Portage,  French  Lick,  Jones  Gulch, 
Watkins  Gutty,  Cedar  Bayou,  Reams  Canyon,  Parker  Notch, 
Sucker  Branch,  Fraziers  Bottom  and  Eagle  Pass.  Butte  Creek, 
in  Montana,  is  a  name  made  up  of  two  Americanisms.  There 
are  thirty-five  postoffices  whose  names  embody  the  word  prairie, 
several  of  them,  e.  g.,  Prairie  du  Chien,  Wis.,  inherited  from 
the  French.  There  are  seven  Divides,  eight  Buttes,  eight  town- 
names  embodying  the  word  burnt,  innumerable  names  embody- 
ing grove,  barren,  plain,  fork,  center,  cross-roads,  courthouse, 
cove  and  ferry,  and  a  great  swarm  of  Cold  Springs,  Coldwaters, 
Summits,  Middletowns  and  Highlands.  The  flora  and  fauna  of 
the  land  are  enormously  represented.  There  are  twenty-two 
Buffalos  beside  the  city  in  New  York,  and  scores  of  Buffalo 
Creeks,  Ridges,  Springs  and  Wallows.  The  Elks,  in  various 
forms,  are  still  more  numerous,  and  there  are  dozens  of  towns, 
mountains,  lakes,  creeks  and  country  districts  named  after  the 
beaver,  martin,  coyote,  moose  and  otter,  and  as  many  more  named 
after  such  characteristic  flora  as  the  paw-paw,  the  sycamore,  the 
cottonwood,  the  locust  and  the  sunflower.  There  is  an  Alligator 
in  Mississippi,  a  Crawfish  in  Kentucky  and  a  Rat  Lake  on  the 
Canadian  border  of  Minnesota.  The  endless  search  for  mineral 
wealth  has  besprinkled  the  map  with  such  names  as  Bromide, 
Oil  City,  Anthracite,  Chrome,  Chloride,  Coal  Run,  Goldfield, 
Telluride,  Leadville  and  Cement. 

There  was  a  time,  particularly  during  the  gold  rush  to  Cali- 
fornia, when  the  rough  humor  of  the  country  showed  itself  in 
the  invention  of  extravagant  and  often  highly  felicitous  place- 
names,  but  with  the  growth  of  population  and  the  rise  of  civic 
spirit  they  have  tended  to  be  replaced  with  more  seemly  coin- 


PROPER   NAMES    IN   AMERICA          295 

ages.  Catfish  creek,  in  Wisconsin,  is  now  the  Yahara  river ;  the 
Bulldog  mountains,  in  Arizona,  have  become  the  Harosomas; 
the  Picketwire  river,  as  we  have  seen,  has  resumed  its  old  French 
name  of  Purgatoire.  As  with  natural  features  of  the  landscape, 
so  with  towns.  Nearly  all  the  old  Boozevilles,  Jackass  Flats, 
Three  Fingers,  Hell-For-Sartains,  Undershirt  Hills,  Razzle-Daz- 
zles,  Cow-Tails,  Yellow  Dogs,  Jim-Jamses,  Jump-Offs,  Poker 
Citys  and  Skunktowns  have  yielded  to  the  growth  of  delicacy, 
but  Tombstone  still  stands  in  Arizona,  Goose  Bill  remains  a 
postoffice  in  Montana,  and  the  Geographic  Board  gives  its  im- 
primatur to  the  Horsethief  trail  in  Colorado,  to  Burning  Bear 
creek  in  the  same  state,  and  to  Pig  Eye  lake  in  Minnesota.  Vari- 
ous other  survivors  of  a  more  lively  and  innocent  day  linger  on 
the  map :  Blue  Ball,  Ark.,  Cowhide,  W.  Va.,  Dollarville,  Mich., 
Oven  Fork,  Ky.,  Social  Circle,  Ga.,  Sleepy  Eye,  Minn.,  Bubble, 
Ark.,  Shy  Beaver,  Pa.,  Shin  Pond,  Me.,  Rough-and-Ready ,  Calif., 
Non  Intervention,  Va.,  Noodle,  Tex.,  Nursery,  Mo.,  Number  Four, 
N.  Y.,  Oblong,  111.,  Stock  Yards,  Neb.,  Stout,  Iowa,  and  so  on. 
West  Virginia,  the  wildest  of  the  eastern  states,  is  full  of  such 
place-names.  Among  them  I  find  Affinity,  Annamoriah  (Anna 
Maria?},  Bee,  Bias,  Big  Chimney,  Billie,  Blue  Jay,  Bulltown, 
Caress,  Cinderella,  Cyclone,  Czar,  Cornstalk,  Duck,  Halcyon, 
Jingo,  Left  Hand,  Ravens  Eye,  Six,  Skull  Run,  Three  Churches, 
Uneeda,  Wide  Mouth,  War  Eagle  and  Stumptown.  The  Postal 
Guide  shows  two  Ben  Hurs,  five  St.  Elmos  and  ten  Ivanhoes, 
but  only  one  Middlemarch.  There  are  seventeen  Roosevelts,  six 
Codys  and  six  Barnums,  but  no  Shakespeare.  Washington,  of 
course,  is  the  most  popular  of  American  place-names.  But 
among  names  of  postoffices  it  is  hard  pushed  by  Clinton,  Center- 
ville,  Liberty,  Canton,  Marion  and  Madison,  and  even  by  Spring- 
field, Warren  and  Bismarck. 

The  Geographic  Board,  in  its  laudable  effort  to  simplify  Amer- 
ican nomenclature,  has  played  ducks  and  drakes  with  some  of 
the  most  picturesque  names  on  the  national  map.  Now  and 
then,  as  in  the  case  of  Purgatoire,  it  has  temporarily  departed 
from  this  policy,  but  in  the  main  its  influence  has  been  thrown 
against  the  fine  old  French  and  Spanish  names,  and  against  the 


296  THE   AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

more  piquant  native  names  no  less.  Thus,  I  find  it  deciding 
against  Portage  des  Flacons  and  in  favor  of  the  hideous  Bottle 
portage,  against  Canada  del  Burro  and  in  favor  of  Burro  canyon, 
against  Canos  y  Tlas  de  la  Cruz  and  in  favor  of  the  barbarous 
Cruz  island.  In  Bougere  landing  and  Canon  City  it  has  deleted 
the  accents.  The  name  of  the  De  Grasse  river  it  has  changed  to 
Grass.  De  Laux  it  has  changed  to  the  intolerable  Dlo.  And, 
as  we  have  seen,  it  has  steadily  amalgamated  French  and  Span- 
ish articles  witfi  their  nouns,  thus  achieving  such  forms  as 
Duchesne,  Eldorado,  Deleon  and  Laharpe.  But  here  its  policy 
is  fortunately  inconsistent,  and  so  a  number  of  fine  old  names 
has  escaped.  Thus,  it  has  decided  in  favor  of  Bon  Secours  and 
against  Bonsecours,  and  in  favor  of  De  Soto,  La  Crosse  and  La 
Moure,  and  against  Desoto,  Lacrosse  and  Lamoure.  Here  its 
decisions  are  confused  and  often  unintelligible.  Why  Laporte, 
Pa.,  and  La  Porte,  Iowa?  Why  Lagrange,  Ind.,  and  La  Grange, 
Ky.  ?  Here  it  would  seem  to  be  yielding  a  great  deal  too  much 
to  local  usage. 

The  Board  proceeds  to  the  shortening  and  simplification  of 
native  names  by  various  devices.  It  deletes  such  suffixes  as 
town,  city  and  courthouse;  it  removes  the  apostrophe  and  often 
the  genitive  s  from  such  names  as  St.  Mary's;  it  shortens  burgh 
to  burg  and  borough  to  boro;  and  it  combines  separate  and  often 
highly  discreet  words.  The  last  habit  often  produces  grotesque 
forms,  e.  g.,  Newberlin,  Boxelder,  Sabbathday  lake,  Fallentimber, 
Bluemountain,  Westtown,  Threepines  and  Missionhill.  It  ap- 
parently cherishes  a  hope  of  eventually  regularizing  the  spelling 
of  Allegany.  This  is  now  Allegany  for  the  Maryland  county, 
the  Pennsylvania  township  and  the  New  York  and  Oregon  towns, 
Alleghany  for  the  mountains,  the  Colorado  town  and  the  Vir- 
ginia town  and  springs,  and  Allegheny  for  the  Pittsburgh  bor- 
ough and  the  Pennsylvania  county,  college  and  river.  The 
Board  inclines  to  Allegheny  for  both  river  and  mountains. 
Other  Indian  names  give  it  constant  concern.  Its  struggles  to 
set  up  Chemquasabamticook  as  the  name  of  a  Maine  lake  in 
place  of  Chemquasabamtic  and  Chemquassabamticook,  and  Cha- 
tahospee  as  the  name  of  an  Alabama  creek  in  place  of  Chatta- 


I 


PROPER   NAMES   IN   AMERICA         297 

hospee,  Hoolethlocco,  Hoolethloces,  Hoolethloco  and  Hootethlocco 
are  worthy  of  its  learning  and  authority.44 

The  American  tendency  to  pronounce  all  the  syllables  of  a 
word  more  distinctly  than  the  English  shows  itself  in  geograph- 
ical names.  White,  in  1880,48  recorded  the  increasing  habit  of 
giving  full  value  to  the  syllables  of  such  borrowed  English  names 
as  Worcester  and  Warwick.  I  have  frequently  noted  the  same 
thing.  In  Worcester  county,  Maryland,  the  name  is  usually 
pronounced  Wooster,  but  on  the  Western  Shore  of  the  state  one 
hears  Worcest-'r.™  Norwich  is  another  such  name;  one  hears 
Nor-wich  quite  as  often  as  Norrich*7  Yet  another  is  Delhi;  one 
often  hears  Del-high.  White  said  that  in  his  youth  the  name 
of  the  Shawangunk  mountains,  in  New  York,  was  pronounced 
Shongo,  but  that  the  custom  of  pronouncing  it  as  spelled  had 
arisen  during  his  manhood.  So  with  Winnipiseogee,  the  name 
of  a  lake ;  once  Winipisaukie,  it  gradually  came  to  be  pronounced 
as  spelled.  There  is  frequently  a  considerable  difference  be- 
tween the  pronunciation  of  a  name  by  natives  of  a  place  and  its 
pronunciation  by  those  who  are  familiar  with  it  only  in  print. 
Baltimore  offers  an  example.  The  natives  always  drop  the 
medial  i  and  so  reduce  the  name  to  two  syllables ;  the  habit  iden- 
tifies them.  Anne  Arundel,  the  name  of  a  county  in  Maryland, 

44  The  Geographic  Board  is  composed  of  representatives  of  the  Coast  and 
Geodetic  Survey,  the  Geological  Survey,  the  General  Land  Office,  the  Post 
Office,  the  Forest  Service,  the  Smithsonian  Institution,  the  Biological  Sur- 
vey, the  Government  Printing  Office,  the  Census  and  Lighthouse  Bureaus, 
the  General  Staff  of  the  Army,  the  Hydrographic  Office,  Library  and  War 
Records  Office  of  the  Navy,  the  Treasury  and   the  Department  of   State. 
It  was  created  by  executive  order  Sept.  4,  1890,  and  its  decisions  are  binding 
upon   all  federal  officials.     It  has  made,  to  date,   about   15,000   decisons. 
They  are  recorded  in  reports  issued  at  irregular  intervals  and  in  more 
frequent  bulletins. 

45  Every-Day  English,  p.  100. 

46  I  have  often  noted  that  Americans,  in  speaking  of  the  familiar  Wor- 
cestershire sauce,  commonly  pronounce  every  syllable  and  enunciated  shire 
distinctly.     In  England  it  is  always  Woostersh'r. 

47  The  English  have  a  great  number  of  such  decayed  pronunciations,  e.  g., 
Maudlin  for  Magdalen  College,  Sister  for  Cirencester,  Merrybone  for  Maryle- 
bone.     Their  geographical  nomenclature  shows  many  corruptions  due  to 
faulty  pronunciation  and  the  law  of  Hobson-Jobson,  e.  g.,  Leighton  Buz- 
zard for  the  Norman  French  Leiton  Beau  Desart. 


298  THE   AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

is  usually  pronounced  Ann  'ran'l  by  its  people.  Arkansas,  as 
everyone  knows,  is  pronounced  Arkansaw  by  the  Arkansans, 
and  the  Nevadans  give  the  name  of  their  state  a  flat  a.  The 
local  pronunciation  of  Illinois  I  have  already  noticed.  Iowa, 
at  home,  is  often  loway.**  Many  American  geographical  names 
offer  great  difficulty  to  Englishmen.  One  of  my  English  ac- 
quaintances tells  me  that  he  was  taught  at  school  to  accent 
Massachusetts  on  the  second  syllable,  to  rhyme  the  second  sylla- 
ble of  Ohio  with  tea,  andjto  sound  the  first  c  in  Connecticut.  In 
Maryland  the  name  of  Calvert  county  is  given  a  broad  a,  whereas 
the  name  of  Calvert  street,  in  Baltimore,  has  a  flat  a.  This 
curious  distinction  is  almost  always  kept  up.  A  Scotchman, 
coming  to  America,  would  give  the  ch  in  such  names  as  Loch 
Raven  and  Lochvale  the  guttural  Scotch  (and  German)  sound, 
but  locally  it  is  always  pronounced  as  if  it  were  k. 

Finally,  there  is  a  curious  difference  between  English  and 
American  usage  in  the  use  of  the  word  river.  The  English  in- 
variably put  it  before  the  proper  name,  whereas  we  almost  as 
invariably  put  it  after.  The  Thames  river  would  seem  quite 
as  strange  to  an  Englishman  as  the  river  Chicago  would  seem 
to  us.  This  difference  arose  more  than  a  century  ago  and  was 
noticed  by  Pickering.  But  in  his  day  the  American  usage  was 
still  somewhat  uncertain,  and  such  forms  as  the  river  Mississippi 
were  yet  in  use.  Today  river  almost  always  goes  after  the  proper 
name. 

§4 

Street  Names — "Such  a  locality  as  'the  corner  of  Avenue  H 
and  Twenty-third  street,'  "  says  W.  W.  Crane,  "is  about  as 
distinctively  American  as  Algonquin  and  Iroquois  names  like 
Mississippi  and  Saratoga."**  Kipling,  in  his  "American 
Notes, ' ' 50  gives  testimony  to  the  strangeness  with  which  the 

*8  Curiously  enough,  Americans  always  use  the  broad  a  in  the  first 
syllable  of  Albany,  whereas  Englishmen  rhyme  the  syllable  with  pal.  The 
English  also  pronounce  Pall  Mall  as  if  it  were  spelled  pal  mal.  Ameri- 
cans commonly  give  it  two  broad  a's. 

4»  Our  Street  Names,  Lippincott's  Magazine,  Aug.,   1897,  p.  264. 

BO  Ch.  i. 


PROPER   NAMES    IN   AMERICA          299 

number-names,  the  phrase  "the  corner  of,"  and  the  custom  of 
omitting  street  fall  upon  the  ear  of  a  Britisher.  He  quotes  with 
amazement  certain  directions  given  to  him  on  his  arrival  in  San 
Francisco  from  India:  "Go  six  blocks  north  to  [the]  corner 
of  Geary  and  Markey  [Market?]  ;  then  walk  around  till  you 
strike  [the]  corner  of  Gutter  and  Sixteenth."  The  English  al- 
ways add  the  word  street  (or  road  or  place  or  avenue)  when 
speaking  of  a  thoroughfare;  such  a  phrase  as  "Oxford  and  New 
Bond"  would  strike  them  as  incongruous.  The  American  cus- 
tom of  numbering  and  lettering  streets  is  almost  always  ascribed 
by  English  writers  who  discuss  it,  not  to  a  desire  to  make  finding 
them  easy,  but  to  sheer  poverty  of  invention.  The  English  ap- 
parently have  an  inexhaustible  fund  of  names  for  streets;  they 
often  give  one  street  more  than  one  name.  Thus,  Oxford  street, 
London,  becomes  the  Bayswater  road,  High  street,  Holland  Park 
avenue,  Goldhawke  road  and  finally  the  Oxford  road  to  the 
westward,  and  High  Holborn,  Holborn  viaduct,  Newgate  street, 
Cheapside,  the  Poultry,  Cornhill  and  Leadenhall  street  to  the 
eastward.  The  Strand,  in  the  same  way,  becomes  Fleet  street, 
Ludgate  hill  and  Cannon  street.  Nevertheless,  there  is  a  First 
avenue  in  Queen's  Park,  and  parallel  to  it  are  Second,  Third, 
Fourth,  Fifth  and  Sixth  avenues — all  small  streets  leading 
northward  from  the  Harrow  road,  just  east  of  Kensal  Green 
cemetery.  I  have  observed  that  few  Londoners  have  ever  heard 
of  them.  There  is  also  a  First  street  in  Chelsea — a  very  modest 
thoroughfare  near  Lennox  gardens  and  not  far  from  the  Bromp- 
ton  Oratory. 

Next  to  the  numbering  and  lettering  of  streets,  a  fashion  ap- 
parently set  up  by  Major  Pierre-Charles  L'Enf ant's  plans  for 
Washington,  the  most  noticeable  feature  of  American  street 
nomenclature,  as  opposed  to  that  of  England,  is  the  extensive 
use  of  such  designations  as  avenue,  boulevard,  drive  and  speed- 
way. Avenue  is  used  in  England,  but  only  rather  sparingly;  it 
is  seldom  applied  to  a  mean  street,  or  to  one  in  a  warehouse  dis- 
trict. In  America  the  word  is  scarcely  distinguished  in  mean- 
ing from  street.51  Boulevard,  drive  and  speedway  are  almost 

5i  There  are,   of   course,   local   exceptions.     In   Baltimore,   for   example, 


300  THE   AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

unknown  to  the  English,  but  they  use  road  for  urban  thorough- 
fares, which  is  very  seldom  done  in  America,  and  they  also  make 
free  use  of  place,  walk,  passage,  lane  and  circus,  all  of  which  are 
obsolescent  on  this  side  of  the  ocean.  Some  of  the  older  Ameri- 
can cities,  such  as  Boston  and  Baltimore,  have  surviving  certain 
ancient  English  designations  of  streets,  e.  g.,  Cheapside  and  Corn- 
hill;  these  are  unknown  in  the  newer  American  towns.  Broad- 
way, which  is  also  English,  is  more  common.  Many  American 
towns  now  have  plazas,  which  are  unknown  in  England.  Nearly 
all  have  City  Hall  parks,  squares  or  places;  City  Hall  is  also 
unknown  over  there.  The  principal  street  of  a  small  town,  in 
America,  is  almost  always  Main  street;  in  England  it  is  as  in- 
variably High  street,  usually  with  the  definite  article  before 
High. 

I  have  mentioned  the  corruption  of  old  Dutch  street  and 
neighborhood  names  in  New  York.  Spanish  names  are  corrupted 
in  the  same  way  in  the  Southwest  and  French  names  in  the  Great 
Lakes  region  and  in  Louisiana.  In  New  Orleans  the  street  names, 
many  of  them  strikingly  beautiful,  are  pronounced  so  barba- 
rously by  the  people  that  a  Frenchman  would  have  difficulty 
recognizing  them.  Thus,  Bourbon  has  become  Bur-bun,  Dau- 
phine  is  Daw- fin,  Foucher  is  Foosh'r,  Enghien  is  En-gine,  and 
Felicity  (originally  F 'elicit e)  is  Fill-a-city.  The  French,  in  their 
days,  bestowed  the  names  of  the  Muses  upon  certain  of  the  city 
streets.  They  are  now  pronounced  Cal'-y-ope,  Terp' -si-chore, 
Mel-po-mean',  You-terp',  and  so  on.  Bon  Enfants,  apparently 
too  difficult  for  the  native,  has  been  translated  into  Good  Chil- 
dren. Only  Esplanade  and  Bagatelle,  among  the  French  street 
names  of  the  city,  seem  to  be  commonly  pronounced  with  any 
approach  to  correctness. 

avenue  used  to  be  reserved  for  wide  streets  in  the  suburbs.  Thus  Charles 
street,  on  passing  the  old  city  boundary,  became  Charles  street-avenue. 
Further  out  it  became  the  Charles  street-avenue-road — probably  a  unique 
triplication.  But  that  was  years  ago.  Of  late  many  fifth-rate  streets 
in  Baltimore  have  been  changed  into  avenues-. 


IX 

Miscellanea 

§1 

Proverb  and  Platitude — No  people,  save  perhaps  the  Spaniards, 
have  a  richer  store  of  proverbial  wisdom  than  the  Americans, 
and  surely  none  other  make  more  diligent  and  deliberate  efforts 
to  augment  its  riches.  The  American  literature  of  ''inspira- 
tional" platitude  is  enormous  and  almost  unique.  There  are 
half  a  dozen  authors,  e.  g.,  Dr.  Orison  Swett  Harden  and  Dr. 
Frank  Crane,  who  devote  themselves  exclusively,  and  to  vast 
profit,  to  the  composition  of  arresting  and  uplifting  apothegms, 
and  the  fruits  of  their  fancy  are  not  only  sold  in  books  but  also 
displayed  upon  an  infinite  variety  of  calendars,  banners  and 
wall-cards.  It  is  rarely  that  one  enters  the  office  of  an  American 
business  man  without  encountering  at  least  one  of  these  wall- 
cards.  It  may,  on  the  one  hand,  show  nothing  save  a  succinct 
caution  that  time  is  money,  say,  "Do  It  Now,"  or  "This  Is  My 
Busy  Day " ;  on  the  other  hand,  it  may  embody  a  long  and  com- 
plex sentiment,  ornately  set  forth.  The  taste  for  such  canned 
sagacity  seems  to  have  arisen  in  America  at  a  very  early  day. 
Benjamin  Franklin's  "Poor  Richard's  Almanac,"  begun  in  1732, 
remained  a  great  success  for  twenty-five  years,  and  the  annual 
sales  reached  10,000.  It  had  many  imitators,  and  founded  an 
aphoristic  style  of  writing  which  culminated  in  the  essays  of 
Emerson,  often  mere  strings  of  sonorous  certainties,  defectively 
articulated.  The  "Proverbial  Philosophy"  of  Martin  Farquhar 
Tupper,  dawning  upon  the  American  public  in  the  early  40 's, 
was  welcomed  with  enthusiasm;  as  Saintsbury  says,1  its  success 

i  Cambridge  History  of  English  Literature,  vol.  xiii,  p.  167. 

301 


302  THE    AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

on  this  side  of  the  Atlantic  even  exceeded  its  success  on  the  other. 
But  that  was  the  last  and  perhaps  the  only  importation  of  the 
sage  and  mellifluous  in  bulk.  In  late  years  the  American  pro- 
duction of  such  merchandise  has  grown  so  large  that  the  balance 
of  trade  now  flows  in  the  other  direction.  Visiting  Denmark. 
Germany,  Switzerland,  France  and  Spain  in  the  spring  of  1917, 
I  found  translations  of  the  chief  works  of  Dr.  Marden  on  sale  in 
all  those  countries,  and  with  them  the  masterpieces  of  such  other 
apostles  of  the  New  Thought  as  Ralph  "Waldo  Trine  and  Eliz- 
abeth Towne.  No  other  American  books  were  half  so  well  dis- 
played. 

The  note  of  all  such  literature,  and  of  the  maxims  that  precipi- 
tate themselves  from  it,  is  optimism.  They  "inspire"  by  voicing 
and  revoicing  the  New  Thought  doctrine  that  all  things  are  pos- 
sible to  the  man  who  thinks  the  right  sort  of  thoughts — in  the 
national  phrase,  to  the  right-thinker.  This  right-thinker  is  in- 
distinguishable from  the  forward-looker,  whose  belief  in  the  con- 
tinuity and  benignity  of  the  evolutionary  process  takes  on  the 
virulence  of  a  religious  faith.  Out  of  his  confidence  come  the 
innumerable  saws,  axioms  and  gefliigelte  Worte  in  the  national 
arsenal,  ranging  from  the  "It  won't  hurt  none  to  try"  of  the 
great  masses  of  the  plain  people  to  such  exhilarating  confections 
of  the  wall-card  virtuosi  as  "The  elevator  to  success  is  not  run- 
ning; take  the  stairs."  Naturally  enough,  a  grotesque  humor 
plays  about  this  literature  of  hope;  the  folk,  though  it  moves 
them,  prefer  it  with  a  dash  of  salt.  ' '  Smile,  damn  you,  smile ! ' ' 
is  a  typical  specimen  of  this  seasoned  optimism.  Many  exam- 
ples of  it  go  back  to  the  early  part  of  the  last  century,  for  in- 
stance, "Don't  monkey  with  the  buzz-saw"  and  "It  will  never 
get  well  if  you  pick  it."  Others  are  patently  modern,  e.  g., 
"The  Lord  is  my  shepherd;  I  should  worry"  and  "Roll  over; 
you  're  on  your  back. ' '  The  national  talent  for  extravagant  and 
pungent  humor  is  well  displayed  in  many  of  these  maxims.  It 
would  be  difficult  to  match,  in  any  other  folk-literature,  such 
examples  as  "I'd  rather  have  them  say  'There  he  goes'  than 
'Here  he  lies,'  "  or  "Don't  spit:  remember  the  Johnstown 
flood,"  or  "Shoot  it  in  the  arm;  your  leg's  full,"  or  "Cheer  up; 


MISCELLANEA  303 

there  ain't  no  hell,"  or  "If  you  want  to  cure  homesickness,  go 
back  home."  Many  very  popular  phrases  and  proverbs  are 
borrowings  from  above.  "Few  die  and  none  resign"  originated 
with  Thomas  Jefferson;  Bret  Harte,  I  believe,  was  the  author 
of  "No  check-ee,  no  shirt-ee,"  General  W.  T.  Sherman  is  com- 
monly credited  with  "War  is  hell,"  and  Mark  Twain  with  "Life 
is  one  damn  thing  after  another."  An  elaborate  and  highly 
characteristic  proverb  of  the  uplifting  variety — "So  live  that 
you  can  look  any  man  in  the  eye  and  tell  him  to  go  to  hell" — 
was  first  given  currency  by  one  of  the  engineers  of  the  Panama 
Canal,  a  gentleman  later  retired,  it  would  seem,  for  attempting 
to  execute  his  own  counsel.  From  humor  the  transition  to 
cynicism  is  easy,  and  so  many  of  the  current  sayings  are  at 
war  with  the  optimism  of  the  majority.  ' '  Kick  him  again ;  he 's 
down"  is  a  depressing  example.  "What's  the  use?"  a  rough 
translation  of  the  Latin  "Cui  bono?"  is  another.  The  same 
spirit  is  visible  in  "Tell  your  troubles  to  a  policeman,"  "How'd 
you  like  to  be  the  ice-man?"  "Some  say  she  do  and  some  say 
she  don't,"  "Nobody  loves  a  fat  man,"  "I  love  my  wife,  but 
0  you  kid, ' '  and  ' '  Would  you  for  fifty  cents  ? ' '  The  last  orig- 
inated in  the  ingenious  mind  of  an  advertisement  writer  and 
was  immediately  adopted.  In  the  course  of  time  it  acquired  a 
naughty  significance,  and  helped  to  give  a  start  to  the  amazing 
button  craze  of  ten  or  twelve  years  ago — a  saturnalia  of  proverb 
and  phrase  making  which  finally  aroused  the  guardians  of  the 
public  morals  and  was  put  down  by  the  police. 

That  neglect  which  marks  the  study  of  the  vulgate  generally 
extends  to  the  subject  of  popular  proverb-making.  The  English 
publisher,  Frank  Palmer,  prints  an  excellent  series  of  little  vol- 
umes presenting  the  favorite  proverbs  of  all  civilized  races,  in- 
cluding the  Chinese  and  Japanese,  but  there  is  no  American 
volume  among  them.  Even  such  exhaustive  collections  as  that 
of  Robert  Christy  2  contain  no  American  specimens — not  even 
"Don't  monkey  with  the  buzz-saw"  or  "Root,  hog,  or  die." 

2  Proverbs,  Maxims  and  Phrases  of  All  Ages;  New  York,  1905.  This 
work  extends  to  1267  pages  and  contains  about  30,000  proverbs,  admirably 
arranged. 


304  THE   AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

§2 

American  Slang — This  neglect  of  the  national  proverbial 
philosophy  extends  to  the  national  slang.  There  is  but  one 
work,  so  far  as  I  can  discover,  formally  devoted  to  it,3  and  that 
work  is  extremely  superficial.  Moreover,  it  has  been  long  out 
of  date,  and  hence  is  of  little  save  historical  value.  There  are 
at  least  a  dozen  careful  treatises  on  French  slang,4  half  as  many 
on  English  slang,5  and  a  good  many  on  German  slang,  but  Amer- 
ican slang,  which  is  probably  quite  as  rich  as  that  of  France 
and  a  good  deal  richer  than  that  of  any  other  country,  is  yet 
to  be  studied  at  length.  Nor  is  there  much  discussion  of  it,  of 
any  interest  or  value,  in  the  general  philological  literature. 
Fowler  and  all  the  other  early  native  students  of  the  language 
dismissed  it  with  lofty  gestures;  down  to  the  time  of  Whitney 
it  was  scarcely  regarded  as  a  seemly  subject  for  the  notice  of  a 
man  of  learning.  Lounsbury,  less  pedantic,  viewed  its  phenomena 
more  hospitably,  and  even  defined  it  as  "the  source  from  which 
the  decaying  energies  of  speech  are  constantly  refreshed,"  and 
Brander  Matthews,  following  him,  has  described  its  function  as 
that  of  providing  ' '  substitutes  for  the  good  words  and  true  which 
are  worn  out  by  hard  service. ' ' 6  But  that  is  about  as  far  as 
the  investigation  has  got.  Krapp  has  some  judicious  paragraphs 
upon  the  matter  in  his  ' '  Modern  English, ' ' 7  there  are  a  few 
scattered  essays  upon  the  underlying  psychology,8  and  various 
uninforming  magazine  articles,  but  that  is  all.  The  practising 
authors  of  the  country,  like  its  philologians,  have  always  shown 

3  James  Maitland:   The  American  Slang  Dictionary;   Chicago,   1891. 

*  For  example,  the  works  of  Villatte,  Virmaitre,  Michel,  Rigaud  and 
Devau. 

s  The  best  of  these,  of  course,  is  Farmer  and  Henley's  monumental  Slang 
and  Its  Analogues,  in  seven  volumes. 

6  Matthews'    essay,    The    Function    of    Slang,    is   reprinted    in    Clapin's 
Dictionary  of  Americanisms,  pp.  565-581. 

7  P.  199  et  seq. 

s  For  example,  The  Psychology  of  Unconventional  Language,  by  Frank  K. 
Sechrist,  Pedagogical  Seminary,  vol.  xx,  p.  413,  Dec.,  1913,  and  The  Philos- 
ophy of  Slang,  by  E.  B.  Taylor,  reprinted  in  Clapin's  Dictionary  of 
Americanisms,  pp.  541-563. 


MISCELLANEA  305 

a  gingery  and  suspicious  attitude.  "The  use  of  slang,"  said 
Oliver  Wendell  Holmes,  "is  at  once  a  sign  and  a  cause  of  men- 
tal atrophy."  "Slang,"  said  Ambrose  Bierce  fifty  years  later, 
"is  the  speech  of  him  who  robs  the  literary  garbage  carts  on 
their  way  to  the  dumps."  Literature  in  America,  as  we  have 
seen,  remains  aloof  from  the  vulgate.  Despite  the  contrary 
examples  of  Mark  Twain  and  Howells,  all  the  more  pretentious 
American  authors  try  to  write  chastely  and  elegantly;  the  typ- 
ical literary  product  of  the  country  is  still  a  refined  essay  in  the 
Atlantic  Monthly,  perhaps  gently  jocose  but  never  rough — by 
Emerson,  so  to  speak,  out  of  Charles  Lamb— the  sort  of  thing 
one  might  look  to  be  done  by  a  somewhat  advanced  English  curate. 
George  Ade,  undoubtedly  one  of  the  most  adept  anatomists  of 
the  American  character  and  painters  of  the  American  scene 
that  the  national  literature  has  yet  developed,  is  neglected  be- 
cause his  work  is  grounded  firmly  upon  the  national  speech — 
not  that  he  reports  it  literally,  like  Lardner  and  the  hacks  trail- 
ing after  Lardner,  but  that  he  gets  at  and  exhibits  its  very 
essence.  It  would  stagger  a  candidate  for  a  doctorate  in  phil- 
ology, I  daresay,  to  be  told  off  by  his  professor  to  investigate 
the  slang  of  Ade  in  the  way  that  Bosson,9  the  Swede,  has  in- 
vestigated that  of  Jerome  K.  Jerome,  and  yet,  until  something 
of  the  sort  is  undertaken,  American  philology  will  remain  out 
of  contact  with  the  American  language. 

Most  of  the  existing  discussions  of  slang  spend  themselves 
upon  efforts  to  define  it,  and,  in  particular,  upon  efforts  to 
differentiate  it  from  idiomatic  neologisms  of  a  more  legitimate 
type.  This  effort  is  largely  in  vain ;  the  border-line  is  too  vague 
and  wavering  to  be  accurately  mapped;  words  and  phrases  are 
constantly  crossing  it,  and  in  both  directions.  There  was  a 
time,  perhaps,  when  the  familiar  American  counter-word,  propo- 
sition, was  slang;  its  use  seems  to  have  originated  in  the  world 
of  business,  and  it  was  soon  afterward  adopted  by  the  sporting 
fraternity.  But  today  it  is  employed  without  much  feeling  that 
it  needs  apology,  and  surely  without  any  feeling  that  it  is  low. 

»Olaf  E.  Bosson:  Slang  and  Cant  in  Jerome  K.  Jerome's  Works;  Cam- 
bridge, 1911. 


306  THE    AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

Nice,  as  an  adjective  of  all  work,  was  once  in  slang  use  only; 
today  no  one  would  question  ' '  a  nice  day, "  or  ' '  a  nice  time ' '  or 
"a  nice  hotel. "  Awful  seems  to  be  going  the  same  route.  "Aw- 
ful sweet"  and  "awfully  dear"  still  seem  slangy  and  school- 
girlish,  but  "awful  children,"  "awful  weather"  and  "an  awful 
job"  have  entirely  sound  support,  and  no  one  save  a  pedant 
would  hesitate  to  use  them.  Such  insidious  purifications  and 
consecrations  of  slang  are  going  on  under  our  noses  all  the 
time.  The  use  of  some  as  a  general  adjective-adverb  seems 
likely  to  make  its  way  in  the  same  manner.  It  is  constantly  for- 
gotten by  purists  of  defective  philological  equipment  that  a 
great  many  of  our  most  respectable  words  and  phrases  orig- 
inated in  the  plainest  sort  of  slang.  Thus,  quandary,  despite  a 
fanciful  etymology  which  would  identify  it  with  wandreth 
(=evil),  is  probably  simply  a  composition  form  of  the  French 
phrase,  qu'en  dirai-je?  Again,  to  turn  to  French  itself,  there 
is  tete,  a  sound  name  for  the  human  head  for  many  centuries — 
though  its  origin  was  in  the  Latin  testa  (=pot),  a  favorite  slang- 
word  of  the  soldiers  of  the  decaying  empire,  analogous  to  our 
own  block,  nut  and  conch.  The  word  slacker,  recently  come  into 
good  usage  in  the  United  States  as  a  designation  for  an  unsuc- 
cessful shirker  of  conscription,  is  a  substantive  derived  from 
the  English  verb  to  slack,  which  was  born  as  university  slang  and 
remains  so  to  this  day.  Brander  Matthews,  so  recently  as  1901, 
thought  to  hold  up  slang;  it  is  now  perfectly  good  American. 

The  contrary  movement  of  words  from  the  legitimate  vocabu- 
lary into  slang  is  constantly  witnessed.  Some  one  devises  a  new 
and  intriguing  trope  or  makes  use  of  an  old  one  under  cir- 
cumstances arresting  the  public  attention,  and  at  once  it  is 
adopted  into  slang,  given  a  host  of  remote  significances,  and 
ding-donged  ad  nauseam.  The  Rooseveltian  phrases,  muck- 
raker,  Ananias  Club,  short  and  ugly  word,  nature-faker  and  big- 
stick,  offer  examples.  Not  one  of  them  was  new  and  not  one  of 
them  was  of  much  pungency,  but  Roosevelt's  vast  talent  for 
delighting  the  yokelry  threw  about  them  a  charming  air,  and 
so  they  entered  into  current  slang  and  were  mouthed  idiotically 
for  months.  Another  example  is  to  be  found  in  steam-roller. 


I 


MISCELLANEA  307 

It  was  first  heard  of  in  June,  1908,  when  it  was  applied  by  Os- 
wald F.  Schuette,  of  the  Chicago  Inter-Ocean,  to  the  methods 
employed  by  the  Roosevelt-Taft  majority  in  the  Republican 
National  Committee  in  over-riding  the  protests  against  seating 
Taft  delegates  from  Alabama  and  Arkansas.  At  once  it  struck 
the  popular  fancy  and  was  soon  heard  on  all  sides.  All  the 
usual  derivatives  appeared,  to  steam-roller,  steam-rollered,  and 
so  on.  Since  then,  curiously  enough,  the  term  has  gradually 
forced  its  way  back  from  slang  to  good  usage,  and  even  gone  over 
to  England.  In  the  early  days  of  the  Great  War  it  actually 
appeared  in  the  most  solemn  English  reviews,  and  once  or  twice, 
I  believe,  in  state  papers. 

Much  of  the  discussion  of  slang  by  popular  etymologists  is 
devoted  to  proofs  that  this  or  that  locution  is  not  really  slang 
at  all — that  it  is  to  be  found  in  Shakespeare,  in  Milton,  or  in 
the  Revised  Version.  These  scientists,  of  course,  overlook  the 
plain  fact  that  slang,  like  the  folk-song,  is  not  the  creation  of 
people  in  the  mass,  but  of  definite  individuals,  and  that  its  char- 
acter as  slang  depends  entirely  upon  its  adoption  by  the  igno- 
rant, who  use  its  novelties  too  assiduously  and  with  too  little 
imagination,  and  so  debase  them  to  the  estate  of  worn-out  coins, 
smooth  and  valueless.  It  is  this  error,  often  shared  by  phil- 
ologists of  sounder  information,  that  lies  under  the  doctrine  that 
the  plays  of  Shakespeare  are  full  of  slang,  and  that  the  Bard 
showed  but  a  feeble  taste  in  language.  Nothing  could  be  more 
absurd.  The  business  of  writing  English,  in  his  day,  was  un- 
harassed  by  the  proscriptions  of  purists,  and  so  the  vocabulary 
could  be  enriched  more  facilely  than  today,  but  though  Shake- 
speare and  his  fellow-dramatists  quickly  adopted  such  neologisms 
as  to  bustle,  to  huddle,  bump,  hubbub  and  pat,  it  goes  without 
saying  that  they  exercised  a  sound  discretion  and  that  the  slang 
of  the  Bankside  was  full  of  words  and  phrases  which  they  were 
never  tempted  to  use.  In  our  own  day  the  same  discrimination 
is  exercised  by  all  writers  of  sound  taste.  On  the  one  hand  they 
disregard  the  senseless  prohibitions  of  school-masters,  and  on 
the  other  hand  they  draw  the  line  with  more  or  less  watchful- 
ness, according  as  they  are  of  conservative  or  liberal  habit.  I 


308  THE    AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

find  the  ~best  of  the  bunch  and  joke-smith  in  Saintsbury ; 10  one 
could  scarcely  imagine  either  in  Walter  Pater.  But  by  the 
same  token  one  could  not  imagine  chicken  (for  young  girl),11 
aber  nit,  to  come  across  or  to  camouflage  in  Saintsbury. 

What  slang  actually  consists  of  doesn't  depend,  in  truth, 
upon  intrinsic  qualities,  but  upon  the  surrounding  circumstances. 
It  is  the  user  that  determines  the  matter,  and  particularly  the 
user's  habitual  way  of  thinking.  If  he  chooses  words  carefully, 
with  a  full  understanding  of  their  meaning  and  savor,  then  no 
word  that  he  uses  seriously  will  belong  to  slang,  but  if  his  speech 
is  made  up  chiefly  of  terms  poll-parroted,  and  he  has  no  sense 
of  their  shades  and  limitations,  then  slang  will  bulk  largely  in 
his  vocabulary.  In  its  origin  it  is  nearly  always  respectable; 
it  is  devised  not  by  the  stupid  populace,  but  by  individuals  of 
wit  and  ingenuity;  as  Whitney  says,  it  is  a  product  of  an  "ex- 
uberance of  mental  activity,  and  the  natural  delight  of  language- 
making.  ' '  But  when  its  inventions  happen  to  strike  the  popular 
fancy  and  are  adopted  by  the  mob,  they  are  soon  worn  thread- 
bare and  so  lose  all  piquancy  and  significance,  and,  in  Whitney 's 
words,  become  " incapable  of  expressing  anything  that  is  real."  12 
This  is  the  history  of  such  slang  phrases,  often  interrogative,  as 
' '  How  'd  you  like  to  be  the  ice-man  ? "  "  How 's  your  poor  feet  ? ' ' 
"Merci  pour  la  langouste,"  "Have  a  heart,"  "This  is  the  life," 
"Where  did  you  get  that  hat?"  "Would  you  for  fifty  cents?" 
"Let  her  go,  Gallegher,"  "Shoo-fly,  don't  bother  me,"  "Don't 
wake  him  up ' '  and  ' '  Let  George  do  it. ' '  The  last  well  exhibits 
the  process.  It  originated  in  France,  as  "Laissez  faire  a 
Georges,"  during  the  fifteenth  century,  and  at  the  start  had 
satirical  reference  to  the  multiform  activities  of  Cardinal 
Georges  d'Amboise,  prime  minister  to  Louis  XII.13  It  later 

10  Cambridge  History  of  English  Literature,  vol.  xii,  p.  144. 

11  Curiously  enough,  the  American  language,  usually  so  fertile  in  words 
to   express   shades   of  meaning,   has   no   respectable  synonym   for   chicken. 
In  English  there  is  flapper,  in  French  there  is  ingenue,  and  in  German  there 
is  backfisch.     Usually  either  the  English  or  the  French  word  is  borrowed. 

12  The  Life  and  Growth  of  Language,  New  York,  1897,  p.  113. 

is  Cf.  Two  Children  in  Old  Paris,  by  Gertrude  Slaughter ;  New  York, 
1918,  p.  233.  Another  American  popular  saying,  once  embodied  in  a  coon 


MISCELLANEA  309 

became  common  slang,  was  translated  into  English,  had  a  re- 
vival during  the  early  days  of  David  Lloyd-George's  meteoric 
career,  was  adopted  into  American  without  any  comprehension 
of  either  its  first  or  its  latest  significance,  and  enjoyed  the  brief 
popularity  of  a  year. 

Krapp  attempts  to  distinguish  between  slang  and  sound  idiom 
by  setting  up  the  doctrine  that  the  former  is  "more  expressive 
than  the  situation  demands."  "It  is,"  he  says,  "a  kind  of 
hyperesthesia  in  the  use  of  language.  To  laugh  in  your  sleeve 
is  idiom  because  it  arises  out  of  a  natural  situation ;  it  is  a 
metaphor  derived  from  the  picture  of  one  raising  his  sleeve  to 
his  face  to  hide  a  smile,  a  metaphor  which  arose  naturally 
enough  in  early  periods  when  sleeves  were  long  and  flowing; 
but  to  talk  through  your  hat  is  slang,  not  only  because  it  is  new, 
but  also  because  it  is  a  grotesque  exaggeration  of  the  truth. ' ' 14 
The  theory,  unluckily,  is  combated  by  many  plain  facts.  To 
hand  it  to  him,  to  get  away  with  it  and  even  to  hand  him  a  lemon 
are  certainly  not  metaphors  that  transcend  the  practicable  and 
probable,  and  yet  all  are  undoubtedly  slang.  On  the  other 
hand,  there  is  palpable  exaggeration  in  such  phrases  as  "he 
is  not  worth  the  powder  it  would  take  to  kill  him,"  in  such 
adjectives  as  break-bone  (fever),  and  in  such  compounds  as 
fire-eater,  and  yet  it  would  be  absurd  to  dismiss  them  as  slang. 
Between  Nock-head  and  bone-head  there  is  little  to  choose,  but 
the  former  is  sound  English,  whereas  the  latter  is  American 
slang.  So  with  many  familiar  similes,  e.  g.,  like  greased  light- 
ning, as  scarce  as  hen's  teeth;  they  are  grotesque  hyperboles, 
but  surely  not  slang. 

The  true  distinction  between  slang  and  more  seemly  idiom,  in 
so  far  as  any  distinction  exists  at  all,  is  that  indicated  by  Whit- 
ney. Slang  originates  in  an  effort,  always  by  ingenious  indi- 
viduals, to  make  the  language  more  vivid  and  expressive.  When 
in  the  form  of  single  words  it  may  appear  as  new  metaphors, 

song,  may  be  traced  to  a  sentence  in  the  prayer  of  the  Old  Dessauer  before 
the  battle  of  Kesseldorf,  Dec.   15,   1745:     "Or  if  Thou  wilt  not  help  me, 
don't  help  those  Hundvogte." 
i*  Modern  English,  p.  211. 


310  THE    AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

e.  g.,  bird  and  peach;  as  back  formations,  e.  g.,  beaut  and  fli 
as  composition-forms,  e.  g.,  whatdyecallem;  as  picturesque  com- 
pounds, e.  g.,  booze-foundry;  as  onomatopes,  e.  g.,  biff  and  zowie; 
or  in  any  other  of  the  shapes  that  new  terms  take.  If,  by  the 
chances  that  condition  language-making,  it  acquires  a  special 
and  limited  meaning,  not  served  by  any  existing  locution,  it 
enters  into  sound  idiom  and  is  presently  wholly  legitimatized; 
if,  on  the  contrary,  it  is  adopted  by  the  populace  as  a  counter- 
word  and  employed  with  such  banal  imitativeness  that  it  soon 
loses  any  definite  significance  whatever,  then  it  remains  slang 
and  is  avoided  by  the  finical.  An  example  of  the  former  process 
is  afforded  by  Tommy-rot.  It  first  appeared  as  English  school- 
boy slang,  but  its  obvious  utility  soon  brought  it  into  good  usage. 
In  one  of  Jerome  K.  Jerome 's  books,  ' '  Paul  Kelver, ' '  there  is  the 
following  dialogue: 

"The  wonderful  songs  that  nobody  ever  sings,  the  wonderful  pictures 
that  nobody  ever  paints,  and  all  the  rest  of  it.  It's  Tommy-rot!" 

"I  wish  you  wouldn't  use  slang." 

"Well,  you  knoF  what  I  mean.  What  is  the  proper  word?  Give  it 
to  me." 

"I  suppose  you  mean  cant.  No,  I  don't.  Cant  is  something  that 
you  don't  believe  in  yourself.  It's  Tommy-rot;  there  isn't  any  other 
word." 

Nor  was  there  any  other  word  for  hubbub  and  to  dwindle  in 
Shakespeare 's  time ;  he  adopted  and  dignified  them  because  they 
met  genuine  needs.  Nor  was  there  any  other  satisfactory  word 
for  graft  when  it  came  in,  nor  for  rowdy,  nor  for  boom,  nor  for 
joy-ride,  nor  for  omnibus-bill,  nor  for  slacker,  nor  for  trust- 
buster.  Such  words  often  retain  a  humorous  quality;  they  are 
used  satirically  and  hence  appear  but  seldom  in  wholly  serious 
discourse.  But  they  have  standing  in  the  language  neverthe- 
less, and  only  a  prig  would  hesitate  to  use  them  as  Saintsbury 
used  the  best  of  the  bunch  and  joke-smith. 

On  the  other  hand,  many  an  apt  and  ingenious  neologism,  by 
falling  too  quickly  into  the  gaping  maw  of  the  proletariat,  is 
spoiled  forthwith.  Once  it  becomes,  in  Oliver  Wendell  Holmes' 
phrase,  "a  cheap  generic  term,  a  substitute  for  differentiated 


MISCELLANEA  311 

specific  expressions,"  it  quickly  acquires  such  flatness  that  the 
fastidious  flee  it  as  a  plague.  One  recalls  many  capital  verb- 
phrases,  thus  ruined  by  unintelligent  appreciation,  e.  g.,  to  hand 
him  a  lemon,  to  freeze  on  to,  to  have  the  goods,  to  fall  for  it, 
and  to  get  by.  One  recalls,  too,  some  excellent  substantives, 
e.  g.,  dope  and  dub,  and  compounds,  e.  g.,  come-on  and  easy- 
mark,  and  verbs,  e.  g.,  to  vamp.  These  are  all  quite  as  sound  in 
structure  as  the  great  majority  of  our  most  familiar  words,  but 
their  adoption  by  the  ignorant  and  their  endless  use  and  misuse 
in  all  sorts  of  situations  have  left  them  tattered  and  obnoxious, 
and  they  will  probably  go  the  way,  as  Matthews  says,  of  all  the 
other  "temporary  phrases  which  spring  up,  one  scarcely  knows 
how,  and  flourish  unaccountably  for  a  few  months,  and  then 
disappear  forever,  leaving  no  sign."  Matthews  is  wrong  in 
two  particulars  here.  They  do  not  arise  by  any  mysterious 
parthenogenesis,  but  come  from  sources  which,  in  many  cases, 
may  be  determined.  And  they  last,  alas,  a  good  deal  more  than 
a  month.  Shoo-fly  afflicted  the  American  people  for  at  least  two 
years,  and  "I  don't  think"  and  aber  nit  quite  as  long.  Even 
"good-night"  lasted  a  whole  year. 

A  very  large  part  of  our  current  slang  is  propagated  by  the 
newspapers,  and  much  of  it  is  invented  by  newspaper  writers. 
One  needs  but  turn  to  the  slang  of  baseball  to  find  numerous 
examples.  Such  phrases  as  to  clout  the  sphere,  the  initial  sack, 
to  slam  the  pill  and  the  dexter  meadow  are  obviously  not  of 
bleachers  manufacture.  There  is  not  enough  imagination  in 
that  depressing  army  to  devise  such  things;  more  often  than 
not,  there  is  not  even  enough  intelligence  to  comprehend  them. 
The  true  place  of  their  origin  is  the  perch  of  the  newspaper 
reporters,  whose  competence  and  compensation  is  largely  esti- 
mated, at  least  on  papers  of  wide  circulation,  by  their  capacity 
for  inventing  novelties.  The  supply  is  so  large  that  connoisseur- 
ship  has  grown  up;  an  extra-fecund  slang-maker  on  the  press 
has  his  following.  During  the  summer  of  1913  the  Chicago 
Record-Herald,  somewhat  alarmed  by  the  extravagant  fancy  of 
its  baseball  reporters,  asked  its  readers  if  they  would  prefer  a 
return  to  plain  English.  Such  of  them  as  were  literate  enough 


312  THE   AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

to  send  in  their  votes  were  almost  unanimously  against  a  change. 
As  one  of  them  said,  "one  is  nearer  the  park  when  Schulte 
slams  the  pill  than  when  he  merely  hits  the  ball."  In  all  other 
fields  the  newspapers  originate  and  propagate  slang,  particu- 
larly in  politics.  Most  of  our  political  slang-terms  since  the 
Civil  War,  from  pork-barrel  to  steam-roller,  have  been  their  in- 
ventions. The  English  newspapers,  with  the  exception  of  a  few 
anomalies  such  as  the  Pink-Un,  lean  in  the  other  direction ;  their 
fault  is  not  slanginess,  but  an  otiose  ponderosity — in  Dean 
Alford's  words,  "the  insisting  on  calling  common  things  by 
uncommon  names;  changing  our  ordinary  short  Saxon  nouns 
and  verbs  for  long  words  derived  from  the  Latin. ' ' 15  The 
American  newspapers,  years  ago,  passed  through  such  a  stage 
of  bombast,  but  since  the  invention  of  yellow  journalism  by  the 
elder  James  Gordon  Bennett — that  is,  the  invention  of  journal- 
ism for  the  frankly  ignorant  and  vulgar — they  have  gone  to  the 
other  extreme.  Edmund  Clarence  Stedman  noted  the  change 
soon  after  the  Civil  War.  "The  whole  country,"  he  wrote  to 
Bayard  Taylor  in  1873,  "owing  to  the  contagion  of  our  news- 
paper 'exchange'  system,  is  flooded,  deluged,  swamped  beneath 
a  muddy  tide  of  slang. "  ia  A  thousand  alarmed  watchmen  have 
sought  to  stay  it  since,  but  in  vain.  The  great  majority  of  our 
newspapers,  including  all  those  of  large  circulation,  are  chiefly 
written,  as  one  observer  says,  "not  in  English,  but  in  a  strange 
jargon  of  words  that  would  have  made  Addison  or  Milton  shud- 
der in  despair. ' '  " 

§3 

The  Future  of  the  Language — The  great  Jakob  Grimm,  the 
founder  of  comparative  philology,  hazarded  the  guess  more  than 
three-quarters  of  a  century  ago  that  English  would  one  day  be- 

i5  A  Plea  for  the  Queen's  English,  p.  244. 

is  Life  and  Letters  of  E.  C.  Stedman,  ed.  by  Laura  Stedman  and  George 
M.  Gould;  New  York,  1910,  vol.  i,  p.  477. 

IT  Governor  M.  R.  Patterson,  of  Tennessee,  in  an  address  before  the  Na- 
tional Anti-Saloon  League  at  Washington,  Dec.  13,  1917. 


MISCELLANEA  313 

come  the  chief  language  of  the  world,  and  perhaps  crowd  out 
several  of  the  then  principal  idioms  altogether.  "In  wealth, 
wisdom  and  strict  economy,"  he  said,  "none  of  the  other  living 
languages  can  vie  with  it."  At  that  time  the  guess  was  bold, 
for  English  was  still  in  fifth  place,  with  not  only  French  and 
German  ahead  of  it,  but  also  Spanish  and  Russian.  In  1801, 
according  to  Michael  George  Mulhall,  the  relative  standing  of 
the  five,  in  the  number  of  persons  using  them,  was  as  follows : 

French  31,450,000 

Russian  30,770,000 

German  30,320,000 

Spanish  26,190,000 

English  20,520,000 

The  population  of  the  United  States  was  then  but  little  more 
than  5,000,000,  but  in  twenty  years  it  had  nearly  doubled,  and 
thereafter  it  increased  steadily  and  enormously,  and  by  1860 
it  was  greater  than  that  of  the  United  Kingdom.  Since  that 
time  the  majority  of  English-speaking  persons  in  the  world  have 
lived  on  this  side  of  the  water;  today  there  are  nearly  three 
times  as  many  as  in  the  United  Kingdom  and  nearly  twice  as 
many  as  in  the  whole  British  Empire.  This  great  increase  in 
the  American  population,  beginning  with  the  great  immigrations 
of  the  30  's  and  40  's,  quickly  lifted  English  to  fourth  place  among 
the  languages,  and  then  to  third,  to  second  and  to  first.  When 
it  took  the  lead  the  attention  of  philologists  was  actively  di- 
rected to  the  matter,  and  in  1868  one  of  them,  a  German  named 
Brackebusch,  first  seriously  raised  the  question  whether  Eng- 
lish was  destined  to  obliterate  certain  of  the  older  tongues.18 
Brackebusch  decided  against  on  various  philological  grounds, 

is  Long  before  this  the  general  question  of  the  relative  superiority  of 
various  languages  had  been  debated  in  Germany.  In  1796  the  Berlin  Acad- 
emy offered  a  prize  for  the  best  essay  on  The  Ideal  of  a  Perfect  Language. 
It  was  won  by  one  Jenisch  with  a  treatise  bearing  the  sonorous  title  of 
A  Philosophico-Critical  Comparison  and  Estimate  of  Fourteen  of  the  An- 
cient and  Modern  Languages  of  Europe,  viz.,  Greek,  Latin,  Italian,  Spanish, 
Portuguese,  French,  German,  Dutch,  English,  Danish,  Swedish,  Polish,  Rus- 
sian and  Lithuanian. 


314  THE   AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

none  of  them  sound.    His  own  figures,  as  the  following  table 
from  his  dissertation  shows,19  were  against  him: 

English  60,000,000 

German  52,000,000 

Russian  45,000,000 

French  45,000,000 

Spanish  40,000,000 

This  in  1868.  Before  another  generation  had  passed  the  lead 
of  English,  still  because  of  the  great  growth  of  the  United  States, 
was  yet  more  impressive,  as  the  following  figures  for  1890  show : 

English  111,100,000 

German  75,200,000 

Russian  75,000,000 

French  51,200,000 

Spanish  42,800,000 

Italian  33,400,000 

Portuguese  13,000,000 20 

Today  the  figures  exceed  even  these.  They  show  that  Eng- 
lish is  now  spoken  by  two  and  a  half  times  as  many  persons  as 
spoke  it  at  the  close  of  the  American  Civil  War  and  by  nearly 
eight  times  as  many  as  spoke  it  at  the  beginning  of  the  nine- 
teenth century.  No  other  language  has  spread  in  any  such  pro- 
portions. Even  German,  which  is  next  on  the  list,  shows  but  a 
four-fold  gain  since  1801,  or  just  half  that  of  English.  The 
number  of  persons  speaking  Russian,  despite  the  vast  extension 
of  the  Russian  empire  during  the  last  century  of  the  czars,  has 
little  more  than  tripled,  and  the  number  speaking  French  has 
less  than  doubled.  But  here  are  the  figures  for  1911: 

English  160,000,000 

German  130,000,000 

Russian  100,000,000 

French  70,000,000 

Spanish  50,000,000 

i»  Is  English  Destined  to  Become  the  Universal  Language  ?,  by  W. 
Brackebusch;  Gottingen,  1868. 

20  I  take  these  figures  from  A  Modern  English  Grammar,  by  H.  G.  Bueh- 
ler;  New  York,  1900,  p.  3. 


MISCELLANEA  815 

Italian  50,000,000 

Portuguese  25,000,000 21 

Japanese,  perhaps,  should  follow  French:  it  is  spoken  by 
60,000,000  persons.  But  Chinese  may  be  disregarded,  for  it 
is  split  into  half  a  dozen  mutually  unintelligible  dialects,  and 
shows  no  sign  of  spreading  beyond  the  limits  of  China.  The 
same  may  be  said  of  Hindustani,  which  is  the  language  of  100,- 
000,000  inhabitants  of  British  India;  it  shows  wide  dialectical 
variations  and  the  people  who  speak  it  are  not  likely  to  spread. 
But  English  is  the  possession  of  a  race  that  is  still  pushing  in 
all  directions,  and  wherever  that  race  settles  the  existing  lan- 
guages tend  to  succumb.  Thus  French,  despite  the  passionate 
resistance  of  the  French- Canadians,  is  gradually  decaying  in 
Canada;  in  all  the  newly-settled  regions  English  is  universal. 
And  thus  Spanish  is  dying  out  in  our  own  Southwest,  and 
promises  to  meet  with  severe  competition  in  some  of  the  nearer 
parts  of  Latin- America.  The  English  control  of  the  sea  has 
likewise  carried  the  language  into  far  places.  There  is  scarcely 
a  merchant  ship-captain  on  deep  water,  of  whatever  nationality, 
who  does  not  find  some  acquaintance  with  it  necessary,  and  it 
has  become,  in  debased  forms,  the  lingua  franca  of  Oceanica  and 
the  Far  East  generally.  "Three-fourths  of  the  world's  mail 
matter,"  says  E.  H.  Babbitt,  "is  now  addressed  in  English," 
and  "more  than  half  of  the  world's  newspapers  are  printed  in 
English."22 

Brackebusch,  in  the  speculative  paper  just  mentioned,  came 
to  the  conclusion  that  the  future  domination  of  English  would 
be  prevented  by  its  unphonetic  spelling,  its  grammatical  decay 
and  the  general  difficulties  that  a  foreigner  encounters  in  seek- 
ing to  master  it.  "The  simplification  of  its  grammar,"  he  said, 
"is  the  commencement  of  dissolution,  the  beginning  of  the  end, 
and  its  extraordinary  tendency  to  degenerate  into  slang  of 

21  World  Almanac,  1914,  p.  63. 

-  22  The  Geography  of  Great  Languages,  World's  Work,  Feb.,  1908,  p.  9907. 
Babbitt  predicts  that  by  the  year  2000  English  will  be  spokne  by  1,100,- 
000.000  persons,  as  against  500,000,000  speakers  of  Russian,  300,000,000 
of  Spanish,  160,000,000  of  German  and  60,000,000  of  French. 


316  THE   AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

every  kind  is  the  foreshadowing  of  its  approaching  dismember- 
ment."  But  in  the  same  breath  he  was  forced  to  admit  that 
"the  greater  development  it  has  obtained"  was  the  result  of 
this  very  simplification  of  grammar,  and  an  inspection  of  the 
rest  of  his  reasoning  quickly  shows  its  unsoundness,  even  with- 
out an  appeal  to  the  plain  facts.  The  spelling  of  a  language, 
whether  it  be  phonetic  or  not,  has  little  to  do  with  its  spread. 
Very  few  men  learn  it  by  studying  books ;  they  learn  it  by  hear- 
ing it  spoken.. .  As  for  grammatical  decay,  it  is  not  a  sign  of 
dissolution,  but  a  sign  of  active  life  and  constantly  renewed 
strength.  To  the  professional  philologist,  perhaps,  it  may  some- 
times appear  otherwise.  He  is  apt  to  estimate  languages  by 
looking  at  their  complexity;  the  Greek  aorist  elicits  his  admi- 
ration because  it  presents  enormous  difficulties  and  is  inordi- 
nately subtle.  But  the  object  of  language  is  not  to  bemuse  gram- 
marians, but  to  convey  ideas,  and  the  more  simply  it  accom- 
plishes that  object  the  more  effectively  it  meets  the  needs  of 
an  energetic  and  practical  people  and  the  larger  its  inherent 
vitality.  The  history  of  every  language  of  Europe,  since  the 
earliest  days  of  which  we  have  record,  is  a  history  of  simplifica- 
tions. Even  such  languages  as  German,  which  still  cling  to  a 
great  many  exasperating  inflections,  including  the  absurd  in- 
flection of  the  article  for  gender,  are  less  highly  inflected  than 
they  used  to  be,  and  are  proceeding  slowly  but  surely  toward 
analysis.  The  fact  that  English  has  gone  further  along  that 
road  than  any  other  civilized  tongue  is  not  a  proof  of  its  de- 
crepitude, but  a  proof  of  its  continued  strength.  Brought  into 
free  competition  with  another  language,  say  German  or  French 
or  Spanish,  it  is  almost  certain  to  prevail,  if  only  because  it  is 
vastly  easier — that  is,  as  a  spoken  language — to  learn.  The  for- 
eigner essaying  it,  indeed,  finds  his  chief  difficulty,  not  in  mas- 
tering its  forms,  but  in  grasping  its  lack  of  forms.  He  doesn't 
have  to  learn  a  new  and  complex  grammar;  what  he  has  to 
do  is  to  forget  grammar. 

Once  he  has  done  so,  the  rest  is  a  mere  matter  of  acquiring 
a  vocabulary.  He  can  make  himself  understood,  given  a  few 
nouns,  pronouns,  verbs  and  numerals,  without  troubling  him- 


MISCELLANEA  317 

self  in  the  slightest  about  accidence.  "Me  see  she"  is  bad 
English,  perhaps,  but  it  would  be  absurd  to  say  that  it  is  ob- 
scure— and  on  some  not  too  distant  tomorrow  it  may  be  very 
fair  American.  Essaying  an  inflected  language,  the  beginner 
must  go  into  the  matter  far  more  deeply  before  he  may  hope  to 
be  understood.  Bradley,  in  ' '  The  Making  of  English, ' ' 23  shows 
clearly  how  German  and  English  differ  in  this  respect,  and  how 
great  is  the  advantage  of  English.  In  the  latter  the  verb  sing 
has  but  eight  forms,  and  of  these  three  are  entirely  obsolete, 
one  is  obsolescent,  and  two  more  may  be  dropped  out  without 
damage  to  comprehension.  In  German  the  corresponding  verb, 
singen,  has  no  less  than  sixteen  forms.  How  far  English  has 
proceeded  toward  the  complete  obliteration  of  inflections  is  shown 
by  such  barbarous  forms  of  it  as  Pigeon  English  and  Beach-la- 
Mar,  in  which  the  final  step  is  taken  without  appreciable  loss 
of  clarity.  The  Pigeon  English  verb  is  identical  in  all  tenses. 
Go  stands  for  both  went  and  gone;  makee  is  both  make  and  made. 
In  the  same  way  there  is  no  declension  of  the  pronoun  for  case. 
My  is  thus  /,  me,  mine  and  our  own  my.  "No  belong  my"  is 
"it  is  not  mine" — a  crude  construction,  of  course,  but  still 
clearly  intelligible.  Chinamen  learn  Pigeon  English  in  a  few 
months,  and  savages  in  the  South  Seas  master  Beach-la-Mar 
almost  as  quickly.  And  a  white  man,  once  he  has  accustomed 
himself  to  either,  finds  it  strangely  fluent  and  expressive.  He 
cannot  argue  politics  in  it,  nor  dispute  upon  transubstantiation, 
but  for  all  the  business  of  every  day  it  is  perfectly  satisfactory. 

As  we  have  seen  in  Chapters  V  and  VI,  the  American  dialect 
of  English  has  gone  further  along  the  road  thus  opened  ahead 
than  the  mother  dialect,  and  is  moving  faster.  For  this  reason, 
and  because  of  the  fact  that  it  is  already  spoken  by  a  far  larger 
and  more  rapidly  multiplying  body  of  people  than  the  latter,  it 
seems  to  me  very  likely  that  it  will  determine  the  final  form  of 
the  language.  For  the  old  control  of  English  over  American  to 
be  reasserted  is  now  quite  unthinkable;  if  the  two  dialects  are 
not  to  drift  apart  entirely  English  must  follow  in  American's 
tracks.  This  yielding  seems  to  have  begun ;  the  exchanges  from 

23  p.  5  et  seq. 


318  THE   AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

American  into  English  grow  steadily  larger  and  more  important 
than  the  exchanges  from  English  into  American.  John  Richard 
Green,  the  historian,  discerning  the  inevitable  half  a  century  ago, 
expressed  the  opinion,  amazing  and  unpalatable  then,  that  the 
Americans  were  already  "the  main  branch  of  the  English  peo- 
ple." It  is  not  yet  wholly  true;  a  cultural  timorousness  yet 
shows  itself;  there  is  still  a  class  which  looks  to  England  as  the 
Romans  long  looked  to  Greece.  But  it  is  not  the  class  that  is 
shaping  the  national  language,  and  it  is  not  the  class  that  is 
carrying  it  beyond  the  national  borders.  The  Americanisms 
that  flood  the  English  of  Canada  are  not  borrowed  from  the  dia- 
lects of  New  England  Loyalists  and  fashionable  New  Yorkers, 
but  from  the  common  speech  that  has  its  sources  in  the  native 
and  immigrant  proletariat  and  that  displays  its  gaudiest  freight- 
age in  the  newspapers. 

The  impact  of  this  flood  is  naturally  most  apparent  in  Can- 
ada, whose  geographical  proximity  and  common  interests  com- 
pletely obliterate  the  effects  of  English  political  and  social 
dominance.  By  an  Order  in  Council,  passed  in  1890,  the  use 
of  the  redundant  u  in  such  words  as  honor  and  labor  is  official 
in  Canada,  but  practically  all  the  Canadian  newspapers  omit 
it.  In  the  same  way  the  American  flat  a  has  swept  whole  sec- 
tions of  the  country,  and  American  slang  is  everywhere  used,  and 
the  American  common  speech  prevails  almost  universally  in  the 
newer  provinces.  More  remarkable  is  the  influence  that  Amer- 
ican has  exerted  upon  the  speech  of  Australia  and  upon  the  crude 
dialects  of  Oceanica  and  the  Far  East.  One  finds  such  obvious 
Americanisms  as  tomahawk,  boss,  bush,  canoe,  go  finish  (==  to 
die)  and  pickaninny  in  Beach-la-Mar  24  and  more  of  them  in 
Pigeon  English.  And  one  observes  a  very  large  number  of 
American  words  and  phrases  in  the  slang  of  Australia.  The 
Australian  common  speech,  in  pronunciation  and  intonation, 
resembles  Cockney  English,  and  a  great  many  Cockneyisms  are 
in  it,  but  despite  the  small  number  of  Americans  in  the  Anti- 

24  Cf.  Beach-la-Mar,  by  William  Churchill,  former  United  States  consul- 
general  in  Samoa  and  Tonga.  The  pamphlet  is  published  by  the  Carnegie 
Institution  of  Washington. 


MISCELLANEA  319 

podes  it  has  adopted,  of  late,  so  many  Americanisms  that  a  Cock- 
ney visitor  must  often  find  it  difficult.    Among  them  are  the' 
verb  and  verb-phrases,  to  beef,  to  biff,  to  bluff,  to  bo*s,  to  break  / 
away,  to  chase  one's  self,  to  chew  the  rag,  to  chip  in,  to  fade  i 
away,  to  get  it  in  the  neck,  to  back  and  fill,  to  plug  along,  to  get 
sore,  to  turn  down  and  to  get  wise;  the  substantives,  dope,  boss, 
fake,  creek,  knockout-drops  and  push  (in  the  sense  of  crowd)  -,J 
the  adjectives,  hitched  (in  the  sense  of  married)  and  tough  (as 
before  luck),  and  the  adverbial  phrases,  for  keeps  and  going 
strong.25    Here,  in  direct  competition  with  English  locutions, 
and  with  all  the  advantages  on  the  side  of  the  latter,  American 
is  making  steady  progress. 

"This  American  language,"  says  a  recent  observer,  "seems 
to  be  much  more  of  a  pusher  than  the  English.  For  instance, 
after  eight  years'  occupancy  of  the  Philippines  it  was  spoken 
by  800,000,  or  10  per  cent,  of  the  natives,  while  after  an  occu- 
pancy of  150  of  India  by  the  British,  3,000,000,  or  one  per  cent, 
of  the  natives  speak  English. " 28  I  do  vouch  for  the  figures. 
They  may  be  inaccurate,  in  detail,  but  they  at  least  state  what 
seems  to  be  a  fact.  Behind  that  fact  are  phenomena  which  cer- 
tainly deserve  careful  study,  and,  above  all,  study  divested  of 
unintelligent  prejudice.  The  attempt  to  make  American  uni- 
form with  English  has  failed  ingloriously ;  the  neglect  of  its  in- 
vestigation is  an  evidence  of  snobbishness  that  is  a  folly  of  the 
same  sort.  It  is  useless  to  dismiss  the  growing  peculiarities  of 
the  American  vocabulary  and  of  grammar  and  syntax  in  the 
common  speech  as  vulgarisms  beneath  serious  notice.  Such  vul- 
garisms have  a  way  of  intrenching  themselves,  and  gathering 
dignity  as  they  grow  familiar.  "There  are  but  few  forms  in  \\ 
use,"  says  Lounsbury,  "which,  judged  by  a  standard  previ-  \\ 
ously  existing,  would  not  be  regarded  as  gross  barbarisms. ' ' 2T 
Each  language,  in  such  matters,  is  a  law  unto  itself,  and  each 
vigorous  dialect,  particularly  if  it  be-spoken  by  millions,  is  a 

25  A  glossary  of  latter-day  Australian  slang  is  in  Doreen  and  the  Senti- 
mental Bloke,  by  C.  J.  Dennis;  New  York,  1916. 

26  The  American  Language,  by  J.  F.  Healy;  Pittsburgh,  1910,  p.  6. 

27  History  of  the  English  Language,  p.  476. 


320  THE   AMERICAN   LANGUAGE 

law  no  less.  "It  would  be  as  wrong,"  says  Sayce,  "to  use  thou 
for  the  nominative  thee  in  the  Somersetshire  dialect  as  it  is  to 
say  thee  art  instead  of  you  are  in  the  Queen's  English."  All 
the  American  dialect  needs,  in  the  long  run,  to  make  even  peda- 
gogues acutely  aware  of  it,  is  a  poet  of  genius  to  venture  into 
it,  as  Chaucer  ventured  into  the  despised  English  of  his  day, 
and  Dante  into  the  Tuscan  dialect,  and  Luther,  in  his  trans- 
lation of  the  Bible,  into  peasant  German.  Walt  Whitman  made 
a  half  attempt  and  then  drew  back ;  Lowell,  perhaps,  also  heard 
the  call,  but  too  soon.  The  Irish  dialect  of  English,  vastly  less 
important  than  the  American,  has  already  had  its  interpreters — 
Douglas  Hyde,  John  Milington  Synge  and  Augusta  Gregory — 
and  with  what  extraordinary  results  we  all  know.  Here  we 
have  writing  that  is  still  indubitably  English,  but  English  rid 
of  its  artificial  restraints  and  broken  to  the  less  self-conscious 
grammar  and  syntax  of  a  simple  and  untutored  folk.  Synge,  in 
his  preface  to  "The  Playboy  of  the  Western  World,"28  tells 
us  how  he  got  his  gypsy  phrases  "through  a  chink  in  the  floor 
of  the  old  Wicklow  house  where  I  was  staying,  that  let  me  hear 
what  was  being  said  by  the  servant  girls  in  the  kitchen. ' '  There 
is  no  doubt,  he  goes  on,  that  "in  the  happy  ages  of  literature 
striking  and  beautiful  phrases  were  as  ready  to  the  story-teller's 
or  the  playwright's  hand  as  the  rich  cloaks  and  dresses  of  his 
time.  It  is  probable  that  when  the  Elizabethan  dramatist  took 
his  ink-horn  and  sat  down  to  his  work  he  used  many  phrases 
that  he  had  just  heard,  as  he  sat  at  dinner,  from  his  mother  or 
his  children." 

The  result,  in  the  case  of  the  neo-Celts,  is  a  dialect  that  stands 
incomparably  above  the  tight  English  of  the  grammarians — a 
dialect  so  naif,  so  pliant,  so  expressive,  and,  adeptly  managed, 
so  beautiful  that  even  purists  have  begun  to  succumb  to  it,  and 
it  promises  to  leave  lasting  marks  upon  English  style.  The 
American  dialect  has  not  yet  come  to  that  stage.  In  so  far  as  it 
is  apprehended  at  all  it  is  only  in  the  sense  that  Irish-English 
was  apprehended  a  generation  ago — that  is,  as  something  un- 

28  Dublin,  1907.  See  also  ch.  ii  of  Ireland's  Literary  Renaissance,  by 
Ernest  A.  Boyd;  New  York,  1916. 


MISCELLANEA 


321 


couth  and  comic.  But  that  is  the  way  that  new  dialects  always 
come  in — through  a  drum-fire  of  cackles.  Given  the  poet,  there 
may  suddenly  come  a  day  when  our  their ns  and  would' a  hads 
will  take  on  the  barbaric  stateliness  of  the  peasant  locutions  of 
old  Maurya  in  "Eiders  to  the  Sea."  They  seem  grotesque  and 
absurd  today  because  the  folks  who  use  them  seem  grotesque  and 
absurd.  But  that  is  a  too  facile  logic  and  under  it  is  a  false 
assumption.  In  all  human  beings,  if  only  understanding  be 
brought  to  the  business,  dignity  will  be  found,  and  that  dignity 
cannot  fail  to  reveal  itself,  soon  or  late,  in  the  words  and 
phrases  with  which  they  make  known  their  high  hopes  and  as- 
pirations and  cry  out  against  the  intolerable  ineaninglessness  of 
life. 


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List  of  Words  and  Phrases 


The  parts  of  speech  are  indicated  only  when  it  is  desirable  for  clearness. 
lowing  abbreviations  are  used: 


The  fol 


a.         adjective 

n.         noun 

ntf.     suffix 

adv.     adverb 

pref.   prefix 

v.         verb 

art.      article 

pro.     pronoun 

vp.      verb-phrase. 

a,  art.,  62,  154,  267;  particle, 

afoot,   97. 

amachoor,    238. 

207;   pref.,  92. 

afterwards,    147,    148. 

amass,  95. 

&-sound,     11,     68-60,      94-5, 

against,   91. 

ambish,  160. 

102,    173-4,    176. 

agenda,    100. 

ambition,  n.,  160;  v.,  49. 

Aarons,   280 

agent,    121. 

Americanism,   38. 

aber  nicht,   152. 

ag'in,    91. 

Americanize,   77. 

aber  nit,   152,   308,   311. 

aggravate,   77. 

Ames,  275. 

abgefaked,    v.,    156. 

a-going,    92. 

amigo,  158. 

aboard,  92. 

Ahrens,    280. 

am  not,  210. 

abolitionist,    83. 

ai-gound,  95,  96. 

an,  art.,  62,   95,  267. 

above,  262. 

ain't,   145,   146,   204,   210. 

anaemia,   242,   245,   257,   ', 

Abraham,   280n. 

air-line,   82,    105. 

a-fi-aice,   92. 

absquatulate,  v.,  82. 

airplane,    263. 

Ananias   club,    306. 

abuv,    262. 

aisle-manager,    124. 

anatomy,    95. 

accept,  77n. 

aker,   250,  252,  254. 

Anderson,  272. 

acceptum,   77n. 

alabastine,    165. 

andiron,    56. 

accommodation-train,    82. 

alarm,  264. 

and   no  mistake,   92. 

accouchement,     127. 

alarmist,    33. 

Andr6,  275. 

achtel,  113. 

alarum,    264. 

Andrews,   275. 

acre,  250,   252,  254. 

Albert,    275. 

a-near,    92. 

acute,  160. 

Albrecht,    275. 

anemia,  242,  262. 

acy,  suf.,  77. 

Albright,  275. 

aneurism,   242. 

ad,  142,  160. 

alderman,    47. 

aneurysm,    242. 

Adamic,   73. 

alfalfa,  109. 

angry,  79,  99. 

ad-card,    160. 

allay-foozee,   90. 

Anheuser,    153,    276. 

addition,  50. 

Allegany,  296. 

anilin,    262. 

addressograph,  165. 

Alleghany,    296. 

Anne   Arundel,    297. 

ad-man,    160. 

Allegheny,  296. 

annex,  242,  258n. 

admitted  to  the  bar,  vp.  108. 

allez-fusil,   90. 

annexe,     n.,    242,    245      I 

adobe,  87. 

all-fired,    129. 

258n,  260. 

ad-rate,    160. 

allot  upon,  31. 

A  No.   1,   161. 

advertisement,   160,  169,  176. 

allow,    33. 

antagonize,    49,    136. 

advertize,    262. 

all  right,    157. 

ante,  n.,  87;   v.,  202. 

advocate,    v.,    27,   48,   49,    51. 

allright,    263n. 

anteriour,   248n. 

ad-writer,    160. 

allrightnick,   156. 

ante  up,  v.,  87,  111. 

adze,   56. 

ally,  n.,  170. 

anti,  87. 

aeon,    243. 

almoner,  112. 

anti-fogmatic,   IR. 

aero,  a.,  160. 

alright,  27,   263. 

antmire,   126. 

aeroplane,  a.,  160. 

also,   34. 

anxious-bench,   83,  84. 

aeroplane,   n.,  263. 

altho,    262,   263. 

anxious-seat,   84 

aeroplane,    n.,    263n. 

aluminium,    264. 

any,   237. 

aesthetics,    257. 

aluminum,   264. 

anyways,   147,   229. 

aetiology,    257. 

always,  229. 

apartment,  110. 

affiliate,  77. 

am,   193,  209. 

apern,  239. 

840 

260. 


257. 


LIST    OF   WORDS   AND   PHRASES 


341 


apossoun,    40. 

appendices,  265. 

apple,   173. 

apple-jack,   85. 

apple-pie,   18. 

appreciate,    49. 

approbate,    56. 

arbor,   242. 

Arbor   day,    114. 

arboreal,   247. 

arbour,    242. 

ardor,  253. 

are,    209. 

a'ready,   238. 

Arens,    280. 

aren't,    146,    210. 

are  you  there?    103. 

a-riding,   92. 

Arkansas,    298. 

Armistead,    274. 

armor,   242. 

armory,    247. 

armour,  242. 

Armstadt,   274. 

arriv'd,    201n. 

arse,    129. 

ary,   suf.,   170. 

as,   223. 

ash-can,  97,   102. 

ash-man,   102. 

ask,  59,  94,  238. 

askutasquash,    41,    160. 

asphalt,  242,  252,  257. 

asphalte,   242,   245,   256,   257, 

260. 

ass,   129. 

assistant-master,  104. 
assistant-mistress,     104. 
Assistant    Secretary    of    the 

Interior,   122. 
associational,    30. 
assurance,    109. 
ast,   238. 
a  tall,  234. 
at,    95,    146. 
ataxia,    242,    246. 
ataxy,   242. 

ate,  v.,  194,  205;   suf.,  77. 
attack,  193. 
attackted,   193,  201. 
au-*ownd,   276. 
aunt,  58,  59,  94,  173. 
auto,  n.,  110,   160;  v.,  110. 
autocar,    165. 
automobile,   160. 
autsch,  89. 
autumn,  10,   14. 
avenue,  299. 

-aound,  95,   175,  276. 
awful,   306. 
awfully,    306. 
aw  re-vore,  241. 


awry-eyed,   85. 
ax,    242,    252,    256,    257. 
axe,   242,   245,   256,   257,   260, 
261. 

baby,    155. 

baby-carriage,   97,   139. 
baccalaureate,   124. 
bach,  suf.,  275. 
back   and  fill,   vp.,   78,   319. 
back  and  forth,  31. 
back-country,   46. 
backfisch,  308n. 
back-garden,  139. 
back-log,    46. 
back-number,    81. 
back  pedal,  vp.,  142. 
back-settlements,     46. 
back-settler,   46. 
back-talk,    10,    81. 
back-taxes,    81. 
backward  and  forward,   81. 
back  water,   vp.,  78. 
backwoods,  a.,  48;  n.,  46,  48. 
backwoodsman,    40,    46,     48, 

134. 

back-yard,   97,  110,  139. 
bad,  adv.,  146,  227. 
bad  boy,   157. 
baddest,    230. 
baggage,    31,    97. 
baggage-car,    97. 
baggage-check,   82. 
baggage-master,    82. 
baggage-room,  82. 
baggage-smasher,  82. 
bagman,    98. 
Bailey,   274. 
bailiff,  107n,  254. 
Baker,   277. 
Bakerloo,   112. 
balance,  50. 
Bald,  288. 
balk,   242. 
ballast,    97. 

balled-up,  a.,   142,   164. 
ballot,  n.,  107. 
ballot-box   stuffer,    107. 
ball  up,  vp.,  142n,  164. 
ballyhoo,    92. 
ballyhoo-man,  93. 
balm,  59. 
Baltimore,   297. 
ban,  59. 
banditti,   265. 
bandore,   44. 
bandurria,   44. 
band-wagon,  14. 
bang-up,   a.,  164. 
bania,  44. 
banjo,  44. 
bank,  n.,  107. 


bank-account,    107. 
bank-bill,   31. 
bankers,   107. 
bank-holiday,    99,    114. 
banking-account,   107. 
bank-note,   31. 
bankrup,  238. 
banner-state,   83,   84. 
bar,  58. 

barbecue,   40,   43. 
barber-shop,    124. 
bafber's-shop,    124. 
bargain,  n.,  155;  v.,  137. 
baritone,  242,  246. 
bark,   n.,  242,   246,   247,   257, 

258,  263. 
bark  up  the  wrong  tree,  vp. 

33,   79. 

barmaid,    105. 
barman,   105. 
barn,  52. 
barque,    242,    258. 
barrel,    163. 
barrel-house,    85. 
barrens,  46,  294. 
barrister,  108. 
bartender,   14,  85,  105. 
barytone,  242. 
basket,   59,  155. 
basswood,   45. 
bat,  n.,  85. 
bath,  59,  97. 
bath-tub,    97. 
batl,   262. 

Baton  Rouge,  291. 
batteau,    43,   47,    86,   111. 
batting-average,    111. 
battle,  262. 
bauer,  89. 
Bauer,  275. 
baugh,  suf.,  275. 
baulk,   239,   242,   245. 
Baumann,  275. 
Bayle,    274. 
bayou,   30,  86. 
Bay  State,  33. 
bay-window,  56, 
be,    193,   209. 
bean,  193n. 
beat,  v.,  164,   193. 
beaten,  193. 
beat  it,  vp.,  164. 
Beauchamp,   283. 
Beaufort,   291. 
beau   pre\    41. 
beaut,   160,  310. 
beautifuller,   230. 
beautifullest,  230. 
beauty,   160. 
beaver,   288,   294. 
Beaver  Moon,  4wn. 
became,    193. 


342 


LIST    OF   WORDS   AND   PHRASES 


Becker,  271,  277. 

become,    193. 

bed-bug,  125n. 

bedibbert,  a.,   151n. 

bedroom,  155. 

beef,  n.,  56;  v.,  319. 

beefsteak,   88n. 

bee-line,   47. 

been,   175,   176,   238. 

beet,  97,  104,   109. 

beet-root,   97,   104,   109. 

began,  193. 

begin,    193. 

begob,  91. 

begorry,  91. 

begun,  193. 

behavior,  242. 

behoove,   242,   261. 

behove,   242,  260. 

beinkel,    156. 

belgiumize,   164. 

Belgravia,  139. 

belittle,  33,  49,  135. 

Bellair,   292. 

beller,   239. 

Bellevue,  292. 

bell-hop,  81. 

Belmont,   277. 

beloved,  201. 

Belvedere,  292. 

ben,  193,  209. 

bend,  v.,  193. 

benefice,   112. 

bent,  v.,  193,  201. 

Berg,  276. 

Berger,   276. 

Bermingham,   286n. 

beside,  147. 

besides,   147. 

best  of  the  bunch,   308,   310. 

bet,   v.,  193. 

betrayed,  127. 

better,    230. 

betterment,   31,    81. 

better'n,   231. 

bet  your  life,  vp.,  92. 

bevo,   165. 

bevo-officer,    166n. 

bhoy,    92. 

bid,  n.,  97. 

biff,  v.,  310,  319. 

big-bug,   81. 

big-chief,    86. 

big-stick,  306. 

bile,   34,   91,  236. 

bill,   106. 

bill-board,  27,  97. 

billion,  80. 

bilt,   251. 

bin,  v.,  193,   209. 

bind,    193. 

bindery,   48. 


biograph,  v.,  142. 

biplan,  263n. 

bird,  310. 

Birdsong,    277. 

birthday,    155. 

biscuit,   53,    98. 

bishop,   85. 

bit,   v.,   193,   207,   208. 

bitch,  125,  126. 

bite,   v.,   193,   207,   208. 

bitten,   193,    207,    208. 

Bittinger,   276. 

Black,  274,  277. 

black-country,    109. 

black-hand,   151. 

black-stripe,   85. 

blast,  59. 

bleachers,    105,    111,    162. 

bled,   194. 

bleed,   194. 

bleeding,    130. 

blew,   194,  204. 

blighter,   129. 

blind-baggage,   83n. 

blind-pig,  85. 

blind- tiger,   33. 

blizzard,    80,    109. 

Bloch,   274. 

block,   109,   110,   306. 

Block,  224. 

block-head,    309. 

Block  island,  290. 

blofista,    135n. 

blooded,  50. 

blood-poison,  127. 

bloody,  130. 

Bloom,    275. 

bloomer,   80. 

Bloomingdale,   280. 

blouse,    100,    103. 

blow,    v.,    49,    194,    204. 

blowed,   194,  204. 

blow-out,   81. 

Blucher,    97. 

blue,   174. 

blue-blazer,  85. 

blue-grass,    45,    109. 

bluff,    n.,    46;    v.,    135,    157, 

202,  319. 
bluffer,   156,   157. 
blufferke',    157. 
Blum,    275,   276. 
Blumenthal,   280. 
blutwurst,   88. 
bo,    161. 
board,   v.,  102. 
boarder,   97,   102,  124. 
board-school,    100,    104. 
board-walk,  97. 
bobby,   105. 
Bob   Ruly,    291. 
boche,  278. 


bock-beer,  88. 

bog,  46,  109. 

bogie,    83,    101. 

bogus,   43,  51. 

bohick,  279. 

Bohumil,    277. 

bohunk,   279. 

boil,  v.,  91,  91n. 

Boileau,   276. 

boiled-shirt,    81. 

bolt,  v.,  84. 

bolter,   83,  84. 

bonanza,    87. 

Bonaparte,    273. 

Bonansa  umbrellus,  53. 

Bon   Coeur,    274. 

bond,   97,   106n. 

bone-head,    129,   162,  309. 

Bon  Pas,  274. 

boob,   14,   129,   133,  160. 

booby,   160. 

boodle,  n.,  132 ;  v.,  84. 

boodler,  84,  156. 

book,  v.,  106. 

bookbinder's-shop,    48. 

Booker,  277. 

booking-office,   83,   101,  106. 

bookseller's-shop,   31. 

book-store,   31. 

boom,    n.,    156,    310;    v.,    24, 

77. 

boomer,   77 
boom-town,   77. 
boost,    n.,    14,    132;    v.,    77, 

133. 
boot,    19n,    52,    53,    97,    100, 

105,    137. 
boot-form,    100. 
boot-lace,    100. 
boot-maker,   52,    100. 
boot-shop,  52,  137. 
booze-foundry,    310. 
booze-hister,   236. 
Bordox,  241. 
boro,  suf.,  296. 
borough,   ««/.,   296. 
bosom,  126. 
boss,  n.,  14,  30,  43,  107,  133. 

319;   v.,  77,  319. 
boss-rule,  83. 
bother,    155. 
bottom-dollar,    81. 
bottom-land,   31. 
borroms,   46. 
bought,    194,   205. 
boughten,    v.,   191,    194,    201, 

205. 

boulevard,  153,  240,  299. 
bouncer,  77,  85,  107. 
bound,    193. 
bound'ry,   238. 
Bourbon,   300. 


LIST    OF   WORDS   AND   PHRASES 


343 


bourgeois,   114. 

bower,   89. 

Bowers,    275. 

bowler,  98,  103,  139. 

Bowman,  276. 

bowsprit,  41. 

box,    101,   106. 

box-car,   82. 

box-office,   106. 

boy,   155,   156,    157. 

boychick,    156. 

Boys  Boo-long,  240. 

Bozart,   265n. 

braces,  19n,  101,  104,  259. 

bracken,   46. 

Braham,   280n. 

brain-storm,   142. 

brainy,  79. 

brakeman,   97. 

brakesman,   97. 

branch,    46,    59. 

brand-new,   172. 

brandy-champarelle,   85. 

brandy-crusta,  85. 

brang,  v.,  194. 

bran-new,  172,  238. 

brash,  79. 

brave,  n.,  86. 

Braun,  272. 

breadstuffs,  40,  50. 

break,    194. 

break  away,   vp.,   319. 

break-bone,    309. 

breakdown,  44. 

brethern,   239. 

breve,   113. 

brevier,   114. 

brevis,   113. 

briar,   260. 

bricke,   156. 

Bridgewater,    273. 

brief,    v.,   108. 

brier,  261. 

Brill,  276. 

brilliant,  n.,  114. 

bring,   194. 

broad-gauge  man,,  83n. 

Broadway,   300. 

broke,  194. 

broken,   194. 

broker,  106-7. 

broncho,  86. 

broncho-buster,   87. 

Brooklyn,   290. 

broom,  155. 

brothel,  127. 

brought,   194. 

Brown,  271. 

brown-boots,   110. 

Brown-shoes,  110. 

Briihl,    276. 

brung,   194,   199. 


brusque,    174. 

bryanize,    163. 

bub,    56. 

Buchanan,    282. 

Bucher,  277. 

buck,  n.,  126;   v.,  239. 

bucket,   97,  105. 

bucket-shop,   135. 

Buckeye,  33. 

Buck  Moon,  42n. 

buck-private,  142. 

buckra,  30. 

buck  the  tiger,  vp.,  79. 

buckwheat,  18. 

Buffalo,  294. 

buffer,   97. 

buffet,  124. 

bug,   125. 

bugaboo,  80. 

build,   194. 

built,  194,  201,  251. 

bull,  126. 

bulldoze,   78,   83. 

bull-frog,  45. 

bully,   a.,  231. 

bum,    a.,    24,    88;    adv.,    24, 

88;  n.,  24,  88,  89,  125.  156, 

161;  v.,  24. 
bummel-zug,   88n. 
bummer,    24,    88,    88n,    161. 
bummerke",  156. 
bummery,    88. 
bummler,  24,  88,  88n. 
bump,    307. 
bumper,   82,  97. 
Bumpus,  274. 
bunch,  156,  308. 
bunco,   14n,   23. 
buncombe,    23,    80,    83,    135, 

242. 

bunco-steerer,   14. 
bund,  suf.,  151,  152. 
bung-starter,   86. 
bunk,   23. 
Bunker,  274. 
bunkum,  135,  242. 
bunned,   85. 
bunt,  v.,  202. 
burden,   242,    257. 
bureau,   33,   43,  97. 
burg,   suf.,  296. 
burgh,   suf.,  296. 
Burgh  de  Walter,   273. 
burglarize,   24. 
burgle,    77,   77n. 
burgoo-picnic,    109. 
burlesk,  264. 
burly,  67. 
burn,  158,  194. 
burned,  194n. 
burnt,   194,    294. 
burro,   87. 


burst,  24,   143,  194,  202. 

burthen,  242,  257. 

bursh,   a.,  142;   n.,  43,  318, 

busher,  111. 

bush-league,   43. 

bushwhacker,    43. 

business,  41. 

bust,    n.,    24,    85;    v.,   24,    34. 

143,    194,    202,   238. 
busted,  143n,  194,  202. 
buster,    143n. 
bustle,  v.,  307. 
butcher,   155. 
butcher-store,  157. 
butt,  v.,  164. 
butte,  86,  294. 
butter-nut,   45. 
but  that,  146,  233. 
butt  in,  vp.,  142,  164. 
buttinski,  34,   162. 
button,  155. 
but  what,  218. 
buy,   194. 
buzz-saw,  80. 
buzz-wagon,   163. 
by  God,   129. 
by  golly,  129. 
by  gosh,  129. 
by-law,  98. 
byre,    47. 

cabane,  93. 

cabaret,   153. 

caboose,  43,  82. 

each,  262. 

cache,  30,  43. 

cachexia,  242. 

cachexy,  242. 

cadet,   127,   156. 

Cadogen,  282. 

caf6,  124,  153,  240,  264. 

cag,   250,   252. 

Cahn,   280. 

Cailll,   274. 

Cains,  283. 

cake-walk,   81. 

calaboose,    30,    43. 

calamity-howler,   81. 

calculate,   31. 

calendar,  97. 

calf,   173. 

caliber,   242,   257,  260,  261. 

calibre,  242,  250,  257. 

calico,  103. 

Calif  ornia-r,  171. 

calk,   260. 

called  to  the  bar,  vp.,  108. 

Callowhill,   282. 

calm,   59,   174. 

calumet,   42. 

calvary,  238. 

Calvert,  898. 


344 


LIST    OF   WORDS   AND   PHRASES 


came,   194,  205. 

camerado,  73. 

camouflage,     v.,     135n,     142, 

308. 

camorra,  152. 
Camp,   282. 
campaign,    97,   107. 
camp-meeting,   47. 
campus,  80,  105. 
can,    n.,    97,    102,    105;    v., 

102,    194. 
candidacy,   83. 
candor,   242. 
candour,   242. 
candy,  97,  103. 
candy-store,   14. 
cane,  97,  110. 
cane-brake,   46. 
canned-goods,    97,    102. 
cannon-ball,   124. 
cannoo,  llln. 
canoa,    llln. 
canoe,    41,    47,    111,    318. 
canon,    112,    122,    265,    294, 

see   also   canyon, 
canon,   gee  canyon, 
can't,    102. 
can't   come    it,    31. 
canuck,  86,  279. 
canvas-back,  45. 
canvass,  97,  107. 
canyon,    86,     112,    122,    265, 

294. 

capitalize,  33. 
capote  Allemande,   279n. 
capote    Anglaise,    279n. 
Captain,  118. 
cap  the  climax,  vp.,  78. 
car,   59,   98. 
card,    33,   171. 
card  up  his  sleeve,  vp.,  Ill, 

134. 

caretaker,   99,    110. 
caribou,    43. 
Carl,  283n. 

carnival  of  crime,   81. 
Caron,  274. 
Carpenter,  276,  280. 
carpet,  155. 
carpet-bagger,  83. 
carriage,  98. 
carriage-paid,   100,   103. 
carrier,  83,  98. 
carriole,  43. 
carry-all,    43,   48. 
cart,   174. 
Casalegno,    277. 
cash  in,  vp.,  111. 
castle,  59. 
catalog,  262,  26S. 
catalpa,  40. 
cat-bird,  46. 


cat-boat,  47,  48. 

catch,  v.,  91,   194,  237,  262. 

catch'n,   157. 

caterpillar,   173. 

Catholic,   113. 

ca'tridge,  238. 

catty-cornered,    57. 

cau-cau-as-u,    131n. 

caucus,    n.,   30,    40,    83,    131, 

135;   v.,   48. 
caucusdom,  132. 
caucuser,   132. 
caught,   194. 
caulkers,    132n. 
cause-list,  97. 
cave  in,  vp.,  31. 
cavort,  49. 
cayuse,  87. 
ceiling,   155,   156. 
cellarette,  165. 
cent,   47,  139. 
center,   242,   260,   294. 
centre,   242,   250. 
certainly,    228. 
cesspool,   56. 
c'est  moi,   220. 
ch-sound,  96,   274. 
chain-gang,   80. 
chair,   126,  155,  156. 
chair-car,    82. 
chairman,   106. 
chair-warmer,   10,   81. 
chambers,    110. 
champ,  100. 
champeen,  237. 
champion,   160,  237. 
chancellor,   104. 
chance't,   238. 
Chandler,   280. 
change,   155. 
channel,  109. 
chapel,    112. 
chapparal,  30,  86. 
chapter,    112. 
char,    56,    137. 
charge   it,    103. 
Charles,   286n. 
charqui,   43. 
charwoman,   137. 
chase,   46. 
chaser,  85. 

chase  one's  self,  vp.,  319. 
chassl,   240. 
chaufer,   265n. 
Chauncey,  285. 
chautauqua,  113. 
chaw,   91. 
Cheapside,  300. 
check,  n.,  106,  242,  246,  256. 
checkered,  242,  261. 
checkers,    98.  ^/ 
cherkinqumin,    41. 


cheer,   n.,   237. 
chef  d'oeuvre,    240. 
chemist,   98,   252. 
chemist's-shop,   98. 
cheque,    106,    242,    256,    257, 

260. 

chequered,  242,  260. 
chest  of  drawers,  97. 
chevalier,   251. 
chew,  91. 

chew  the  rag,  vp.,  319. 
chick,  ««/.,  156. 
chicken,  308. 
chicken-yard,  98. 
chief-clerk,    98. 
chief-constable,    105. 
chief-of-police,   105. 
chief-reporter,    98. 
childern,  239. 
chimbley,    238. 
chimist,  252. 
chinch,    56. 
Chinee,  229. 

chink,  n.,  279;  v.,  24,  77. 
chinkapin,  40. 
chip  in,   vp.,  Ill,  319. 
chipmunk,  40. 
chipped-beef,  80. 
chist,  237. 
chit,   158. 

Cholmondeley,  283. 
choose,  194. 
chop-suey,  93. 
chore,  56,   105,  137. 
chose,  194. 
chow,  158. 
chowder,   43. 
Christkind'l,  89. 
Christkindlein,   89. 
chunky,  50. 
church,  112,  113. 
churchman,  113. 
chute,  30,  86. 
cider,  242,  246. 
cinch,  n.,  14;  v.,  87. 
cinema,    14,  27,   99. 
cipher,  257. 
circuit-rider,  113. 
circus,  300. 
Cirenester,    297n. 
citified,   77. 
citizenize,   76. 
city,  suf.,  296. 
City,  106,  139. 
city-ordinance,   98. 
city-stock,   106. 
civil-servant,    105,    106. 
claim-jumper,    81. 
city-editor,   98,   106. 
City  Hall,  300. 
City  Hall  park,  square,  place, 

800. 


LIST   OF  WORDS  AND   PHRASES 


345 


City  man,  106. 

clam-bake,    109. 

clam-chowder,  109. 

clamor,  242. 

clamorously,  247. 

clamour,   242. 

clang,   194. 

clangor,  242. 

clangorous,  247. 

clangour,  242. 

clap-board,  31,  40,  46. 

class,   104. 

class-day,  105. 

classy,  24,  230. 

claw-hammer,    81. 

cleanlily,  228. 

cleanly,  228. 

clean'n,  157. 

clean-up,    14. 

clearing,  n.,  46. 

clear  the  track,   vp.,  83. 

cleark,  n.,  19n,  53,  124,  174; 

v.,  49. 

clever,  31,  33,  57. 
climb,  v.,  194,  198. 
climbed,   198. 
Cline,   275n. 
cling,    194. 
clingstone,    45. 
clipped,  201. 
dipt,   201. 
clipping,   98. 
clodhopper,  56. 
clomb,   198. 
closet,  155. 
close't,  238. 
closure,    242. 
cloture,  242. 
cloud-burst,   81,   109. 
clout  the  sphere,  vp.,  311. 
club,  154. 
club-car,  82. 
clum,    194,   200. 
clung,   194. 
c'mear,  207. 
coach,  v.,  111. 
coal-hod,   98. 
coal-oil,   98. 
coal-operator,   139. 
coal-owner,   139. 
coal-scuttle,  98. 
coast,   v.,  77. 
coat-and-suit,    103. 
coatee,   77. 
cocain,   253,   263. 
cocaine,   160,   253. 
cock,  19n,  100,  126. 
cocktail,    84,    88n. 
C.  O.  D.,   161. 
codfish,  a.,  24,  79. 
co-ed,    160. 
co-education*!,    160. 


cog,    175. 

Cohen,   271,   280. 

Cohn,  280. 

coiner,  98. 

coke,   160. 

cold-deck,  ill. 

Cold  Moon,   42n. 

cold-slaw,  43. 

cold-snap,   33,   46,   81,   109. 

Colinus  virginianus,   53. 

Collaborating    Epidemiolo- 
gist,  122. 

collar,  155. 

collateral,  81. 

colleen,  90. 

collide,   77. 

collide  head  on,  vp.,  83n. 

Collins,   280. 

color,    19n,    243. 

colour,   243. 

colourable,   247. 

coloured,  247. 

column-ad,   160. 

combe,  46. 

come,   194,  198,   205,  238. 

come  across,  vp.,  142,  308. 

corned,   198. 

come-down,  81,  142,  164. 

come-on,  133,  311. 

come  out  at  the  little  end  of 
the  horn,  vp.,  33,  79. 

command,  59. 

commencement,   105. 

commission-merchant,    98. 

committee,  107. 

common-loafer,   88. 

commutation-ticket,    82. 

commute,   83,   164. 

commuter,  82. 

company,    107. 

complected,    60. 

compromit,  v.,  27,  49. 

con,  a.,  n.  and  v.,  160. 

conant,  158. 

concertize,  77. 

conch,  306. 

conduct,   31. 

conduct  one's  self,  vp.,  31. 

conductor,  18,  82,  98,  137. 

conductorette,    165. 

confab,   160. 

confabulation,   160. 

confidence,   160. 

con-game,  160. 

congressional,   30,   50. 

con-man,  160. 

Conn,  280. 

connection,  243,  246. 

connexion,   243,  258,  260. 

conniption,    80. 

connisoor,  240. 

eonnisseur,    840. 


Conrad,  278. 

oonsociational,    30,   75,   76. 

consols,  106. 

constable,   99,   105. 

constituency,  107. 

consulting-room,  108. 

consumption,   155,   160. 

consumptionick,    156. 

convey  by  deed,  vp.,  48. 

convict,    160. 

convocation,  112. 

Cook,   102,   277. 

cookey,  43. 

cook-general,    102. 

cooler,  85. 

coon,  160. 

Coons,  275. 

copious,   57. 

copperhead,   45. 

cord,  n.,  110;  v.,  40. 

cord-wood,  56. 

corn,   18,   52,  53,  98. 

corn-cob,    46. 

corn-crib,   46. 

corn-dodger,  46. 

corned,   85.  — 

corner,   n.,  98,  110;   v.,  77. 

corner-loafer,  88. 

corn-factor,  99. 

corn-fed,  162. 

Cornhill,   300. 

corn-juice,   85. 

Corn  Laws,  52. 

corn-market,  139. 

Corn  Moon,  42n. 

corn-whiskey,  85. 

corporation,   106. 

corpse-reviver,  85. 

corral,  n.,  23,  86;  v.,  24,  87. 

corrector-of-the-press,   100, 

108. 

corset,  98,  126. 
coster  (monger),   99. 
cosy,  243,  246. 
cotched,  194n. 
cotton,  155. 
Cottonwood,   288,   294. 
cougar,  40. 
could,   194. 
could'a,  194. 
council,  107. 
councillor,   243,   245. 
councilor,  243. 
counselor,  243. 
counsellor,  243. 
counterfeiter,  98. 
count  upon,  vp.,  31. 
court,  254. 
courteous,    174. 
courthouse,  »uf.,  294,  296. 
cove,  294. 
eow-eatcher,  28,  88. 


346 


LIST    OF   WORDS   AND   PHRASES 


cow-country,    142. 

cow-creature,  98,  126. 

cowhide,   v.,   44. 

Coyne,  280. 

coyote,  87,  294. 

cozy,  243,   246,  260,   261. 

crab-cocktail,   109. 

cracker,  52,   53,  98. 

Cracker,  33. 

crack  up,  vp.,  79. 

craft,  95. 

crank,  n.,  81. 

crap,  237. 

cravat,   99,   104. 

crawfish,  v.,  77. 

crayfish,   41. 

crazy-quilt,   47. 

cream  de  mint,  240. 

creator,   266. 

creche,  153. 

credit-trade,   99,  103. 

creek,  46,  51,  108,  319. 

creep,  194. 

creme  de  menthe,   240. 

Crenshawe,   282. 

creole,   43. 

crop,  194,  200,  238. 

crepe,   264. 

crevasse,  30,  86. 

crew,   v.,   194,   200. 

crick,  236. 

cricket,  111. 

criminal   assault,   127. 

criminal  operation,  127. 

crisco,    165. 

crispette,    165. 

Cristsylf,    224. 

critter,   236. 

crook,   n.,   14,   133,    156. 

crook  the  elbow,  vp.,  85. 

crope,    194. 

crossing,  n.,  98,  110. 

crossing-plate,    27,    82,    98. 

crossing-sweeper,    101,    105. 

cross-purposes,    56. 

cross-roads,    294. 

cross-tie,    98. 

crotchet,  113. 

croud,    251. 

crow,  n.,  107;   v.,  194. 

crowd,   250,   251. 

crown,   47. 

Crowninshield,  282. 

cruller,   30,  43. 

crypt,   112. 

euanto,   158. 

Cuba-r,   171. 

cuff,   155. 

curate,   112. 

curb,   243,   246,    258. 

curriculum,   265. 

curse,    130. 


curet,   253. 

curette,    258. 

curvet,  49. 

cuss,  n.,  129,  160,  238. 

cussedness,  81. 

Custer,   274. 

customable,   60. 

customer,  160. 

cut,  v.,  194. 

cut  a  swath,   vp.,  78. 

cute,  50,  160. 

cut-off,   81. 

cut-up,    164. 

cutting,  n.,  98,  108. 

Cy,   115. 

cyclone,    109. 

cyclopaedia,  243. 

cyclopedia,   243,   263. 

cyder,  242,  257. 

cypher,  257. 

d.-sound,  98. 

daffy,    230. 

dago,  279. 

damfino,  129. 

damn,    129,    159,    161. 

damnation,    129. 

damphool,   129. 

dance,   59,   95,   173,   174. 

D.  &  D.,  161. 

dander,    43. 

Daniel,   173. 

dare,  v.,  194. 

dared,  194. 

darken  one's   doors,    vp.,  33, 

49.       . 
darkey,  60. 
darkle,   «.,  77n. 
darn,  129. 
daunt,  95. 
Dauphine,  300. 
Davidovitch,  280. 
Davis,  280. 
day-coach,  82. 
day-nursery,    153. 
de,  suf.,  200. 
deacon,  n.,  124 ;  v.,  76. 
dead,  adv.,  92. 
dead-beat,   14,  14n.,  133. 
deader'n,   231. 
dead-head,  n.,  135;  v.,  83. 
deaf,    60,    95,    236. 
deal,  v.,  194. 
dealt,    194. 
dean,   104,   112,   122. 
dear,  116,   122. 
debenture,  97,  106. 
debut,  154,  240,  264. 
debutante,    264. 
decalog,   262. 
deceive,    91. 
decent,   129. 


deck,  80. 

decolletS,    240. 

Decoration  day,   114. 

deed,  v.,  48. 

deef,   95,   236. 

deep,  adv.,  226. 

Deering,   275. 

defence,   243,   250. 

defense,    243,    246,    252,    260, 

261. 

defi,  n.,  160. 
defiance,  160. 
deft,  57. 

degrees  of  frost,   109. 
Dejean,  274. 
De  la   Haye,  274. 
Delhi,   297. 
de  1' Hotel,  274. 
delicate  condition,  127. 
delicatessen,  88. 
delicatessen-store,  98. 
dell,   46. 

demagogue,  v.,  142. 
demean,   51,   134,  136. 
demeanor,    243. 
demeanour,  243. 
Demikof,    272. 
demi-semi-quaver,  113. 
demoralize,   49. 
de   Mungumeri,    273. 
Denis,    274. 
Denny,   274. 
dental-surgeon,  124. 
dentist,  124. 
deop-e,    226. 

department-store,    98,    103. 
depot,  82,   133,   153,  265. 
deputize,  49. 
derail,   83. 
derange,   49. 

Derby,  98,  103,  139,  283. 
Dermott,   273. 
dern,    129. 
desave,  .91. 
Desbrosses,    291. 
deshabille,    265. 
Deshong,    274. 
Des  Moines,   291. 
desperado,    86. 
dessert,  110. 
determine,  250,  251. 
develop,   258. 
De  Vere,  273. 
devilled-crab,    109. 
dexter-meadow,  311. 
diamond,  114. 
Diarmuid,   273. 
diarrhea,   243,   253. 
diarrhoea,  243,  24C,  253,  258. 
Dick,    281. 
dicker,  v.,  49. 
dictagraph,   165. 


LIST    OF   WORDS   AND   PHRASES         347 


die   with   his   boots    on,    vp., 

78. 

did,    194,   204,   205. 
diff,  160. 
difference,    160. 
different  from,  than,  to,  115. 
difrens,   155. 
dig,    194,    198. 
digged,    198. 
diggings,  31,  81. 
dill,   156. 
Dilehay,    274. 
dime,    47. 
dime-novel,   98. 
din,  56. 
diner,  82,   160. 
dining-car,  160. 
dinky,   230. 
dinner,  155,   157. 
diphtheria,   172. 
diphthong,    172. 
directly,   114. 
direct-primary,  107. 
dirt,  115. 
dirty,  228. 
discipine,  251. 
disorderly-house,   127. 
distaff,   254. 
display-ad,  160. 
dissenter,    112,    113. 
district,  107,  109. 
dive,    n.,    14,    14n,    85,    133; 

v.,  194. 
dived,   194. 
divide,  n.,  46,  294. 
division,   100,   107. 
divorcee,  240,  265. 
Divver,  273. 
divvy,  n.,  Ill ;  v.,  84. 
Dixie,   33. 
do,   194,   204. 
docket,  81. 
Doctor,  117,   124n. 
dodge  the  issue,  vp.,  78. 
do  don't,  31. 
doesn't,  210. 
dog,  175. 
doggery,  81,  85. 
dog-gone,   129. 
Dohme,  276. 
dole,   v.,  194,  199. 
dollar,  47,  139. 
dollars  to  doughnuts,   142. 
dolled-up,   a.,   142,   164. 
doll   up,    vp.,   164. 
dom,  suf.,  154n. 
dominie,   43. 
don,  105. 

donate,  27,  28n,  51,  136. 
donder,   43. 
done,  194,  204. 
don't,    210. 


doodle,  suf.,  166. 

drummer,  14,  14n,  98. 

Doolittle,    274. 

drunk,  85,  195,  204. 

doop,  94. 

dry-goods,    52,    53. 

door,   156. 

dry-goods  store,   98. 

dope,    n.,    93,    94,    311,    319; 

dryly,   243,   261. 

v.,  94,  142. 

dub,   n.,   14,   311. 

dope  out,  vp.,  94,  142. 

Dubois,    276. 

double-header,   111. 

duck,   n.,  85. 

double-pica,    114. 

due,  174. 

dough,    133. 

dug,   194. 

dough-boy,  142. 

dug-out,    80. 

do  up  brown,  vp.,  79. 

duke,   174. 

dove,  v.,  194,  199. 

dumb,   88,   90,  90n. 

down-and-out,   24,   81. 

dumb-head,  90n. 

down-East,  109. 

dummkopf,  90n. 

down,  46,  108. 

dump,  v.,  49. 

down-town,    79. 

Drunkard,   113. 

down-train,  109. 

during,   148. 

downwards,    147. 

During,  275. 

doxologize,  27,  74,  76. 

durn,   129. 

Dr.  108,  tee  also  Doctor. 

dust-bin,  97,  102. 

draft,   95,  243,  246. 

dustman,  102. 

drag,  v.,  194. 

dutchie,    279. 

dragged,   194. 

dutiable,  40,  50,  51. 

drain,   100,  237. 

duty,   174. 

drama,  173. 

Duval,   271. 

drank,   194,   204,   205. 

dwindle,   310. 

draper,  106. 

draper's-shop,  98. 

e,  pro.,  216n. 

draught,  243. 

e-sound,  60. 

draughts,   98. 

ea-s-owmi,  91n,   96. 

draw,    n.,    50,    160;    v.,   194, 

eagle,   47. 

204. 

earlier'n,    281. 

draw   a  bead,   vp.,   49. 

earth,   115. 

drawbridge,   50,   160. 

east-bound,   110. 

drawed,   194,   204. 

East  end,  139. 

drawers,    110. 

East  side,  139. 

drawing-pin,  101. 

easy,   aim.,  227. 

drawing-room,   99,  103. 

easy-mark,   311. 

dreadful,  31. 

eat,  194,  211. 

dreadnaught,   243. 

eat  crow,   vp.,  84. 

dreadnought,   243. 

eclat,    264. 

dream,   v.,   194. 

ecology,  243. 

dreampt,  194,  201. 

ficrevisse,   41. 

dreamt,  260. 

ecumenical,    243. 

dreen,    237. 

ede,  suf.,  200. 

dress,   155. 

Edelstein,  277. 

dresske',    156. 

edema,  243. 

dress'n,    157. 

edged,  85. 

drew,  194,  204. 

editorial,   n.,   98. 

Drewry,   282. 

e.e-fiound,   96. 

drily,  243,  260. 

eel-grass,   45. 

drink,   v.,  194,  204. 

ee-ther,  96. 

drive,  n.,  299;  v.,  194. 

eetood,    240. 

drove,  v.,  194. 

egg-plant,  45,  109. 

drown,  194. 

either,  96. 

drown'd,  201n. 

eldorado,  87. 

drownded,    91,    196,    201. 

electrocute,  163, 

drowned,  .  91. 

electrolier,   165. 

drug,  v.,  194,  200. 

elevator,  14,  50,  98,  133. 

druggist,   98. 

elevator,  boy,  98. 

drug-store,  18. 

61ite,  264. 

348 


LIST   OF   WORDS   AND   PHRASES 


Elk,  288,  294. 

ellum,  239. 

El  Paso,  292. 

em,  217. 

embalming-surgeon,  124n. 

emerald,  114. 

emperour,  248n. 

employe,  124,  153,  252,  265. 

employee,  153,  252. 

enceinte,  127. 

enclose,    244,   258. 

encylopaedia,  243. 

encyclopedia,    243. 

endeavor,   243 

endeavour,    243. 

endorse,   244,    258. 

end-seat-hog,    163. 

engage,    106. 

Enghien,  300. 

engine-driver,    99. 

engineer,  n.,  82;  v.,  24,  77. 

English,   n.,  114. 

English  education,    279n. 

engulf,   258. 

enquire,   260. 

enquiry,  244,  258. 

Enroughty,   282. 

enter  a  claim,  vp.,  78. 

enteric,   101. 

enthuse,   77,   142. 

eon,    243. 

eower,  213. 

eowrum,   213. 

epaulet,   243. 

epaulette,   243,    245. 

Episcopal,  113n. 

Episcopalian,  113n. 

er,  auf.,  253,  260. 

Erdmann,  276. 

Erin  go  braugh,  91. 

eruptiveness,    33. 

ese,  158. 

esophagus,  243,  253,  263. 

espera,   158. 

Esq.,   121. 

estate-agent,   108. 

et,  v.,  190,  194,  199. 

eternal,    129. 

etude,  240. 

eychre,  v.,  134. 

Evelyn,    286. 

eventuate,  49. 

evincive,  50. 

ex,  pref.,  118. 

exact,  77n. 

exchange,  n.,  124. 

excursionist,   82,   98. 

excursion-train,   83. 

excurt,  v.,  77. 

exfluncticate,   82. 

expect,  81. 

expose1,   153,  265. 


express,  v.,  83. 
express-car,   82. 
express-company,   98. 
expressman,   82. 
express-office,   82. 
exterior,    248n. 
extraordinary,    169,    170. 
eye-opener,    86. 
eye,   ther,  96. 

face-cloth,  101. 
face  the  music,  vp.,  49. 
factor,  98. 
fade  away,  vp.,  319. 
faggot,  243,  245,  260. 
fagot,    243. 
fake,  319. 
faker,  156. 

fall,    «.,   10,    14,    33,    56, 
133;   v.,   194,   204.    _ 
fall  down,  vp.,  142. 
fallen,    194,    204. 
fallen;woman,  127. 
fall  for  it,  vp.,  311. 
fambly,  238. 
fan,  111. 
fan-light,  101. 
fan-tan,  93. 
Farinholt,   282. 
faster'n,    231. 
fast-freight,   82. 
father,  59,  95. 
favor,  243,  251,  253. 
favorite,   243. 
favorite-son,  83,  84. 
favourite,   243,  247. 
Fear,  275. 
feather,  250,  251. 
feature,   v.,   14,    142. 
feaze,   77. 
fed,    194,    199. 
feed,   194. 
feel,   194,   202. 
feeled,  202. 
feel   good,    149. 
Feivel,    284. 
Felicit^,   300. 
fell,  n.,  46;  v.,  194,  204. 
feller,  157,  239. 
fellow,  115,  155,  157. 
fellowship,  v.,  27,  30,  57, 
felt,  v.,  194,  202. 
female,    n.,    126,    127. 
femme   de   chambre,    154. 
fen,   46. 
fence,   254. 
fences,  83. 
fenster,  156. 
fenz,   154. 
ferry,  294. 
f ether,  251. 
fervor,    243. 


fervour,  243. 

fest,  «uf.,  151. 

fetch,   195. 

fetched,    195. 

fete,   153,   264. 

few,  174. 

fiancee,    240. 

fiddled,    85. 

Fiddler,    280. 

Fifth  avenue,   139. 

50°   40',   285n. 

fight,   195. 

figure,    174. 

filibuster,   83,   84. 

filing-cabinet,    98. 

fill  the  bill,  vp.,  78. 

.filthy,   228.    . 
fend,    v.,  195. 
59,  fJFindlay,   273. 
<s~J/fine,  a.,  H6n;  adv.,  227;  v., 
195,  238. 

finger,  n.,  85. 

finish  up,   vp.,  164. 

Fionnlagh,    273. 

Fion  Uisg,  273. 

fire,   v.,  83. 

fire-brigade,  98,   105. 

fire-bug,   81. 

fire-department,     98,     105. 

fire-eater,  10,  81,  309. 

fire-laddie,  105. 

fire-water,    41.    *"   i 

first-floor,    103. 
'first-form,   104. 

first-storey,   103. 

first-year-man,   104. 

Fischbach,    275. 

Fishback,   275. 

fish-dealer,   98. 

fish-monger,   98. 

fish-plate,   82. 

fit,  v.,  195n. 

fitten,    195n. 

five-o'clock-tea,    88n. 

fix,   v.,  116,   157. 

fix'n,    156. 

fizz,  85. 

fizzle,    v.,   49. 

fizzle   out,    vp.,    78. 

flag,  v.,  83. 

flagman,   82. 

flang,   195. 

flap,    jack,    56. 

flapper,  308n. 

flare  up,  vp.,  31. 

flat,    n.,    110. 

flat-boat,    81. 

flat-car,    82. 

flat-footed,   24,   79. 

flat-house,    110. 

flavor,  243. 

flavour,    243. 


LIST    OF   WORDS   AND   PHRASES 


349 


fletcherize,  163. 

frat,   105,   160. 

flew,   195. 

fraternal-order,    98. 

flier,   124. 

fraternity,    160. 

fling,    v.,   195. 

frawst,   175. 

floater,   83. 

frazzle,   134. 

floor,   155,   156,   157. 

frazzled,   85. 

floor-walker,    98,    124. 

Freedman,  275. 

floozy,   166. 

free-lunch,   18. 

flop-flop,  v.,  98. 

freeze,  195. 

flow,   v.,  195. 

freeze  on  to,  vp.,  78,   311. 

flowed,    195. 

freight,   98. 

Flower  Moon,    42n. 

freight,  agent,  98. 

flu,    160,    310. 

freight-car,  14,  82,  98. 

flume,   14. 

FrSmont,    276. 

flung,  195. 

French,  279n. 

flunk   out,   v.,   81. 

French  letter,  280n. 

flurry,  n.,  81. 

freshet,    52. 

fly,   v.,   195. 

freshman,  104. 

fly  off  the  handle,  vp.,  49. 

Friedmann,    275. 

fonograph,   264. 

friendly-society,  98. 

font,   243,  258. 

frijole,   87. 

Fontaine,  274. 

friz,  v.,  195,  200. 

footway,   100. 

frog,    27,    82,    98. 

Ford,  275. 

froggy,   278. 

foregather,   243,   260. 

frolick,   250,   254. 

forego,    243,    246. 

frolicksome,   254. 

foreman,    155. 

from  here,    229. 

Foreman,   275. 

from  there,   229. 

forgather,    243,    260. 

from  where,  229. 

forgo,  243,  260. 

frozen,   195. 

forgot,    195,   2.06. 

Fuchs,  272. 

forgotten,  195. 

Fiihr,  275. 

fork,    n.,    33,    46,    294. 

Fuhrmann,   275. 

for  keeps,  111,  319. 

fulfill,   170. 

fork  over,  vp,,  31. 

full-house,   111. 

form,  104,  243. 

fun,  93. 

forme,  243,  245,  256. 

funds,   106. 

former,    pref.,    118. 

funeral-director,    124. 

formulae,   265. 

funeralize,  74,   76,  164. 

for  rent,  137. 

funny,    231. 

forsake,    195. 

Fiirst,  275. 

forsaken,    195,   199. 

Furth,   275. 

forsook,   195. 

fuse,   243,   246,   257. 

fortnight,  114. 

fuze,   243,  257. 

forty-rod,  85. 

forwards,   147,   229. 

g-sound,  61,  274. 

forward,  looker,  302. 

gabfest,  151. 

fosfate,    264. 

gage,  253. 

fotch,    195n. 

gag-rule,  83,  107. 

foto,    264. 

gaiety,   260. 

fotograph,    264. 

galoot,   80. 

Foucher,   300. 

gambler,  155. 

fought,   195. 

gamester,  90n. 

foul,   v.,   111. 

gangster,  156. 

found,  195,  200. 

ganof,    151,    240. 

fount,    243,    258. 

gantlet,  243. 

Fountain,   274. 

ganze,  113. 

fowl-run,   98. 

ganz  gut,  89. 

Fox,  272. 

gaol,  244,  246,  250,  257,  260. 

fox-fire,  56. 

gaoler,   257. 

frame-house,    46. 

gap,   46. 

frankfurter,  88. 

garden,   87,   110. 

garden-party,   153. 

Garnett,    273. 

garter-snake,   45. 

garters,  98. 

gas,  160. 

gasoline,  98,  160,  165. 

gate-money,  111. 

gauge,  253. 

gauntlet,  243. 

gave,    203,   205. 

gawd,   175. 

gawne,   175. 

gay  Quaker,  33. 

gazabo,  87. 

G.  B.,  161. 

g'by,  239. 

gedamatscht,    155. 

gee-whiz,    129. 

gefledelt,    151n. 

General,  118. 

generally,   228. 

gentleman,   121. 

gentleman-author,    121. 

gentleman-clerk,    121. 

gentleman-cow,  126. 

gentleman-rider,  121. 

gent'man,  238. 

gerrymander,  83,  107. 

Gervaise,   274. 

gescheumpt,  v.,  155. 

gesundheit,  89. 

get,  v.,  60,  116,  193n,  195. 

get  ahead  of,  vp.,  78. 

get  a  move  on,  vp.,  25. 

get-away,    n.,    14. 

get  away  with,  vp.,  309. 

get  by,   vp.,  311. 

get  it  in  the  neck,  vp.,  819. 

get-out,  n.,  14 

get  solid  with,  vp.,  78,  142. 

get  sore,  vp.,  319. 

get  the  bulge  on,   vp.,  78. 

get  the  dead  wood   on,   vp., 

78. 

get  the  drop  on,  vp.,  78. 
get  the  hang  of,  vp.,  31. 
getting  on,  vp.,  114. 
get  wise,  vp.,  319. 
gift-shop,  137. 
gillotin,  251,  252. 
gin-fix,  85. 
gin-fizz,  84. 
ginger-ale,  85. 
ginger-pop,  85. 
ginseng,  93. 
gipsy,  258,  260. 
girl   for    general    housework, 

102. 

girt,  201. 
git,  60. 
giv,  251. 
give,  164,  195,  303,  305,  851. 


350 


LIST    OF   WORDS   AND   PHRASES 


give  out,   vp.,  164. 

gotten,     33,     115,     143,     190, 

guardian,  237. 

glad-eye,  133. 

195,  206. 

Guarinot,  273. 

glamor,   243. 

go  up  Salt  river,  vp.,  84. 

gubernatorial,     28,     28n,     40, 

glamour,   243. 

Government,   107. 

50,   136. 

glass,  95,  173. 

governor,    101. 

Guereant,  274. 

glass-arm,    111. 

govrenment,   239. 

guess,  v.,  31,   33,  56,  57. 

glebe,   112. 

grab,  v.,  84. 

guillotin,   251,  252. 

gleich,   155. 

grab-bag,   81. 

guillotine,   252. 

gleiche,   155. 

grade,  98,  104. 

guinea,  279. 

glide,  195. 

gradient,    98. 

Guizot,  274. 

glode,   195,   199. 

gradual,  96. 

gulch,  80. 

gmilath   chesed,   157. 

graft,    n.,    14,    135,    310;    v., 

gully,  80. 

go,  195,  317. 

135. 

gumbo,  44,  109. 

go-aheadativeness,   27. 

grain,   98,   156. 

gum-shoe,  a.,  25;  n.,  80. 

goatee,  81. 

grain-broker,   99. 

gun,    165. 

go  back  on,  vp.,  78,  164. 

grain-market,   139. 

gun-man,    165. 

go  big,  vp.,  146. 

gram,   243,  257,   263. 

gun-play,  165. 

god,  266. 

gramme,   243,   257,   261. 

Gutmann,  276,  277. 

god-damned,  129. 

grand,  31. 

guy,  n.,  129,  156;   v.,  129. 

go   finish,   vp.,  318. 

grandificent,    166. 

guyascutis,  81. 

Godfrey,    277. 

grant,   95. 

gym,  160. 

go  for,  vp.,  79. 

grape-fruit,  109. 

gymnasium,  160. 

going  on,  vp.,  115. 

grape-juice    diplomacy,    163. 

gypsy,   258. 

going  some,   26,   149. 

Graves,   281. 

going  strong,  819. 

gray,  243,  246,  247,  260. 

h-gound,  61. 

go  into  service,  vp.,  78. 

greased-lightning,    309. 

haberdasher,  105. 

go   it  blind,   vp.,  78. 

greaser,   33,   80,   279. 

haberdashery-shop,    137. 

go  it  one  better,  vp.,  111. 

great,  91n. 

habichoo,  240. 

Gold,    280. 

great-coat,   99. 

habitug,   240. 

goldarned,   129. 

great  God,  129. 

hablaing,  v.,  158. 

Goldschmidt,    277,    280. 

great-primer,   114. 

hacienda,   30. 

Goldsmith,   277. 

great  shakes,  92. 

hack,  n.,  109. 

gone-coon,   33. 

great  Scot,   129. 

had,    195. 

goner,   48. 

great  white  father,  86. 

hadden,    195,   205. 

gonorrhea,  128,  253. 

green,  31. 

hadn't  ought'a,  210. 

gonorrhoea,  253. 

Green,  275. 

had  went,  189. 

Gonzalez,  271. 

greenhorn,   56. 

haemiplegia,   252. 

goober,   44. 

greens,   101. 

haemorrhage,   252. 

good,  148,  149. 

Gregory,   281. 

Haerlem,    274. 

good-afternoon,  115. 

grewsome,  258. 

Haerlen,   274. 

good-by,    243. 

Grgurevich,    281. 

hafta,   239. 

good-bye,   115,   243. 

grip,   99,    106. 

haima,    252. 

good-day,   115. 

grip-sack,   81.    " 

hainous,   250,   252. 

good-form,   137. 

gris'-mill,    238. 

haircut,    155. 

Goodman,    277. 

grm-sound,  171. 

halbe,  113. 

good-night,   311. 

groceries,   99,  102. 

half-breed,    46. 

goods,  98,  133. 

grocery,  155,  157. 

hall,   155. 

goods-manager,    98. 

grog,  88n. 

halloo,   v.,   77n. 

goods-waggon,  83,  98. 

groop,   251. 

halt  an,  89. 

good  ways,  147. 

grotesk,  252. 

hamburger,  88. 

go  on  the  warpath,  vp.,  49. 

grotesque,   252. 

hand-car,    82. 

goose,   279. 

ground-floor,  103. 

hand  him  a  lemon,  vp.,  309, 

G.  O.  P.,   161. 

ground-hog,  33,  45. 

311. 

gopher,   43. 

group,   250,  251. 

hand  it  to  him,  vp.,  309. 

Gossett,  274. 

grove,  294. 

handle    without    gloves,    vp., 

got,   115,  143,   195,  206. 

grow,  195. 

78. 

Gotham,  33. 

growed,  195,  198,  199. 

handsome,  173. 

gother,  198. 

growler,   105. 

handy,    50. 

go  the  whole  hog,  vp.,  79. 

grub-stake,  81. 

hang,  195. 

go  through,   vp.,  79. 

Griin,   275. 

hang-bird,  33. 

go  to  hell,  vp.,  161. 

guard,  n.,   83,   98,  137. 

hanged,  195n,  200.            , 

go-to-meeting,  a.,  79. 

guardeen,  237. 

hang-out,  164. 

LIST    OF   WORDS   AND   PHRASES 


351 


han'kerchief,  238. 

Hansen,  271. 

happy,  adv.,  227. 

happify,  27,  49. 

happy  hunting  grounds,  86. 

harbor,  171,  243,  259. 

harbour,  243,   259. 

hard,  a.,  228,  231;  adv.,  226. 

hard-cider,   85. 

hardly,   228. 

hard-shell,  a.,  79. 

hardware-dealer,    99. 

hare,  54,  109. 

hari-kari,    85. 

harkee,   219. 

Harlan,  274. 

harp,  279. 

Harper,  280. 

has-been,  23,  163. 

hash-foundry,  163. 

Hassan,  41. 

hat,  155. 

hath,  59. 

hatkS,   156. 

haul,  v.,  52,  54. 

hausfrau,  88. 

have,     auxiliary,     192,     195, 

206,  238. 

have  an  ax  to  grind,  vp.,  79. 
have   the   brokers   in   the 

house,   vp.,  107. 
have  the  goods,  vp.,  311. 
Havre  de  Grace,  291. 
Hawthorne,    282. 
hay-cock,  47,  99. 
hay-barrack,  43. 
hay-stack,    47,   99. 
haze,  v.  142. 
he,  212,  220. 
head,    105,    251. 
head-clerk,   98. 
headliner,    99,    106. 
head-master,  104,  105. 
head-mistress,    104. 
healthful,    146. 
healthy,   146. 
hear,    195,    204. 
hear,    hear,   115. 
heard,  60,  195. 
hearth,   174. 
heat,  v,  195. 
heath,   46. 
heave,  v.,  195. 
heavenwards,   147. 
Hebrew,  113. 
hed,  251. 
heeler,  83. 
heerd,  195,  199,  20<" 
heern,   195,  204. 
heft,  v.,  52,  54. 
hefty,   54. 
Heid,   275. 


height,  91. 

heighth,  91,   238. 

heimer,   suf.,   151. 

heinous,   250,   252. 

Heintz,   275. 

held,   195,  206. 

hell,  128n. 

hell-box,  80. 

hell-fired,  129. 

Hell-Gate,    290. 

hellion,   76. 

hello,  77n. 

hell-roaring,   76. 

help,  n.,  30,  33,  102,  135. 

belt,   195,  201. 

hem,   216,   252. 

hemi-demi,  semi-quaver,  113. 

hemorrhage,   260. 

hence,  228. 

heo,  213n. 

heom,   213n. 

heora,  213. 

her,  pro.,  212,  214,  219,  220. 

heraus  mit  ihm,  89. 

herb,  61. 

here,  145,  213,  214,  228. 

heren,    pro.,   213. 

hern,  pro.,  212,  213,  214. 

hers,  213,  214. 

herun,  213. 

het,  v.,  195,  199. 

het  up,  vp.,  85,  195n. 

Heyward,  282. 

hickory,   40. 

hidden,  195. 

hide,   195. 

hie,  213. 

high,   116. 

high-ball,  85. 

high-brow,    163. 

highfalutin,  79. 

High  street,  300. 

hike,  v.,  142. 

hill-side,  31. 

him,  212,  219,  220,  224. 

himself,   224,    225. 

Hines,  275. 

hired-girl,   47,  103. 

hired-man,   47. 

hire-purchase  plan,  99,  103. 

his,    212,    214,    225. 

His  Excellency,   119,  120. 

His  Highness,   119. 

His  Honor,  120. 

hisn,  190,  212,  214. 

his-or-her,  225. 

hisself,   190,   224,  225. 

hist,  v.,  91,  195,  236. 

histed,   195. 

historical,  62. 

hist'ry,   238. 

hit,  v.,  195. 


hitched,  319. 

Hite,  275. 

hither,   145,   228. 

hoarding,  n.,  27,  97,  102. 

hobo,  14,  14n,  133,  1«1. 

Hobson-Jobson,   41. 

hoch,   89. 

Hoch,  276. 

Hock,  100,  104. 

hod-carrier,   99. 

Hodge,   116. 

hoe-cake,  45,  46. 

hofbrau,  240,   265. 

Hoffman,   271. 

hog,  v.,  24,  26. 

hoggish,   adv.,  227. 

hog-pen,  99. 

hog-wallow,  45. 

hoist,   v.,  91. 

Hoke,    275. 

hokum,  165. 

hola,  158. 

hols,   v.,  195,   206. 

hold-all,  99. 

holden,   206. 

hold  on,  vp.,  81,  80. 

hold  out,   vp.,   111. 

hold  up,  vp.,  306. 

hold-up,    n.,   14,    14n. 

holler,  v.,  77,   77n,   195,   239. 

hollered,    195. 

hollo,  v.,  77n. 

holloa,  v.,  77n. 

hollow,  v.,  77n. 

holsum,    264. 

holt,  238. 

holy-orders,  112. 

holy-roller,   113. 

homely,  57,  110. 

homespun,   66. 

hominy,  33,  40,  41. 

homologize,   49. 

hon.  agent,  121. 

honor,  243,  248,  250,  251, 
253,  263,  318. 

honorable,  118-21. 

honorable  and  learned  gentle- 
man, 107. 

honorable  friend,  107. 

honorable  gentleman,  107, 
119. 

honorarium,  247. 

honorary,  247,  257. 

honorific,  247. 

honour,  243,  250,  259. 

honourable,   247,   257. ' 

hoodlum,    14,    14n,    133. 

hoodoo,  44,  105. 

hooiberg,  43. 

hook,  n.,  43,   45,   290. 

hooligan,  183. 

Hoosier,  33. 


352 


LIST   OF  WORDS  AND   PHRASES 


Hoover,    275. 
hooverize,   142,  163. 
hop,  n.,  93,  94. 
horrour,   248n. 
hornswoggle,   v.,   78. 
horse  of  another  color,  33. 
horse-sense,   80. 
horse-shoer,   203. 
horse's-neck,  85. 
Hosein,  41. 
hospital,  61,  99. 
hospital-nurse,   101,   104. 
hostile,    174,    176. 
hostler,   244,  246, 
hot-box,    82. 
hotel,  61,  124. 
Hot  Moon,  42n. 
hotter'n,   231. 

house    of    ill     (or    question- 
able)  repute,  127. 
hove,   195,   199. 
Howells,  283. 
Hrubka,   281. 
hub,   31. 

hubbub,  307,  310. 
Huber,  275. 
huckleberry,   45. 
huckster,  99. 
huddle,   307. 
humbug,  31. 
humor,  244. 
humorist,  247. 
humour,   244. 
hunderd,  238. 
hung,  195,  200. 
hunker,  31. 
hunkie,  279. 
hunkydory,  a.,  81. 
hunting,  n.,  99,  115. 
Hunting  Moon,   42n. 
hunyadi,   278. 
hurrah,    173. 
hurray,   173. 
hurricane,  109. 
hurry  up,  vp.,  164. 
hurt,  v.,  195. 
hurtleberry,    45. 
hustle,  v.,  57. 
hyperfirmatious,  82n. 
Hyde,  275. 
hydroplan,   263n. 
hypo,  160. 
hyposulphite  of  soda,   160. 

I,  pro.,  212,  219,  220. 
i,   pro.,  216n. 
i-sound,  60,  96. 
iad,   pro.,  216n. 
I  bet  you,   157. 
ice-box  156. 
ice-cream,  56. 
icei,   110. 


iced-water,   109. 

ice-water,    109. 

ich,   pro.,  179. 

ich  bin  es,  145n. 

Icsylf,   224. 

idealer,   230. 

ify,  suf.,  77. 

ige,  suf.,  156. 

iland,  251. 

ile,   236. 

ill,  10,  56,  100. 

Illinois,  291. 

illy,   228. 

imagine,  173,   251. 

immigrate,  49. 

Inc.,  106. 

incidence,   229. 

incident,  229. 

inclose,  244,  246,  258. 

incohonee,  42n. 

Indian,  99. 

Indian-corn,  52,  98. 

Indian-file,   47. 

Indian-summer,    46,    99. 

indifferent,   adv.,  226. 

indorse,    244,   246,   258. 

induced,  174. 

inflection,   244,   246. 

inflexion,    244,   258,    260. 

influent,  a.,  50. 

influential,   50,   51,   133. 

influenza,   160. 

in  foal,   125. 

infract,    49. 

ingel,    156. 

ingfinue,   308n. 

initial-sack,    311. 

initiative     and     referendum, 

107. 
inn,  53. 
ino,   suf.,   166. 
inquiry,   170,   244,   258. 
insect,  125. 
inski,' -»«/.,  151. 
instal,   260. 

instalment-business,    99. 
instalment-plan,   99. 
instead,  251. 
insted,    251. 
instruct,  108. 

insurge,   v.,   142,   164,   202. 
interduce,   239. 
interesting  condition,   127. 
interiour,  248n. 
intern,  243. 
interne,  253. 
interval-land,   31. 
interview,  •».,  57. 
in  the  course  of,   148. 
invalided,   125. 
inverted-commas,   100. 
in  writing,  115. 


Iowa,  298. 

Irene,  286. 

iron-horse,   82. 

iron-monger,   19,    99. 

Ironmonger,   282. 

Iroquois,    291n. 

Irving,  283. 

is,   209. 

I    say,    115. 

ish    ka    bibble,    151n. 

I  should  worry,  151. 

island,   250,   251. 

is  not,  210. 

isn't,    146,    210. 

isquonkersquash,   41. 

isquontersquash,     41. 

Italian  warehouse,   98. 

itemize,  24,  77. 

i-ther,  96. 

it,  213. 

itis,   suf.,   154. 

it  is  me,  145. 

its,  212. 

Itzik,   284. 

Ivanof,  272. 

ize,  tuf.,  77,  164. 


j-sound,  96. 

ja,   152. 

Jack,  281. 

jackass,  129. 

Jackson,    278,    280,   281. 

jack  up,  vp.,  142.          , 

Jacob,  281. 

Jacobovitch,    280. 

Jacobovsky,  280. 

Jacobson,  280. 

jag,  85. 

jagged,   85. 

jail,    244,    246,   250,    252,   256, 

257,  261. 
jailer,  256. 
Jake,  281. 

Jamestown-weed,    45. 
janders,  239. 
janitor,   99,    110. 
Jannszewski,   272. 
jap-a-lac,    165. 
Japanee,   229. 
Jarvis,   274. 
jeans,    56. 
jemmy,   244. 
jeopardize,   51. 
jerked-beef,   43. 
jerk-water,   82. 
Jerome,  286. 
jersey,  101. 
Jesu*,    129. 
jew,  v.,  52,   54,   113n. 
Jew,  113. 
jew  down,  vp.,  54. 
jeweller,    245,    250. 


LIST    OF 

WORDS   AND   PHRASES         353 

jewellery,    244,    259,    280. 
jewelry,   244,    259. 

ke,  ««/.,  156. 
Keeley,   275. 

knock-out    drops,    319. 
know,  195. 

Jewry,  113. 

keep,    195. 

knowed,    191,    195,    199. 

jiggered,   85. 

keep   a   stiff  upper  lip,    vp., 

know  him   like   ft  book,   vp.. 

jig's  up,   33. 

78. 

78. 

jimmy,    244,    246. 
Jimson-weed,   45. 

keep  company,  vp.,  115. 
keep  tab,  vp.,  78. 

know-nothing,    134. 
know  the  ropes,  vp.,  78. 

jine,  91,  236. 

keer,   237. 

Knox,  278. 

jitney,  a.,  24,  142,   164. 

keg,   250,   252. 

Koch,  277. 

jockey,  88n. 

Kelly,   271,   281. 

Koester,   275. 

Johanssen,    275. 

Kemp,  275. 

kodak,  n.,  165,  166;  v.,  166n. 

John  Collins,   85. 

Kempf,  275. 

kodaker,   166n. 

John  J.  O'Brien,  272n. 

Kenesaw,   285. 

Kolinsky,   280. 

Johnny-cake,    46. 

Kennebec,  30. 

komusta,    158. 

Johnny-jump-up,    45. 

kep,  195,  238. 

Konig,  276,  277. 

Johnson,  272,  275. 

ker,  pref.,  82. 

kosher,  151,  240. 

join,   91. 

kerb,   243,   246,   258,   260. 

Kovar,   277. 

joiner,   19n. 

ker-bang,       -flop,      -flummox, 

kow-tow,    93. 

joint,  100,  163. 

-plunk,       -slam,       -splash, 

Krantz,  276. 

joke-smith,   308,   310. 

-thump,  82. 

Krause,  271. 

jolly,   116. 

kerbstone,    246. 

Krisking'l,   89. 

Jonas,  275,  278. 

Kester,   275. 

Kriss  Kringle,  89. 

Jones,    271,   275,   278. 

ketch,  91,  237. 

kruller,  gee  cruller. 

joss,    a,.,    93. 

key,  43,   46,   155. 

Kuehle,  275. 

journal,    158. 

keylesswatch,  27,  100. 

Kuhne,  276. 

journalist,    99,    108. 

kick,   n.,  77;   v.,  77. 

Kuhns,   275. 

joy-ride,  n.,  10,  110,  163,  165, 

kicker,   77. 

kumfort,   264. 

310;   v.,   202. 

kick-in,   164. 

kiimmel,   89. 

joy-ridden,    202. 

kick  the  bucket,  vp.,  78. 

Kuntz,   275. 

joy-rided,   202. 

kid,  v.,  14. 

Kurtz,  276. 

joy-rode,   202. 

kiddo,    92. 

Kiister,  274. 

juba,   44. 

kike,  115,  156. 

KuznetzoT,  277. 

judgement,    256,    260. 

kill,  n.,  290. 

Kyle,  274. 

judgmatical,   50. 

kilogram,  257. 

judgment,    256,    257. 

kimono,  152n. 

l-gound,  60. 

jug,   100. 

kind'  a,   234. 

labor,  244,  318. 

jugged,   85. 

kindergarden,    238. 

Labor  Day,  114. 

juice,  162. 

kindergarten,    88,    153. 

laborer,  244. 

julep,  56. 

kindness,  170. 

laborious,  247. 

jump  a  claim,  tip.,  78. 

King,   277,   280. 

labour,   244. 

jumper,   81,   156. 

King's  counsel,  108. 

labourer,  244,  247. 

jumping-off  place,   81. 

kinky,   50. 

lachrymal,   253. 

jump-off,  164. 

kitchen,    155. 

lacquey,    260. 

jump  on  with  both  feet,  vp., 

kitchenette,    165. 

lacrimal,   253. 

79. 

kitchen-fender,  139. 

Lacy,  281. 

jump  the  rails,  vp.,  83n. 

kittle,  237. 

ladies'  -singles,  -wear,  121. 

June-bug,  45. 

kitty,  111. 

lady,  121,  126. 

Jung,  275. 

kiwer,  237. 

lady-clerk,     -doctor,     -golfer, 

junior,   104. 

klark,   19n. 

-inspector,    -secretary,    -ty- 

junk,  133. 

klaxon,  165. 

pist,  121. 

junket,   107. 

Klein,  271. 

Lady  Day,  114. 

just,  117. 

klork,   19n. 

Lafayette,   95,   95n,   291. 

Knapp,  276. 

lager-beer,   88. 

Kahler,   276. 

kneel,   195,  202. 

lagniappe,  86. 

Kahn,   280. 

kneeled,    195,    202. 

Laib,  276. 

kaif,  240. 

knel,  202. 

laid,   195,   196. 

kandy,   264. 

knelt,   202. 

lain,    195,    196. 

Kann,  280. 

knife,   v.,  84. 

lallapalooza,  90. 

Karzeniowski,    278. 

knob,  46. 

lame-duck,  23,  83,  107. 

katzen  jammer,   88. 

Knoche,   278. 

landlord,  155,  156. 

kayo,    158. 

knock  into  a  cocked  hat,  vp., 

land-office,    47. 

K.  0.,  108. 

79. 

land-slide,  46,  88. 

354 


LIST    OF   WORDS   AND   PHRASES 


iane,   300. 

Lane,   273. 

Lang,  275,  276. 

Lantz,    276. 

lariat,    86. 

Larsen,  271. 

lasso,  n.,  86;   v.,  87. 

last,  a.,  58,  94,  173,  174. 

late,  226,  228. 

lately,  228. 

lands,   112. 

laufen,   r.,  88. 

laugh,    95,    174. 

laugh    in    your    sleeve, 

309. 

laundry,    95,    165. 
Lauten,  281. 
Lautenberger,    281. 
lavandera,  158. 
law-abiding,  50. 
lawft,   175. 
lawn-fete,   153. 
lawst,   175. 
Lawton,    281. 
lay,  t>.,  195,   202. 
lay  on  the  table,  vp.,  48. 
lay-reader,   112. 
Id,  suf.,  201. 
lead,  v.,  195. 
leader,   98,   108. 
leaderette,    108. 
leading-article,    98,    108. 
leads,  101,  103. 
lean,   195. 
leaned,  202. 
leap,  v.,  91,  195. 
leapt,   260. 
learn,  196,  203. 
learnt,   196. 
leave,   v.,  203. 
leberwurst,  88. 
led,  195,   199. 
leery,  230. 
left,  v.,  203. 
left  at  the  post,  vp.,  78. 
legal-holiday,    99,    114. 
legislate,  49,  50,  51. 
Lehn,  273. 
Lehnert,   273. 
Leighton  Buzzard,  297n. 
Le  Maine,  273. 
lend,   196,   202. 
lendler,    156. 

lengthy,    33,    50,   51,    133. 
leniency,   51. 
lent,    195,    201,    202. 
Leonard,  273. 
Leonhard,    273. 
Leonhardt,    273. 
leopard,   250,   251. 
lep,    91,    195,   200. 
leperd,  251. 


les,  238. 

liturgy,  112. 

Leser,   276. 

live-oak,  33,  45. 

let,  203. 

live  out,  vp.,  115. 

let  it  slide,  vp.,  79. 

liver,   a.,  230. 

let  on,  vp.,  31. 

livery-stable,  99. 

letter-box,    99. 

livest,   165. 

letter-carrier,    19n,    99. 

live-  wire,   14. 

levee,  30,  86,  264. 

living,  n.,  112. 

Lever,    280. 

living-room,    103. 

Levering,   275. 

Lizzie,  104. 

Levey,  280. 

loaded,   85. 

Levin,  280. 

loaf,  v.,  88,  136. 

Levie,   280. 
'.,     Levine,   280. 
Levitt,  280. 
Levy,   271,   280,   282. 
Lewis,  280n. 
Lewy,   280. 
Lewyt,   280. 

loafer,   31,   88,   89,  156. 
Loaferies,   136. 
loan,   r.,  57,  202. 
loaned,   190,   196. 
loan-office,    124. 
lobby,  v.,  84. 
lobby-agent,   84. 

1 

li,  ««/.,  226. 

lobbyist,  84. 

liberty-cabbage,    152. 

Lobe,   276. 

libretti,   265. 

lobster,  133. 

lib'ry,   238. 

locate,   49,   50,  61. 

Liechtenstein,    280. 

loch,  298. 

Lichtman,  280. 

loco,  n.,  86. 

lickety-split,  45. 

locoed,  79. 

lie,  v.,  196,  202. 

loco  foco,  81. 

Liebel,   284. 

locomotive,   85. 

Liebering,  275. 

locomotive-engineer,  99. 

lied,  196. 

locum   tenens,    112. 

lieutenant,    174,   176. 

locust,  33,  45,  394. 

lift,  n.,  98,  137. 

Loeb,  276. 

lift-man,  98. 

Loeser,  276. 

lift  up,    vp.,    164,    196. 

log,  175. 

• 

lighted,    200. 

log-cabin,  46n. 

lighter,    100. 

log-house,    4<J. 

lightning-bug,  45. 

log-roll,   v.,  44. 

lightning-rod,  33. 

London  corporation,  106. 

light   out,   vp.,  78,   164. 

lonesome,    164. 

like,   190,   191,   224. 

Long,   275. 

likely,   31,   33,   57. 

longa,   113. 

limb,  126,   127. 

long-primer,   114. 

limehouse,  v.,  162. 

long-sauce,  33. 

( 

lime-tree,    45. 

long-vacation,  114. 

limited,  n.,  82,  124. 

looking-glass,    116. 

limited-liability-company, 

look   out,   vp.,   114. 

106. 

look  up,  vp.,   114. 

linch,  v.,  77n. 

look  ye,   219. 

Lincoln,    274. 

loophole,   56. 

linden,  45. 

loop-the-loop,   v.,  202. 

line,  83,   100,   101,   106. 

L6pez,    271. 

• 

lineage-rates,   108. 

lord,  171. 

linen-draper,  19n. 

lorry,    101. 

Linkhorn,  274. 

Los  Angeles,  292. 

lit,  196,  200. 

lose,    106,    196. 

liter,   244. 

lost,  196. 

literary,  170. 

lot,   31,   51,   52,  5wn. 

litre,  244. 

loud,  adv.,  226. 

Little  Giant,  33. 

Louis,  291. 

Little  Mary,   125. 

Louisville,  291. 

littler,   230. 

lounge,  n.,  105,  155,  156 

littlest,  230. 

lounge-lizard,   163. 

LIST    OF   WORDS   AND   PHBASES 


355 


126. 

at.  i*t^  si,  77. 

«••»,  153,  154,  240. 
124. 


male  cow.  126. 
•ana,  170. 
Mamie  Taylor.   85. 
managing-director,    106. 

r.   244,    252.   260. 
wvnei.    100,    109. 
101. 

«P,  107. 
42 

*?«-  met.  196. 

[anney.  273.  metak,  83,  97. 

lanoenTre,     244,     252,     258.    meter.   244.  257. 

Methodiat,  99,  113. 
"0.  methrmted-apirim.    101. 

155.  metre,  244.  257. 

,  *0.  Metre,  110. 

.  125,  116.  mewa,  47.  99. 

Marjoribenka,   283.  Meyer.   271,   272. 


•R 

22*.    22;. 
77. 
i-law,  30. 

machine.    83,    84,    100.    106, 

110,  132,  251. 
machine-shop,  53. 

thiain,  273. 
MeLane,  273. 

273. 

MaeSweener,  273. 
Macy,   280. 

79,    99. 
266. 

mad  mm  a  hornet,  80. 
mad  mm  a  March  hare.  89. 
;•:. 

196. 

mad-honse,   80. 
maennerchor,  89. 
maffick,  ».,  162. 
mafia,  151. 
Magdalen.   283. 
Maggie,   102.  104. 
124. 
103.  139. 


lit. 

103. 


109. 
martin,  294. 
Martin,  281. 


109. 

251. 
Maaon.   280. 
man,  OB. 
maawre,  96. 
man-meeting,  30. 
master,  95,  173. 
Maater(s),  277. 
mastiff,  254. 
match,  155. 

matinee,   153,   154,  265. 
matins,   112. 
matter,   173. 
matzoh,  151,  240. 
Maueh  Chunk,  290. 
Maurice,  284. 


114. 
Mirhaeh.  275. 
Hmm*   mm. 
Michigan.  296. 
mick.   279. 
mighfa,  196. 
-ighty,  31.  228. 


mileage,  50.  83. 


52,    251. 

18,   42.  52,   98,  251. 

196. 
a  kick.  «*..  79. 

317. 

good,  Vf.,  133. 
the  far  fly.  «?-,  "?8. 
traekt,  n?.,  78. 


196. 
Mar,  MO- 
mayonnaise,  240. 

me,  212,  219.  220. 

mean,  mdv.,  227;  *.,  196,  251. 

meant,  196. 

mebby,    239. 

mediaeval,  244,  246,  257.  260. 

meiiriM  man.  41. 

median!.  244. 

meen,  251. 

meet.    196. 

meidel,    156. 

156. 
155. 
.  264. 
melt.   198. 
melted,   198. 
member,  104. 
memo,  160. 
memorandum-book,    110. 


military,  1TO,  176, 

mffl,  47. 

Mffler,   271.  272. 

mflUgram.  257. 

MOtna.  283. 

min.  m,  213.  214. 

mine,   pro.,  212.  213,  214. 

minerals,  85.  100. 

113. 
113. 

wgiona,   109. 
114. 

minion-nonpareil,  114. 
minister,  112. 
minmtrr,  107.  112. 
minor-leaguer.  111. 
minster,   112. 
minuet,  240. 
minam,  213. 

Mm*.  54. 

nuschierioua,   239. 
244. 
244. 


356 


LIST    OF   WORDS   AND   PHRASES 


Mlinar,  272. 
mob.  n.,  160. 
mobile,  n.,   160. 
mobile  vulgus,   160. 
moccasin,    41. 
moccasin-snake,    45. 
modren,  239. 
Moise,   284. 
Moiseyev,   280. 
molasses,   10,   56,  99. 
mold,   244,   252. 
Holier,    272. 
mollusc,   244,   258,   260. 
mollusk,   244,   246,   247. 
molt,   198,   244. 
money-bund,  152. 
money   in  the  stocks,   106. 
money-order,    103. 
monkey-nut,  99,  109. 
monkey-wrench,   99. 
monoplan,  263n. 
Monroe,    283. 
Montagu-Stuart- Wortley- 

Mackenzie,   282n. 
Montgomery,  273. 
Monumental  City,   33. 
moon-shine,    a.,   85. 
moor,  45,   105,  106,  108. 
moose,    40,    109,    294. 
Mor6as,  277. 
more  better,  230. 
more  queerer,   230. 
more  than,  143,  148. 
more  ultra,    230. 
more  uniquer,   230. 
more  worse,   230. 
Morris,   284. 
mortgage-shark,  80. 
mortician,  124. 
Moses,  280n. 
Moss,   280n. 
moss-back,  47. 
Most  Hon.,  120. 
most  principal,   230. 
Motel,   284. 
motive,  60. 
motor,  110. 
motor-car,  110. 
mould,  245,  246,  254,  260. 
moult,  245. 
moustache,   244,   260. 
movie,  27,  142,  160. 
moving-picture,  160. 
moving-picture-theatre,    99. 
mow,  v.,  196. 
mowed,   196. 
mown,    196. 

Mr.,  108,  117,  121,  266. 
Mrs.,   54. 
muck-raker,  306. 
mud-hen,  45. 
mud-scow,  47. 


Mueller,  272. 

mufti,  105-6. 

mugwump,   83,  84. 

Muller,   271. 

Miiller,   272. 

municipal,  239. 

Murphy,  271. 

musa,  40. 

mush,  47. 

music-hall,    101,    106,    153. 

musk-rat,   134. 

muskwessu,  134. 

musquash,    134. 

muss,  n.,  31,  56;  v.,  78. 

must,  207. 

mustache,   155,  244,  260. 

mustang,    86. 

my,  212,  214,  317. 

my  dear,  122. 

Myers,  271,  272. 

na,  232. 

naefre,  232. 

naefth,  232. 

naht,   232. 

naif,  265. 

naivete1,  265. 

nameable,   33. 

naphtha,   172. 

napkin,  18,  99. 

nasty,  137,  228,  231. 

nat,  232. 

natur,  96. 

nature,  60,  96,  174,  266. 

nature-faker,   163,  306. 

naught,  246. 

naughty,   228. 

navvy,  81. 

ne,   pref.,   232. 

ne-aefre,   232. 

ne-haefth,   232. 

near,  a.,  24;  adv.,  227. 

near-accident,   34. 

near-silk,   23,   159,   227. 

neat,  adv.,   227. 

neck,   46. 

necktie,    99,   104. 

nd,  suf.,  201. 

nee,   240. 

needle,  155. 

nee-ther,   96. 

negative,  v.,  49. 

neger,   252. 

negro,    252. 

neighbor,   244. 

neighborhood,  244. 

neighbour,  244. 

neighbourhood,    244. 

neither,  96. 

nekk-toi,    155. 

nephew,    172,    176. 

ne-singan,    282. 


nest-of-drawers,   98. 

net,    244,    257. 

nett,  244,  245,  257. 

Neumann,  277. 

Nevada,   95,   298. 

never  mind,  157. 

new,  pref.,  289. 

ne-wiste,  232. 

Newman,  277. 

ne-wolde,    232. 

New   Orleans,    291. 

news-agent,  99. 

newsdealer,  99. 

newspaper-business,    108n. 

newspaper-man,    99,    108n. 

next-doorige,    156. 

N.   G.,   23,   161. 

nice,    116n,    230,    306. 

nicht,   gefiedelt,   151n. 

nichts,    152. 

nichts   kommt  heraus,   89. 

nick,  suf.,  156. 

nickel-in-the-slot,    138. 

nigger-in-the-woodpile,    107. 

nine-pins,   101,   111. 

ni-ther,   96. 

nix,   152. 

nix  come  erous,   89. 

nixy,  152. 

no,  152,  214. 

no-account,   a.,  27,   44,   48. 

Noblestone,    277. 

no-how,  adv.,  44,  48. 

no  kerry,   158. 

non-committal,   79. 

non-conformist,    112. 

non-conformist  conscience, 

113. 

none,  214,  216. 
nonpareil,  114. 
noodle,  44,  88. 
no  quiero,  158. 
Nora,  102. 

Norfolk-Howard,    125n. 
Norsworthy,   282. 
Norwich,  297. 
no  sir,  157. 
no-siree,    92. 
not,  232. 
notch,   46. 
notify,  52,  115. 
not  on  your  life,  92. 
nouche,    89. 
nought,    246,    260. 
noways,  229. 
nowheres  else,   147. 
Nurse,  104. 
nurse  the  constituency,   vp., 

107. 

nursing-home,  99,  104. 
nursing-sister,    104. 
nut,  306. 


LIST    OF   WORDS   AND   PHRASES 


357 


nutty,   230. 
nyste,   232. 

o-sound,  246. 
Oakes,  275. 
oatmeal,  99. 
obleege,  60. 
obligate,   31,   49,   77. 
obligation,    31. 
oblige,   31,   60. 
O'Brien,  271,  281. 
ocelot,  42. 
Ochs,  274. 
octoroon,    43. 
ode,  suf.,  200. 
odor,    244,    251. 
odoriferous,   247. 
odour,   244. 
oe-sound,  276. 
oecology,  243. 
oecumenical,    243. 
oedema,  243. 
Oehler,   276. 
Oehm,  275. 

oesophagus,  243,   246,   257. 
of,   auxiliary,   207. 
offal,   56. 
offence,   244. 
offense,   244,  254. 
office,  108. 

office-holder,  27,  99,  105. 
office-seeker,  83. 
off'n,   234,    238. 
off  of,    234. 
offset,   31. 
often,   171. 
Ohio,  30. 
Ohler,   276. 
oh,   oh,   115. 

oi-sound,  158,  175,  235,  276. 
oi-yoi,   151. 
/).K.,   23,   161. 
okeh,  161. 
Old  Bullion,  33. 
Old  Hickory,  33. 
Old   Stick-in-the-Mud,   86. 
oleo,   160. 

oleomargarine,   160,  165. 
Olson,   271. 
omelet,   257. 

omnibus-bill,  33,  83,  107,  310. 
once,  91. 
once't,    91,   238. 
one,  216,  231. 
one  best  bet,  142. 

one he,  147. 

one-horse,  a.,   48. 

onery,  26,  91,  238. 

one  his  legs,   107. 

only,  232. 

onry,  238. 

on  the  bench,   111. 


on  the  fence,  83. 

on  the  hoof,   81. 

on  the  job,  142. 

on  the  Q.  T.,    161. 

on  the  rates,  106. 

on  time,    115. 

on  to  his  curves,  111. 

ontologist,    124. 

opasum,   40. 

op  donderen,   43. 

open  up,  vp.,  164. 

opossum,   22,   40,   160. 

oppose,   48,  51. 

optician,    124. 

optometrist,   124. 

or,  ««/.,  247,  252,  318. 

orangeade,   165. 

oratory,  112. 

oratour,   248n. 

orchestra,  99,  106. 

ordained,  112. 

order,  n.,  108. 

ordinary,   91,   238. 

ordinary  income-tax,   109. 

organization,    132. 

ornate,  67. 

oslerize,  163. 

ossified,    85. 

ostler,  61,  244,  246,  258,  260. 

O   Suilleabhain,   273. 

O' Sullivan,   273. 

otchock,  41. 

otter,  294. 

ouch,    89. 

ought'a,  210. 

oughter,  210. 

ought  to,  210. 

our,  212,  214. 

our,  *uf.,  245,  247,  250,  252, 

253,    256,   257,    261,   318. 
ourn,   191,   212,   214. 
ours,  214. 
ous,  »uf.,  77. 
out,   134. 
out-house,   10. 
over,  143,  148. 
overcoat,  99. 
over  his  signature,   115. 
ow,  suf.,  199. 
own,   225. 
oyster-stew,   109. 
oyster-supper,    80,   109. 

Paca,  274. 

package,  99. 

Padraic,   273. 

padrone,  151,  152. 

paid,  196. 

pail,  97. 

paint,  155. 

paint  the  town  red,   vp.,  78. 

pajamas,    244,   246,   252,   259. 


Paka,  274. 

pale,  n.,  81. 

pale-face,  41. 

palmetto,  43. 

pan-fish,   46. 

pan  out,  vp.,  78,  135. 

pants,   27,    110,   156. 

papa,  170. 

Papadiamantopoulos,    277. 

paper,    155. 

papoose,   41,  42. 

paprika,  152. 

paraffin,  98. 

parcel,  51,  52,  99. 

pard,   160. 

pardner,  238. 

paresis,   169. 

parlor,  99,   103,  105,  244. 

parson,  43,  112. 

partner,  160. 

parlor-car,   99. 

parlour,   244. 

parson,   43,   112. 

partner,    160. 

partridge,  155,  165. 

paseo,   158. 

pass,  n.,  95,  174. 

passage,   300. 

pass-degree,   105. 

passenger-coach,  82. 

past,  173. 

pastor,   95,  112,  173. 

pat,   a.,  307. 

patent,   173,   176. 

path,    58,    59,    95,    174. 

Patrick,   273. 

pa'tridge,   238. 

pavement,  100.  110. 

pawn-shop,  12* 

paw-paw,  40,  294. 

pay,  196. 

pay  back,  vp.,  114. 

pay-day,  99. 

pay,   dirt,   33,   81. 

paying-guest,  97,  102,  124. 

pay  up,  vp.,  114. 

P.  0.,  105. 

P.  D.  Q.,  23,  161. 

pea,   77n. 

Peabody,  274. 

peach,  133,  310. 

peacharino,  166. 

peach-pit,   43. 

peanut,  45,  99,  109. 

peanut-politics,    109. 

pearl,  114. 

Pearse,   273. 

peart,   79. 

peas,  77n,  244. 

pease,  244,  245. 

Pebaudiere,   274. 

ped,  198. 


358 


LIST    OF   WORDS   AND   PHEASES 


pedagog,  262. 
peep,  v.,  202. 
peeve,   142. 
peewee,  43. 
pemmican,  40. 
pen,  n.,  160. 
pence,   139. 
Pence,  275. 
penitentiary,    160. 
pennant-winner,   111. 
penny,   33,  138. 
penny-ante,    138. 
penny-arcade,    138. 
penny-bill,  47. 
penny-in-the-slot,   138. 
pennyr'yal.    109. 
penny-whistle,     138. 
Pentz,    275. 
peon,  87. 
peonage,  87. 
pep,  160. 
peptomint,   165. 
per,   154. 

perambulator,  139. 
per   day,    diem,    dozen, 

dred,  mile,  your  letter 
Perdix   perdix,    63. 
permanent-way,  83,  100, 
persimmon,   33,   40,   109. 
pesky,  79. 
peter  out,  vp.,  78. 
Petit,  274. 
petrol,  98. 
Petrssylf,   224. 
Pfau,   273. 
Pfund,   277. 
phantom,   250. 
phial,   245. 
phlegm-cutter,   85. 
Phoenix  park,  273. 
phone,  n.,  142,  160;   v., 

142,  202. 
phoney,  142. 
phonograph,  165. 
physick,   250,  254. 
P.  I.,  127. 
pianist,  170. 
piano,  173. 
pianola,  165. 
Piarais,  273. 
pica,  114. 

picayune,    79,    86,    105. 
pickaninny,   43,   318. 
picket,  244. 
picture,  155. 
picturize,  164. 
pie,  52,  53,  100. 
pie-counter,  83. 
piffled,   85. 
pifflicated,   85. 
pigeon,  41. 
Pigeon  English,  41. 


piggery,  99. 
pigmy,  244,  260. 
pike,  160. 
piker,    156. 
Pikler,   280. 
pillar-box,   99,   103. 
pimp,   127. 
pine-knot,   46. 
pin-head,   129,    142. 
pinocle,  88. 
pint,  n.,  105. 
pipe-of -peace,   41. 
piquet,    244. 
pisen,   236. 
pismire,   126. 
pissoir,  127n. 
pit,   43. 

pitcher,  100,  238. 
pitch-pine,   46. 
placate,   49,   136. 
place,   300. 
placer,  87. 
plaguy,  31. 
plain,  n.,  29,   41. 
plaintiff,    254. 
.  l6*    plank,  83. 

plank  down,  vp.,  78. 
10<J-    plant,   59. 

planted  to  corn,   115. 
Plant  Moon,   42n. 
plate,   100. 
platform,    83,    84. 
play  ball,  vp.,  111. 
played  out,  a.,  79. 
play  for  a  sucker,  vp.,  142. 
play  possum,   vp.,  79. 
plaza,  86,   240,  300. 
plead,   196. 
pled,  196,  199. 

plough,   27,   82,   98,   244,   250, 
1°3»          248,   260,   261. 

plow,     244,     246,     250,     252, 

258. 

plug  along,  vp.,  319. 
plumb,  adv.,  79. 
plump,  adv.,  79. 
plunder,  31,  33. 
plunder-bund,    152. 
pluralist,   112. 
plute,  160. 

Plymouth    Brethern,    113. 
poche,  94. 
pocher,    94. 
pochgen,  94. 
pochger,   94. 
pocket,   155. 
pocket-book,    110. 
podgy,  244,  246. 
podlog£,    156. 
Poe,   273. 
Poh,  273. 
point,  n.,  114. 


point-of-view,  90. 

points,  83,  101. 

poique,  158n. 

pois,  77n. 

poke,   n.,  94. 

poker,  94. 

pokerish,  94. 

poke-weed,   45. 

pokker,    94. 

polack,    279. 

poncho,   86. 

pond,  46,  51. 

pone,   33,   41. 

pontiff,   254. 

pony,    85. 

pony  up,   vp.,  Ill,   164. 

poor-house,  100,  106. 

pop,  n.,  160. 

pop-concert,   160. 

pop-corn,   18,   46. 

poppycock,   81. 

popular   concert,    160. 

populist,   160. 

porgy,   40. 

pork,  168. 

pork-barrel,  83,  107,  142,  15», 

312. 

pork-feet,   19n. 
porpess,  250,  252. 
porpoise,    250,    252. 
porque,  158,  158n. 
porridge,  47,   99,  105,   10«. 
portage,   43,   86,  296. 
portiere,   264. 
Port  Tobacco,  287. 
Portugee,   229. 
possum,   160. 
post,  n.,  103,   139. 
postal-card,    103. 
postal-order,  103. 
post-card,   103. 
posterior,   248n. 
post-free,   100,   103. 
postillion,   260. 
postman,  19n,  99. 
postpaid,    100,    103. 
postum,    166. 
potato-bug,   45. 
poteen,   90. 
Poteet,   274. 
Potomac,  287. 
pot-pie,  53,  100. 
pound,   139. 
Pound,   277. 
Powell,   283. 
powerful,   81. 
pow-wow,  41. 
prairie,    40,   43,   86,   294. 
prairie-schooner,  81. 
Praise-God,  284. 
pram,  97. 
p'raps,  239. 


LIST    OF   WORDS   AND   PHRASES 


359 


prebendary,  112. 

precinct,    83. 

preelood,    240. 

preferred,  171. 

prelude,   240. 

premeer,   240. 

premiere,   240. 

premiss,   260. 

preparatory-school,    160. 

prepaid,   100,   103. 

prep-school,   104,    160. 

presentation,    112. 

president,  104,  119. 

presidential,   30,   50,   51,   136. 

prespiration,    238. 

press,  n.,  100. 

pressman,  99,  108. 

pretence,  244. 

pretense,  244. 

pretty,  175. 

pretzel,   88. 

prickly-heat,    46. 

i  primarily,     170. 
primary,  n.,  83,  84. 
primate,   112. 
prime  minister,   122. 
primero,   94. 
Prince  Albert,  14. 
principal,   «.,   104. 
private-detective,    110. 
private-enquiry-agent,  110. 
prob'ly,  238. 
procurer,    127. 
professor,    33,    117,    118. 
program  (me),   100,   171,   244, 

245,  260,  262,  263. 
progress,   v.,  48,   51. 
Prolog,  262. 
promenade,   98. 
proof-reader,    100. 
propaganda,    33. 
proper,  adv.,  227. 
property,    155. 
proposition,    116. 
prosit,  89,  89n. 
prostitute,    127. 
protectograph,    165. 
protege,  240,  264. 
Protestant  Episcopal,    113. 
prove,   196. 
proved,    196. 
proven,   196. 
provost,  104. 
pub,   105,   139. 
public-comfort-station,   127. 
public-company,    106. 
public-house,   100,    105,   124. 
public-school,    100,    104. 
public-servant,    27,    99,    105. 
publishment,   31,   77. 
pudding,    88n. 
pudgy,  244,  246. 


puerile,  174. 

raise,   n.,  33,  156,  v.,  196. 

pull  up  stakes,  vp.,  78. 

raised,    196. 

pull  wool  over  his  eyes,  vp., 

rake-off,  10. 

78. 

Ralph,   286. 

pumpernickel,  88. 

ram,  126. 

pumpkin,   172. 

rambunctious,   81,  82,  166. 

pung,   48. 

ran,  196,  206. 

pungy,    47,   48,   111. 

ranch,  n.,  86;  v.,  87. 

punster,   90n. 

ranchero,   30. 

punt,  n.,  111. 

ranchman,  87. 

Purgatoire,  292. 

rancho,  30. 

purse,   110. 

rancor,   244. 

push,  n.,  319. 

rancour,  244. 

pushed,  201. 

rang,  196. 

pusht,  201. 

range,  81. 

put,  164,  196. 

rapides,  46n. 

put  a  bug  in  his  ear,  vp.,  78. 

rapids,    40,    46,   86. 

put  it  down,   vp.,  103. 

rare,  a.,  100,  104;  «.,  237. 

put  over,   vp.,   164. 

rate-payer,    101,    105. 

pygmy,  244,   247. 

rates,  101. 

pyjamas,   244,   252,   258,   259, 

rathskeller,    88,   240. 

260. 

rational,   173. 

rattler,   160. 

Q-room,  264. 

rattlesnake,  160. 

quadroon,  43. 

rattling,    llOn. 

quaff,  95. 

Raymond,  283. 

quahaug,  30,   42. 

razor,  155. 

quandary,  306. 

razor-back,  45. 

quan'ity,    238. 

razor-strop,  237n. 

quarantine-flag,   125. 

re,   *«/.,   252,   253,   256,   25T. 

quarter-day,   114. 

259,  261. 

quartette,  260. 

read,  105,  196. 

quate,   236. 

read    for    holy    orders,    rji.. 

quaver,  113. 

112. 

questionize,  77. 

ready-made,   124. 

queue,  106. 

ready-tailored,    124. 

quick,   adv.,  227. 

ready-to-wear,    124. 

quit,   196. 

real-estate  agent,  18. 

quite,   114,  116,   117. 

really,  228. 

quitter,  14. 

realm,  251. 

quoit,   236. 

rear,  v.,  237. 

quotation-marks,    100. 

recall,  n.,  107. 

receipts,  100. 

r,  letter,  60. 

recent,  adv.,  228. 

r-sound,  61. 

reckon,  81. 

rabbit,   54. 

reco'nize,  238. 

Rabinovitch,  280. 

rd,  •«/.,  201. 

raccoon,  40,   134n,  160. 

reddish,   237. 

racing-dope,   94. 

red-eye,   85. 

radish,  237. 

Red  Indian,  99. 

ragamuffin,  56. 

red-light-district,     127. 

rail,  82. 

reed-bird,    45. 

railroad,    n.,    100;    v.,    83. 

reel-of-cotton,  103. 

railroad-man,    83,    100. 

reflexion,   260. 

rails,   100. 

refresher,  108. 

railway,  100. 

regime,    264. 

railway-guard,   118. 

regular,  adv.,  227;   n.,  88. 

railway-man,   135. 

regularity,   84. 

railway-rug,    88. 

Reichman,  280. 

railway-servant,    100. 
railway-sub-office,    83. 

Reiger,  274. 
Reindollar,  277. 

Rain-in-the-Face,   86. 

reit-eve,  166. 

360 


releasement,  31,  77. 

reliable,  28,  28n,  51,  138. 

relm,  251. 

reminisce,  v.,  142. 

remnant,  155. 

rench,  91,  196,  287. 

renched,   196. 

rent,  v.,  201. 

rep,  160. 

repeater,   83,   84,   107. 

repertoire,  264. 

reputation,  160. 

requirement,  31. 

requisite,  250,  251. 

reserve,  v.,  106. 

resinol,   165. 

resolute,   77,  142. 

restaurant,   124. 

re'sume',    265. 

resurrect,  24,  77. 

retainer,  108. 

retiracy,  77. 

return-ticket,  83,  100,  10<J. 

Reuss,  275. 

Rev.,  122. 

Rhine  wine,  100,  104. 

Richman,   280. 

rickey,  85. 

rid,  196. 

ride,    196. 

ridden,  196. 

riffle,  46. 

riff-raff,  56. 

rigadon,  44. 

right,   a.   and  adv.,   24,   148, 

149. 

right  along,  148. 
right  away,   148,   149,  155. 
right  good,  148. 
right    honorable,     107,     118, 

119,  120. 
right  now,  148. 
right  off,   148. 
right  often,   148. 
right-of-way,    83. 
right  on  time,  148. 
right  smart,   148. 
right  there,  148. 
right-thinker,  302. 
right  well,  148. 
rigmarole,   56. 
rigor,   244. 
rigorism,   247. 
rigor  mortis,  247. 
rigour,  244. 
Riker,  274. 
rile,  143,  196,  236. 
riled,   196. 
rime,  258. 
rind,   172. 
ring,   196. 
ring  me  up,  vp.,  103. 


rinse,   91,   196n,   237. 

ripping,   116n,   171. 

rise,  v.,  107,  196. 

rised,    198. 

ritualism,   112. 

river,   298. 

riz,    196. 

road,  300. 

road-agent,   14,   14n. 

road-bed,    100. 

road-louse,    163. 

road-mender,    100. 

road-repairer,    100. 

roast,    100. 

roast-beef,    88n. 

roasting-ear,   46. 

Robbins,   280. 

Robinia,    pseudacacia,    45. 

Robinson,   104,  278. 

Rochefort,  240. 

rock,  n.,  31,  33,  52,  53,  53n. 

Rockaway,  287. 

rock-pile,   53. 

rode,   196,  198,  205,  206. 

Rogers,  280. 

Rogowsky,   280. 

roil,  142,  196n. 

role,  264. 

roll-call,  100. 

roller-coaster,    77. 

rolling-country,    46. 

Roman    Catholic,    113. 

romanza,   73. 

room,    v.,   49. 

roorback,   83,   84. 

rooster,  19n,  100,  126. 

rooter,    111. 

rope  in,  vp.,  78. 

rose,  v.,  196. 

Rose,  280. 

Rosecrans,   274. 

Rosenau,    276,   280. 

Rosen-baum,  -berg,  -blatt, 
-blum,  -busch,  -feldt, 
-heim,  -stein,  -thai,  280. 

Rosenkrantz,  274. 

Roth,  276. 

Rotten  row,  41. 

rotter,    129. 

rouge,   291. 

rough,  a.,  261 ;  adv.,  146. 

rough-house,  23. 

rough-neck,   81,   81n. 

roundsman,    105. 

round-trip,   82. 

round-trip-ticket,    100,    106. 

round-up,   81. 

rous  mit  "im,  89. 

roustabout,  80. 

route  de  roi,  41. 

row,  n.,  109. 

rowdy,  81,  310. 


Roy,  283. 
Royce,  275. 
R.   8.   O.,   83. 
rubber-neck,    «.,    10,    14, 

v.,  202. 
rube,  14,  15. 
Rubinowitz,   278. 
ruby,    114. 
ruby-nonpariel,    114. 
ruf,   262. 
Rugby,   111. 
rugger,  111. 
rum-dumb,  89. 
rumor,  244. 
rumour,    244. 
run,   n.,   46,   82,   108;   v., 

107,   196. 
rung,  196. 
run-in,   n.,  164. 
run  into  the  ground,  vp., 
run  slow,   146. 
Russian,   279n. 
rutabaga,  100,    109. 
Ruven,   284. 
ruz,  198. 
Ryan,   271. 

Sabbaday,    160. 

sabe,    87. 

sachem,    42,   42n. 

sack,  33. 

Sadd'y,  172,   238. 

sagamore,  30. 

said,  196. 

Saint-Denis,   273. 

St.   John,   283. 

St.    Leger,   283. 

St.  Louis,  291. 

St.   Martin's  summer,  99. 

Saint-Maure,    273. 

St.  Nicholas,  43n. 

sale,  155. 

salesgirl,  121. 

saleslady,   121,    156. 

saleswoman,   100,  121. 

Salmon,    280. 

Salomon,  280. 

saloon,  18,   85,   100. 

saloon-carriage,    99. 

saloon-keeper,  85. 

saloon-loafer,  139. 

salt-lick,  46. 

Salt   river,    107. 

saltwater-taffy,   14. 

samp,    42. 

sample,   155. 

sample-room,  85. 

San  Antonio,   292. 

sanataria,     265. 

sandwich,    154. 

sang,   196,    205. 

sangerfest,   89,  151. 


LIST    OF   WORDS   AND   PHRASES 


361 


sank,  196. 

Santa  Klaus,  43,  43n. 

sa's'parella,  238. 

sashay,   239. 

sassy,  236. 

sat,   196,    202,   206. 

satisfaction,   173. 

sauce,   91. 

sault,   291. 

Sault  Ste.  Marie,  291. 

saunter,   95. 

sauerkraut,  see  sour-kraut. 

saurkraut,   see  sour-kraut. 

savagerous,    77. 

Saviour,   245,  247. 

savory,   244. 

savoury,   244. 

saw,  v.,  196,  205. 

sawft,   175. 

saw   wood,  vp.,  49. 

say,  196. 

scab,  14,  133. 

scalawag,    81,    82,    166. 

scallywampus,   82n,   166. 

scalp,   v.,   48. 

scant,   57. 

scarce,  228. 

scarce  as  hen's  teeth,  309. 

scarcely,   228. 

scarf-pin,  100. 

scary,  24,  79. 

ecenarioize,  164. 

sceptic,   245,  261. 

sell-sound,  62. 

schadchen,  151. 

Schaefer,    277. 

schedule,    176. 

scheme,  62. 

scherzo,    240. 

Schlachtfeld,    280. 

Schlegel,  276. 

Schluter,  276. 

Schmidt,   271. 

schmierkase,   see  smearcase. 

Schnabele,  275. 

Schneider,  271,  272,  276,  280. 

schnitz,   89. 

schnitzel,   88. 

Schoen,  276. 

Schon,  276. 

Schonberg,   277. 

scholar,    155. 

school,  155. 

schooner,   47,  85,  105. 

Schrader,   275. 

Schroeder,    275. 

Schultz,  271. 

Schumacher,    277. 

schiitzenfest,  89. 

Schwab,   275. 

Schwartz,   277. 

schweinefiisse,   lOn. 


schweizer,  88,  240. 

Schwettendieck,  281. 

scientist,   28,   28n,   131. 

scimetar,  244. 

scimitar,  244. 

scoon,  v.,  47. 

scooner,    47. 

scoot,   78,   105. 

scow,   40,   43,  100,  111. 

scowegian,  279. 

scrap,    81n,    134. 

scrape  n.,  81. 

scrubb'n,    157. 

scrumdifferous,    82n. 

scrumptious,    81. 

scullery,  106. 

scullery-maid,    103. 

s6,  pro.,  216n. 

sea-board,   31. 

sea-shore,  31. 

seat,   126. 

second-hand,    124. 

second-wing,    126. 

second-year  man,  104. 

secretary,    108,    170,    176. 

section,    109. 

see,   196. 

teen,  189,  196,  198. 

see  the  elephant,  vp.,  79. 

seganku,  40. 

segar,   264. 

seidel,  89. 

selectman,  30,  47. 

self,  224. 

sell,   v.,  196. 

semi-breve,   113. 

semi-brevis,  113. 

semi-demi-semi-quaver,    113. 

semi-minima,   113. 

semi-occasional,  27,  81. 

semi-quaver,   113. 

send,   196,    201. 

sende,  201. 

senior,  104. 

senior-prom,  105. 

sefior,  265. 

sefiorita,  158. 

sent,  196. 

sente,  201. 

seofan,    114. 

septicaemia,  244. 

septums,   265. 

servant,   102,   124,   136. 

serviette,  99. 

set,  v.,  196,  202. 

set-off,  31. 

seven- and-forty,  114. 

Seventh  Day  Adventist,   113. 

sew,   250,  261. 

Sewell,  274. 

sewer,  100. 

Seymour,  278. 


sez,   196,  211. 

'sGravenhage,    281. 

shack,  14. 

shaddock,   109. 

shake,  v.,  196,  204. 

shaken,   196,    199,   204. 

shall,  143,  144,  191,  208,  210. 

Shane,  276. 

sha'n't,   210. 

shanty,   86. 

shareholder,  100,  106. 

shares,  101,   106. 

shave,  196. 

shaved,  196. 

Shawangunk,  297. 

she,  212,  220. 

shebang,  93. 

shebeen,  93. 

shed,  v.,  196,  200. 

shell,  85. 

shell-road,  46. 

Shepherd,  277. 

Sheppard,   277. 

Sher,  280. 

Sherman,   280. 

sherry-cobbler,  84. 

shevaleer,  251. 

shew,   244,    246. 

shillelah,  90. 

shilling,  139. 

shilling-shocker,  98. 

shily,   260. 

shin,  v.,  49. 

shine,  196. 

shined,   196. 

shingle,  n.,  46;  v.,  48. 

shirt,    126. 

shirtso,   240. 

shirt-waist,  100,  103. 

shoat,  33. 

shod,  203. 

shoe,  n.,  19n,  62,  63,  100, 

137;  v.,  196,  203. 
shed,  196,  203. 
shoeing,   203. 
shoemaker,  100. 
Shoemaker,  277. 
shoe-string,  100. 
shoe- tree,   100. 
shoo-fly,  311. 
shook,  v.,  196. 
shoot,  v.,  196. 
shooting,  n.,  99,  115. 
shoot-the-chutes,    163. 
shop,    n.,    52,    63,    105,    136, 

138,  155;  v.,  188. 
shop-assistant,   100. 
shop-fittings,    101,    138. 
shoplifter,    138. 
shopper,   188. 
shopping,  188. 
shop-walker,  98,  124. 


362 


LIST    OF   WORDS   AND   PHRASES 


shop-worn,   138. 

short  and  ugly  word,    306. 

shot,  v.,  196. 

shot-gun,   80. 

should,   60,  210. 

should  not  ought,   210. 

shouldn't,   210. 

should  of,  234. 

should   ought,    191,    210. 

show,   n.,    155,   157;    v.,    164, 

244,   246,  196. 
show-down,    10,   164. 
showed,  196. 
show  up,  vp.,  164. 
shrub,   85. 

shuck,    v.,   48,    196,    204. 
shunt,   83,   101. 
shut  out,  vp.,  111. 
shutup'n,   157. 
shuyster,  90n. 
shyster,  89,  89-90n. 
si,   pro.,  216n. 
siad,  pro.,  216n. 
sick,  10,  56,  56n,  100,  125. 
sick  at  the  stomach,  125. 
sick-bed,    -flag,    -leave,    -list, 

-room,    125. 
siddup,   172. 
side-hill,  31. 
side-stepper,   14. 
side-swipe,  v.,  83. 
side-track,  v.,  83. 
sidewalk,   14,   47,  100,  110. 
sideways,   229. 
Sidney,   273,  283. 
sierra,  87. 

silk-stocking,    a.,    107. 
silver,   100. 
simp,  160. 
simpleton,   160. 
sing,   196,  317. 
singan,  232. 
singen,  317. 
single-track  mind,  83n. 
Sing-Sing,    290. 
'sink,  v.,  196. 
Sint  Klaas,   43n. 
Sioux,   291. 
siphon,   244. 
siren,  244,  257. 
sit,    197,   202,    206. 
sitten,   206. 
sitting-room,  103. 
skedaddle,  87. 
skeer,   237. 
skeerce,  237. 
skeptic,    245,    246,   247. 
skiddoo,    92. 
skin,  n.,  85;  v.,  197. 
skun,  197,  199. 
skunk,   40,   134. 
fikunna,   48. 


skus  me,  239. 

snake,   107. 

slack,   v.,  306. 

snake-fence,    81. 

slacker,   306,  310. 

Snavely,  275. 

slaepan,  200. 

sneak,  v.,  197. 

elaepte,  200. 

snew,    199. 

Slagel,   276. 

snitz,    89. 

slam  the   pill,    vp.,   311. 

Snively,  275. 

slang,  v.,  197. 

snook,    v.,    49. 

slangwhanger,   31. 

snoop,   49. 

slate,  83,  103. 

snoot,    237. 

slavey,  103. 

snooted,  85. 

sled,    100. 

snout,   237. 

sledge,  100. 

Snow   Moon,    42n. 

sleep,   v.,   24,   197. 

snow-plow,   46. 

sleeper,  82,  98,  160. 

snuck,   197. 

sleep  good,  149. 

Snyder,   272,   276. 

sleeping-car,   160. 

S.  O.  B.,  127. 

sleeve,  155. 

sob-sister,   163. 

sleigh,   40,  100. 

social-disease,  127. 

slep,    19?r*2Ut),   238. 

social-evil,  127. 

slept,  201. 

soccer,   111. 

slick,  236. 

sockdolager,   81. 

slid,   197. 

sock-suspenders,    98,    104. 

slide,  197. 

sodalicious,   166. 

slightly-used,    124. 

soe,  250,   251. 

slily,  260. 

soft,  adv.,  226. 

slim,   79. 

soft-drinks,    85,    100. 

sling,  n.,  84  ;  v.,  197. 

soi,  pro.,  225. 

slip,  n.,  50. 

soiree,  264. 

slipper,   52. 

sold,  196. 

slit,  v.,  197,  203. 

soli,  266. 

slitted,   197,   203. 

solicitor,   108. 

sliver,   174. 

solid,  50. 

slog,  245,  246. 

Solmson,  280. 

s'long,   239. 

Solomon,  280. 

slopped,  85. 

sombrero,  14,  86. 

slosh,  245,  246. 

some,  a.  and  adv.,  149,  306. 

slow,   adv.,  227. 

some  pumpkins,  33. 

slug,  245,  246. 

somewheres,   147. 

slumgullion,   81. 

son,   pro.,  225. 

slung,  197. 

son-in-laws,   229. 

slush,   245,  246. 

Sontag,  277. 

slush-fund,   152. 

Soo,  291. 

Sluter,  276. 

soot,   250. 

Smackover,    291. 

sophomore,  47,  104. 

small,  79. 

soprani,   265. 

small-pearl,   114. 

sort'a,   234. 

small-pica,    114. 

s.  o.  s.,  v.,  164. 

small-potatoes,   33,   81. 

sot,  v.,  196n. 

smart,  31. 

Soule,  274. 

smash,   n.,   85. 

sound,  n.,  108. 

smearcase,    43,   265. 

sour,  n.,  85. 

smell,  v.,  197. 

sour-kraut,    30,    44,    88,    152. 

smelt,   197. 

soused,   85. 

smited,   198. 

sovereign,   252. 

Smith,   271,   277,   281. 

sow,   126. 

Smith-Barry,   282n. 

space-rates,  108. 

smithereens,   90. 

spaghetti,   151,   152. 

smoker,    160. 

spalpeen,  90. 

smoking-car,  160. 

span,  n.,  43;  v.,  197. 

smote,   198. 

spanner,  99. 

Snabely,  275. 

spat,  203. 

LIST    OF   WORDS   AND   PHRASES 


363 


speak-easy,  85. 

speaking-tour,    107. 

speciality,  264. 

specialty,  264. 

speck,  89. 

sped,   203. 

speed,  v.,  197,  202. 

speeded,    197,    203. 

speeder,   203. 

speeding,  203. 

speed-limit,    -mania,    -maniac, 

203. 

speedway,  299. 
spell,   v.,  197. 
spelling-bee,   47. 
spelt,    197. 
spera,   158. 
spiel,   240. 
spieler,  93. 
spiggoty,    279. 
spigot,   100. 
spill,   v.,   197. 
spilt,   197. 
spin,  v.,  197. 
spit,   v.,   197,   203. 
splendiferous   166. 
splendor,  245. 
splendour,    245. 
splinter-bar,   101. 
split  a  ticket,  vp.,  84. 
split  one's  sides,  tip.,  92. 
split-ticket,  84,  107. 
splurge,   n.,   77. 
spoil,   197. 
spoilt,   197. 
spondulix,  81. 
spoof,   129. 
spool-of-thread,    103. 
sport,  88n. 
sporting,  171. 
sporting-house,   127. 
sprang,  197. 
spread,  v.,  202. 
spread-eagle,  81. 
spread  one's  self,  vp.,  78. 
sprightly,   31. 
spring,   v.,   197. 
sprung,   197. 
spry,  31. 
spuke,  30. 
squantersquash,   41. 
square,   110. 
square-head,   279. 
square-meal,  81. 
squash,   40,    100,   104,   160. 
squat,  v.,  49,  51. 
squatter,  31,  40. 
squaw,  41,  134. 
squaw-man,   86. 
squealer,  156. 
squinch,  237. 
squirrel-whiskey,   85. 


stack  hay,  vp.,  48. 
stag,  a.,  14,  14n. 
stage,   31. 
stage-coach,    31. 
stag-party,    80. 
staits-preussen,    155. 
Staley,  275. 
stallion,  155. 
stalls,  99,  106. 
stalwart,  83. 
stamp,   v.,  95,   237. 
stampede,   43. 
stamping-ground,   47. 
stanch,   245. 
standen,  155. 
stand,  v.,  84,  107. 
stand-patter,   163. 
standpoint,    28,    28n,    51,    90, 

136. 

standpunkt,  90. 
stang,  190,  197. 
stank,  197. 

Stanley,   283. 
start  off,  vp.,  164. 
start-off,  n.,  164. 
state-house,    47. 
statutory-offense,   127. 
staunch,  245,  260. 

stave  off,  vp.,  31. 

stays,   n.,   98. 

steal,   197. 

steam-roller,    307,    312. 

steady,    a.,    250,    251;    adv., 
227. 

steddy,  251. 

steep,   116. 

Stehli,  275. 

stein,  n.,  89;  ««/.,  282. 

Steiner,  277. 

Steinway,  275. 

stem-winder,  27,  100. 

stenog,  160. 

stent,   239. 

stew,  174. 

steward,  107. 

stewed,   85. 

stick,  n.,  85,  97,  110. 

stiff,  116. 

stile,   251. 

sting,  197. 

stink,  197. 

stinkibus,   84. 

stint,  239. 

stock,  56,  106. 

stock-holder,  100. 

stocking-feet,   81. 

stocks,   101. 

stogie,  105. 

Stolar,  280. 

stole,  197,  205. 

stomach,    125,    126. 

stomp,   v.,  237. 


stonden,   206. 

stone,   31,  114. 

stone-fence,  84. 

Stoner,  277. 

stone-wall,   85. 

stoop,  30,   43,   156. 

stop-over,  n.,  82. 

stop  over,  vp.,  83. 

store,  n.,  52,  53,  138,  155. 

store-clothes,   81. 

store-fixtures,  101. 

store-keeper,    124. 

stores,  98,  99,  101,  102,  103. 

storey,  103,  245,  257,  260 

story,   245,   257,   263. 

straight,  85. 

straight-ticket,    83,    107. 

street,  155,  157,  299. 

street-cleaner,    101,    105. 

street-corner,  110. 

street-railway,    101. 

street-walker,  128. 

stren'th,   238. 

stricken  out,   tip.,  108. 

strike,  v.,  197. 

strike  it  rich,  vp.,  78. 

strike  out,  vp.,   111. 

string,   n.,   110. 

strit-kar,  155. 

strong-arm-squad,    105. 

strop,   237n. 

struck  out,  tip.,  108. 

stuck  on,   vp.,   238. 

Studebaker,  277. 

student,   105. 

study,   v.,  105. 

study   for  the   ministry,   vp. 

112. 

study  medicine,  vp.,  104. 
stump,   v.,  24,   49,   135. 
stumped,  44. 
stumping-trip,   107. 
stump-oratory,  135. 
stunt,    133,    239. 
stupor,  247. 
Sturgeon  Moon,  42n. 
style,   251. 
subaltern,   105. 
subway,   101,   110. 
succor,   245. 
succotash,    30,    33r  41. 
succour,  245. 
sucker,  14,  133. 
suffragan,   112. 
sugar,  133. 
suit-case,  106. 
Sullivan,  271. 
summon,  n.,  229. 
sundae,  165. 
Sunday,  277. 
sunflower,  394. 
sung,  196. 


364 


LIST    OF   WORDS   AND   PHRASES 


sunk,    196. 

supawn,  42. 

super,  pref.,  154,  230. 

supergobosnoptious,    82n. 

super  gobsloptious,    166. 

super-tax,   109. 

Snplee,   276. 

SuplSe,   276. 

Supplee,   276. 

sure,  adv.,  34,  146,  227,  228. 

surely,  228. 

sur.e  Mike,  157. 

surgery,    108. 

surtax,   109. 

suspenders,  19n,  81,  101,  104, 

259. 

sut,  250. 
swaller,  239. 
swam,   197. 
swamp,  109. 
swang,   197. 
swear,   197. 
swear  off,  vp.,  135. 
sweater,    101. 
sweep,   v.,  197. 
sweepstakes,    88n. 
sweet-corn,  109. 
sweet-potato,    109. 
sweets,    97,    103,    110. 
swell,   v.,   197. 
swelldoodle,   166. 
swellellegous,   82n. 
swep,    197,   200. 
swim,  v.,  197. 
swing,  v.,  197. 
swingle-tree,  56. 
switch,    n.,    82,    101;    v.,    83, 

101. 

switching-engine,    82. 
switchman,  82. 
switch-yard,   82. 
swole,     197,     201. 
swollen,    197. 
Swope,  275. 
sword,   60,   171. 
swore,   197. 
swum,   197. 
swung,  197. 
sycamore,   294. 
syphilis,   127,   128. 
syphon,    244. 
syren,  244,  257. 

t-sound,  96. 
Taaffe,    272. 
tabernacle,   112. 
table,  v.,  48. 
tablecloth,   155. 
tactic,   229. 
taffy,   245,   246. 
Taft,   272. 
tailor-made,  108. 


take,   103,   197. 

take  a  back  seat,  vp.,  78. 

taken,  197. 

take  in,  vp.,  103. 

take   on,    vp.,    31. 

take  orders,  vp.,   112. 

take  silk,  vp.,  108. 

take  to  the  woods,  vp.,  49. 

takings,    100. 

talented,  31,  133. 

Taliaferro,  282. 

talk-fest,   151. 

talk   through   your   hat,    vp. 

309. 

tamale,  87. 
tambour,  44. 
tanked,  85. 
tank-town,   83n. 
tap,  n.,  100. 
tapioca,   41. 
tariff-reform,   107. 
tarnal,    129. 
tarnation,    129. 
tart,  n.,  53,   100,  129. 
tassel,   173. 
tasteful,  146. 
tasty,  24,  27,  146. 
taught,  197. 
tavern,   53. 
taxed-paid,   142n. 
taxes,  101. 
taxi,    v.,   163. 
tax-paid,   101. 
tay,  91,  91n. 
Taylor,  271,  272,  280. 
T.  B.,  161. 
tea,    91. 

teach,  197,  203. 
teacher,   155. 
team,  52. 
tear,   v.,   197. 
tea-shop,   137. 
Tecumseh,    285. 
teetotaler,    81. 
telegrapher,    170. 
telephone,  160. 
telescope,   v.,   83,   135. 
tell,   197. 

temporarily,    170. 
tenant,    155,    156. 
tender,  n.,  97. 
tenderfoot,   81. 
tenderloin,    101,    104,    163. 
tenner,    156. 
ten-pins,   101,    111.      ' 
tepee,  42. 
terrapin,    40,    109. 
Terre  Haute,   291. 
terrible,    adv.,   190. 
tlte,   306. 
te^e-a-tete,  264. 
than,  223,   231. 


Thanksgiving  day,  114. 

thank  you  kindly,  92. 

that,    216,   217. 

that'a  way,  234. 

that  get's  me,  142. 

that'n,    216,    217. 

that-one,   216. 

that-there,    216,   217. 

theater,  263. 

theatre,  250,  259,  260. 

the,  92,  123,  172. 

thee,   219. 

their,   212,   213,   214. 

theirn,   212,   214. 

theirs,   213,    214. 

theirself,    224,    225. 

theirselves,    224,    225. 

them,   212,   216,   217,   219. 

Themicoud,  272. 

themselves,   225. 

them-there,   216. 

thence,   228. 

there,  145,  228. 

there's    no    two    ways    about 

it,  vp.,  31. 
these,  216,  217. 
these-here,  216,  217. 
thesen,   216. 
These  States,  73. 
they,   212,  213. 
they  is,  238. 
thimble,  155. 
thin,  pro.,  214. 
thine,   214. 
think,  n.,  197. 
this,   216,    217. 
this' a  way,  234. 
this-here,  216,  217. 
thisn,    216,    238. 
this-one,   216. 
thither,  145,  228. 
tho,   262,   263. 
thoro,  262,  263. 
thorofare,   262, 
thoroly,  262,   263. 
Thoroughgood,   273. 
those,  216,  217. 
thosen,  216. 
those-there,    216,    217. 
thou,   215. 
thought,  v.,  197. 
thread,  250,  251. 
threat,    251. 
thred,  251. 
thret,  251. 

three  of  a  kind,  111. 
three    strikes    and    out,    vp., 

111. 

threw,    197,    203. 
thrive,  197. 
throve,    197. 
throw,   197. 


LIST    OF   WORDS   AND   PHRASES 


365 


throw  a  rock,   vp.,  53. 

throwed,    197,    199,   203. 

thru,  262,  263. 

thruout,  262. 

Thugut,    272. 

thum,  n.,   251 ;   auf.,  154n. 

thumb,  250,  251. 

Thunichgut,   272. 

thunk,    197n. 

Thurgod,  273. 

thy,  214. 

ticket,  33. 

ticket-agent,  82. 

ticket-office,  83,  101. 

ticket-scalper,  81,  82. 

tickler,   81. 

tie,  n.,  82,   99. 

tie-pin,   100. 

tight-wad,  162. 

Tilia,  45. 

tiles,  103. 

tin,  n.,  97,  102,  103;  v.,  102. 

tinker,    101. 

tin-Lizzie,  142. 

tinned-goods,   97. 

tinner,   101. 

tin-roof,  101. 

tire,   n.,  245,   246,  257,   263. 

tisch,   156. 

toboggan,   41,   134. 

Todenaker,  273. 

toffy,  245,   246. 

toil,  91n. 

toilet(te),  127,  153,  154,  245. 

tole,    197,    201,    238. 

to  let,   137. 

tomahawk,    n.,    41,    318;    v., 
48. 

tomato,  87,  173. 

Tom  and  Jerry,  85. 

Tombigbee,  30. 

Tom  Collins,  85. 

Tommy-rot,    310. 

tong,  93. 

tongue,  250,  252,  262. 

tonsorial-parlor,    124. 

tony,   27,   81,  280. 

took,  197. 

tooken,  205. 

Toothaker,  278. 

topliner,  99,  106. 

tore,  197. 

torn,  197 

tornado,  87,  109 

tote,  31,  49. 

tough,  a.,  319;  n.,  133. 

tourist,   88n. 

towards,   147,  148,   229. 

towerman,    82. 

town,  suf.,  296. 
track,  101. 
track-walker,  82. 


tradesman,   124. 

2  o'clock,  127. 

tradesmen'  s-entrance,    137. 

typewriter,  101,  103. 

traffic,  137. 

typhoid-fever,    101. 

trail,  n.,  46;  v.,  48. 

typist,  101,  103. 

train-boy,  82. 

tyre,  245,  257,  260. 

trained-nurse,    101. 

trait,  172,  176. 

u-*ound,  60,   96. 

tram,   105,   106. 

il-»oun<J,  174,  274. 

tram-car,  101. 

ugly,  81. 

tramp,    133. 

Uhler,  276.  281. 

tramway,    101. 

Uhlyarik,   281. 

translatour,  248n. 

uhrgucker,   '.tun. 

transom,   101. 

umbrella,   239. 

transpite,   134,   136. 

underbrush,  46. 

trapee,   229. 

undercut,  101,  104. 

trash,  56. 

underdone,  100,  104. 

travel,  173. 

underground,  101,  110. 

traveler,  245,  250,  262. 

underground-railroad,  83n. 

Traveler's  Moon,  4wn. 

underpinned,   50. 

traveller,  245,  262. 

underpinning,  56. 

treacle,  10,  99,  106. 

undershirt,  101,  110,  259. 

tread,   v.,  197,  200. 

undertaker,  124. 

trewe,  adv.,  226. 

under   the  weather,   vp.,  81, 

trickster,  90n. 

109. 

tripos,   105. 

uneeda,  165. 

tripper,  83,  98. 

union,  105. 

triscuit,  165. 

unit,  47. 

troble,  262. 

Universalist,  31. 

trod,  200. 

university,  124. 

trolley-car,    101. 

unworthy,    adv.,   226. 

Trotterscliffe,   283. 

up,  107. 

trouble,  155,  262. 

up  against,  vp.,  134. 

trousers,  110. 

uplift,  n.,  10,  113,  165. 

truck,   83,   101. 

np-line,   110. 

true,  174. 

up-state,  24,  109. 

true-blue,   79. 

up-train,   110. 

trunk,  101,  106. 

TLT-sound,  158. 

trust-buster,   143,  310. 

us,  220. 

trustification,  142. 

use,  155. 

trustify,   142. 

used,  124. 

tub,  v.,  137. 

used  to  could,  31. 

tube,    101,    110. 

usen,    156. 

Tuesday,  174. 

usen't,  234. 

tumor,   245. 

usher,  104. 

tumour,   245. 

usually,   228. 

tune  the  old  cow  died  of, 

92. 

tung,  250,  252,  262. 

vacationize,  164. 

Tunicotto,    272. 

vag,  160. 

tiir,    156. 

valor,  245. 

turbot,   109. 

valour,   245. 

turkey-gobbler,    45. 

vamose,   87. 

turn,  v.,  164. 

vamp,  v.,  311. 

turn-down,  n.,   164. 

van,  98. 

turn  down,  vp.,  164,  319. 

Van   Arsdale,    274.. 

turning,  n.,  110. 

Van  de  Veer,  274. 

turnpike,    31,    160. 

Vandiver,    274. 

turnpike-road,  31. 

Van  Huys,  274. 

turnverein,  89. 

vanilla-r,    171. 

twelvemonth,   114. 

Vannersdale,  274. 

23,  161. 

Vannice,  274. 

twice't,   238. 

Van  Schaick,  282. 

twine,   110. 

Van  Siegel,  274. 

366 


LIST    OF   WORDS   AND   PHRASES 


Van   Sickle,   274. 

vapor,  245. 

vapour,  245. 

varinte,   31. 

variation,   31. 

variety,  153. 

vary,  31. 

vase,    95,   240. 

vaseline,   165,  166. 

vaudeville,   153,    240. 

vaudeville-theatre,    101,    153. 

vegetable-marrow,   100,   104. 

vegetables,  101. 

Venable,  282. 

Venables,   282. 

Venables-Vernon,    282n. 

venereal-disease,    127,    128. 

veranda,  245. 

verandah,   245. 

verger,  112. 

Versailles,   291. 

vest,  101,   110,  156,  259. 

vestry,  107. 

vial,    245,    246. 

vicar,   112. 

vice,  245. 

vice-chancellor,  104. 

vice-diseases,    128. 

victrola,  165. 

victualler,  105. 

viertel,    113. 

vigilante,   87. 

vigor,   245. 

vigour,   245. 

Viola  tricolor,  45. 

virgin,  128. 

virtuosi,   265. 

vise,   245. 

vogelgesang,    277. 

Voice-Like-Thunder,    86. 

vois  avez,  172. 

voodoo,  44. 

voting-paper,  107. 

voyageur,   43. 

w-sound,  60. 

Wabash,   290. 

waffle,    43. 

wage-day,    99. 

wagen,   90. 

wages,   155. 

waggon,    19n,    98,    245,    257. 

Wagner,   276. 

wagon,    19n,     90,    245,     250, 

252,  257,  260,  261,  263. 
wain,  47. 
waist,  155. 
waistcoat,    101,    110. 
wake,   v.,   197. 
walk,  n.,  155,   157,   300. 
walk'd,  201n. 
walk-out,   n.,   132. 


walk  out,   vp.,  115. 

walk  the  hospitals,   vp.,  104. 

walk  the  ties,   vp.,  83n. 

walk-up  apartment,   110. 

Wall  street,   139. 

Wall-street-broker,    107. 

wampum,  33,  42. 

wampum-keeper,  42n. 

wan,  v.,  197,   204. 

wanderlust,   89. 

wan't,  61. 

want-ad,    160. 

Ward,  271. 

warden,  101. 

ward,  executive,  105. 

ward-heeler,    107. 

warehouse,  101. 

Warfield,    280. 

Warner,    275. 

Warner,    275. 

war-paint,  41. 

war-path,   41. 

warphan,    166. 

warphanage,   166. 

Warwick,   297. 

was,  193,  207,  209. 

wash-hand-stand,   101. 

wash'n,   157. 

wash-rag,    101. 

wash-stand,    18. 

wasn't,  61. 

waste-basket,   101. 

waste-paper,    basket,    101. 

watch,   n.,   155. 

watchk6,   156. 

water,    v.,   135. 

water-closet,  127n. 

water,  pitcher,  18. 

water-wagon,   23. 

way-bill,   82. 

Wayman,   275. 

W.   0.,   127n. 

we,  212. 

weald,   46. 

wear,  v.,  197. 

Weaver,  277. 

Weber,   227. 

week-end,  105. 

weep,  197. 

weir,   47,  111. 

Weisberg,   277. 

Weiss,   273,  277. 

well,  interjection,  34. 

wellest,   230. 

well-fixed,  116. 

well-heeled,   79. 

Wellington,  97. 

well-posted,   79. 

Welsbach,  276. 

Wemyss,   283. 

went,  195,  205. 

weop,  200. 


wep,  197,  200,  238. 

wepte,    200. 

were,  209,  210. 

weren't,   61. 

Werner,    276. 

Wesleyan,   99,    113. 

west-bound,    110. 

West   End,    139. 

wet,  v.,  197. 

Weymann,    275. 

whap,  31. 

what,   218. 

whatdyecallem,  310. 

wheat-pit,   80. 

when,  61. 

whence,  228. 

where,   61,   145,   228. 

Which,  217,  218. 

which'n,    218. 

whiet,   155. 

whipple-tree,  101. 

whisker,  156. 

whiskey-and-soda,    85. 

whiskey-daisy,   85. 

White  277. 

Whitehill  277. 

Whiteneck,   273. 

white-plush,  85. 

white-slave,  127. 

whitewash,  n.,  33;  v.,  49. 

white-wings,   102. 

whither,   145,  228. 

whittle,    56. 

Who,  144,  145,   217,   218,   219. 

whole-souled,  79. 

whom,     144,    145,    179,    218, 

219. 

whortleberry,   45. 
whose,   217,   218. 
whosen,   217,   218. 
wid,  226. 
wide,  226. 
wie  geht's,  89. 
wienerwurst,   88. 
wife,   126. 

wigwam,  33,   41,   42. 
wild-cat,   a.,  81. 
Wilkewicz,   277. 
will,  auxiliary,  143,  144,  191, 

208,   210. 
Williams,   271. 
willn't,  61. 
Wilson,    277,   278. 
Wilstach,    276. 
wilt,  31,   56. 
wimmen,  250,  251. 
win,  197,   204,   211. 
wind,  v.,  164,  197. 
windfall,    33. 
window,  155,  156,   157. 
wind-up,    n.,    164. 
wind  up,   vp.,  164. 


LIST    OF   WORDS   AND   PHRASES 


367 


winned,    204. 

wireless,  v.,  202. 

wire-puller,    83. 

Wirt,    274. 

Wise,   273. 

wiseheimer,  151. 

wish,  v.,  197. 

wisht,   197,  238. 

witness-box,   101. 

witness-stand,  101. 

Wittnacht,    273. 

wo,   250. 

woe,  250. 

wohnzimmer,    103n. 

woke,   197,   205. 

woken,   197. 

wold,    46. 

Wolf,  280. 

Wolfsheimer,   280. 

wolln't,  61. 

woman,  126. 

women,  250,  251. 

women' s-singles,    -wear,    121. 

won,   197,   204. 

wonderful,  adv.,  226. 

won't,  61. 

wood-alcohol,    101. 

woodchuck,   41. 

Woodhouse,   277. 

woolen,    245,    260. 

woollen,   245,   261. 

wop,   115,  279. 

Worcester,   297. 

Worcestershire,  297n. 

wore,  197. 

workhouse,    100,    105. 

world,  158. 

Worm  Moon,   42n. 


worse,  230. 
worser,  230. 
Worth,   274. 
wosterd,   239. 
would,    60. 
would'a,   190,   238. 
would   of,   34,    234. 
wound,   v.,  197. 
wrang,  197. 
wrangler,   105. 
wrassle,  237. 
wrath,   69. 
wrecking-crew,    82. 
wrestle,  237. 
wring,  197. 
write,  197. 
written,  197,  205. 
wrote,    197,    205,   206. 
wroten,  205. 
wrung,   197. 
Wyoming,  290. 

y-gound,  60.  96. 

y,  «»/.,  228.  230. 

yam,   109. 

yank,   v.,  31,  77. 

Yank,    160. 

Yankee,    42,    160,    279n. 

Yankel,     281,    284. 

Yankelevitch,  281. 

Yanker,   42. 

yankie,  42. 

yap,  116. 

ye,  145,  219. 

yeller,  239. 

yellow-back,   134. 

yellow-belly,  279. 

yen,  93. 


yes,  152,  179. 

yes-indeedy,   92. 

yestiddy,  238. 

yodel,   89. 

yok-a-mi,  93. 

Yom  Kippur,  114. 

Yosel,   284. 

you,   145,  212,  214,  215,  219. 

you-all,  189,  215. 

Young,  275. 

young  man,  116. 

your,  212,  214. 

youre,  213,  214. 

youren,  214. 

youres,   214. 

yourn,   212,   214. 

yours,  214. 

yous,   212,   216. 

yuh,   219. 


Zacharias,  269. 

Zeal,  251. 

zeber,  252. 

zebra,  252. 

zed,  62. 

zee,  62. 

zeel,   251. 

Zimmer,  269. 

Zimmermann,  269,   277. 

Zimmern,  269. 

Zouchy,  269. 

zowie,  310. 

zubumt,  156. 

zug,  116. 

zwei,  89. 

zwei  bier,  89. 

zwieback,   89. 


General  Index 


Aasen,  Ivar,  5. 

Abbreviations,  23,  161. 

Actes  de   la  Socititt  Philologique  de 

Paris,  18n. 

Adams,  Franklin  P.,  144n. 
Adams,  John.  50. 
Adams,  John  Quincy,  49. 
Ade,  George,  16,  191,  305. 
Addison,  Joseph,  201n. 
Adjective,  American,  24,  27,  30,  33,  44, 

48,  50,  56,  57,  76,  80-83,  230,  231. 
Adverb,  American,  24,  44,  76-80,  83, 

146,  226-9. 

Alford,  Henry,  75,  76,  220,  312. 
American  Academy  of  Arts  and  Let- 
ters, 148. 
American   Dialect   Society,   6,   7,   29, 

235. 
Americanism,  definitions  of;  White's, 

10;  Lounsbury's,  10;  Bartlett's,  30; 

Fowler's,    30;    Farmer's,    32;    Cla- 

pin's,  33;  Thornton's,  33. 
American  Magazine,   185n. 
American     Philological     Association, 

261. 

American  Review  of  Reviews,  157n. 
Ames,  Nathaniel,  47. 
Annual  Review,  38. 
Archer,  William,  12,  28. 
Archiv    f.    d.    Studium    d.    neueren 

Spracken,  18. 
Aristophanes,  18  In. 
Arnold,  Matthew,  3. 
Arthur,  T.  S.,  126n. 
Athenaeum,  255. 

Atlantic  Educational  Journal,  180n. 
Atlantic  Monthly,  9,  60n,  149,  305. 
Australian  English,  310. 
Authors'    and    Printers'    Dictionary, 

256,  258. 


Babbitt,  Eugene  H.,  140n,  315. 
Bache,   Eichard   M.,   95n,    126,    129n, 

144n. 

Baltimore  street  names,  300. 
Baltimore  Sun,  265n,  273n,  276n. 
Bancroft,  Aaron,  38,  253. 
Bancroft,  George,  71. 
Bankhead,  John  H.,  143n. 
Bardsley,  Charles  W.,  284n,  285n 
Barentz,  A.  E.,  18. 
Barrere,  Albert,  43,  94. 
Barringer,  G.  A.,  18. 
Bartlett,  John  Russell,  10,  30,  34,  40, 

44,  74,  87,  126. 
Beach-la-Mar,  318. 
Beecher,  Henry  Ward,  76. 
Belknap,  Jeremy,  39. 
Bennett,  Arnold,  13. 
Beverley,  Robert,  40,  45,  46. 
Bierce,  Ambrose,  305. 
Bible,  56,  143,  198,  213,  226,  293,  307. 
Billings,  Josh,  190. 
Blackwood's,  68. 
Bonaparte,  Prince,  L.-L.,  167. 
Book  of  Common  Prayer,  147. 
Borland,  Wm.  P.,  142n. 
Bosson,  O.  E.,  305. 

Boston  pronunciation,  58,  95,  173,  174. 
Boucher,  Jonathan,  38,  50,  160. 
Boucicault,  Dion,  93. 
Boyd,  E.  A.,  320n. 
Boyd,  Stephen  G.,  287n. 
Brackebusch,  W.,  313,  314n. 
Bradley,  Henry,  209,  213n,  214,  257, 

317. 

Bremer,  Otto,  5. 
Bridges,  Robert,  171n,  175,  237. 
Bristed,    Chas.   A.,    36,    75,    77n,    90, 

116n,  133. 
British  Critic,  38,  50. 


368 


GENERAL   INDEX 


369 


British  Review,  68. 
Brooks,  John  G.,  68n,  126n. 
Brooks,  Van  Wyck,  4,  140. 
Browne,  Edward  E.,  225. 
Brownell,  W.  C.,  26. 
Brundage,  Edward  J.,  233n. 
Bryant,  Wm.  Cullen,  67,  71,  73,  253. 
Bryant,   Wm.   Cullen,  his  Index  Ex- 

purgatorius,  28n,  51,  123. 
Buckler,  H.  G.,  314n. 
Burke,  Edmund,  224. 
Burnell,  A.  C.,  41. 
Burnett,  John  L.,  78n. 
Butler,  Joseph,  226. 
Buttmann,  P.  K.,  170. 

Cahan,  Abraham,   157n,  281n,  284. 

Cambridge  Hist,  of  American  Litera- 
ture, 36,  45n,  55n,  68n. 

Cambridge  Hist,  of  English  Litera- 
ture, 12,  28n,  59n,  134,  171,  258, 
266,  301n,  308n. 

Campbell,  Philip  P.,  142n. 

Canada,  usage  in,  120,  318. 

Canning,  Geo.,  50. 

Cannon,  Uncle  Joe,   119n. 

Carlyle,  Thomas,  135,  272n. 

Carnegie,  Andrew,  262. 

Carpenter,  W.  H.,  290n. 

Cassell'a  Dictionary,  89n,  135,  136^ 
257. 

Century  Dictionary,  260. 

Century  Magazine,  28n,  123. 

Chamberlain,  Joseph,  131,  135. 

Channing,  Wm.  Ellery,  39,  69,  72. 

Charles  II,  61. 

Charters,  W.  W.,  187-93,  203,  210, 
211,  220,  223,  225,  227,  230,  231. 

Chaucer,  Geoffrey,  57,  95,  198,  214, 
226,  233. 

Chesterfield,  Lord,  9 In. 

Chesterton,  Cecil,  13,  15. 

Chesterton,  Gilbert  K.,  13. 

Chicago  Daily  News,  28n. 

Chicago  Record-Herald,  311. 

Chicago  Tribune,  17. 

Child,  J.  J.,  6n. 

Chinese  loan-words,  93. 


Christian  Disciple,  76. 

Christian  World,  113n. 

Christy,  Robert,  303. 

Churchill,  William,  159n,  318n. 

Clapin,  Sylva,  33,  304n. 

Clemens,  S.  L.,  see  Mark  Twain. 

Cleveland,  Grover,  25. 

Cobb,  Lyman,  8,  11,  95,  248,  253,  254. 

Coke,  Edward,  215. 

Combs,  J.  H.,  58n. 

Comstock  Postal  Act,  127. 

Congressional  Globe,  74,  285n. 

Congressional  Record,  78n,  80,  109n, 
116,  119n,  122,  123n,  141,  149,  162n, 
164,  225,  233,  243n,  260n,  263n. 

Connecticut  Code  of  1650,  52n. 

Cooley,  Alice  W.,  182n. 

Coolidge,  Grace,  263n. 

Cooper,  J.  Fenimore,  26,  68,  69,  71. 

Corssen,  Wilhelm,  58. 

Coulter,  John  Lee,  146n. 

Coxe,  A.  Cleveland,  51,  132,  254. 

Crane,  Frank,  301. 

Crane,  W.  W.,  291,  298. 

Critical  Review,  38,  39n. 

Crumb,  D.  S.,  215n. 

Daniels,  Josephus,  119n. 
Dano-Norwegian  language,  2,  5n,  155. 
Dardanelles  Commission  Report,  125n, 

258. 

Davis,  Richard  Harding,  230. 
Democratic  Review,  253. 
Dennis,  C.  T.,  319n. 
Deutsche  Grammophon  Gessellschaft, 

168. 
Dialect  Notes,  7,  58n,  82n,  90n,  140, 

148,   151n,   154n,   155n,   158n,  161n, 

166n,  I72n,  211n,  215n,  230n,  231n, 

274n,  279n. 

Dickens,  Charles,  76,  133,  148. 
Dickinson,  G.  Lowes,  25n. 
Disraeli,  Benj.,  225. 
Dodge,  Mary  Mapes,  42n. 
Dreiser,  Theodore,  80. 
Drinking  terms,  85. 
Dryden,  John,  91n. 
Dunlap,  Fayette,  274n. 


370 


GENERAL   INDEX 


Dutch  loan-words,  43,  93. 
Dwight,  Timothy,  68. 

Eastman,  George,  166. 
Ecclesiastical  terms,  112. 
Eclectic  Review,  38,  39n. 
Edinburgh  Review,  38,  55n,  67n,  68. 
Editor  and  Publisher  and  Journalist, 

108n,  266n. 
Egli,  J.  J.,  286. 
Elliott,  John,  249. 
Ellis,  A.  J.,  167. 
Ellis,  Havelock,  280n. 
Elwyn,  Alfred  L.,  31. 
Ely,  Richard  T.,  269n. 
Emerson,  Ralph  Waldo,  71,  73. 
Encyclopaedia  Britannica,  12. 
Etheredge,  George,  219. 
Everett,  Edward,  68,  71. 

Farmer,  John  S.,  32,  34,  85,  86,  132, 

161,  304n. 

Faulkner,  W.  G.,  14,  133. 
Faust,  A.  B.,  269n,  274n,  275n. 
Financial  terms,  106. 
Fishberg,  Maurice,  280n. 
Fisher,  Sydney  George,  55n. 
Flaten,  Nils,  155n. 
Fletcher,  John,  219. 
FHigel,  Felix,  18. 
Foreign  Quarterly,  68,  76. 
Fortnightly  Review,  133. 
Forum,  5 In. 
Fowler,  H.  W.  and  F.  G.,  12,  134,  136, 

143,  147,  224,  233,  242n. 
Fowler,  Wm.  C.,  8,  30,  72,  74,  75,  77, 

304. 

Fox,  Chas.  James,  241. 
Francis,  Alexander,  25n. 
Franklin,  Benjamin,  1,  11,  37,  48,  50, 

54,  55n,  59,  60,  64,  248,  250,  301. 
French  Academy,  4,  5n. 
French   loan-words,    43,    44,   46n,    86, 

153,  239,  240. 
Friedenwald,  Herbert,  266n. 

Garrick,  David,  60. 

Geographic  Board,  285n,  286,  292,  294, 
295,  297n. 


George  III,  52. 

George,  W.  L.,  139. 

Gerard,  W.  R.,  42. 

German  loan-words,  43,  44,  88,  151. 

Gifford,  Wm.,  36,  68,  69. 

Gilbert,  W.  S.,  77n. 

Gladstone,  W.  E.,  144. 

Gordon,  Wm.,  132. 

Gould,   Edwin   S.,   51,   96,    123,    147, 

253,  255. 
Gower,  John,  57. 
Grandgent,  11,  59,  174. 
Green,  B.  W.,  282n. 
Greene,  Robert,  219. 
Greenwood,  Frederick,  233n. 
Gregory,  Augusta,  320. 
Grimm,  Jakob,  312. 
Griswold,  Rufus  W.,  72. 

Hackett,  Francis,  164n,  186. 
Hagedorn,  Herman,  155n. 
Haldeman,  S.  S.,  155n,  275n. 
Haliburton,  T.  C.,  76. 
Hall,  Basil,  7,  76. 
Hall,  Fitzedward,  9,  28. 
Hall,  Prescott  F.,  54,  87n. 
Halliwell-Phillips,  J.  O.,  56. 
Hamilton,  Alexander,  50,  63. 
Hamlin,  C.  W.,  142n. 
Hancock,  Elizabeth  H.,  61n. 
Harberton,  Viscount,  264n. 
Harper's  Magazine,  10,  17n. 
Harrison,  Frederic,  133. 
Harrison,  Henry,  275n. 
Hart,  Horace,  256,  257. 
Harte,  Bret,  26,   139,  303. 
Harvey,  Thomas  W.,  181. 
Hastings,  MacDonald,  176n. 
Hawthorne,  Nathaniel,  26,  55. 
Hays,  H.  M.,  155n. 
Head,  Edmund,  144n. 
Healy,  J.  F.,  20n,  310. 
Heckwelder,  J.  G.  E.,  42. 
Henley,  W.  E.,  85,  86,  304n. 
Herrig,  Ludwig,  18. 
Hildreth,  Richard,  54n. 
Hills,  E.  J.,  231. 
Hobson-Jobson,  law  of,  41,  43,  297n. 


GENERAL   INDEX 


373 


Holmes,  O.  W.,  26,  173,  305,  310. 

Hosic,  J.  F.,  183. 

Howells,   Wm.   Dean,   3,   17,   80,   141, 

305. 

Hume,  David,  226. 
Humphrey,  S.  K.,  269n. 
Hutchinson,  Thos.,  52. 
Huxley,  T.  H.,  119,  233. 
Hyde,  Douglas,  320. 

Ibsen,  Henrik,  177. 
Illinoiser  Staats-Zeitung,  18. 
Indian  loan-words,  40-42,  86. 
Indiana,  University  of,  71. 
Irish  loan-words,  90-93,  227. 
Irish  World,  266n. 

Irving,  Washington,  68,  69,  71,  73,  84, 
253. 

Jackson,  Andrew,  65. 

Jacobs,  Joseph,  185. 

James,  Henry,  61,  147,  171,  175. 

Jefferson,  Thomas,  1,  2,  47,  49,  50,  63, 
64,  135,  248,  266,  303. 

Jeffrey,  Francis,  55n. 

Jerome,  J.  K.,  305,  310. 

Jespersen,  J.  O.  H.,  167. 

Jews,  94,  113,  151,  155-7,  280,  283. 

Johnson,  Samuel,  247,  251. 

Johnson,  Samuel,  Jr.,  249. 

Jones,  Daniel,  167n. 

Journal  of  the  American  Medical  As- 
sociation, 126n,  253,  265. 

Jowett,  Benjamin,  144. 

Joyce,  P.  W.,  91,  92,  112n,  144n,  198, 
216n. 

Kalm,  Pehr,  55n. 

Keijzer,  M.,  18. 

Kennedy,  John  P.,  71. 

Ker,  Edmund  T.,  287n. 

Kerrick,  William,  9  In. 

Kipling,  Rudyard,  168n,  267,  298. 

Kirby,  Wm.  F.,  142n. 

Kleiser,  Grenville,  5 In. 

Knapp,  S.  L.,  69,  70. 

Knickerbocker  Magazine,  48,  195n. 

Knight,  Sarah  K.,  11  In. 


Koehler,  F.,   18. 

Koeppel,  Emil,  18. 

Krapp,  Geo.  P.,  169,  218,  264n,  304, 

309. 
Kuhns,  L.  Oscar,  275n. 

La  Follette,  R.  M.,  109n. 

Lancaster  (Pa.)  Journal,  85n. 

Lanenscheidt,  F.,  18. 

Lanigan,  George  T.,  192. 

Lardner,  Ring  W.,  34,  191-3,  203,  205, 

207n,  210,  211,  220,  223,  225,  227, 

229,  231,  305. 
Learned,  M.  D.,  155n. 
Leland,  Chas.  G.,  43,  94. 
L'Enfant,  P.-E.,  299. 
Lessing,  O.  E.,  155. 
Lewis,  Calvin  L.,  235n. 
Lewis,  Wyndham,  263n. 
Lincoln,  Abraham,  3. 
Literary  Digest,  15n,  263. 
Lodge,  Henry  Cabot,  64,  69,  146n. 
London  Court  Journal,  16. 
London  Daily  Mail,  14. 
London  Daily  News,  28. 
London  Review,  234. 
London  Times,  5n,  136,  144. 
Long,  Percy  W.,  161n. 
Longfellow,  H.  W.,  RI. 
Lossing,  Benj.,  26,  64. 
Lounsbury,  T.  S.,  6,  9,  29,  33,  39,  40, 

59,   91n,  96,   145,   160n,   198n,  202, 

203,  206n,  217,  219,  220,  237n,  248n, 

254,  261n,  304,  319n. 
Low,  Sidney,  13-14,  159. 
Lowell,  A.  Lawrence,  107n. 
Lowell,  J.  Russell,  26,  50,  57,  73,  255, 

320. 

Lyell,  Chas.,  49. 
Lynch,  Charles,  77n. 

McClure's  Magazine,  172n,  239n. 
McKenna,  L.  B.,  280. 
Mackintosh,  Duncan,  173n. 
McLaughlin,  W.  A.,  279n. 
Mahoney,  Chas.,  85n. 
Maitland,  James,  304n. 
Marcy,  Wm.  L.,  71. 


/ 


372 


GENERAL   INDEX 


Harden,  Orison  Swett,  301,  302. 
Mark  Twain,  16,  26,   139,  263n,  303, 

305. 

Marlowe,  Christopher,  219. 
Marryat,  Capt.,  11  In. 
Marsh,  Geo.  P.,  8,  11,  144. 
Marshall,  John,  21,  26,  38,  49,  169. 
Massachusetts  Spy,  53. 
Mather,  Increase,  46. 
Matthews,  Brander,  6,  162,  178,  179, 

255,  259n,  265,  304,  306,  311. 
Mearns,  Hugh,  172n,  239n. 
Meloney,  W.  B.,  47n. 
Menner,  Robert  J.,  11,  60,  96n,  168n, 

171. 

Metoula  Sprachfiihrer,  18. 
Metropolitan  Magazine,  165. 
Meyer,  H.  H.  B.,  102n. 
Miller,  Edith,  188n. 
Milton,  John,  48,  198,  224,  307. 
Modern  Language  Notes,  8. 
Modern  Philology,  290n. 
Molee,  Elias,  19. 
Montague,  Harry,  85n. 
Montaigne,  26. 
Monthly  Review,  38,  39n. 
More,  Thomas,  226. 
Morfil,  W.  R.,  73. 
Morris,  Gouverneur,  47,  49. 
Morse,  John  T.,  55n. 
Mulhall,  M.  G.,  313. 
Murison,  W.,  28,  59n. 
Murray,  James  A.  H.,  256,  257. 
Musical  terms,  113. 
Myers,  Gustavus,  84n. 

Nashe,  Thos.,  48. 

Nation,  59n,  174n. 

National  Council  of  Teachers  of  Eng- 
lish, 11. 

National  Education  Association,  262, 
263. 

Neal,  John,  68. 

Negative,  double,  146,  231-34. 

Negro  loan-words,  44. 

New  English  Dictionary,  57,  89,  256. 

New  International  Encyclopaedia,  21, 
HOn,  122. 


New  Orleans  street-names,  300. 

New  Republic,  164. 

New  Witness,  15. 

Neic  York  Evening  Mail,  164n. 

New    York   Evening   Post,   28n,    127, 

148. 

New  York  Organ,  126n. 
New  York  Sun,  57n,  7 In,  124n,  133n, 

163. 

New  York  Times,  130. 
New  York  Tribune,  165,  254. 
New  York  World,  20. 
New  York  World  Almanac,  122,  27 In, 

315n. 

Nicholas  I,  72n. 
Niles'  Register,  84. 
Norris,  Chas.  G.,  263n. 
North  American  Review,  20n,  39,  40n, 

50. 

Norton,  C.  L.,  83. 
Notes  and  Queries,  88n. 
Noun,  see  Substantive. 
Noyes,  Alfred,  175n. 

Oberndorf,  C.  P.,  279n. 

O'Brien,  Seumas,  263n. 

Oliphant,  S.  G.,  273n,  276. 

Overman,  Lee  S.,  142. 

Oxford   Dictionary,   27,   28n,    43,   44, 

53n,   89n,   131,   133,   134,    135,    136, 

149,  256,  258,  267n. 

Pattee,  F.  L.,  22n. 

Patterson,  M.  R.,  312n. 

Paulding,  J.  K.,  68,  74. 

Pedagogical  Seminary,  304n. 

Penn,  William,  41. 

Pennsylvania  Dutch,  155. 

Pep,  128n. 

Phila.  Public  Ledger,  128. 

Philippines,    American    language    in, 

157.. 

Phillips,  Wendell,  140. 
Philological  Society  of  England,  261. 
Pickering,  John,  8,  29,  39,  40,  48,  67, 

79,  132n,  298. 
Piers  Plowman,  56. 
Pigeon  English,  41,  317. 


GENERAL   INDEX 


373 


Pinkney,  Wm.,  50. 

Poe,  Edgar  Allan,  26,  72,  125n,  184. 

Political  terms,  83,  107. 

Pope  Alexander,  9 In. 

Pory,  John,  45. 

Pound,     Louise,     151n,     154n,     166n, 

176n,  230n,  235. 
Prince,  J.  D.,  155n. 
Printers'  terms,  114. 
Prior,  Matthew,  219. 
Pronoun,  American,  212-225. 
Pronunciation,    34,    58-62,    91,    94-6, 

235-41. 

Psychoanalytic  Review,  279n. 
Public  Health  Reports,  122n. 
Purvey,  John,  198,  213. 

Quarterly  Review,  36,  68. 
Quiller-Couch,  Arthur,  24,  162n. 

Railroad  terms,  82. 

Ramos  y  Duarte,  Felix,  87n. 

Ramsay,  David,  67. 

Read,  Richard  P.,  245n. 

Read,  Wm.  A.,  172n,  234. 

Reed,  A.  Z.,  71n. 

Richardson,  Samuel,  144,  225. 

Robertson,  D.  M.,  5n. 

Robinson,  Andrew,  47. 

Roosevelt,  Theo.,  47n,  165,  262,  306. 

Ruppenthal,  J.  C.,  90n,  151. 

Ruskin,  John,  225. 

Saintsbury,  Geo.,  301,  308. 
Saturday  Evening  Post,  147,  191n. 
Saturday  Review,  137,  149n,  255. 
Sayce,  A.  H.,  12,  23,  29,  82,  166,  167n, 

175,  198,  234,  261n,  320. 
Schele  de  Vere,  M.,  6n,  32,  34,  43,  94, 

136,  255,  256,  274,  291. 
Schoenrich,  Otto,  158n. 
School  Review,  176n. 
Schuette,  O.  F.,  307. 
Scribner's  Magazine,  15n. 
Searle,  Wm.  G.,  269n. 
Sechrist,  F.  K.,  304n. 
Seeley,  J.  R.,  54n. 
Sewall,  A.,  53n. 


Shakespeare,  William,  55,  56,  57,  143, 

198,  206,  215,  226,  233,  250,  307. 
Shaw,  G.  B.,  130,  246n. 
Sheridan,  Thomas,  59. 
Sherman,  L.  Y.,  142,  146n. 
Sherman,  W.  T.,  285,  303. 
Sherwin,  Louis,  140. 
Sherwood,  General,  142,  143n. 
Shonts,  Theo.  P.,  137. 
Sidney,  Philip,  224. 
Simplified  Spelling  Board,  262. 
Skeat,  W.  W.,  21n. 
Slaughter,  Gertrude,  308n. 
Smith,  E.  D.,  142n. 
Smith,  George  J.,  123n,  181. 
Smith,  John,  40. 
Smith,  L.  P.,  88n,  90,  143n,  147. 
Smith,  Sydney,  67,  68. 
Snyder,  Homer  P.,  116n,  142n. 
Southey,  Robert,  48,  68. 
Spanish  loan-words,  43,  44,  86. 
Spectator,  136,  137,  201n,  226. 
Spelling  Reform  Association,  261. 
Springfield  Republican,  128n. 
Standard   Dictionary,    53n,    88,    89n, 

151,  170,  260. 

Stedman,  Edmund  Clarence,  312. 
Stephens,  Leslie,  233. 
Stephenson,  J.  C.,  124n. 
Sterling,  John,  68. 
Stevenson,  R.  L.,  144,  233,  286. 
Stone,  Gumshoe  Bill,  119n. 
Substantive,  American,  10,  14,  18,  23, 

30,  33,  40-44,  45-48,  52-54,  56,  73, 

80,    81-94,    97-114,    124-130,    131- 

143,  229. 

Sumner,  W.  G.,  65n. 
Sunday,  Billy,  119n. 
Sweet,  Henry,  26n,  58,  144,  167,  186, 

201,  213n,  217,  219,  220,  221,  222, 

223,  232. 

Swift,  Jonathan,  224. 
Symonda,  S.,  46. 
Synge,  J.  M.,  320. 

Taft,  W.  H.,  20. 
Tallichet,  H.,  148n. 
Tammany  Hall,  42n,  84. 


374 


GENERAL   INDEX 


Taylor,  Bayard,  27,  71,  372. 

Taylor,  E.  B.,  304n. 

Temple,  William,  95. 

Thackeray,  W.  M.,  84. 

Thoreau,  H.  D.,  26. 

Thornton,  Richard  H.,  6n,  14n,  33,  34, 
.44,  46n,  49,  51,  55,  62,  74,  78,  79, 
81n,  82,  84,  85,  87,  88,  89,  94,  129, 
148,  161,  177,  195n,  285n. 

Ticknor,  Geo.,  71. 

Tooke,  J.  H.,  227. 

Toro  y  Gisbert,  M.  de,  6n. 

Town  Topics,  89. 

Trollope,  Mrs.,  126. 

Trumbull,  J.  H.,  132n. 

Tucker,  Gilbert  M.,  20,  40,  137. 

Tupper,  M.  F.,  301. 

Verb,  American,  24,  27,  30,  33,  44,  48, 
49,  51,  56,  57,  76-80,  83,  93,  94, 
192-211. 

Vizetelly,  F.  H.,  91n,  95,  96,  170. 

Walker,  John,  59n,  96,  249. 

Walsh,  Robert,  68. 

Ward,  Artemus,  190. 

Wardlaw,  Patterson,  181n. 

Ware,  J.  R.,  77n,  82,  131,  136. 

Warnock,  Elise  L.,  82n. 

Washington,  George,  49,  63,  84. 

Webster,  Daniel,  74. 

Webster,  John,  219. 

Webster,  Noah,  1,  2,  6,  7,  11,  36,  39, 

54,   59,   60,   62,   64,   70,   71,  76,   94, 

145,  236,  247-55,  256. 


Webster,  W.  F.,  182n. 

Webster's  Dictionary,  113n,  249,  260. 

Weeks,  John  W.,  142n. 

Wells,  H.  G.,  13. 

Wendell,  Barrett,  67n. 

Wesley,  John,  251. 

Westminster  Gazette,  13. 

Westminster  Review,  20n. 

Whewell,  Win.,  28. 

WThite,  Richard  Grant,  4n,  6,  9,  27,  29, 
33,  49,  51,  90,  96,  113n,  123,  126n, 
137,  144n,  167,  168,  181,  261n,  297. 

Whitman,  Walt,  73,  320. 

Whitney,  Wm.  D.,  304,  308. 

Wicliff,  John,  57,  213. 

Wilcox,  W.  H.,  180,  183. 

Wilde,  Oscar,  144. 

Williams,  Alexander,  163n. 

Williams,  R.  0.,  70,  71,  149,  249n. 

Wilson,  A.  J.,  106n. 

Wilson,  Woodrow,  25,  26,  141,  1161. 

Winthrop,  John,  46,  247. 

Witherspoon,  John,  8,  37,  79,  160. 

Witman,  Elizabeth,  161n. 

World' 8  Work,  315n. 

Worcester,  Joseph  E.,  8,  95,  253,  254. 

Worcester's  Dictionary,  113,  254,  261. 

Wordsworth,  Wm.,  68. 

Wright,  Almroth,  119,  135. 

Yale  Review,  148n,  178n. 
Yeats,  W.  B.,  144. 
Yiddish,  155. 

Yiddish  loan-words,  94,  151. 
Yule,  Henry,  41. 


BINDING  CSC7.  AUG  3  f  1965 


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