Chapter 3

The grammatical term, too, is 'súpine'. Later introductions also have this stress, as 'bóvine', 'cánine', 'équine'. The last word is not always understood. At any rate Halliwell-Phillips, referring to a well-known story of Shakespeare's youth, says that the poet probably attended the theatre 'in some equine capacity'. As it is agreed that 'bovine' and 'equine' lengthen the former vowel, we ought by analogy to say 'c[=a]nine', as probably most people do. Words of more than two syllables have the stress on the antepenultima and the vowel is short, as in 'libertine', 'adulterine', but of course '[=u]terine'. When heavy consonants bring the stress on to the penultima, the _i_ is shortened, as in 'clandest[)i]n(e)', 'intest[)i]n(e)', and so in like disyllables, as 'doctr[)i]n(e)'. The modern words 'morphin(e)' and 'strychnin(e)', coined, the one from Morpheus and the other from the Greek name of the plant known to botanists as _Withania somnifera_, correctly follow 'doctrine' in shortening the _i_, though another pronunciation is sometimes heard.

STEMS IN -TUDIN. These shorten the antepenultima, as 'plenitude', 'solitude', with the usual exceptions, such as 'fortitude'.

STEMS IN -TION. These words retain the suffix, which in early days was disyllabic, as it sometimes is in Shakespeare, for instance in Portia's

Before a friend of this descriptión Shall lose a hair through Bassanio's fault.

Thus they came under the 'alias' rule, and what is now the penultimate vowel is long unless it be _i_. Examples are 'nation', 'accretion', 'emotion', 'solution', while _i_ is shortened in 'petition', 'munition', and the like, and left short in 'admonition' and others. In military use an exception is made by 'ration', but the pronunciation is confined to one sense of the word, and is new at that. I remember old soldiers of George III who spoke of 'r[=a]tions'. Perhaps the ugly change is due to French influence.

Originally the adjectives from these words must have lengthened the fourth vowel from the end long, as n[=a]t[)i][)o]nal, but when _ti_ became _sh_ they came to follow the rule of Latin trisyllables in our pronunciation.

STEMS IN -IC. Of these words we have a good many, both Latin and Greek. Those that came direct keep the stress on the vowel which was antepenultimate and is in English penultimate, and this vowel is short whatever its original quantity. Examples are 'aquatic', 'italic', 'Germanic'. Words that came through French threw the stress back, as 'lúnatic'. Skeat says that 'fanatic' came through French, but he can hardly be right, for the pronunciation 'fánatic' is barely three score years old. There is no inverted stress in Milton's

Fanátic Egypt and her priests.

As for 'unique' it is a modern borrowing from French, and of late 'ántique' or 'ántic', as Shakespeare has it, has followed in one of its senses the French use. It is a pity in face of Milton's

With mask and ántique Pageantry,

and it obscures the etymological identity of 'antique' and 'antic', but the old pronunciation is irredeemable. At least the new avoids the homophonic inconvenience.

Greek words of this class used as adjectives mostly follow the same rule, as 'sporadic', 'dynamic', 'pneumatic', 'esoteric', 'philanthropic', 'emetic', 'panegyric'. As nouns the earlier introductions threw the stress back, as 'heretic', 'arithmetic', but later words follow the adjectives, as 'emetic', 'enclitic', 'panegyric'. As for 'politic', which is stressed as we stress both by Shakespeare and by Milton, it must be under French influence, though Skeat seems to think that it came straight from Latin.

STEMS IN -OS. These words agree in being disyllabic, but otherwise they are a tiresome and quarrelsome people. For their diversity in spelling some can make a defence, since 'horror', 'pallor', 'stupor' came straight from Latin, but 'tenor', coming through French, should have joined hands with 'colour', 'honour', 'odour'. The short vowel is inevitable in 'horror' and 'pallor', the long in 'ardour', 'stupor', 'tumour'. The rest are at war, 'clamour', 'colour', 'honour', 'dolour', 'rigour', 'squalor', 'tenor', 'vigour' in the short legion, 'favour', 'labour', 'odour', 'vapour' in the long. Their camp-followers ending in -ous are under their discipline, so that, while 'cl[)a]morous', 'r[)i]gorous', 'v[)i]gorous' agree with the general rule, '[=o]dorous' makes an exception to it. All the derivatives of _favor_ are exceptions to the general rule, for 'favourite' and 'favorable' keep its long _a_. Of course 'l[)a]b[=o]rious' is quite in order, and so is 'v[)a]pid'.

STEMS IN -TOR AND -SOR. These words, when they came through French, threw the stress back and shortened the penultimate, _[=o]r[=a]torem_ becoming _orateur_, and then '[)o]r[)a]tor', with the stress on the antepenultimate. Others of the same type are 'auditor', 'competitor', 'senator', and Shelley has

The sister-pest, congrégator of slaves,

while 'amateur' is borrowed whole from French and stresses its ultima. Trisyllables of course shorten the first vowel, as 'cr[)e]ditor', 'j[)a]nitor'. Polysyllables follow the stress of the verbs; thus 'ágitate' gives 'ágitator' and 'compóse' gives 'compósitor'. To the first class belongs 'circulator', 'educator', 'imitator', 'moderator', 'negotiator', 'prevaricator', with which 'gladiator' associates itself; to the second belongs 'competitor'. Words which came straight from Latin keep the stress of the Latin nominative, as 'creator', 'spectator', 'testator', 'coadjutor', 'assessor', to which in Walton's honour must be added 'Piscator' and 'Venator'. On 'curator' he who decides does so at his peril. On one occasion Eldon from the Bench corrected Erskine for saying 'cúr[)a]tor'. 'Cur[=a]tor, Mr. Erskine, cur[=a]tor.' 'I am glad', was the reply, 'to be set right by so eminent a sen[=a]tor and so eloquent an or[=a]tor as your Lordship.' Neither eminent lawyer knew much about it, but each was so far right that he stuck to the custom of his country. On other grounds Erskine might be thought to have committed himself to 'tést[)a]tor', if not quite to the 'testy tricks' of Sally in Mrs. Gaskell's 'Ruth'.

STEMS IN -ERO AND -URO. Adjectives of this type keep the Latin stress, which thus falls on the ultima, and shorten or obscure the penultimate vowel, as 'mature', 'obscure', 'severe', 'sincere', but of course '[=a]ustere'. Of like form though of other origin is 'secure'. Nouns take an early stress, as 'áperture', 'sépulture', 'líterature', 'témperature', unless two mutes obstruct, as in 'conjécture'. Of the disyllables 'nature' keeps a long penultima, while 'figure' has it short, not because of the Latin quantity, but because of the French.

The lonely word 'mediocre' lengthens its first vowel by the 'alias' rule and also stresses it. Whether the penultima has more than a secondary stress is a matter of dispute.

STEMS IN -ARI. These words have the stress on the antepenultima, which they shorten, as in 'secular' or keep short as in 'jocular', 'familiar', but of course 'pec[=u]liar'.

_ON CERTAIN GREEK WORDS._

It will have been seen that Greek words are usually treated as Latin. Thus 'crisis' lengthens the penultima under the 'apex' rule, while 'critical' has it short under the general rule of polysyllables. Other examples of lengthening are 'bathos', 'pathos', while the long quantity is of course kept in 'colon' and 'crasis'. For the 'alias' rule we may quote '[=a]theist', 'cryptog[=a]mia', 'h[=o]meopathy', 'heterog[=e]neous', 'pandem[=o]nium', while the normal shortenings are found in 'an[)o]nymous', 'eph[)e]meral', 'pand[)e]monium', '[)e]r[)e]mite'. Ignorance of English usage has made some editors flounder on a line of Pope's:

Yes, or we must renounce the Stagirite.

The birthplace of Aristotle was of course Stag[=i]ra or, as it is now fashionable to transcribe it, Stageira, as Pope doubtless knew, but the editors who accuse him of a false quantity in Greek are on the contrary themselves guilty of one in English. The penultima in English is short whether it was long or, as in 'dynamite' and 'malachite', short in Greek.

There is, however, one distinct class of Greek words in which the Latin rule is not followed. In the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries there were scholars who rightly or wrongly treated the Greek accent as a mark of stress. It is clear that this habit led to an inability to maintain a long quantity in an unstressed syllable. Shakespeare must have learnt his little Greek from a scholar who had this habit, for he writes 'Andrón[)i]cus' and also

I am misánthr[)o]pos and hate mankind.

Of course all scholars shortened the first vowel of the word, and doubtless Shakespeare shortened also the third. Busby also thus spoke Greek with the result that Dryden in later life sometimes wrote epsilon instead of eta and also spoke of 'Cleoménes' and 'Iphig[=e]n[)i]a'. As a boy at Westminster he wrote

Learn'd, Vertuous, Pious, Great, and have by this An universal Metempsuchosis.

Macaulay with an ignorance very unusual in him rebuked his nephew for saying 'metamórph[)o]sis', and Dr. Johnson, had he been living, would have rebuked Macaulay. For the sake of our poets we ought to save 'apothé[)o]sis', which is in some danger. Garth may perhaps be forgotten,

Allots the prince of his celestial line An Apotheosis and rights divine,

but 'Rejected Addresses' should still carry weight. In the burlesque couplet, ascribed in the first edition to the younger Colman and afterwards transferred to Theodore Hook, we have

That John and Mrs. Bull from ale and tea-houses May shout huzza for Punch's apotheosis.

It need hardly be said that 'tea-houses' like 'grandfathers' has the stress on the antepenultimate.

There are other words of Greek origin which now break the rules, though I believe the infringement to be quite modern. First we have the class beginning with _proto_. It can hardly be doubted that our ancestors followed rule and said 'pr[)o]tocol', and 'pr[)o]totype', and I suspect also 'pr[)o]tomartyr'. There seems, however, to be a general agreement nowadays to keep the Greek omega. As for 'protagonist' the word is so technical and is often so ludicrously misunderstood that writers on the Greek drama would do well to retain the Greek termination and say 'protagonistes'; for 'protagonist' is very commonly mistaken and used for the opposite of 'antagonist'.

Next come words beginning with _hypo_ or _hyph_. In a disyllable the vowel is long by the 'apex' rule, as in 'hyphen'. In longer words it should be short. So once it was, and we still say 'hypocaust', 'hypocrit', 'hypochondria' (whence 'hypped'), 'hypothesis', and others, but a large group of technical and scientific words seems determined to have a long _y_. It looks as though there were a belief that _y_ is naturally long, though the French influence which gives us 't[=y]rant' does not extend to 'tyranny'. I do not know what Mr. Hardy calls his poem, but I hope he follows the old use and calls it 'The D[)y]nasts'. It might be thought that 'd[)y]nasty' was safe, but it is not. Some modern words like 'dynamite' have been misused from their birth.

Another class begins with _hydro-_ from the Greek word for water. None of them seem to be very old, but probably 'hydraulic' began life with a short _y_. Surely Mrs. Malaprop, when she meant 'hysterics' and said 'hydrostatics', must have used the short _y_. Of course 'hydra' which comes from the same root follows the 'apex' rule.

Words beginning with _hyper-_ seem nowadays always to have a long _y_ except that one sometimes hears 'h[)y]perbole' and 'h[)y]perbolical'. Of course both in _hypo-_ and in _hyper-_ the vowel is short in Greek, so that here at least the strange lengthening cannot be ascribed to the Grecians. The false theory of a long _y_ has not affected 'cynic' or 'cynical', while 'Cyril' has been saved by being a Christian name. We may yet hope to retain _y_ short in 'cylinder', 'cynosure', 'lycanthropy', 'mythology', 'pyramid', 'pyrotechnic', 'sycamore', 'synonym', 'typical'. As for 'h[=y]brid' it seems as much a caprice as '[=a]crid', a pronunciation often heard. Though 'acrid' is a false formation it ought to follow 'vivid' and 'florid'. The 'alias' rule enforces a long _y_ in 'hygiene' and 'hygienic'.

On the matter of Greek names the lettern and the pulpit are grievous offenders. Once it was not so. The clergymen of the old type and the scholars of the Oxford Retrogression said T[)i]m[=o]th[)e][)u]s, because they had a sense of English and followed, consciously or unconsciously, the 'alias' rule. If there was ever an error, it was on the lips of some illiterate literate who made three syllables of the word. Now it seems fashionable to say T[=i]m[)o]th[)e][)u]s. The literate was better than this, for he at least had no theory, and frank ignorance is to be forgiven. It is no shame to a man not to know that the second _i_ in 'Villiers' is as mute as that in 'Parliament' or that Bolingbroke's name began with Bull and ended with brook, but when ignorance constructs a theory it is quite another matter. The etymological theory of pronunciation is intolerable. Etymology was a charming nymph even when men had but a distant acquaintance with her, and a nearer view adds to her graces; but when she is dragged reluctant from her element she flops like a stranded mermaid. The curate says 'Deuteronómy', and on his theory ought to say 'económy' and 'etymológy'. When Robert Gomery--why not give the reverend poetaster his real if less elegant name--published his once popular work, every one called it 'The Omnípresence of the Deïty', and Shelley had already written

And, as I look'd, the bright omnípresence Of morning through the orient cavern flowed.

It is true that Ken a century earlier had committed himself to

Thou while below wert yet on high By Omniprésent Deity,

and later Coleridge, perhaps characteristically, had sinned with

There is one Mind, one omniprésent Mind,

but neither the bishop nor the poet would have said 'omniscíence', or 'omnipótence'.

Another word to show signs of etymological corruption is '[)e]volution'. It seems to have been introduced as a technical term of the art of war, and of course, like 'd[)e]volution', shortened the _e_. The biologists first borrowed it and later seem desirous of corrupting it. Perhaps they think of such words as '[=e]gress', but the long vowel is right in the stressed penultimate.

One natural tendency in English runs strongly against etymology. This is the tendency to throw the stress back, which about a century ago turned 'contémplate' into 'cóntemplate' and somewhat later 'illústrate' into 'íllustrate'. Shakespeare and Milton pronounced 'instinct' as we pronounce 'distinct' and 'aspect' as we pronounce 'respect'. Thus Belarius is made to say

'Tis wonder That an invisible instínct should frame them To royalty unlearn'd,

and Milton has

By this new felt attraction and instinct,

and also

In battailous aspéct and neerer view.

The retrogression of the stress is in these instances well established, and we cannot quarrel with it; but against some very recent instances a protest may be made. One seems to be a corruption of the War. In 1884 the _N.E.D._ recognized no pronunciation of it save 'allý', as in Romeo's

This gentleman, the prince's neer Alie.

The late Mr. B.B. Rogers in his translations of Aristophanes has of course no other pronunciation. His verses are too good to be spoiled by what began as a vulgarism. Another equally recent vulgarism, not recognized by the _N.E.D._ and bad enough to make George Russell turn in his grave, is 'mágazine' for 'magazíne'. It is not yet common, but such vulgarisms are apt to climb.

In times not quite so recent the word 'prophecy' has changed, not indeed its stress, but the quantity of its final vowel. When Alford wrote 'The Queen's English', every one lengthened the last vowel, as in the verb, nor do I remember any other pronunciation in my boyhood. Now the _N.E.D._ gives the short vowel only. Alford to his own satisfaction accounted for the long vowel by the diphthong _ei_ of the Greek. It is to be feared that his explanation would involve 'dynast[=y]' and 'polic[=y]', even if it did not oblige us to turn 'Pompey' into 'Pomp[=y]'. In this case it may be suspected that the noun was assimilated to the verb, which follows the analogy of 'magnify' and 'multiply'. The voice of the people which now gives us 'prophec[)y]' seems here to have felt the power of analogy and assuredly will prevail.

_ON PROPER NAMES._

It is to be hoped that except in reading Latin and Greek texts we shall keep to the traditional pronunciation of proper names as it is enshrined in our poetry and other literature. We must continue to lengthen the stressed penultimate vowel in Athos, Cato, Draco, Eros, Hebrus, Lichas, Nero, Otho, Plato, Pylos, Remus, Samos, Titus, Venus, and the many other disyllables wherein it was short in the ancient tongues. On the other hand we shall shorten the originally long stressed antepenultimate vowel in Brasidas, Euripides, Icarus, Lavinia, Lucilius, Lydia, Nicias, Onesimus, Pegasus, Pyramus, Regulus, Romulus, Scipio, Sisyphus, Socrates, Thucydides, and many more.

Quin, and the actors of his day, used to give to the first vowel in 'Cato' the sound of the _a_ in 'father'. They probably thought that they were Italianizing such names. In fact their use was neither Latin nor English. They were like the men of to-day who speak of the town opposite Dover as 'Cally', a name neither French nor English. A town which once sent members to the English Parliament has a right to an English name. Prior rhymed it with 'Alice' and Browning has

When Fortune's malice Lost her Calais.

Shakespeare, of course, spelt it 'Callis', and this form, which was first evicted by Pope, whom other editors servilely followed, ought to be restored to Shakespeare's text. In the pronunciation of Cato the stage regained the English diphthong in the mouth of Garrick, whose good sense was often in evidence. It is recorded that his example was not at once followed in Scotland or Ireland. If there was any Highlander on the stage it may be hoped that he gave to the vowel the true Latin sound as it appears in 'Mactavish'.

A once well-known schoolmaster, a correspondent of Conington's, had a daughter born to him whom in his unregenerate days he christened Rosa. At a later time he became a purist in quantities, and then he shortened the _o_ and took the voice out of the _s_ and spoke of her and to her as Rossa. The mother and the sisters refused to acknowledge what they regarded as a touch of shamrock and clung persistently to the English flower. The good gentleman did not call his son Sol[=o]mon,[2] though this is the form which ought to be used by those who turn the traditional English 'Elk[)a]nah' into 'Elk[=a]nah', 'Ab[)a]na' into 'Ab[=a]na', and 'Zeb[)u]lun' into 'Zeb[=u]lun'. If they do not know

Poor Elk[)a]nah, all other troubles past, For bread in Smithfield dragons hiss'd at last,

yet at least they ought to know

Of Abb[)a]na and Pharphar, lucid streams.

The malison of Milton on their heads! If the translators of the Bible had foreseen 'Zeb[=u]lun', they would have chosen some other word than 'princes' to avoid the cacophony of 'the princes of Zeb[=u]lun'.

[Footnote 2: But pedantry would not suggest this. The New Testament has [Greek: Solomôn], and the Latin Christian poets have the _o_ short. True, the Vatican Septuagint has [Greek: Salômôn], but there the vowel of the first syllable is _a_.--H.B.]

That these usages were familiar is evident from the pronunciation of proper, especially Biblical, names. Thus 'B[=a]bel' and 'B[)a]bylon', 'N[=i]nus' and 'N[)i]neveh', were spoken as unconsciously as M[=i]chael' and 'M[)i]chaelmas'. Nobody thought of asking the quantity of the Hebrew vowels before he spoke of 'C[=a]leb' and 'B[=a]rak', of 'G[)i]deon' and 'G[)i]lead', of 'D[)e]borah' and 'Ab[)i]melech', of '[=E]phraim' and 'B[=e]lial'. The seeming exceptions can be explained. Thus the priest said 'H[)e]rod' because in the Vulgate he read 'H[)e]rodes', but there was no Greek or Latin form to make him say anything else than 'M[=e]roz', 'P[=e]rez', 'S[=e]rah', 'T[=e]resh'. He said '[)A]dam' because, although the Septuagint and other books retained the bare form of the name, there were other writings in which the name was extended by a Latin termination. There was no like extension to tempt him to say anything but 'C[=a]desh', '[=E]dom', 'J[=a]don', 'N[=a]dab'. I must admit my inability to explain 'Th[)o]mas', but doubtless there is a reason. The abbreviated form was of course first 'Th[)o]m' and then 'T[)o]m'. Possibly the pet name has claimed dominion over the classical form. As in the _herba impia_ of the early botanists, these young shoots sometimes refuse to be 'trash'd for overtopping'.

A story is told of an eccentric Essex rector. He was reading in church the fourth chapter of Judges, and after 'Now D[)e]borah, a prophetess', suddenly stopped, not much to the astonishment of the rustics, for they knew his ways. Then he went on 'Deb[)o]rah? Deb[)o]rah? Deb[=o]rah! Now Deb[=o]rah, a prophetess', and so on. Probably a freak of memory had reminded him that the letter was omega in the Septuagint. It will be remembered that Miss Jenkyns in _Cranford_ liked her sister to call her Deb[=o]rah, 'her father having once said that the Hebrew name ought to be so pronounced', and it will not be forgotten that the good rector was too sound a scholar to read 'Deb[=o]rah' at the lettern.

An anecdote of Burgon's is to the point. He had preached in St. Mary's what he regarded as an epoch-making sermon, and afterwards he walked home to Oriel with Hawkins, the famous Provost. He looked for comment and hoped for praise, but the Provost's only remark was, 'Why do you say Emm[=a]us?' 'I don't know; isn't it Emm[=a]us?' 'No, no; Emm[)a]us, Emm[)a]us.' When Hawkins was young, in the days of George III, every one said Emmaus, and in such matters he would say, 'I will have no innovations in my time.' On the King's lips the phrase, as referring to politics, was foolish, but Hawkins used it with sense.

PS.--I had meant to cite an anecdote of Johnson. As he walked in the Strand, a man with a napkin in his hand and no hat stept out of a tavern and said, 'Pray, Sir, is it irréparable or irrepáirable that one should say?'--'The last, I think, Sir, for the adjective ought to follow the verb; but you had better consult my dictionary than me, for that was the result of more thought than you will now give me time for.' The dictionary rightly gives _irréparable_, and both the rule and example of the Doctor's _obiter dicta_ (literally _obiter_) are wrong.

J.S.

MISCELLANEOUS NOTES AND CORRESPONDENCE

* * * * *

ADDENDA TO HOMOPHONES IN TRACT II

Several correspondents complain of the incompleteness of the list of Homophones in Tract II. The object of that list was to convince readers of the magnitude of the mischief, and the consequent necessity for preserving niceties of pronunciation: evidence of its incompleteness must strengthen its plea. The following words may be added; they are set here in the order of the literary alphabet.

Add to Table I (p. 7)

band, [^1] _a tie_, [^2] _a company_.

bend, [^1] _verb_, [^2] _heraldic sub._

bay, [^1] _tree_, [^2] _arm of sea_, [^3] _window_, [^4] _barking of dog_, and '_at bay_', [^5] _a dam_, [^6] _of antler_, [^7] _a colour_.

blaze, [^1] _of flame_, [^2] _to sound forth_.

bluff, [^1] _adj. & sub. = broad = fronted_, [^2] _blinker_, [^3] _sub. and v. confusing_ [^1] _and_ [^2].

boom, [^1] _to hum_, [^2] _= beam_.

cant, [^1] _whine_, [^2] _to tilt_.

chaff, [^1] _of wheat_, [^2] _= chafe (slang)_.

cove, [^1] _a recess_, [^2] _= chap (slang)_.

file, [^1] _string_, [^2] _rasp_, [^3] _= to defile_.

grave, [^1] _sub._, [^2] _adj._