Lexical and Semantic Change: Selected Papers from the Fourteenth International Conference on English Historical Linguistics (ICEHL 14), Bergamo, 21-25 ... IV: Current Issues in Linguistic Theory)

English Historical Linguistics 2006 volume II

AMSTERDAM STUDIES IN THE THEORY AND HISTORY OF LINGUISTIC SCIENCE General Editor E.F.K. KOERNER (Zentrum für Allgemeine Sprachwissenschaft, Typologie und Universalienforschung, Berlin) Series IV – CURRENT ISSUES IN LINGUISTIC THEORY Advisory Editorial Board Lyle Campbell (Salt Lake City) Sheila Embleton (Toronto) Elly van Gelderen (Tempe, Ariz.) Brian D. Joseph (Columbus, Ohio) John E. Joseph (Edinburgh) Manfred Krifka (Berlin) Martin Maiden (Oxford) E. Wyn Roberts (Vancouver, B.C.) Joseph C. Salmons (Madison, Wis.)

Volume 296

Richard Dury, Maurizio Gotti and Marina Dossena (eds.) English Historical Linguistics 2006. Volume II: Lexical and Semantic Change. Selected papers from the fourteenth International Conference on English Historical Linguistics (ICEHL 14), Bergamo, 21-25 August 2006

English Historical Linguistics 2006 Volume II: Lexical and Semantic Change Selected papers from the fourteenth International Conference on English Historical Linguistics (ICEHL 14), Bergamo, 21–25 August 2006 Edited by

Richard Dury Maurizio Gotti Marina Dossena University of Bergamo

JOHN BENJAMINS PUBLISHING COMPANY AMSTERDAM/PHILADELPHIA

4-

The paper used in this publication meets the minimum requirements of American ­National Standard for Information Sciences — Permanence of Paper for Printed Library Materials, ANSI Z39.48-1984.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data International Conference on English Historical Linguistics (14th : 2006 : Bergamo University)   English historical linguistics 2006 : selected papers from the fourteenth international conference on English historical linguistics (ICEHL 14), Bergamo, 21-25 August 2006.        p. cm. -- (Amsterdam studies in the theory and history of linguistic science. Series IV, Current issues in linguistic theory, ISSN 0304-0763 ; v. 296) Includes bibliographical references and index. 1.  English language--Grammar, Historical--Congresses. 2.  English language--History--Congresses.  I. Gotti, Maurizio. II. Dossena, Marina, 1961- III. Dury, Richard. IV. Title. V. Series. PE1075.I57    2008 425--dc22 2008002770 ISBN 978 90 272 4811 4 (Hb; alk. paper) © 2008 – John Benjamins B.V. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form, by print, photoprint, microfilm, or any other means, without written permission from the publisher. John Benjamins Publishing Co. • P.O.Box 36224 • 1020 ME Amsterdam • The Netherlands John Benjamins North America • P.O.Box 27519 • Philadelphia PA 19118-0519 • USA

Table of contents

Foreword Introduction

vii ix

Part I.  Pragmatic and stylistic choices

1

Politeness in the history of English   Andreas H. Jucker

3

The which is most and right harde to answere: Intensifying right and most in earlier English   Belén Méndez-Naya

31

The diachronic development of the intensifier bloody: A case study in historical pragmatics   Stefania Biscetti

53

 ariation and change in the writings of 17th century scientists V   Lilo Moessner

75

Part II.  Lexical and semantic change

95

The convergence of two need verbs in Middle English   Lucía Loureiro-Porto

97

 ivalry among the verbs of wanting R   Minoji Akimoto

117

A look at respect: Investigating metonymies in Early Modern English   Heli Tissari

139

Germanic vs French fixed expressions in Middle English prose: Towards a corpus-based historical English phraseology   Manfred Markus

159

Latin loanwords of the early modern period: How often did French act as an intermediary?   Philip Durkin

185

vi Table of contents

Disseisin: The lexeme and the legal fact in Early Middle English   R.W. McConchie Was Old French -able borrowable?: A diachronic study of word-formation processes due to language contact   Carola Trips & Achim Stein

203

217

Women and other ‘small things’: -ette as a feminine marker   Lucia Kornexl

241

Index of subjects

259

Foreword The conference at which the papers in this volume were first presented took place on 21–25 August 2006 at the University of Bergamo (Faculty of Foreign Languages and Literatures). This was the 14th biennial meeting of the International Conference on English Historical Linguistics (ICEHL), which has been held each time in a different European country and, until then, had never been hosted by an Italian institution. The choice of Bergamo was appropriate, as this University has a strong tradition in English historical linguistics, international scholarly exchanges and has held three important conferences dedicated to English Diachronic Syntax (1992) and English Historical Dialectology (2003 and 2007). The ICEHL conference proved to be very successful, as over 220 well established as well as younger scholars, from Europe and from as far away as the United States, Canada, New Zealand and Japan, took an active part in both presenting a wide range of stimulating papers and participating in the ensuing discussions. The various conference events – which included plenary lectures, papers, panels and workshops – provided an excellent opportunity for the assessment of how research in this field had progressed and what results had been obtained, giving evidence of the many ways in which linguistic, textual and cultural aspects have characterized the development of the English language. We would like to thank all those who presented a paper, and especially the plenary speakers for offering main theoretical guidelines to the various sections of the conference. We are particularly indebted to colleagues and staff in Bergamo who made this conference possible: in particular, Professor Alberto Castoldi, Rector of our University, Professor Giuliano Bernini, Dean of the Faculty of Foreign Languages and Literatures, and Professor Angela Locatelli, then Head of the Department of Comparative Languages, Literatures and Cultures. We are also very grateful to our colleagues in the English Language branch of our Department, for their great help and support in the organisation and management of this conference. From the academic point of view, this conference proved to be a very rewarding experience. Indeed, the generally high quality of the presentations led to our decision of offering more than one volume of selected, peer-reviewed and revised papers for publication in an internationally renowned series, in order to secure the widest distribution possible and thus contribute to the advancement of our understanding of the structure and development of the English language. All the numerous papers that were submitted underwent a thorough referee­ing process,

viii Foreword

and we are very grateful to senior members of the scholarly community, including of course the anonymous readers consulted by the Series Editor, for devoting so much of their time to this task. Their comments and suggestions proved to be extremely useful already in the selection process, which led us to the identification of three well-structured and cohesive volumes, the first of which is devoted to syntax and morphology, the third to geo-historical variation and the second (the present one) to lexis and semantics. We are extremely grateful to Prof. Dr. E.F.K. Koerner, General Editor of “Current Issues in Linguistic Theory” (CILT), for having agreed to include these three volumes of selected papers in his prestigious series, as well as for his advice and constant support. Our special thanks are also due to Ms. Anke de Looper at John Benjamins for her patience, great care, and assistance. Bergamo, January 2008

The Editors

Introduction A discipline-wide conference-series like the International Conference on ­English Historical Linguistics (ICEHL) is a meeting place for everyone, where a wide range of papers are given, and the 14th edition (held in Bergamo on 21–25 August 2006) was no exception. The editors of this selection of papers therefore can make no specious claims to monographicity: this is the necessarily-varied pick of the papers in the areas of lexis, lexical morphology and semantics, with excursions into neighbouring sociolinguistic areas of pragmatics and stylistics. There are of course areas of thematic unity within the variety and above all a basic similarity of methodology: almost all these studies include the statistical analysis of corpora, in a mainstream empirical approach that is very much bottom-up, proceeding from data to theory. All the papers, in addition, were found by the editors to contain methodology or theoretical applications or conclusions that are new and interesting. The volume opens with Andreas Jucker’s conference plenary, a fine survey of studies of politeness in the history of English. These all support the hypothesis of a change in English politeness culture from positive (approval of the addressee) to negative (allowing freedom of action). Defining terms, Jucker rejects the focus of Watts (2003) on the semantics of use of the word ‘polite’ and argues that we should instead describe and categorize the linguistic phenomenon of polite language behaviour. The first group of studies he assesses are those on pronouns of address in Chaucer: here Jucker insists on the important ‘retractability’ of pronoun-choice, unlike the situation in modern European languages, before illustrating the way Chaucer’s’ usage is based on varying interactional status. In the following section, he shows how pronoun use in Shakespeare had evolved and (correlated with the analysis of terms of address) reveals a growing culture of negative politeness. The same tendency is also indicated by historical studies of speech act formulas. The paper ends with indications of increasing positive-politeness ‘camaraderie’ in public interactions, suggesting some possible reversals of the historical trend. Honorific address terms also crop up in the second paper, a study by Belén Méndez-Naya of the intensifiers most and right. This study (using the ME and EModE sections of the Helsinki Corpus) highlights the vague category division between comparative and intensifier uses of the two terms (‘the/a most efficient assistant’) that accounts for the way that right, originally an intensifier, is later found in a few comparative uses; and the way that most, originally a comparative, spreads into intensifier uses in very similar environments to right – intensifiers belonging to those expressions that lose force through use and so are cyclically replaced.

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Another uncertain boundary is that between maximizer and booster functions (‘most true’, ‘most odious’), thanks to another common cyclical process: the hyperbolic use of ‘maximum degree’ modifiers to mean ‘a very high degree’: both words behave typically as maximizers but are found with scalar adjectives in a substantial minority of cases. That most mercurial of intensifiers bloody (the one with the widest collocational range, the only one functioning as both maximizer and minimizer) is also the most etymologically mysterious. Stefania Biscetti attempts to throw some light on the mystery. Dismissing previous etymologies with the help of a large ad hoc corpus, she stresses the significance of the earliest intensifier attestations in the collocation bloody drunk. Typically, she argues, frightening ‘bloody Papists’ had been seen as ferocious, ‘bloody drunk’ – the force of adverb strengthened by associations with communion wine and abhorrent claims of transubstantiation. So bloody starts its life as an intensifier in bloody drunk, after an evolution of meaning from ‘cruelly’ to ‘frighteningly and abhorrently drunk’ and then to ‘very drunk’. Its unique taboo connotation thus appears to come from its connotations of ‘sinful, abhorrent’. Finally, bloody, used with more and more collocates and endowed with great syntactic freedom, widens its pragmatic scope to become a focus marker affecting the illocutionary force of the utterance. The following paper takes us to the level of discourse in Lilo Moessner’s statistical investigation of English scientific texts in the seventeenth century. While previous studies have placed the moment of important changes in the second half of the century, Moessner’s multivariant analysis reveals that in her texts the shift to more informational and elaborate and less ‘persuasive’ texts actually starts in the first half of the century, while the move to less narrative texts must occur after 1700. Within the genre, Moessner then identifies two main text types: argumentative and narrative, with the first being replaced by the second as the dominant type during the century. A closer look at the statistics reveals more variation: core and peripheral members of each type, and different text-types within the same text: the story is not therefore of replacement of one type by another, but a predominance of argumentative texts in the first half of the century, of narrative texts in the second. The second group of papers opens with Lucía Loureiro-Porto’s study of the evolution of the now-obsolete need v.1 (‘compel’) and need v.2 (‘be necessary’). Using a large ad hoc corpus of ME and OE texts she shows how need v.1 was more common until 1350, after which it disappears, and, in the same period, need v.2, previously found only sporadically, increases greatly in frequency. By looking at the trend of increasingly frequent passive and non-affirmative uses of need v.1, the author convincingly demonstrates how the two verbs had become syntactically and semantically close in this crucial period. Additional clarification of the process of confluence is offered through analysis of the evolution of modal meaning using the

Introduction

categories of ‘Force Dynamics’ and a newly-proposed sequence of metaphorization of root modality. The results confirm the author’s view of need v.1 and v.2 as best seen as two manifestations of the same verb. The concept of ‘rivalry’, touched on in this paper and in the later paper on the suffix –able, is at the centre of Minoji Akimoto’s meticulous study of ‘verbs of wanting’. The coexistence of OE verbs hope and wish with desire (from French) and want (from Norse) led to a situation of rivalry from about 1500 and to consequent semantic and functional expansion or reduction of the individual verbs. Using various corpora ranging from Middle to Present-day English, the study reveals a basic story of the functional and semantic restriction of desire and the expansion of want (especially want to, after 1800), with wish losing in one pattern but gaining in another. In addition, by taking into account all the patterns of complementation, Akimoto is able to give us a detailed diachronic picture of the syntactic changes associated with all the four verbs. Semantic variation and evolution are the subject of Heli Tissari’s study of respect. This is a corpus-based, cognitive-linguistics investigation of related social emotion concepts centring on ‘respect’, through the analysis of phraseological units (‘lexical bundles’ – and there are many of them including respect), in particular of the metaphorical and metonymical relations between them. The various meanings involving reasoning (‘seeing’ as a metaphor for ‘understanding’) coexist with those involving sociability (‘seeing’ as a metaphor for ‘considering valuable’) in a metonymical fluidity of uses involving physical, metaphysical and metatextual attention, ill-represented in the OED’s distinctions of meaning. These reasoning meanings are predominant in sixteenth-century correspondence, while the deferential-regard meanings become predominant in the following century. The following paper is a bold attempt by Manfred Markus to lay foundations for Middle English phraseological studies – an enterprise as interesting as it is arduous since, though speakers undoubtedly possess an extensive phraseological lexicon, it is difficult to list its elements. The focus of the paper is on the survival of West Germanic models of fixed phrases in the EME period, phrases later for the most part replaced by French calques. Using a corpus of prose texts from both the Early and Late ME periods, Markus identifies a series of prepositional phrases in the early texts where the choice of preposition is similar to Modern German, and where the singular noun, in an archaic pattern, is not preceded by an article. Another analysis identifies twin formulas linked by and, while a third looks at complex predicates with general verbs like do and the rise of phrases with make from about 1300. Borrowing is the subject of the last group of papers, starting with a statistical presentation by Philip Durkin of patterns of borrowing, without focussing on any forms in particular. The paper starts with valuable information about the revised

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xii English Historical Linguistics 2006. Volume II: Lexical and Semantic Change

etymologies of the third edition of the Oxford English Dictionary. More specifically, OED3 now traces ‘dual etymologies’, where (for example) Latin or French could equally well have been the source of early uses of the word. The new tagging of the etymological entry also allows much easier collection of data and Durkin provides statistics to show how 1530 is a significant turning point after which Latin loans become much more frequent than French loans (a trend continuing into the eighteenth century). The same set of figures also show that new French loans remained about the same number each decade through the seventeenth century, with no significant peak in the 1650s despite contemporary complaints of French influence. The last three papers concentrate on the borrowing of affixes from French. The first focuses on the necessary documentary ‘spadework’ required to reconstruct the history of use. In the case of disseisin (dispossession of land), the object of study of Rod McConchie’s paper, much background information will lie in Anglo-Norman and Latin texts of the eleventh and twelfth centuries, documents rarely digitized and little studied by linguists. McConchie argues that in a trilingual administrative system, attested use of words in Latin and Anglo-French provide a strong supposition of their availability for code-switching and borrowings in English. Taking into account the related terms seisin and reseisin and making use of historical documents in Latin and French, the author is thus able to substantially revise the OED accounts and provide considerably earlier uses in Latin texts written in England. Carola Stein and Achim Trips examine deverbal adjectives in –able in French and English. Dismissing the claim that the free morpheme able played a part in the success of the suffix in Middle English, they test the accounts of the historical dictionaries in a corpus-based analysis. The data confirm the early adoption of the suffix with native bases, showing that the earliest loans had been analysed and the suffix identified as such. In order to explain this part of the story, the two authors then formulate a new word-formation rule for the suffix based on the event structure of the base verb, valid for both present-day English and French, and then show that this can also be applied successful to the earliest historical examples in both languages. The two rival OE suffixes soon disappeared because ME speakers borrowed not only the suffix but the word-formation rule at an early stage and were thus able to produce new formations with the same semantic structure as direct French loans. The volume ends appropriately with another suffix: a semantic study by Lucia Kornexl of the female –ette suffix added to personal nouns. The idea that this exemplifies a universal transfer of diminutive markers to ‘female’ is called into question as standard English famously lacks a productive system of diminutive affixes. In addition, the suffixal status of female –ette is far from clear. The first English

Introduction xiii

formation is suffragette (1906), which was probably made not by derivation but on analogy with (partially-analysed) earlier loans (like coquette) of females appreciated or denigrated from a male chauvinist point-of-view. The few formations found in dictionaries are strongly lexicalized, and most are obsolete or of restricted use. Recently, however, new formations (like punkette or ladette), found in dictionaries and in the blogosphere, have apparently taken up the ‘defiant’ or anticonformist connotations of the first formation. An overview of the papers stimulates some reflections. First of all, language is a phenomenon of such complexity that no one methodology can hope to capture it. Most of the papers here adopt the approach of corpus linguistics, some of them using corpora to collect examples that then form the basis of a process of reasoning about change and its probable causes. Others make statistical analyses of linguistic elements using large corpora or smaller well-selected corpora going beyond codified standard usage – diaries, letters, courtroom proceedings – to reveal unsuspected aspects of change, including (in the case of less standard texts) evidence of language change ‘from below’ (cf. Elspaß et al. 2007). In this volume, large corpora are used in most of the papers and the Corpus of Early English Correspondence Sampler is used in three of them, and another uses an ad hoc corpus of texts chosen as closer to speech than literary and other formal texts. Secondly, as shown by Deumert & Vandenbussche (2003) – and, as we saw above, exemplified here in the paper by Stein & Trips – it is important to go beyond English as a self-contained system in order to see it in the context of other European languages, languages that interact with it and share many parallel developments. But the editors and referees selected all the papers as containing an interesting contribution to historical linguistic investigation. As the reader will now discover. Bergamo, January 2008

The Editors

References Deumert, Ana & Wim Vandenbussche , eds. 2003. Germanic Standardizations – Past to Present. Amsterdam & Philadelphia: John Benjamins. Elspaß, Stephan, Nils Langer, Joachim Scharloth & Wim Vandenbussche, eds. 2007. Germanic Language Histories from Below (1700–2000). Berlin: De Gruyter. Watts, Richard J. 2003. Politeness (Key Topics in Sociolinguistics). Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

part i

Pragmatic and stylistic choices

Politeness in the history of English1 Andreas H. Jucker University of Zurich

Politeness in English has often been seen as a development from a positive politeness culture to a negative politeness culture. Several case studies provide evidence for such a development. A first case study offers an analysis of the use of pronominal terms of address in Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales and in Shakespeare’s plays. By Shakespeare’s time the pronoun you had increasingly become a marker of deference associated with negative politeness, while thou had become a marker of positive (im)politeness and strong emotions. The development of speech acts such as apologies and directives provide further evidence for an emergent negative politeness culture. However, evidence from Early English correspondence and from the current blurring of the line between private and public life indicates that there are also tendencies towards increased positive politeness, which strongly suggests that these developments are domain and genre specific.

1.  Introduction English rules of politeness are undeniably rather complex, and, in their tortuous attempts to deny or disguise the realities of status differences, clearly hypocritical. But then, surely all politeness is a form of hypocrisy: almost by definition, it involves pretence. (Fox 2004: 97)

For the social psychologist Kate Fox, politeness is fundamentally insincere and even hypocritical. It is “sham, pretence, dissimulation – an artificial veneer of harmony and parity” (ibid.). This may strike a chord with many people who view politeness as unnecessary and superfluous. It is almost a form of deception and therefore, perhaps, something to be avoided. Even in the more sober scholarly literature, politeness in English has been described as an expression of paranoia. Stewart (2005: 128) concludes her paper on politeness in Britain with the observation that “it seems, at least, that to be British a healthy degree of .  My thanks go to the audience at Bergamo for much valuable feedback. I also thank Marina Dossena, Richard Dury and Irma Taavitsainen for detailed criticism and comments, and Barbara Breustedt for help in the preparation of this manuscript.

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Andreas H. Jucker

paranoia can help.” This conclusion is based on her finding that British English tends towards negative politeness and favours off-record strategies and non-conventional indirectness (2005: 118, 128). Brown & Levinson (1987), who introduced the notion of negative and positive politeness in their seminal work first published in 1978, describe the British as standoffish creatures in a negative-politeness culture (1987: 245). Sell (2000) even describes politeness as a velvet glove that hides an iron fist: “So how, if at all, do people think about politeness today? Perhaps as the velvet glove to hide an iron fist. Or as a social lubricant, cheaper and less nocuous than alcohol, but, like free booze, still useful to the corps diplomatique” (Sell 2000: 216). But it seems that the British have not always been a negative politeness culture. In fact, many researchers have claimed that in the history of the English language a clear move from a positive politeness culture to a negative politeness culture, at least in British English, can be discerned. Kopytko (1993, 1995), for instance, analyzed politeness strategies in Shakespeare’s plays, where he finds a predominance of positive politeness strategies, and on that basis argues that English moved from a positive politeness culture to a negative politeness culture. The EModE pray or prithee has been replaced by the Present Day please (see Kryk-Kastovsky 1998; Akimoto 2000). This can be seen as a move from an expression of speaker’s wish (I pray you) to non-imposition (if it pleases you), i.e., also a move from positive to negative politeness. Jucker & Taavitsainen (2008) in their analysis of apologies in the history of English argue that EModE focused on addressee-based requests for forgiveness and understanding, such as excuse me or pardon me, while PDE focuses on the speaker’s own feelings of remorse (I am sorry) without imposing any request on the addressee to forgive or understand. This, too, can be seen as a development from positive to negative politeness. However, if we extend our perspective further back, several scholars have provided evidence for an increase in positive politeness from ME to EModE. Thus both Nevalainen & Raumolin-Brunberg (1995) and Nevala (2004a, 2004b) argue for an increase in positive politeness in their data of address terms and subscription formulae in English family correspondence from the LME period to the seventeenth century. All these claims are based on very limited data and it is not clear how easily they can be generalised to English as a whole. It must be remembered that in the Middle Ages English was a small and insignificant Germanic dialect spoken at the periphery of Europe, while today it is a world language with many different national varieties and hundreds of millions of speakers. It is, therefore, not possible to sketch a comprehensive history of politeness in the English language. Instead I want to pull together several case studies in the history of politeness as a small step to a more comprehensive picture. I shall first look at Chaucer’s use of



Politeness in the history of English

address terms in his Canterbury Tales. As is well known, English adopted a distinction between the pronouns thou and ye to address single interlocutors in ME and lost it again towards the end of the EModE period. In other European languages the use of a plural pronoun for single interlocutors is still very much alive, and the usage is often described in terms of politeness. The second case study will pull together some recent research on politeness in Shakespeare’s plays. Much of this research again deals with address terms, but there are also studies that deal with considerations of face and politeness more generally. As a third case study, I will present research on the relation between speech acts and politeness, in particular apologies and directives. These speech acts are particularly relevant in terms of politeness because apologies constitute face threats to the speaker’s own positive face, while directives threaten the addressee’s negative face. All these case studies support the hypothesis that, in the course of time, English moved in the direction of increased negative politeness. But I will also provide some counter-evidence in the form of the above-mentioned studies on Early English correspondence, and I will present some anecdotal evidence that challenges the view that PDE is simply a negative politeness culture. The boundaries between public life and private life become increasingly blurred and as a result negative politeness strategies or deference are on the retreat in certain situations while positive politeness strategies or camaraderie is gaining ground. Let me first turn to a consideration of the term ‘politeness’ itself because it is a term which is being used in a confusing range of senses in the relevant literature. 2.  Definitions of politeness ‘Politeness’ is both an everyday word of the English language with translation equivalents in other languages, such as Höflichkeit in German, politesse in French, beleefdheid in Dutch and so on, as well as being an established technical term in scholarly work in linguistics and in particular in pragmatics. As with other terms, this dual existence is not unproblematic. Basically, technical terms are nothing more than conventional expressions for abstract concepts; they are arbitrary labels that abbreviate lengthy descriptions of specific objects of investigation. The object of investigation may not always be very clearly delimited, and different researchers may not always agree about the use of specific terms, but the problems are exacerbated if the same term also has a life as an everyday expression. Everyday expressions are by their very nature fuzzy and subject to multiple variations, such as historical, dialectal, social and even personal differences. Such terms, therefore, usually have a much wider application than technical terms, and uncertainty often arises if the two are allowed to be confused, which is the case if a technical

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Andreas H. Jucker

definition is refused simply on the grounds that the term means ‘something else’ in everyday language. It is, of course, unhelpful if a technical term is used to refer to something entirely different than that which the everyday meaning of the expression suggests. However, a technical term is not an everyday expression, and therefore it has a more specific denotation. Thus, it is important to distinguish clearly between the technical term ‘politeness’ and the everyday notion ‘politeness’. Watts (2003: 4) calls the everyday notion of the term ‘politeness’ or indeed ‘impoliteness’ “first order (im)politeness” or “(im)politeness1”, and the technical term “second order (im)politeness” or “(im)politeness2” (see also Watts, Ide & Ehlich 1992: 3; Kasper 2003). Watts has the following to say about the two terms: A theory of politeness2 should concern itself with the discursive struggle over politeness1, i.e., over the ways in which (im)polite behaviour is evaluated and commented on by lay members and not with ways in which social scientists lift the term “(im)politeness” out of the realm of everyday discourse and elevate it to the status of a theoretical concept in what is frequently called Politeness Theory. (Watts 2003: 9)

Kasper (2003: 2) also states that “First order politeness phenomena constitute the empirical input to politeness theories.” Thus the object of study, according to Watts or Kasper is, in effect, the term politeness, or its equivalent in other languages, and how it is used by native speakers of that language. What are the phenomena that are described by this term, and how is it evaluated? Examples (1) to (3) are three extracts from the British National Corpus, in which the term polite is used.

(1) To provide a polite reminder that the country was started by Englishmen they took the Queen to a hostel called Raffles Hall and Westin Stamfords, another hotel. (BNC A5U 694)



(2) “Nice to meet you, Chief Inspector,” he said with automatic politeness, then considered what he had just said, decided it was beyond explanation and led them upstairs to his office. (BNC AB9 1963)



(3) I say “borrowed” because it would be impolite to suggest that anyone might have stolen them. (BNC JY7 3549)

An analysis of the term politeness used in such contexts is, without any doubt, a very worthwhile research project, both in different varieties of PDE or historically. It gives us an ethnographic view of how speakers of English talk about politeness, and this would tell us a great deal about the semantics of the word polite or politeness at different points in the history of English. “The semantics of the lexical entry ‘politeness’ thus sheds light on social members’ perception and classification of politeness” (Kasper 2003: 2). But I do not agree that this is in any way prior or superior to a study of second order (im)politeness. Natural language terms, such as politeness, have a fuzzy denotation. For descriptive purposes it is more important



Politeness in the history of English

to focus on specific linguistic phenomena, to categorise them and to label them with mnemonically helpful technical terms. Brown & Levinson’s (1987) view of politeness as a redress to a face threat has been the most influential in politeness research. In this view, politeness is used strategically to achieve specific interactional goals. Speakers behave in a rational and purposeful way, and because the face of both interlocutors is constantly at risk in the interaction, both of them engage in face work in order to maintain each other’s face. Speakers cannot enhance their own face directly because face is what others see in the speaker. Therefore, it is generally in each speaker’s interest to maintain the faces of their interlocutors in order to enhance their own face in the view of the others (Brown & Levinson 1987: 61). The notion of face comes in two different varieties. The positive face relates to the wish of every person to be liked and appreciated by other people, while the negative face relates to the wish of every person to be free in their own actions and to maintain their own territory. Face threats are seen as being threats to either one or the other of these two varieties, and face work, too, is seen as relating to one or the other of these aspects. Positive politeness strategies, therefore, show the speaker’s approval of the addressee, while negative politeness strategies give the addressee the option of self-determination, at least nominally if not in reality. Brown & Levinson have proposed the distinction between positive and negative face as universals, but this claim can easily be misunderstood as an ethnocentric projection. However, Brown & Levinson clearly envisage a great deal of cultural variation. In particular, they envisage much cultural variation in what constitutes a face threat and in which members of a society have special roles in enhancing, maintaining or threatening the face of others (Brown & Levinson 1987: 13). In addition, the balance between positive and negative face is also very likely to be culture-specific. In fact, the British have a reputation for being an excessively negative politeness culture. I quoted Barbara Fox at the beginning of this paper. A caricature version of this is available as a picture postcard on which two pictures illustrate allegedly incorrect and correct polite behaviour in a British context (Ford & Legon 2003). In the picture illustrating the ‘incorrect’ behaviour, a man who is drowning shouts “Help!” but gets no more than a haughty shrug and a turned shoulder from a passer-by and his dog. In the opposite picture illustrating the ‘correct’ behaviour, the drowning man politely exclaims, “Excuse me, Sir. I’m terribly sorry to bother you, but I wonder if you would mind helping me a moment, as long as it’s no trouble, of course.” In response the passer-by immediately comes to the rescue with a life belt, and even his dog changes appearance, puts on a friendly face and wags its tail. In this cartoon two aspects are important for the purpose of the present paper. First, the depicted scene is an example of public discourse. The drowning man and the passer-by are unacquainted with each other. Their chance encounter takes

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Andreas H. Jucker

place in a public place, a footpath along a river in a town. City traffic can be seen on a bridge in the background. Second, the appropriately polite exclamation by the drowning man consists entirely of negative politeness strategies. It is an elaborate apology for threatening the negative face of the passer-by by imposing on him and disturbing him in his walk with the dog. “In certain circumstances at least, British English tends towards negative politeness and favours off-record strategies in carrying out certain face-threatening acts” (Stewart 2005: 128). In the present contribution I will argue that the prototypical negative politeness in British culture is the negative politeness of the public sphere. As such it has led to the hypothesis of a shift from a positive politeness culture in Early Modern Britain to the negative politeness culture in Present Day Britain. But the stereotype of a negative politeness culture in Present Day Britain can only be maintained for the public sphere. In more private situations, the balance between positive and negative politeness strategies may be very different. As yet, I do not have any conclusive evidence for this claim, and some of my evidence stems from American sources. Thus, my conclusions can only be very tentative and an invitation for more research into the sociolinguistics of politeness in different synchronic and diachronic varieties of English. It is also a reminder that what looks like a diachronic trend may actually be the result of different types of data that are available for different periods of the English language. If positive politeness strategies prevail in EModE plays and this is compared to the stereotypical perception of today’s British society as a negative politeness culture, the difference may have more to do with the difference of data than with the time difference. In the following section I will review relevant studies that have a bearing on the history of politeness in English. The study of address terms will be particularly prominent because the choice between different pronouns of address has traditionally been described in terms of politeness. One term, such as Sie in German, vous in French, Usted in Spanish or pan/pani in Polish, is often described as more formal and more polite than the alternative du, tu, tu, or ty. In English, the ‘more polite’ plural pronoun ye was first used for single addressees in the thirteenth century. About four hundred years later it ousted the older singular pronoun thou. While we can only speculate about the reasons for the demise of thou, an analysis of the usage of the two pronouns may throw some light on politeness issues in the history of the English language. 3.  Thou and you in Chaucer’s English The basic facts of the thou/ye distinction in the history of English are well known (see in particular Brown & Gilman 1960; Finkenstaedt 1963; Mustanoja 1960;



Politeness in the history of English

Blake 1992; Jucker 2000; Burnley 2003). The first isolated uses of ye as a pronoun of address for a single addressee are attested in English in the thirteenth century. By the middle of the seventeenth century (and for perhaps most users already a century earlier, see Raumolin-Brunberg 2005: 59–65), you, the former object form of the pronoun, had replaced the nominative form ye, and it was now the invariant pronoun of address for single addressees. Burnley (2003: 27) quotes a story in the journal of the founder of the Quaker movement, George Fox, according to which in 1656 professors and priests were outraged by the Quakers, who “thee and thou all people without respect, and will not doff their hats to one nor bow the knee to any man.” Three hundred years earlier, the pronoun thou could still be used as the pronoun of address for a single addressee even in elevated and formal styles (Burnley 2003: 27 quotes a letter by Eustache Deschamps written in 1384–5 to Geoffrey Chaucer as evidence). Clearly, the politeness values of the two pronouns of address had changed drastically in the intervening three hundred years. I shall follow the common practice of referring to the singular pronoun thou and its various case forms with the abbreviation T and to the plural pronoun ye and its case forms as Y. Most of the research on the T/Y distinction has been carried out on Chaucer’s work (Koziol 1943; Nathan 1956, 1959; Wilcockson 1980; Mazzon 2000; Honegger 2003; Pakkala-Weckström 2005; Jucker 2006) and on Shakespeare’s work (Mulholland 1967; Brown & Gilman 1989; Barber 1981; Breuer 1983; U. Busse 1998a, 1998b, 2001, 2002, 2003; Bruti 2000; Blake 2002; Mazzon 2003; Stein 2003; B. Busse 2006). A few researchers have also analyzed the T/Y distinction in non-literary data, e.g., in court records (Walker 2000, 2003; Hope 1993, 1994) and in early English correspondence (Nevala 2003, 2004a, 2004b; Palander-Collin 2006). At first sight, Chaucer’s usage of T/Y pronouns may appear random and unsystematic. It seems difficult to generalise across the different choices, and therefore scholars have traditionally analyzed the usage either in terms of a norm that can be described fairly precisely along with the deviations from the norm, or in terms of a socially sanctioned default usage and stylistic, affective or emotional deviations from this usage. I have argued elsewhere that this view is not adequate (Jucker 2000: 155; Jucker 2006). In contrast to the well-known T/V systems in modern languages, such as German, French, Italian, Spanish or Russian, Chaucer’s ME is a retractable system. The non-retractable systems described by Brown & Gilman depend mainly on the variables power and solidarity, which in turn are derived from the social position of the speaker and the addressee, their respective ages, their familiarity with each other and so on. On the basis of these variables, default values of pronominal choices can be established for each dyad of speakers. If this way of thinking is applied to Chaucer’s work, we get a norm or a default value and many deviations in need of an explanation.

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 Andreas H. Jucker

If Chaucer’s usage, however, is analyzed as a retractable system, there are no default values for each dyad of speakers, because the appropriate pronoun of address always has to be established on the fly (for similar analyses see Mazzon 2000 and Honegger 2003). It depends not only on the social status of the interactants and their relationship towards each other but also on the situational status between the two.2 The situational status may change very quickly, and, as a result, pronoun choices may shift from Y to T or from T to Y and back, even within a short interaction. In Jucker (2006), I have provided sample analyses of the Wife of Bath’s Tale, the Second Nun’s Tale, the Friar’s Tale and the Nun’s Priest’s Tale to show how skilfully interactants switch between Y and T in response to the changing situational status. In this study I would like to illustrate the system briefly with the Clerk’s Tale.3 This tale tells a story of the Marquis Walter, who weds Griselda, a peasant girl, and then puts her through increasingly cruel tests of constancy by first taking away her children and then by pretending to renounce her. He sends her back to her peasant father and even asks her to be a servant at his court in order to prepare every­thing for his marriage with a new wife. Chaucer had two sources to work from, first Petrarch’s Latin version of a story by Boccaccio and, second, an anonymous French translation of this text. Chaucer borrowed freely from both sources (see Benson 1987: 880). However, neither Petrarch’s text nor the French translation make use of the plural pronoun for single addressees, even though as Wilcockson (1980: 39) points out, this use was common but inconsistent in late Latin writings. In Petrarch’s text, Griselda’s peasant father addresses the Marquis Walter with the second person singular pronoun. The French translation faithfully copies this. In Chaucer’s version, however, the peasant father consistently uses Y to address Walter. Griselda also addresses Walter with Y both before and after marrying him. Walter in turn consistently uses T for the peasant father, but he appears to be inconsistent in his address to Griselda. When he first encounters her, he uses Y.

(4) “Where is youre fader, O Grisildis?” he sayde. (ClT IV 297)4

.  On varying interactional status see also Dossena (2006). .  My analysis is based on the text as it is given in the Riverside Chaucer, which is, of course, the result of both scribal and editorial practices. However, spot checks on variant readings in other manuscripts have not revealed significant differences in the choice of T or Y, while it has repeatedly been shown that Chaucer regularly and systematically deviates from his Latin and French sources in this respect (see e.g., Wilcockson 1980). .  Quotations are based on the text of the Riverside Chaucer (Benson 1987) and references use the abbreviations of this edition. “ClT” refers to the Clerk’s Tale, the Roman number to the fragment and the Arabic number to the line of the quotation.



Politeness in the history of English

Wilcockson (1980: 40) interprets this as reflecting “the admiration he had already developed for her when he had observed her from afar,” and their mutual use of Y, according to Wilcockson (ibid.), is “in conformity with the common practice of using the plural of respect among people of high social rank.” But at this point, Griselda is still a peasant girl. If he uses Y to her at the beginning of their relationship, it reflects his wooing. Her interactional status is high at this point. He wants to ask her to marry him, and even if she is not really in a position to deny his request, he is nevertheless the one who may do the asking. Her peasant father, at the same time, consistently receives T from Walter. In this dyad, the social difference outweighs the Marquis’ position as a requester. However, it is also significant that Walter addresses Griselda with her first name, while she consistently uses the negatively polite term lord to address him (Pakkala-Weckström 2005: 200). The first time that Walter briefly switches to T when addressing Griselda is in a fairly long speech in which he explains why he has to take their daughter away from her. He uses Y throughout this speech but when he tells Griselda about the alleged adverse opinion of the people to her peasant background he briefly switches to T. Skeat (quoted by Wilcockson 1980: 40) notes, “it is a slight but significant sign of insult, offered under pretence of reporting the opinion of others.” Otherwise Walter sticks to the Y of respect. It is only towards the end of the tale when he puts her to an even more severe test and sends her back to her father that he switches to T. Griselda asks him to at least allow her to keep her smock in order to cover, from the eyes of the people, the body that has born his children.

(5) “The smok,” quod he, “that thou hast on thy bak, Lat it be stille, and bere it forth with thee.” But wel unnethes thilke word he spak, But wente his wey, for routhe and for pitee. (ClT IV 890–3)

The text is clear here, he feels ill at ease, full of grief and pity. Wilcockson (1980: 41) interprets this as an ambivalent use of T because of the “opposite potentials of intimacy and alienation.” Thus, it could be an expression of Walter’s reminder to Griselda of her peasant background or it could be, according to Wilcockson’s interpretation, a sign of his pity and sorrow, a brief sign of renewed intimacy and closeness. In my interpretation, the T forms do not reflect intimacy because Y in turn does not signify distance. Y signifies respect, and it acknowledges the addressee’s interactional status, while T signifies interactional superiority. Marquis Walter is at all times in control of the situation. Even in his cruel tests he shows respect to his wife. It is only at this point that he breaks down and shows some emotion. It is the only point in the story where he is forced to concede and grant a request and it is precisely here that he has to assert his interactional status. Later he asks her to be his servant and to oversee the preparations for his wedding with

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 Andreas H. Jucker

a new wife. At this point, he only uses T forms. He is no longer talking to his wife but he is putting a peasant woman in her place.

(6) “I have no wommen suffisaunt, certayn, The chambres for t’arraye in ordinaunce After my lust, and therfore wolde I fayn That thyn were al swich manere governaunce. Thou knowest eek of old al my plesaunce; Thogh thyn array be badde and yvel biseye, Do thou thy devoir at the leeste weye.” (ClT IV 960–6)

Pakkala-Weckström (2005: 206) quotes this passage as an example of the use of T as an insult. Walter continues to use T to Griselda even when he finally admits that he has only been testing her. There is no other wife and both their children are alive and will be reunited with their mother. For Wilcockson it is clear that the emphatic use of T (there are fifteen T forms within 27 lines of text, ClT IV 1051–1078) is an indication of regained intimacy between Walter and Griselda, reflecting his “tender regard” and his “affectionate reassurances of … love” (Wilcockson 1980: 41, 42). But he seems to be slightly puzzled that Griselda expresses her gratitude to him with Y forms. In my interpretation this represents the contrary: Marquis Walter has asserted his superiority. He is not only socially superior to Griselda but she has demonstrated her humility in his repeated tests of her constancy. The difference in interactional status has not decreased as a result of the tests but has in fact increased. He has asserted his position beyond any doubt. The tale ends with the Clerk’s comments which turn the tale into an exemplum (Cooper 1996: 188).

(7) For sith a womman was so pacient Unto a mortal man, wel moore us oghte Receyven al in gree that God us sent; (ClT IV 1149–51)

Griselda’s humility towards her husband is to be taken as an example for our humility towards God. Thus, the end of the tale should not be misread as a romantic happy end between two lovers. Instead it is more properly seen as a benign father figure (or Father) who put his daughter through the most severe tests of constancy and humility, and who rejoices at her unfaltering obedience and devotion. From such a reading the following conclusions emerge (see also Jucker 2006: 69–70). First, Chaucer’s system is characterised by retractable choices. The characters react to the development of the talk exchanges and take on-the-spot decisions as to the appropriate pronoun of address. Second, the interactional status may override the basic dimensions of familiarity, social status and age of the interlocutors.



Politeness in the history of English 

And third, the analysis shows that affection and intimacy are not appropriate criteria for the choice between Y and T. The choice is governed by considerations of politeness and respect. For modern readers it may be unusual to hear a wife who uses Y for her husband, and a husband who switches between Y and T to his wife. But these choices have to be seen within a retractable system, in which Y expresses politeness and respect rather than distance, and T expresses interactional superiority or a situation in which politeness and respect are not required. Such a system differs considerably both from earlier systems with mutual T only and from the familiar T/V systems in many modern languages such as German, French or Russian. The pragmatic values of choosing T or V always have to be seen within the system in which they occur (see also Jucker 2000).

4.  Politeness in Shakespeare Two hundred years later, in the writings of Shakespeare, the system had changed considerably, but the choice between T and Y is still retractable. The characters in Shakespeare’s plays may still switch their term of address from T to Y and back, talking to the same addressee. Most scholars who have attempted to discern the patterns in Shakespeare’s usage of T and Y forms use a statistical approach, that is to say, choices of T or Y are not analyzed on a case-by-case basis but as statistical patterns for specific dyads of characters in the plays. In addition, these choices are often set in relation to the choices of nominal terms of address. Ulrich Busse (2002) provides a comprehensive analysis of both nominal and pronominal terms of address in the Shakespeare corpus. In Busse (2003), he focuses on their co-occurrence. In a first step he classifies all nominal terms of address into six different types. Some illustrative examples for each category are given in the following list (Busse 2003: 196):

Titles of courtesy: Your Grace, Your Honour, goodwife, my liege, sir Terms of address indicating occupation: captain, doctor, esquire, knight, nurse Terms of family relationship: brother, cousin, coz, daughter, father Generic terms of address: boy, friend, gentlewoman, lad, maid Terms of endearment: bully, chuck, heart, joy, love, wag Terms of abuse: devil, dog, fool, hag, knave, rascal, rogue

For each category he provides detailed statistics on the individual terms and their likelihood to co-occur together with Y forms or with T forms. He calls this likelihood the “youfulness” or “thoufulness” of each nominal term of address. Interestingly, there seems to be no term that co-occurs exclusively with one or the

 Andreas H. Jucker 800

723 602

600 400

350

200 0 -200 -239

-400

-339

-600 -800

-570 Courtesy

Occupation

Family

Generic

Abuse

Endearment

Figure 1.  Nominal terms of address in Shakespeare ranked according to co-occurring pronouns. Positive bars show a predominance of Y forms, negative bars a predominance of T forms (Busse 2003: 214).

other, but overall a very clear pattern emerges. If the data for each of the six categories are taken together, the picture represented in Figure 1 emerges. The bars indicate the logarithm of the division of the Y forms by the T forms for each category (logY/T). If a particular term appears equally often with Y forms as with T forms, a logarithm of 0 would result. If the Y forms are ten times more frequent, the result would be 1. Busse multiplied these figures by 1000 for the sake of graphic clearness (Busse 2003: 204, 217). He interprets Figure 1 as follows: [T]he address nouns can be placed along a scale of politeness ranging from negative politeness or deference at the one end, as represented (in declining order of ‘youfulness’) by the titles of honour and courtesy, occupational titles and expressions of family relationship, which all co-occur with far more Y forms than T forms, to the generic terms of address, the terms of abuse and, at the far end of positive politeness, the terms of endearment as the most ‘thouful’ ones (Busse 2003: 214).

He puts both terms of abuse and terms of endearment at the positive end of the politeness scale. Clearly, both of them are in their own ways more emotional and more personal, where the terms at the negative end of the politeness scale indicate distance, deference and respect. Here Wilcockson’s claim about the double-edged nature of the T forms, which can indicate both insult and intimacy, is supported by the data. It must be remembered that the bars in Figure 1 only



Politeness in the history of English

indicate co-­occurrence tendencies. As Busse (2003: 215) points out, it was possible for masters to chide their servants by you rascal or by you rogue. In the context of my current argument it is significant that it is the Y forms, which through their co-occurrence with nominal terms of address to negative politeness, should have survived, while the T forms, which are associated with positive politeness, became obsolete. Extracts (8) and (9) show the extent to which T forms had become a term of abuse at the beginning of the seventeenth century. In (8), taken from Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night, Sir Toby Belch advises Sir Andrew Aguecheek, who is writing a challenge, to use the insulting thou. And in (9), the Attorney in the trial of Sir Walter Raleigh refers to his own use of T to Raleigh and justifies it by Raleigh’s allegedly treacherous behaviour.

(8) Sir To. Go, write it in a martial hand, be curst and brief. It is no matter how witty, so it be eloquent and full of invention. Taunt him with the license of ink. If thou thou’st him some thrice, it shall not be amiss; and as many lies as will lie in thy sheet of paper, although the sheet were big enough for the bed of Ware in England, set ’em down. Go, about it. Let there be gall enough in thy ink, though thou write with a goose-pen, no matter. About it. (Shakespeare, Twelfth Night, III.ii.42–50)5

(9) Raleigh. I do not hear yet, that you have spoken one word against me; here is no Treason of mine done: If my Lord Cabham be a Traitor, what is that to me? Attorney. All that he did was by thy Instigation, thou Viper; for I thou thee, thou Traitor. (Helsinki Corpus: E2 XX TRI RALEIGH I, 208, see also Taavitsainen & Jucker 2007.)

However, Walker (2003) shows that thou did not disappear as quickly as has sometimes been assumed. Her study is based on data from the computerised Corpus of English Dialogues 1560–1760. This corpus contains authentic and constructed dialogues from trials, witness depositions, comedy and handbooks. Her first subcorpus comprises data from 1560 to 1600, and her second subcorpus data from 1680 to 1720. Figure 2, based on her tables 3 and 4 (Walker 2003: 315), summarises the development of the frequency of Y forms according to text type. The overall frequency clearly increases, but T forms still play an important role at the turn of the eighteenth century. Various reasons have been suggested for the demise of T. Brown & Gilman (1960: 266), for instance, suggested that the increased use of Y was in part a reaction to the insistence of Quakers to use T forms. Barber (1976: 210) surmises

.  All Shakespeare examples are quoted from the Riverside Shakespeare (Evans 1974).



 Andreas H. Jucker 100 90 80 70 60 50 40 30 20 10 0

Trials Depositions Comedies Handbooks

1560–1600

1680–1720

Figure 2.  Percentage of Y forms in relation to all second-person singular pronouns in two subcorpora (Walker 2003: 315, tables 3 and 4).

that the change from a hierarchical society to a more open one may have led to the increased use of Y forms. “If You is polite and respectful, it is the safe form to use, and will be chosen in cases of doubt” (ibid.). Strang (1970: 139) and Wales (1983: 119) also support the explanation that the increasingly egalitarian society made it ‘safer’ to use Y forms (see also Walker 2003: 312). Finkenstaedt (1963: 250–251) sees the disappearance of T as being connected with the new ideals of ‘the gentleman’, ‘tolerance’ and ‘restraint’. But the change can also be seen as a move from positive politeness to negative politeness. T had changed from a marker of interactional superiority to a marker of positive (im)politeness and strong emotions, while the Y had changed from a marker of polite respect to a default marker of respect and deference. In a society that was increasingly based on the negative politeness of non-imposition, the more emotional T forms were simply no longer appropriate. Politeness in Shakespeare is not restricted to the use of address terms. Brown & Gilman (1989) analyzed four Shakespeare tragedies (Hamlet, King Lear, Macbeth, Othello), in terms of Brown & Levinson’s politeness theory. Kopytko (1993, 1995) analyzed the same four tragedies and in addition four comedies (The Taming of the Shrew, A Midsummer Night’s Dream, The Merchant of Venice and Twelfth Night) in an extension of Brown & Gilman’s work. He tried to establish the number of positive politeness and negative politeness strategies in each play based on the taxonomy proposed by Brown & Levinson (1987) and slightly modified by Brown & Gilman (1989). Positive politeness strategies are understood as utterances that are oriented towards the addressee’s positive face, i.e., his or her positive selfimage or personality. Negative politeness strategies likewise are understood as utterances that are oriented towards the addressee’s negative face, i.e., his or her wish to be unimpeded, to be free from imposition and distraction and to have his or her prerogatives and territory respected by others. In the context of this study,



Politeness in the history of English 

I do not want to illustrate all the proposed strategies. Overviews of the positive politeness strategies and the negative politeness strategies can be found in Brown & Gilman (1989: 167–8) and in Kopytko (1993: 67–93, 1995: 517–29). The original taxonomy is in Brown & Levinson (1987: 102, 131). I will only give some examples as illustrations. The first positive politeness strategy takes the form ‘notice admirable qualities, possessions, etc.’ Kopytko (1995: 517) gives the following example for this strategy: (10) Albany (to Edgar) Methought thy very gait did prophesy A royal nobleness. I must embrace thee. (King Lear V.iii.176–7)6

Strategy number 10, ‘offer, promise’, according to Kopytko (1995: 521) is one of the most frequently used strategies of positive politeness in Shakespeare’s plays. He gives the following example: (11) Desdemona (to Cassio) Be thou assur’d, good Cassio, I will do All my abilities in thy behalf. (Othello III.iii.1–2)

Kopytko’s list is based fairly closely on Brown & Gilman’s (1989) and ultimately on Brown & Levinson’s (1987), but he adds a sixteenth strategy, which reads ‘satisfy H’s information deficit’, that is to say, the speaker provides some information or an explanation for the benefit of the hearer. (12) Horatio What does this mean, my lord? Hamlet The King doth wake to-night and takes his rouse, Keeps wassail, and the swagg’ring up-spring reels; And as he drains his draughts of Rhenish down, The kettle-drum and trumpet thus bray out The triumph of his pledge. Horatio Is it a custom? Hamlet Ay, marry, is’t, But to my mind, though I am native here And to the manner born, it is a custom More honor’d in the breach than the observance (Hamlet I.iii.7–16)

Extracts (13) and (14) illustrate two negative politeness strategies. (13) is Kopytko’s illustration of the strategy ‘question, hedge’. (13) Cassio (to Emilia) Yet I beseech you, If you think fit, or that it may be done, Give me advantage of some brief discourse With Desdemona alone. (Othello III.i.50–53)

.  Quotations and line numbers sometimes deviate somewhat from Kopytko because I continue to use the Riverside Shakespeare (Evans 1974).

 Andreas H. Jucker

Here Cassio hedges his request to Emilia with “if you think fit, or that it may be done”, that is to say, he appears to give her an option. He reduces the force of the imposition if only in appearance. In (14) Hamlet uses the strategy ‘apologise’. (14) Hamlet (to Horatio) I am sorry they offend you, heartily, yes, faith, heartily (Hamlet I.v.134–135)

Kopytko (1993, 1995) correlates these strategies with Brown & Levinson’s (1987) dimensions of social distance and power, which are used to calculate the weightiness of a face-threatening act. Table 1.  Politeness strategies in Shakespeare’s tragedies and comedies (based on Kopytko 1993: 108, 109 and 1995: 530, 531, tables 1 and 2)

Tragedies

Comedies

Total

Negative politeness Positive politeness Total

80 (19%) 338 (81%) 418 (100%)

57 (26%) 162 (74%) 219 (100%)

137 (22%) 500 (78%) 637 (100%)

Positive politeness strategies by far outnumber the negative ones, both in the tragedies and in the comedies, but the balance in favour of positive strategies is even more marked in the tragedies. On the basis of these data, and assuming that comedies reflect current speech more closely than the conservative literary language of tragedies, Kopytko concludes: it may be tentatively proposed that the interactional style or ‘ethos’ of British society has evolved from the dominating positive politeness culture in the 16th century towards the modern negative politeness culture. (Kopytko 1993: 110, 1995: 532)

However, as long as we do not have corresponding statistics from PDE, this can be no more than speculation. Perhaps the difference between Shakespeare’s plays and our perception of today’s politeness culture has more to do with genre differences than with cultural differences.

5.  Speech acts and politeness Individual speech acts have often been analyzed for their politeness values, and in particular those speech acts that, by their very nature, constitute a face threat either to the addressee or indeed to the speaker himself or herself. Requests and



Politeness in the history of English 

apologies, for instance, have been a popular object of investigation, particularly in contrastive pragmatics (e.g., Blum-Kulka et al. 1989; Trosborg 1994; Reiter 2000; Lubecka 2000; Fukushima 2003). I have argued elsewhere that historical pragmatics may be seen as a special case of contrastive pragmatics (Jucker 1994, 2004). In contrastive pragmatics, two different languages are compared while in historical pragmatics two different historical varieties of the same language are compared. From a contrastive perspective, the analysis of such speech acts can give us some insights into politeness issues in different languages. From a diachronic perspective, it can tell us something about the development of politeness in one language. Obviously the methodological tools of the contrastive pragmaticist differ quite considerably from those of the historical pragmaticist. While the former can use native speaker intuition, discourse completion tasks, role plays and other experimental methods, the latter has to rely on the written data that have survived the vagaries of time. In a recent paper (Jucker & Taavitsainen 2008) we investigated the development of apologies in the history of English. An apology is a face threat to the speaker’s own positive face because the speaker takes responsibility for an offence or a potential offence. In PDE, apologies usually appear in the routinised form of a few standard expressions such as sorry, pardon or excuse me, and they routinely occur on their own as detached apologies (Deutschmann 2003: 53). In earlier periods of English the same lexical elements were already used but generally the act of apologizing was less routinised and more explicit. In fact, in our data of the Renaissance fiction and drama sections of LION, the Chadwyck Healey on-line Corpus (1500–1660), we could not find any instances of fully detached apologies. Apologies always occurred embedded within larger speech acts, as in (15) and (16) (examples taken from Jucker & Taavitsainen 2008). (15) and but I would not be counted vnciuill amongst these Gentlemen, I would giue you the reply that approued vntruth deserueth, you know my meaning, Sir: construe my words as you please: excuse me, Gentlemen, if I be vnciuill: I answere in the behalfe of one, who is as free from disloyaltie, as is the Sunne from darknes, or the fire from cold. (LION; Anon. VVestward for Smelts (c. 1620), page 13) (16) Pardon, pardon my Lord Diphilus as thou art honourable, and thou Machaon, whose aged yeares I have so highly offended: Forgive my amisse and remit that evill I have committed against thee, or let me never behold the dayes light againe. (LION; Anon., Marianvs (c. 1641), page [59], 47)

In both cases, the speaker asks the addressee for forgiveness. Such apologies, which are typical for the Renaissance period (Jucker & Taavitsainen 2008), can be seen as a request for the addressee’s generosity, and thus they constitute a face threat

 Andreas H. Jucker

to the addressee’s negative face. The addressee is asked to actively forgive the offence that has been perpetrated. In PDE, on the other hand, apologies usually take the form sorry or I am sorry. These forms can be seen as routinised expressions of the speaker’s feeling of remorse without requesting the addressee to change his or her attitude towards the offence. The development can be seen as a movement towards a higher level of negative politeness in PDE. Face threats to the addressee’s negative face are avoided if at all possible. An interesting parallel can be seen in the development of requests. In EModE, requests often took the form of pray or prithee, where in PDE we would say please (see Kryk-Kastovsky 1998; and Busse 1999). A request constitutes a direct face threat to the addressee’s negative face since it asks him or her to do something. The addressee’s desire to be unimpeded and free from imposition is temporarily breached in the sense of Brown & Levinson (1987). Pray and prithee, and the full form of these expressions, I pray you and I pray thee, do not mitigate this threat directly but they indicate the speaker’s sincerity in making the request. The PDE please, on the other hand, is, in its full form (if it pleases you), directly addressed to the negative face needs of the addressee. The speaker does not presume the addressee’s willingness to comply but verbalises an escape hatch for the addressee. He or she is only asked to comply to the request if it pleases him or her to do so. This escape hatch may, of course, be spurious. Many speakers use the polite form please even if they do not want to leave the addressee any chance not to comply. But even in the sternest of requests it is a token acknowledgement of the addressee’s negative face wants. Thus the replacement of pray by please can be seen as a shift to a greater concern for negative face in PDE (Busse 1999; Traugott & Dasher 2005: 257). Kohnen (2002) uses directives more generally to provide evidence for an emergent negative politeness culture. He distinguishes between speaker-based directives as in (17) and hearer-based directives as in (18) (both examples from the Helsinki Corpus, quoted from Kohnen 2002: 167). (17) I desire that you would be pleased to send Isac for me, if he may be spared, about the latter end of next weeke. (Letters, Everard, 58) (18) Ford: Will you follow Gentlemen, I beseech you follow: see but the issue of my iealousie. (Plays, The Merry Wives of Windsor, 55.C2)

Speaker-based directives express the speaker’s wish or desire. They contain a first person pronoun and a verb of volition, such as will, would, wish, want, desire, had rather and so on, while hearer-based directives comprise interrogatives with verbs such as can, could, will or would, and reference to the addressee and to a future act to be performed by the addressee (Kohnen 2002: 168). His data reveal that in ME will was by far the most frequent verb in the speaker-based directives but at



Politeness in the history of English 

the beginning of the Early Modern period it had almost disappeared giving way to the verb desire, a verb that he describes as “much more tentative or polite in the expression of speaker volition” (Kohnen 2002: 170). He concludes that this is the result of the emergence of negative politeness. In ME the statement of speaker volition served as a common means of issuing a straight command in an asymmetric communication situation. During the Early Modern period the unqualified expression of speaker volition is no longer felt to be an appropriate means of making requests. The new verbs expressing volition and the speech acts in which they are used are more respectful, involving strategies of hedging. One could speculate that the will of the individual was no longer felt to be a sufficient basis for justifying a request. Instead the cooperation of the hearer was seen as a factor of growing importance for achieving the goals associated with directives. (Kohnen 2002: 170)

Hearer-based directives do not appear until the fifteenth century, but for some time their frequency is much lower than that of the speaker-based directives. It is only towards the end of the Early Modern period that their frequency almost catches up with that of the speaker-based directives. Towards the end of the Early Modern period the number of examples increases in which the directive nature of the interrogative construction in hearer-based directives is highlighted by expressions such as please, pray, I beseech you or do me a favour. Thus, these interrogative constructions were increasingly felt to be conventionalised realisations of directive speech acts. At the same time these items may be seen as “politeness markers”, giving evidence of the emergence of negative politeness. Speakers choosing please or will you do me the favour show that they are anxious not to restrict the addressee’s freedom of action. (Kohnen 2002: 173)

Thus there is considerable evidence for a development from a predominantly positive politeness culture in EModE to a predominantly negative politeness culture in PDE. However, there is also some conflicting evidence which would argue for a gradual increase in positive politeness and a need to distinguish different scenarios of interaction. Some of this evidence will be reviewed in the next section. 6.  Early English correspondence The evidence for an increase in positive politeness comes from two sources. First there is the increase in positive politeness in address forms and salutations in personal letters written between 1420 and 1680 (Nevalainen & Raumolin-Brunberg 1995; Raumolin-Brunberg 1996; Nevala 2003); and second there is some anecdotal evidence which argues for recent increases in camaraderie in English speaking societies (Lakoff 2005).

 Andreas H. Jucker

Nevalainen and her research team in Helsinki have studied forms of address in great detail in their Corpus of Early English Correspondence, which consists of private letters from 1420 to 1680. The whole corpus comprises some 2.7 million words (see Nevala 2004a: 102–112 for details), but several of the many studies that have been carried out by the team are based on some subsample of this corpus. Nevalainen & Raumolin-Brunberg (1995), for instance, provide a very comprehensive investigation of forms of address in letter salutations in the Corpus of Early English Correspondence. They find that overall the address forms become more regular and simpler in structure. In asymmetrical relationships only the higher-status writer can use positive politeness forms towards the addressee, while the reciprocal use of positive politeness terms presupposes an equal status between interactants (Nevalainen & Raumolin-Brunberg 1995: 588). Raumolin-Brunberg (1996: 168–169) gives illustrative examples from four subperiods of the corpus, a selection of which are reproduced in the following list. 1420–1500 Worshipful sir Right entirely and my most special beloved husband Right trusty sir and brother 1500–1570 Mistress Alice My very good lord My own most entirely beloved father 1570–1630 Sir Dear brother Captain Stockwell My sweet Will Most loving and gentle father 1630–1680 Sir Daughter My lord Dear brother Kind father

On the basis of such examples, Raumolin-Brunberg (1996: 171) develops a politeness continuum and argues that in the course of time salutations in her data moved from the negative end of the scale to the positive. She also places honorific and endearing adjectives on this scale. Honorifics, called ‘titles of courtesy’ by Busse (2003) are placed at the negative end of this scale. They indicate a person’s social status and they give deference. Nicknames and terms of endearment are placed at the positive end of the scale. Such terms are used as “in-group identity markers” in the sense of Brown & Levinson (1987: 102). They enhance the addressee’s positive face. Family terms, which Busse



Politeness in the history of English  Negative Honorific titles (lord)

Other titles (captain)

Positive Family (brother)

Adjectives worshipful honoured

Terms of endearment (sweetheart) nicknames (Will) kind loving

Figure 3.  The politeness continuum (Raumolin-Brunberg 1996: 171).

associates with negative politeness and Raumolin-Brunberg places on the positivepoliteness side of her diagram, are actually ambivalent. They can imply a relationship of power (e.g., father but also brother if used by a younger brother or sister) and thus express the negative politeness of deference, or it can indicate a reciprocal relationship and express positive politeness. Raumolin-Brunberg (1996: 171) is certainly right, though, to stress that the interpretation of individual terms depends on their actual use in specific contexts. The classification is perhaps even more problematic for the honorific and endearing adjectives. Many adjectives are potentially ambiguous between an honorific and an endearing reading. The adjective gentle, for instance, can mean ‘well-born, belonging to a family of position’, ‘having the character appropriate to one of good birth; noble, generous, courteous’ or ‘mild in disposition or behaviour; kind, tender’ (Oxford English Dictionary, gentle senses 1a, 3a, 8). The diachronic development shows a reduction of complexity. While in LME the address forms were complex and often contained both markers of negative and of positive politeness, as for instance in Right worshipful and my good kind brother (Raumoling-Brunberg 1996: 174). In the course of time, negative politeness strategies of giving deference by using titles and honorific adjectives were simplified. The positive strategies of claiming in-group membership by using terms of endearment proliferated and diversified (Nevalainen & Raumolin-Brunberg 1995: 588; Nevala 2003: 160). It is important to realise, though, that the development was not uniform. Different social classes differed in their use of politeness strategies. But the overall tendency to move towards an increase in positive politeness strategies still runs counter to the tendencies reported above. There are at least two reasons that suggest themselves as an explanation for this seeming incongruity. First, in the early periods of the Corpus of Early English Correspondence, the lowest social ranks were not represented. As a result of the growth of literacy, the range of people who wrote letters expanded, and thus the positive politeness strategies attested in the later periods of the corpus are based on a broader social sample. At the same time,

 Andreas H. Jucker

the period covered by this corpus also saw an increase in privacy. In the later periods, letters were more private and as a result they could also be more intimate. Thus, Nevalainen & Raumolin-Brunberg (1995: 591) are certainly right when they claim that the general process towards a more negative politeness culture was not uniform. In the Corpus of Early English Correspondence a different picture is obtained, and this suggests that other genres may also have shown their own development irrespective of the general trend that has been observed in the studies reviewed in the previous sections. 7.  Current trends and conclusion In this section I would like to suggest very briefly that currently the trend towards a more negative politeness culture may be reversing. So far, I can only provide some anecdotal evidence, but intuitively it seems that in our society there is a strong tendency for situations that used to be perceived as public and fairly formal to be seen or indeed to be enacted as if they were private. This is particularly obvious in the media, both in the traditional print and electronic media and in the new web-based media. In talk shows, for instance, increasingly intimate issues are discussed in public. The private lives of politicians and celebrities are publicised widely, and at the same time news broadcasts increasingly include interviews with average citizens to provide the voice of the man or the woman in the street. Reality TV shows make a living, so to speak, from turning the private lives of individuals into a public spectacle. Lakoff (2005: 32–34) provides a number of examples for what she perceives as an increase in camaraderie in public situations. She reports, for instance, that the telephone company Pacific Bell, in an attempt to cut down the duration of the calls to their telephone directory service, instructed their directory assistance operators to drop please in their opening utterance when they receive a call. Thus they no longer say, “Hi, this is Mary. What city, please?” Instead they have to say, “Hi, this is Mary. What city?” This saves half a second, which through the sheer volume of calls makes a considerable financial difference. It is interesting to note that it is the negative politeness marker please, which is dropped, while hi and some bogus name like Mary (apparently operators do not use their real names but use short ones that are easy to understand) are kept. Both these elements are markers of positive politeness. They make the situation more personal. The speakers are on first name terms. Any formality is avoided. If the line between public and private is being erased in contemporary U.S. culture, then our very definition of politeness will have to be renegotiated. As the Pacific Bell example suggests, America is becoming an increasingly conventionalisedcamaraderie society. In a culture using conventional distance (such as the U.S. used to be), it was important to show non-intrusiveness: a speaker needed to



Politeness in the history of English 

present directives as mitigated requests, even when the illocutionary force of the speech act was an offer – to give the caller needed information. Hence “please” needed to be tacked on as the signifier of the request, to distinguish it clearly from an order. It was generally if implicitly acknowledged that the courtesy was not intended literally. But it was the use of the form that counted: it showed the speaker’s good intentions. (Lakoff 2005: 34)

Lakoff is speaking of the situation in the U.S., and her article mainly discusses what many (e.g., etiquette professionals) perceive as a general decrease in civility and an increase in incivility. But what she has to say on the increasingly blurred line between public and private life and a move towards camaraderie may be equally relevant for other Western societies. The present contribution has tried to assess some of the recent research findings on the development of politeness in the history of English. Our knowledge in this respect is still scattered and does not allow a coherent picture. On the one hand, there is ample evidence that the orientation of PDE towards negative politeness strategies developed out of a more positive politeness culture. However, the opposite tendency can also be observed. In the private correspondence from LME to EModE the development was towards a diversification and proliferation of positive politeness strategies. Stewart’s (2005) findings that British English tends towards negative politeness and indirect off-record strategies is based on her data of feedback provided by monitors to tutors on a high-level Spanish distance-learning course. It thus provides only a very partial picture, but it corresponds to the stereotypes quoted at the beginning of this paper that Britain is a negative politeness culture with an emphasis on off-record strategies and conventional indirectness. At the same time, Lakoff (2005) reports a decrease in civility in the U.S., a blurring of the line between private and public life and an increase in camaraderie. These may be tendencies which will sooner or later arrive in Britain as well if they are not already underway.

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The which is most and right harde to answere Intensifying right and most in earlier English* Belén Méndez-Naya

University of Santiago de Compostela This paper studies the intensifying use of most, comparing it to the behaviour of right, one of the most common Middle English intensifiers. Using evidence from the Helsinki Corpus, this investigation shows that both items modify the same type of adjectival heads, namely bounded subjective positive adjectives, which suggests that they are not prototypical boosters, but come close to maximisers. While most is first found in typically comparative structures, later extending to intensifying contexts, right first occurs in intensifying environments, but can spread to superlative structures due to its original bounded nature. Most succeeds right on the temporal axis, and while it is equivalent to right in some environments, evidence from honorifics suggests that it usually indicates an even higher degree of intensification.

1.  Introduction In an often quoted passage, Dwight Bolinger states that intensifiers1 “afford a picture of fevered invention and competition that would be hard to come by elsewhere” (1972: 18). Put differently, intensifiers lose their force with use, and so they tend to be replaced by new degree words. The present contribution is concerned with two intensifiers which first emerged in the Middle English (ME) period, namely right and most. Although right has usually been taken

* Research for the present paper was funded by the Spanish Ministry of Education and Science and the European Regional Development Fund (Consolider Project HUM2007–60706) and the Xunta of Galicia (grants PGIDT05PXIC20401PN and 2006/XA–133). These grants are hereby gratefully acknowledged. Thanks are also due to Claudia Claridge for kindly providing me with copies of her two articles before their publication and to my colleagues of the VLCG research group for their valuable comments on earlier versions of this paper. .  The term ‘intensifier’ is used here for degree modifiers indicating a high degree (cf. Huddleston & Pullum 2002: 585).

 Belén Méndez-Naya

to be the predecessor of very as the most frequent intensifier (see Mustanoja 1960: 323–324), a recent study (Méndez-Naya 2007) has shown that it cannot be considered a prototypical booster since right may co-occur with adjectives like excellent, with which a booster like PDE very is clearly disfavoured. In this respect ME right resembles most. Moreover, the fact that right may appear in structures resembling superlatives and in coordination with most, as in the title to this paper, points at similarities between the two items. In this paper I study the patterns and collocates associated with most and right in order to establish their similarities and differences and to explore whether the competition between them can be considered another example of the well-known phenomenon of ‘recycling’ of intensifiers (Ito & Tagliamonte 2003). The paper is organised as follows: in Section 2, I will be concerned with the different syntactic patterns in which most and right occur. Section 3 deals with the characteristics of both items, and compares the types of collocates which they modify in terms of (a) type of adjective according to Dixon’s (1977) taxonomy (cf. Ito & Tagliamonte 2003); (b) mode of construal (cf. Paradis 1997); and (c) attitudinal features (positive vs. negative heads). Section 4 is concerned with the differences between most and right, while the main conclusions are presented in Section 5. For the purposes of the present investigation I have focused on adjectival collocates only, thus excluding from the study adverbial and participial collocates (cf. Pahta 2006 for a similar decision). The data for my study have been primarily drawn from the Helsinki Corpus of English Texts (HC); additional data have been retrieved from the Penn-Helsinki Parsed Corpus of Middle English, 2nd edition (PPCME2). 2.  Comparative and intensifying uses Most has two different uses in Present-day English (PDE), a comparative use, as in (1a–b) and an intensifying use,2 illustrated in (2a–b): (1) a. This is the most expensive necklace in the shop. b. This is the most expensive necklace.

.  Rusiecki (1985) uses the labels ‘relative’ for the comparative and ‘absolute’ for the intensifying use. Claridge (2006, 2007) distinguishes between ‘relative’, ‘absolute’ and ‘intensifying’ uses. My ‘comparative’ group subsumes her ‘relative’ and ‘absolute’ groups. On terminology, see Claridge (2007). The intensifying use has traditionally been labelled ‘elative’ (see e.g., Borst 1901; Pound 1901; Fettig 1934; Bäcklund 1973).

Intensifying right and most in earlier English 



(2) a. Mary is a most efficient assistant. b. They are most efficient assistants.

Comparative most requires a standard or basis of comparison, which can be mentioned in the sentence, in the nearby context or else remain implicit. When overt, the standard of comparison may surface as an of- or an in-phrase, as in (1a) (in the shop), a relative clause, or a genitive construction (see Quirk et al. 1985: 7.86; Huddleston & Pullum 2002: 1169; Claridge 2006: 76). When there is no mention to a reference set, as in (1b), the implication is that “the limits are either extremely high (the highest possibly imaginable) and/or vague, as well as often unverifiable” (Claridge 2006: 77). This has been labelled by some authors as ‘absolute superlative’ (Claridge 2006: 77). In contrast, the intensifying use illustrated in (2a–b) involves no comparison. The quality expressed does not show the highest degree in a set, but rather, a very high degree (see Fettig 1934: 131; Bäcklund 1973: 171). Comparative and intensifying uses, however, are not totally discrete, as absolute superlatives tend to “shade into intensifying uses” (Claridge 2006: 78, 2007; see also Hawkins 1978: 236; Labov 1985: 45; Quirk et al. 1985: 7.84). One of the criteria usually adduced in the literature in order to distinguish between comparative and intensifying uses is determiner choice (see e.g., Pound ­ efinite 1901: 57). In attributive function, comparative most is associated with the d article (cf. 1a–b), while the indefinite article or zero trigger intensifying interpretations (cf. 2a–b). When the phrase with most occurs in predicative function, lack of a definite article yields a sequence, which is, according to some authors, ambiguous between the two readings (see Quirk et al. 1985: 7.84; Rusiecki 1985: 138; Huddleston & Pullum 2002: 1165–1166; Kytö & Romaine 2006: 199). For Claridge however, the context illustrated in (3), represents a “clearly intensifying ­environment” (Claridge 2007: 139).

(3) Mary is most efficient.

It has often been claimed that only the periphrastic superlative can have an intensifying function (Quirk et al. 1985: 7.84; Rusiecki 1985: 140; Huddleston & Pullum 2002: 165). Thus, with a short adjective like kind, the use of most immediately triggers an intensifying reading. In a comparative structure, by contrast, the inflectional kindest would be expected. (4) a. Mary is most kind. b. Mary is the kindest woman you can imagine.

[intensifying] [comparative]

The distinction between comparative and intensifying uses is, however, not as clear as one might think at first sight. In earlier stages in the history of the language, the choice of determiners does not so clearly distinguish between the two uses due to the “unsettled state of the use of the articles” in ME and, to a certain extent, in Early

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Modern English (EModE) (see Mustanoja 1960: 258 and Fischer 1992: 217–221 for ME; Rissanen 1999: 191–194 for EModE). Moreover, the morphology of the superlative form (periphrastic vs. simple) is not a reliable criterion either. Firstly, because the present distribution of the two forms was only settled in the second half of the eighteenth century (Lass 1992: 116, 1999: 155–157; Kytö 1996); and secondly, because inflectional superlatives can occasionally serve an intensifying function3 (Pound 1901: 57–59; Huddleston & Pullum 2002: 1165 fn 41; Claridge 2006: 79; Kytö & Romaine 2006: 200). 2.1  Syntactic patterns with most In order to distinguish between the comparative and the intensifier uses of most, I have paid attention to the different syntactic patterns in which this item occurs.4 Examples with most have been classified according to the following criteria: (a) syntactic function, whether the modified adjective was attributive, predicative, postpositive or head of a NP; (b) determiner choice; (c) expression/ non-expression of a set of comparison; (d) type of head, as heads of unique reference, like proper nouns, have been singled out. The following table is dedicated to the classification of the syntactic patterns in which most occurs in the corpus, with categories (‘Types’) established by reference to the abovementioned criteria. Table 1.  Taxonomy of syntactic patterns with most in the corpus Type

Syntactic function

Det. Choice

Ref. set

H of u. ref.

1a 1b 1c 2a 2b 2c 3a 3b 4 5 6a 6b

Attributive Attributive Attributive Attributive Attributive Attributive Attributive Attributive Attributive Attributive Predicative Predicative

definite article definite article + definite article + zero zero + zero + possessive + possessive + demonstrative + indefinite article definite article definite article +

Example 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16

.  In fact, the intensifying use of the synthetic superlative was fairly common in Old English, see Ingersoll (1978: 69–76) for relevant examples. .  In cases where most occurs in coordination the example has been classified according to the first adjective in the series. Thus, for example, the remotest and most fruitless beings is classified as Type 1a. Double superlatives, as the most highest, have also been included in the count.

Intensifying right and most in earlier English 

7a 7b 8a 8b 9a 9b 10 11a 11b

Predicative Predicative Postposed Postposed Postposed Postposed Postposed Head of NP Head of NP

zero zero + definite article + definite article + zero zero + indefinte article definite article definite article +

17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25

The following examples illustrate the patterns described in Table 1.

(5) it must be confess’d that the great God is full of the greatest and most perfect Goodness. (QE3_XX_PHILO_BOETHPR, 135)



(6) þt is þe measte dredfule secnesse of alle.



(7) whan he had vainquisshed Ilion, where some tyme was set the moste noble citie of Troy, (QE1_IS/EX_EDUC_ELYOT, 26)



(8) O moste terryble examples,



(9) Bot þat sight es mast principalle ioy of alle;

(QM3_IR_RELT_PRICK, 256)

(10) with help and grace of most almyghty god […]

(QM4_XX_DOC_PET4, 188)

(QM1_IR_RELT_ANCR, 91)

(QE1_NN_BIA_MOWNTAYNE, 202)

(11) so that I find my Brother Richard and my Cozin Dalison now to bee my most reall friends […] (QE3_XX_CORP_HOXINDEN, 280) (12) that be this feruent desire wiche we han to the bodyly sight of your most excellent and graciouse persoune, (QM3_XX_CORO_LLETT, 72) (13) wher thys most glorius virgine, aftyr the Deth of our Savyor hyr sonne, Dwellyd and bode most devowtly […] (QE1_NN_TRAV_TORKINGT, 35) (14) […] caused to be paynted aboute the Cloyster of Saint Paules Church in London, a most excellent monument, or remembrance of Death,  (QE2_NN_HIST_STOW, 567) (15) þis is þe uerste and þe mest propre.

(QM2_IR_RELT_AYENB PI,103)

(16) it is the most fair and the most riche þat ony man may deuyse.  (QM3_NI_TRAV_MAND, 140) (17) In life, shee was most innocent;

(QE2_NN_HIST_HAYWARD, 7)

(18) Of alle men was he mest meke,

(QM2_NI_ROM_HAVEL, 31)

(19) and suffer’d under a torment the most painful in the world,  (QE3_NI_FICT_BEHN, 161) (20) And blessed be God the most hyghest,  (QE1_XX_BIBLE_TYNDOLD, PXIV,1G)

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(21) in tyme of market most plener, (22) I am God most myghty,

(QM4_IS_HANDO_REYNES, 138) (QM4_XX_MYST_TOWN, 18)

(23) do not this truely appere to be a thynge moste ioyfull.  (QE1_XX_PHILO_BOETHCO, 69) (24) Hence it is that the Wise hate no Body: For who but the most foolish would hate good Men? and it is irrational to hate the most profligate:  (QE3_XX_PHILO_BOETHPR, 185) (25) his Majesty resolved to call to him some of the most eminent of his Councell.  (QE2_XX_CORO_CONWAY PIII, 156)

I have additionally distinguished a group labelled ‘Others,’ with examples that would not clearly fit in any of the abovementioned groups.5 As Table 2 shows, patterns in which the adjective modified by most is postposed (Types 8–10) or head of a NP (Type 11) are clearly minor patterns (14 and 9 examples respectively). Of the two major functions, attributive patterns (Types 1–5) are by far more frequent than predicative ones (Types 6, 7) (336 vs. 109 examples), and they are also more varied. The data obtained from the HC thus agree with the observations made by other scholars, like Rusiecki (1985: 138) and Claridge (2007), who have also noted that attributive use is the most common one with superlative adjectives in PDE. Of these 23 different types in which most occurs in the corpus, ten are clearly comparative, since a standard of comparison is established either explicitly (as in Types 1b, 2b, 3a, 6b, 7b, 8a and 11b) or implicitly (as in Types 1a, 6a and 11a).6 The remaining constructions have been considered to be intensifying. Type 7a, which, as stated above, has been regarded in the literature as ambiguous between the two readings, has been classified here as intensifying following Claridge (2007). A look at the types clearly shows that determiner choice is not a reliable criterion to distinguish between the two uses of most in earlier English. Thus, we can find examples with no determiner, which in PDE is associated with the intensifying use, and explicit reference to a set, which triggers a comparative interpretation, as in Types 2b and 7b, illustrated in examples (9) and (18). We can also find a definite determiner in cases where a comparative reading is clearly ruled out, since the head has unique reference, as in Types 1c, 3b or 4, illustrated in (7), (12) and (13).

.  The adjectives in the group ‘Others’ fulfil the minor functions mentioned by Biber et al. (1999: 520–521). .  Only one out of the nine examples in the group ‘Others’ shows a reference set, and has thus been considered comparative.

Intensifying right and most in earlier English 



Table 2 displays the different syntactic patterns in which most occurs in the corpus, classified into comparative and intensifying uses. Table 2a.  Distribution of syntactic patterns with most in the HC (absolute numbers and normalised totals per 100,000 words): comparative

M1

M2

M3

M4

E1

E2

E3

Total

Type 1a Type 1b Type 2b Type 3a Type 6a Type 6b Type 7b Type 8a Type 11a Type 11b Others Total comparative Normalised

– 1 – – – 2 – – – – – 3 3

– – 1 – 1 2 1 – – – – 5 5

3 3 3 – 1 2 1 – 1 – 1 15 8

2 18 – 3 2 – 3 – 1 – – 29 14

3 11 – 12 – – 8 – – – – 34 18

5 10 – 1 2 – – – 1 2 – 21 11

17 18 1 1 3 3 2 1 2 2 – 50 29

30 61 5 17 9 9 15 1 5 4 1 157 14

Table 2b.  Distribution of syntactic patterns with most in the HC (absolute numbers and normalised totals per 100,000 words): intensifying

M1

M2

Type 1c Type 2a Type 2c Type 3b Type 4 Type 5 Type 7a Type 8b Type 9a Type 9b Type 10 Others Total intens. Normalised

– – – – – – 1 – – – – – 1 1

– – – – – – – – – – – – – –

M3

M4

E1

E2

E3

Total

1 4 – 30 – – 10 – – 1 – 1 47 26

2 3 1 19 – – 9 – 1 5 – 3 43 20

4 8 3 40 3 2 16 1 1 2 1 2 83 44

4 5 8 30 1 11 24 – – – – 1 84 44

4 2 – 26 1 11 16 – 1 – – 1 62 36

15 22 12 145 5 24 76 1 3 8 1 9 320 28

As is clear from the table, the intensifying function prevails with most in the ME and EModE periods. Taking the HC as a whole, there are 320 intensifying examples (67%) against 157 examples (33%) of comparative uses. The clearly greater frequency of intensifying uses is also true of each individual subperiod, with the

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exception of M1 (1150–1250) and M2 (1250–1350), where intensifying examples are virtually non-existent. The prevalence of intensifying most over comparative most has also been shown by Claridge for nineteenth-century English (2006: 81). The most frequent types in the corpus are two intensifying patterns: Type 7a, which shows zero determiner in a predicative structure (shee was most innocent) and especially Type 3b, which contains a possessive and a head of a unique reference (your most excellent and graciouse persoune). Type 3b is confined to occurrence in stereotyped honorific expressions which are used to substitute for you when addressing a person of high rank (see OED s.v. your 1.c), or in other formulaic expressions of respect found mainly in correspondence. Examples (26a–b) are further examples of this type.7 (26) a. Our most dred most soueraign Lord and noblest kyng, to the soueragn highnesse of your kyngly mageste with all maner of lowenesse and reuerence mekly we recomende vs […] (QM3_XX_CORO_LLETT, 74) b. Your Excellencie’s most faithfull and most humble servant Danby.  (QE3_XX_CORO_OSBORNE, 21)

2.2  Syntactic patterns with right Let us now move to the syntactic patterns in which right occurs. These are displayed in Table 3. For right a further type has been distinguished (Type 12), as in worshipful father in God our right trusty and wellbeloved, in which the adjective is postposed to the NP and right is preceded by a possessive. Table 3a.  Syntactic patterns with right in the HC (absolute numbers and normalised totals): comparative

M1

M2

M3

M4

E1

E2

E3

Total

Type 6a Type 7b Total comparative Normalised

– – – –

4 – 4 4

– 1 1 1

3 – 3 1

– – – –

– – – –

– – – –

7 1 8 0.7

The HC yields no examples of right with adjective collocates in M1, and only five for M2. However, 19 examples (14 ex. for M1 and 5 ex. for M2) have been recorded in the PPCME2.8 It is worth noting that the 14 examples corresponding to M1 feature only intensifying structures (Types 2a (5 ex.), 7b (7 ex.) and 9a (2 ex.)).

.  These formulae are typically used at the opening and the conclusion of letters, which may go a long way towards explaining their frequency in the corpus. 8.  I have followed the practice of the editors of the HC and classified texts according to the date of the manuscript. Penn-M1 contains texts marked as MX1 and M1 and has 258,090

Intensifying right and most in earlier English 



Table 3b.  Syntactic patterns with right in the HC (absolute numbers and normalised totals): intensifying

M1

M2

Type 1c Type 2a Type 2c Type 3b Type 4 Type 5 Type 7a Type 9a Type 12 Total intensifying Normalised

– * – – – – * * – * –

– * – – – – 1 – – 1 1

M3

M4

E1

E2

E3

2 9 1 1 – 1 26 3 1 44 24

8 17 12 14 – 2 28 – – 81 38

4 3 14 4 – 8 8 2 – 43 23

8 – – 1 1 – – – – 10 5

2 – 3 – – – 2 – – 7 4

Total 24 29 30 20 1 11 65 5 1 186 16

* no HC examples in M1 and M2 but examples in PPCME2.

A comparison of the data in Tables 2 and 3 shows a clear parallelism between the two items under study. Note that the dominant pattern with the intensifier right, from the very beginning, is Type 7a, which is the second most frequent type with most. This pattern is illustrated in (27): (27) Sir, I am right glad to meet you, and glad to have so fair an entrance into this dayes sport, (QE3_IS_HANDO_WALTON, 210)

Other common patterns are 1c, 2c and 3b, which are, however, less than half as frequent as 7a. These are typically found in honorifics, as (28) below, an example of Type 1c.9 The use of right in honorifics approximates it to most and sets it apart from other common ME intensifiers like full and well, which have not been recorded in such stereotyped expressions in the HC.10

words in all. Penn-M2 contains texts marked as M2, the total amount of words being 93,999. .  English honorific titles are calques of Latin honorifics like eminentissimus, reuerentissimus, excellentissimus (cf. OLD s.v. eminens 2.b; or Souter 1949: 355). Note that in Latin they take the form of a superlative. 10.  Albeit very scarce, examples of full-honorifics can be found. The MED quotation database yields a few examples of the combinations full honourable, full reverend and full worshipful, as in (1428) Reg.Langley in Sur.Soc.169 104: Ful worshipfull lord and reverend fader in God, I, your poore bedewoman and doghter in Criste, recommande me lawely to your gracious lordship (from MED s.v. worshipful adj. 6.c). In a search in the CEECS corpus (450,085 words) the combinations full trusty (3 ex.) and full singular (2 ex.) have been recorded. In the same database, examples of right- and most-honorifics, however, can be counted by hundreds, which testifies to the marginality of this use of full in comparison to right and most.

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(28) […] at London in þe presence of þe right excellent high and myghty prynce þe Duc of Gloucestre, (QM4_XX_CORO_WPASTON1, 9)

One of the most striking findings yielded by Table 3 is that the intensifier right has been unexpectedly recorded in two comparative patterns: Types 7b and 6a. In Type 7b the adjective premodified by right is in predicative function, there is no determiner but a reference set is explicitly mentioned, thus clearly pointing at a comparative interpretation. This pattern has only been attested in one example (29a), from the Chaucerian translation of Boethius’ De Consolatione Philosophiae. Right worthy renders here a Latin relative superlative, praecellentissimum, whose basis of comparison is the genitive phrase rerum omnium (E. above alle thinges). The Latin adjective shows the intensive prefix prae-(see OLD s.v. prae- prefix), and thus itself indicates a very high degree (see OLD s.v. praecellens a. 2 ‘pre-eminent, outstanding, excellent’). The HC contains other later translations of the same Latin original, in which praecellentissimum is rendered by most, (29c–d):11 (29) a. I am beknowe and confesse, and that right dignely, that God is right worthy above alle thinges. (QM3_XX_PHILO_BOETHCH, P432.C2) b. sed hunc esse rerum omnium praecellentissimum dignissime confitemur. (Boethius, De Consolatione Philosophiae Book 3, Prosa 10) c. But I do confesse that God is right worthylye moost soueraygne and excellent of all thinges. (QE1_XX_PHILO_BOETHCO, 74) d. But that God is the most excellent of all Beings, most worthily we confess,  (QE3_XX_PHILO_BOETHPR, 135)12

The other comparative structure in which right has been recorded is Type 6a. Here we have a definite article in a predicative structure. This type has exclusively been found in the two Middle English translations of the French treatise the Somme le Roi: the Ayenbite of Inwyt and The Book of Vices and Virtues, in the following examples: (30) a. Vor alle þe oþre names huer hi spekeþ of his guodnesse. and of his wysdome. oþer of his miʒte. oþer he is zuich/and zuich. he is þe riʒt guod. þe riʒt trewe. þe riʒt wys. þe riʒt miʒti. and uele oþere maneres of speches þet me zayþt of him. þet ne ziggeþ propreliche þe zoþe of þe byinge of god. (QM2_IR_RELT_AYENB, PI, 103) b. for alle þe oþere names, ouþer þei speken of his goodnesse, oþer of his wisdom, oþer of his myʒt, oþer þat he is suche or suche, þat is he is riʒt good.

.  In Queen Elizabeth’s translation of Boethius, however, the passage is rendered in quite a different way: But most worthely we confess that he excellith all (QE2_XX_PHILO_BOETHEL, 63). .  Note that in (29d) the adverb worthily is modified by most, while in earlier versions, the intensifier used in the same context is right.



Intensifying right and most in earlier English 

þis is þe riʒt good. þis is þe riʒt wis. þis is þe riʒt myʒty. And many oþere wordes as men seyn of hym, and ʒit sey þei not þe soþ (QM3/4_IR_RELT_VICES4, 102) properliche of þe beynge of God.

These examples resemble cases of Claridge’s ‘absolute superlative’ (e.g., This is the most expensive necklace). As already mentioned, it has been suggested in the literature that the absolute superlative shades into the intensifier function. The reverse would also seem plausible, that is, a given intensifier, when found in the adequate syntactic environment, could admit an absolute reading. One could ask why it was possible for right to occur in such comparative environments. In my opinion, this has to do with the original features of the intensifier right. Right would have seemed particularly suited for the purpose because it originally conveyed the precise value of the quality expressed by the adjective (Méndez-Naya 2007), and was therefore harmonic with superlativity, which also evokes a definite value, namely the highest degree on a scale (Paradis 1997: 160, 2001: 55). It might be argued that the occurrence of the aforementioned examples in translations (from Latin and French, respectively) undermines the validity of the argument. However, it should be pointed out that (a) the translator selected right at a time when most was already available; (b) as regards (29a), there was nothing in the Latin original (29b) that would have triggered the selection of right instead of most in this passage. In the case of the Ayenbite and Vices and Virtues, we cannot ascertain whether French influence could be held responsible, as no critical edition of the Somme le Roi is available.13 We have provided a possible answer for the question of why right could occasionally appear in superlative structures. We can now move to another question, how did most extend to intensifying contexts? Tables 2 and 3 have shown that both right and most are first recorded in M1 (1150–1250) although they remain fairly infrequent until the fourteenth century (Mustanoja 1960: 279, 287; Kytö 1996: 123 for most; Fettig 1934: 149; Mustanoja 1960: 323–324 for right). As would be expected, right first occurs in typically intensifying patterns (Types 2a, 7a and 9a, examples from the PPCME2), while most is first found in clear comparative structures (Types 1b, 6b in M1; 2b, 6a, 6b and 7b in M2). The earliest example of the intensifier use of most in the HC appears in M1. This is (31) below, which illustrates Type 7a. The PPCME2 yields one further instance in M1 and other two in M2. Such examples, however, are less frequent than clear comparative uses, and they

.  Only two of the extant manuscripts of the Somme le Roi have been edited. Both editions are, however, unpublished (see Carruthers 1988).

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are confined to Type 7a, that is, zero determiner in a predicative structure. One of them is (31) below.14 (31) Ah heo hit al þuldeliche þolede for drihtin. & hwen ha felde meast sar; sikerlukest seide. Haldeð longe ne leaue ʒe neauer. (QM1_NN_BIL_JULME, 104)

This example allows two possible readings: (a) comparative: ‘But she suffered it all for the Lord, and when she felt most sore (i.e., she was already sore because she was being tortured; when the torture was most painful), she said […]’; (b) intensifying: ‘But she suffered it all for the Lord, and when she was extremely sore, she said […]’. Note here that these early examples occur precisely in Type 7a, an environment which has been regarded by some as ambiguous for PDE. It could well be the case that this ambiguous environment facilitated the extension of the superlative marker to the intensifier function. This ‘semantic weakening’ of the superlative (Claridge 2006: 79) has been attributed to “a transfer of conditioned into unconditioned superlatives” (Sapir qu. Bäcklund 1973: 171), that is, from relative superlative readings to absolute superlative readings to intensifying readings. In superlative readings, most indicates a precise value, namely the uppermost degree. It is therefore bounded. In the intensifying reading, it indicates a range on a scale, a very high degree, thus being unbounded (Paradis 2001: 53). The evolution from bounded to unbounded readings is a commonplace in the history of many degree modifiers (e.g., very Paradis 1997: 73; Adamson & González-Díaz 2004; quite, dead Paradis 2000a: 154–155; fairly Nevalainen & Rissanen 2002: 375; really Paradis 2003; all Buchstaller & Traugott 2006; right Méndez-Naya 2007; Paradis 2000b: 254 fn 10 for adjectival reinforcers; and Traugott 2006: 345 for both degree and focus modifiers). According to Pound (1901: 57), the intensifying use of most is a Latinism, an idea which is rejected by Mustanoja (1960: 287). In my opinion, intensifying most could easily have been a native development, where the construction conveying the highest degree possible is recruited as a hyperbolic expression for very high degree. Such a development is not at all infrequent, and is also responsible for the evolution of other degree adverbs such as extremely (see OED s.v. extremely adv. 1 and 2). In fact, the earliest examples of most allowing an intensifying interpretation that I have been able to trace appear in vernacular texts

.  I have recorded six examples in which most modifies an adjective in Penn-M1, and eight in Penn-M2. The ratio of comparative: intensifying examples is 4: 2 for Penn-M1 and 8: 2 for Penn-M2.



Intensifying right and most in earlier English 

(St. Juliana, cf. example (31) above, and Ancrene Riwle). It is possibly the case, however, that Latin influence may have reinforced an already existing trend.15 3.  Collocates of intensifier and comparative most and right In the present section I will turn to a detailed study of the collocates of most and right, to check whether or not there are also similarities in this respect. The comments found in the literature about the heads of the intensifier most can be summarised as follows: (a) Most is favoured with evaluative, subjective adjectives (Quirk et al. 1985: 7.84, 7.87; Paradis 1997: 86), “reflecting the attitude of the speaker rather than being used to make a factual point” Claridge (2006: 75). Moreover, it usually modifies heads with “strong semantic content that are likely to attract attention” (Bäcklund 1973: 171). In other words, “forceful adjectives” with “strong evaluative features” which harmonise with what is also “a forceful modifier” (Paradis 1997: 86). (b) In contrast to other boosters, most does not frequently occur with “typical ­scalar adjectives such as good, long or slow”, but rather with mostly “scalar adjectives which already exhibit a strong degree, or […] extreme adjectives” (Paradis 1997: 86). See also Claridge (2007: 129), who states that most ­occurs with some adjectives “indeed in themselves quite extreme, e.g., abysmal, extraordinary, favourite and enormous”. (c) Most favours positive over negative heads (Bäcklund 1973: 172). (d) Most is perceived by informants to be stronger than very (Bäcklund 1973: 172; cf. also Claridge 2006: 80). As regards right, the following has been suggested: (a) Right prefers bounded to unbounded adjectives (Méndez-Naya 2007). In this respect, it is not a prototypical booster, as boosters are harmonic with unbounded, scalar adjectives (Paradis 1997: 61ff; 2001: 53). (b) There is a marked tendency for right to occur with positive collocates. In fact, it is very commonly used with adjectives denoting “strongly appreciable qual-

.  In this connection, see Fettig (1934: 132), who attributes the high frequency of intensifying most in Wyclif, Lydgate and Trevisa to Latin influence.

 Belén Méndez-Naya

ities” (Bolinger 1972: 52), especially “extreme adjectives which indicate the highest point on the scale of merit” (Méndez-Naya 2007: 204). I will now turn to the data from the HC taking the corpus as a whole, as I am interested in discovering general tendencies, and considering the data in subperiods would blur the overall picture. I will pay attention to (a) objective vs. subjective heads (using Dixon’s (1977) taxonomy of adjectives); (b) mode of construal (cf. Paradis 1997); and (c) positive vs. negative heads. 3.1  Types of adjective: Objective vs. subjective heads Following Ito and Tagliamonte (2003), the adjectival heads found in the HC have been classified according to Dixon’s (1977) eightfold taxonomy into adjectives of: Dimension (e.g., big, small, long, short); Physical property (e.g., hard, soft, heavy, light); Colour (e.g., black, red, yellow); Human propensity (e.g., jealous, happy, kind, rude); Age (e.g., new, old, young); Value (e.g., good, bad, perfect, excellent); Speed (e.g., fast, quick, slow); Position (right, left, near, far). To this eight groups I have further added the category of Quantification (many, few) (Dixon 2004: 5), and a group Other for adjectives which would not easily fit in any of the categories above. As can be seen in Table 4 below, the corpus only yielded examples of seven of the ten adjectival types. Of these types, Human propensity and Value seem to be more subject to evaluation than other adjectives and have been classified accordingly as subjective, while the remaining types have been classified as objective. I have established a distinction between comparative and intensifier uses. Table 4.  Collocation of most and right with objective and subjective adjectives most + adj.

Adj. Type

right + adj.

Comp. Intens. Tot.

Comp. Intens. Tot.

Objective:  

Dimension Position Phys. Prop. Quant. Other Total

– 1 6 2 3 12

1 1 26 – – 28

1 2 32 2 3 40

– – 2 – – 2

14 – 21 – – 35

14 – 23 – – 37

Subjective:  

Hum. Prop. Value Total

37 108 145

77 215 292

114 323 437

2 4 6

30 121 151

32 125 157

Subj. + Obj.  

Total %objective %subjective

157 8% 92%

320 477 9% 8% 91% 92%

186 19% 81%

194 19% 81%

8 25% 75%



Intensifying right and most in earlier English 

The data indicate a very marked tendency towards the modification of evaluative, subjective adjectives with the two intensifiers under analysis. This does not seem to be exclusive of most and right, but is perhaps common to all intensifiers.16 This could of course be also due to the fact that intensification itself is very closely linked with subjectivity, and hence adjectives which lend themselves to an evaluative interpretation are more likely to appear in intensification structures. It is worth noting, though, that the preference for evaluative adjectives is slightly more marked in the case of most than in the case of right. Thus, for instance, whereas Dimension adjectives are relatively common with right, they are virtually non existent with most (cf. Quirk et al. 1985: 7.87: “most happy [subjective] is felicitous vs. ?most tall [objective]”). The tendency towards collocation with evaluative adjectives is also found when the construction is clearly comparative. The data from the HC seem to point to a general tendency also found in PDE, cf. Quirk et al. (1985: 7.84, 7.87) concerning intensifier most, and Claridge’s data from the BNC for the superlative in general (2007), with 70% of adjectives in superlative constructions “primarily evaluative [i.e., subjective]”, 21% of adjectives “that can be used either evaluatively or objectively”, and only 9% objective adjectives (Claridge 2007: 127). 3.2  Mode of construal For my study I will follow the model of degree modifiers and adjectives proposed by Paradis (1997, 2001). In this model adjectives can be primarily classified into gradable (like good, perfect or true) and non-gradable (like Spanish or classical), the main criterion to distinguish them being their ability to take degree modifiers: gradable adjectives can be modified by degree adverbs (e.g., very good, completely true, absolutely perfect), while non-gradable adjectives typically exclude them. Gradable adjectives are further classified into limit (construed in terms of ‘either-or’, e.g., true), extreme (representing the ultimate point on a scale, e.g., perfect) and scalar (conceptualised in terms of ‘more or less’, e.g., good, hot). Following a “principle of harmony” (Paradis 1997: 66), limit and extreme adjectives, which evoke a precise value of the property involved, and are therefore bounded, combine with bounded modifiers (maximisers like completely or attenuators like almost). Scalar adjectives, which evoke a scale, collocate with unbounded intensifiers (boosters like very; moderators like rather and diminishers like slightly). PDE most has been found to commonly occur with extreme adjectives (Paradis 1997: 86), while right

.  Ito & Tagliamonte (2003: 269–270) found that Value and Human propensity are the most common types in their corpus of York English followed by Dimension and Physical property. Méndez-Naya (2004) also notes that Value and Human propensity are the most common adjectival types with the ME intensifiers full, well and right.

 Belén Méndez-Naya

has been reported to favour bounded collocates in earlier English (Méndez-Naya 2007). Table 5 displays the data from the corpus. Table 5.  Collocation of most and right with limit, extreme and scalar adjectives most

Adj. Type

Comp.

Intens.

right Tot.

Non–grad. – 3 3 Limit 24 60 84 Extreme 56 135 191 Scalar 77 122 199 Total 157 320 477 %Limit 15% 19% 18% %Extreme 36% 42% 40% %Scalar 49% 38% 42%

Comp. – 1 1 6 8 13% 13% 75%

Intens.

Tot.

1 30 83 72 186

1 31 84 78 194

16% 45% 39%

16% 43% 40%

As displayed in Table 5, right and most show similar proportions of scalar and extreme collocates in their intensifying use. In fact, extreme collocates are the most frequent group with both items when used as intensifiers. Intensifying right and most co-occur with bounded (i.e., extreme and limit collocates) in quite a high proportion (61% of instances), thus corroborating our expectations that neither of them is a prototypical booster. The results suggest that they are indeterminate “between maximization and boosting” (Paradis 1997: 160). Examples (32) and (33) illustrate the use of intensifying most and right with extreme and limit adjectives respectively. (32) a. & specyally whan he hath deuyded hymselfe with suche pryde, arrogancye. & presumpcyon. whiche is moost odyous vnto this holy spyryte.  (QE1_IR_SERM_FISHER, P1, 322) b. PHIL: What thynkest thou than, dooste thou iudge that to be an obscure and ignoble thynge, that is suffyasunt, myghty and reuerend, or els right clere and excellent by al fame and renoune? (QE1_XX_PHILO_BOETHCO, 69) (33) a. Bo. That is most true. (QE3_XX_PHILO_BOETHPR, 146) b. we owe to graunte that the sovereyn God is ryght ful of sovereyn parfit good. (QM3_XX_PHILO_BOETHCH, 432.C1)

3.3  Positive vs. negative head Finally, I will examine the collocates of right and most in terms of their positive vs. negative load.17 The results are reflected in Table 6. .  Negative adjectives include both adjectives with negative meaning, like sad or mean, and

Intensifying right and most in earlier English 



Table 6.  Collocation of most and right with positive, negative and neutral adjectives most



right

Adj. Type

Comp.

Intens.

Tot.

Positive Negative Neutral Total

89 53 15 157

247 50 23 320

336 103 38 477

%positive %negative %neutral

57% 34% 10%

77% 15% 7%

71% 21% 8%

Comp. 8 – – 8 100% – –

Intens.

Tot.

141 19 26 186

149 19 26 194

76% 10% 14%

77% 10% 13%

The table shows again a parallel behaviour of the two items under study. With both of them positive collocates clearly prevail, while negative adjectives are disfavoured. Examples (32a) above and (34) below illustrate negative collocates of most and right. (34) wherfore I am right hevy and sory of your beyng there,  (QM4_XX_CORP_ESTONOR, PII, 10)

The tendency to avoid negative adjectives is slightly more marked with right, and is probably related to the original positive meaning of this item. Regarding most, it is interesting to point out that the tendency towards positive collocates is far more pronounced in its intensifying than in its comparative use. The preference of these two intensifiers for positive adjectives would explain their common occurrence in honorifics (e.g., right honourable, right worshipful, most sovereign, most excellent, etc.), which was observed in Section 2. 4.  Right and most: recycling? The previous sections have shown the similarities between right and most as regards the type of syntactic contexts in which they appear, their occurrence in honorifics and also the type of collocates with which they co-occur. But differences can also be found. One of the differences between the two intensifiers is their chronological ­distribution. Both right and most appear in early ME. Right is basically a ME intensifier, reaching its peak in frequency in M3 (1350–1420), losing ground until its frequency dramatically decreases in EModE (cf. Table 3). Most, by contrast, gains ground in the EModE period, reaching its peak in frequency in the HC in E1 (1500–1570) adjectives showing in addition a negative form, like unhappy.

 Belén Méndez-Naya

(see Pound 1901: 57–58; Kytö & Romaine 1997: 332), then decreasing in use (see Claridge 2006: 85), but surviving into the present day (cf. Table 2). This diachronic pattern seems to exemplify the typical loss of force and replacement of intensifiers. However, the temporal distribution is not the only difference between right and most. The data seem to suggest that, although these two intensifiers are indeed very similar, most represents an even higher degree than right. As Claridge puts it (2007: 134) “the reason for the use of the superlative form instead of an intensifier must lie in its greater inherent intensity”.18 This is illustrated well by the history of forms of address, in particular honorific titles. Honorifics with right are largely confined to the formulaic component of correspondence (Peters 1994: 275, 278; Sánchez-Roura 2000: 79–80), but even in such contexts right is no longer commonly used after 1630, being replaced precisely by most (Raumolin-Brunberg 1996: 168–169). This would support the view of the ‘recycling’ of intensifiers. A closer look at the heads modified by the two intensifiers, however, testifies to a difference in degree: most is used in deferential expressions referring to the king and God, as in (35) below (Nevalainen & RaumolinBrunberg 1995: 575), while right is found with ranks below the sovereign, see (36). In the corpus right was only found once to refer to a king. This is in Lord Surrey’s second letter of challenge to King James IV of Scotland, where the king is addressed as Right highe and mightie Prince. (35) = (26) Our most dred most soueraign Lord and noblest kyng, to the soueragn highnesse of your kyngly mageste with all maner of lowenesse and reuerence mekly we recomende vs […] (QM3_XX_CORO_LLETT, 74) (36) Father, I besetch you whan ye mett wyth the right honorable lorde of Oxforth, to geue thanks un to hys Lorchyp, (QE1_XX_CORP_GCROMW PI, 339)

This gradation in deferential expressions is still found in PDE honorifics. Thus, the adjective reverend is used in titles for members of the clergy, but a dean is addressed to as Very Reverend, a bishop as Right Reverend and an archbishop as Most Reverend (see OED s.v. reverend a. (and n.). 2a). Similarly, Most Honourable is used for marquesses, while Right Honourable is applied to those below that rank (OED s.v. honourable a. (n. and adv.)).

.  Cf. Spanish: the elative in -ísimo/a (from the Latin superlative) is apprehended as representing a higher degree than that attained by means of the intensifying adverb muy (i.e., muy bueno ‘very good’ would represent a lower degree than buenísimo). As opposed to muy ‘very’, -ísimo/a may occur with extreme adjectives like precioso ‘gorgeous’ (e.g., *muy precioso vs. preciosísimo), cf. Section 3.2 above.



Intensifying right and most in earlier English 

5.  Concluding remarks The evidence presented in this paper shows the similarities of right and intensifying most as regards the type of adjectival heads with which they collocate. Both of them prefer subjective, positive adjectives, particularly those which represent the ultimate point on a scale (‘extreme’ adjectives). In this respect, they are not prototypical boosters, but come close to maximisers. Right first occurs in typically intensifying environments, but being originally a bounded modifier, it can occasionally spread to superlative structures. By contrast, most is first found in comparative structures, later extending to intensifying contexts. Most, originally indicating the apical degree, was used as a hyperbolic expression for high degree. This semantic weakening also entailed an evolution from bounded to unbounded readings, a general tendency in both intensifiers and adjectives. Although both intensifiers become relatively frequent in the fourteenth century, the success of right was rather short-lived, as its frequency decreases dramatically in the EModE period. This decrease is paralleled with an increase in the use of most, which seems to have replaced right in some contexts. Does this point to another case of recycling of intensifiers? This question is most and right harde to answere. Evidence from honorifics has shown a difference in degree. The influence of other variables, like text-type or degree of formality will repay further investigation.

References Adamson, Sylvia & Victorina González-Díaz. 2004. Back to the very beginning: The development of intensifiers in Middle English. Paper presented at the Thirteenth International Conference on English Historical Linguistics, Vienna, August 2004. Bäcklund, Ulf. 1973. The Collocations of Adverbs of Degree in English. Acta Universitatis Uppsaliensis. Uppsala. Bieler, Ludovicus, ed. 1957. Anicii Manlii Severini Boethii Philosophiae Consolatio. Corpvs Christianorvm. Ser. Lat. 94. Turnhout: Brepols. Bolinger, Dwight. 1972. Degree Words. The Hague & Paris: Mouton. Borst, Eugen. 1902. Die Gradadverbien im Englischen. Heidelberg: Winter. Buchstaller, Isabelle & Elizabeth C. Traugott. 2006. The lady was al demonyak: Historical aspects of adverb all. English Language and Linguistics 10:2. 345–370. Carruthers, Leo. 1988. Lorens of Orléans and The Somme le Roi or The Book of Vices and Virtues. Vox Benedictina: 5:2/3. 190–200. CEECS = Corpus of Early English Correspondence Sampler. ICAME Collection of English Language Corpora ed. by Knut Hofland, Anne Lindebjerg & Jørn Thunestvedt 1999. University of Bergen: The HIT Centre.

 Belén Méndez-Naya Claridge, Claudia. 2006. With the most superlative felicitee: Functions of the superlative in 19th-century English. Syntax, Style and Grammatical Norms: English from 1500–2000 ed. by Christiane Dalton-Puffer, Nikolaus Ritt, Herbert Schendl & Dieter Kastovsky, 73–89. Bern: Peter Lang. Claridge, Claudia. 2007. The superlative in spoken English. Corpus Linguistics Twenty-five Years On. Selected Papers of the Twenty-fifth International Conference on English Language Research on Computerised Corpora ed. by Roberta Facchinetti, 121–148. Amsterdam: Rodopi. Dixon R.M.W. 1977. Where have all the adjectives gone? Studies in Language 1:1.19–80. Dixon R.M.W. 2004. Adjective classes in typological perspective. Adjective Classes. A Crosslinguistic Typology ed. by R.M.W. Dixon & Alexandra Y. Aikhenvald, 1–49. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Fettig, Adolf. 1934. Die Gradadverbien im Mittelenglischen. Heidelberg: Winter. Fischer, Olga. 1992. Syntax. The Cambridge History of the English Language. Vol II 1066–1476 ed. by Norman F. Blake, 207–398. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Hawkins J.A. 1978. Definiteness and Indefiniteness. A Study in Reference and Grammaticality Prediction. London: Croom Helm. HC = The Helsinki Corpus of English Texts. 1991. Helsinki: Department of English. At . Huddleston, Rodney & Geoffrey K. Pullum. 2002. The Cambridge Grammar of the English Language. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Ingersoll, Sheyla Most. 1978. Intensive and Restrictive Modification in Old English. Heidelberg: Winter. Ito, Rika & Sali Tagliamonte. 2003. Well weird, right dodgy, very strange, really cool: Layering and recycling in English intensifiers. Language in Society 32. 257–279. Kytö, Merja. 1996. ‘The best and most excellentest way’: The rivalling forms of adjective comparison in Late Middle and Early Modern English. Words. Proceedings of an International Symposium. Lund 25–26 August 1995 ed. by Jan Svartvik, 124–144. Stockholm: Kungl. Vitterhets Historie och Antikvitets Akademien. Kytö, Merja & Suzanne Romaine. 1997. Competing forms of adjective comparison in Modern English: What could be more quicker and easier and more effective? To Explain the Present: Studies in the Changing English language in Honour of Matti Rissanen ed. by Terttu Nevalainen & Lena Kahlas-Tarkka, 329–352. Helsinki: Societé Néophiloloque. Kytö, Merja & Suzanne Romaine. 2006. Adjective comparison in nineteenth-century English. Nineteenth-century English. Stability and Change ed. by Merja Kytö, Mats Rydén & Erik Smitterberg, 194–214. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Labov, William. 1985. Intensity. Meaning, Form and Use in Context: Linguistic Applications ed. by Deborah Schiffrin, 43–70. Washington, DC.: Georgetown University Press. Lass, Roger. 1992. Phonology and morphology. The Cambridge History of the English Language. Vol II 1066–1476 ed. by Norman F. Blake, 23–155. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Lass, Roger. 1999. Phonology and morphology. The Cambridge History of the English Language. Vol III 1476–1776 ed. by Roger Lass, 56–186. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. MED = Kurath, Hans et al. 1952–2001. Middle English Dictionary. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press. Available online at the Middle English Compendium, <ets.umdl.mich.edu/m/med/>. Méndez-Naya, Belén. 2004. Full good, right good, well good? On the competition of intensifiers in the Middle English period. Paper presented at the Thirteenth International Conference on English Historical Linguistics, Vienna, August 2004.



Intensifying right and most in earlier English 

Méndez-Naya, Belén. 2007. He nas nat right fat: On the origin and development of the intensifier right. Studies in Middle English Forms and Meanings ed. by Gabriella Mazzon, 191–207. Frankfurt a.M.: Peter Lang. Mustanoja, Tauno F. 1960. Middle English Syntax. Helsinki: Société Néophilologique. Nevalainen, Terttu & Helena Raumolin-Brunberg. 1995. Constraints on politeness: The pragmatics of address formulae in early English correspondence. Historical Pragmatics. Pragmatic Developments in the History of English ed. by Andreas H. Jucker, 541–601. Amsterdam: John Benjamins. Nevalainen, Terttu & Matti Rissanen. 2002. Fairly pretty or pretty fair? On the development and grammaticalization of English downtoners. Language Sciences 24. 359–380. OED = Simpson, J.A. & Weiner E.S.C. eds. 1989. The Oxford English Dictionary on CD-ROM [2nd edition]. Oxford: Oxford University Press. OLD = The Oxford Latin Dictionary ed. by P.G.W. Glare. 1968–1982. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Pahta, Päivi. 2006. Ful holsum and profitable for the bodi: A corpus study of amplifiers in medieval English medical texts. Diachronic Perspectives on Domain-specific English ed. by Marina Dossena & Irma Taavitsainen, 207–228. Bern: Peter Lang. Paradis, Carita. 1997. Degree Modifiers of Adjectives in Spoken British English. Lund: Lund University Press. Paradis, Carita. 2000a. It’s well weird. Degree modifiers of adjectives revisited: The nineties. Corpora Galore: Analysis and Techniques in Describing English ed. by John M. Kirk, 147–160. Amsterdam: Rodopi. Paradis, Carita. 2000b. Reinforcing adjectives: A cognitive semantic perspective on grammaticalisation. Generative Theory and Corpus Studies. A Dialogue from 10ICEHL ed. by Ricardo Bermúdez-Otero, David Denison, Richard Hogg & Chris McCully, 233–258. Berlin: Mouton. Paradis, Carita. 2001. Adjectives and boundedness. Cognitive Linguistics 12:1. 47–65. Paradis, Carita. 2003. Between epistemic modality and degree: The case of really. Modality in Contemporary English ed. by Roberta Facchinetti, Frank Palmer & Manfred Krug, 197–220. Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter. Peters, Hans. 1994. Degree adverbs in Early Modern English. Studies in Early Modern English ed. by Dieter Kastovsky, 269–288. Berlin: Mouton. Pound, Louise. 1901. The Comparison of Adjectives in English in the XV and XVI Century. Heidelberg: Winter. PPCME2 = Kroch, Anthony & Ann Taylor. 2000. Penn-Helsinki Parsed Corpus of Middle English. 2nd edition. At <www.ling.upenn.edu/hist-corpora/PPCME2–RELEASE-2/>. Quirk, Randolph, Sydney Greenbaum, Geoffrey Leech & Jan Svartvik. 1985. A Comprehensive Grammar of the English Language. London: Longman. Raumolin-Brunberg, Helena. 1996. Forms of address in early English correspondence. Sociolinguistics and Language History. Studies Based on the Corpus of Early English Correspondence ed. by Terttu Nevalainen & Helena Raumolin-Brunberg, 167–181. Amsterdam: Rodopi. Rissanen, Matti. 1999. Syntax. The Cambridge History of the English Language. Vol III 1476–1776 ed. by Roger Lass, 187–331. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Rusiecki, Jan. 1985. Adjectives and Comparison in English. A Semantic Study. London: Longman. Sánchez-Roura, Teresa. 2000. Convention vs. choice in securing the good-will of the reader: The Cely Letters. Selim 10. 77–100. Souter, Alexander. 1949. A Glossary of Later Latin to 600 AD. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Traugott, Elizabeth C. 2006. The semantic development of scalar focus modifiers. The Handbook of the History of English ed. by Ans van Kemendade & Bettelou Los, 335–359. Oxford: Blackwell.

The diachronic development of the intensifier bloody A case study in historical pragmatics* Stefania Biscetti

University of L’ Aquila, Italy This paper traces the history of bloody from a holistic perspective, that is, by considering bloody in relation to other items within the system of intensification. Using corpus evidence, the paper rejects current etymological proposals and suggests that the Reformation was the possible socio-historical context where bloody became a taboo word and an intensifier. It goes on to explain how the adjective bloody became an intensifying adverb in collocation with ‘drunk’ through the cognitive-pragmatic processes of selective binding and analogy. This grammaticalisation cline sets bloody apart from a number of other intensifiers such as very, extremely, utterly, absolutely, which, unlike bloody, were originally manner adverbs and have severely reduced their syntagmatic variability. It also sets it apart from intensifiers such as good, nice, dirty, jolly, pretty and lovely, which, unlike bloody, always retain their descriptive meaning when used as adjectives.

1.  Introduction This paper outlines the diachronic development of the lexical item bloody. As shown in Biscetti (2004), bloody has nowadays semantic, syntactic and pragmatic properties which mark it as a most atypical member of its category, that of intensifiers. As a matter of fact, bloody cannot be unequivocally assigned to any of the intensifying categories identified by grammarians (such as amplifiers, boosters, maximisers, emphasisers), and it is the only ‘amplifying intensifier’ that can function as a ‘minimiser’,1 as in “I’m not bloody surprised!”. The conclusion of my

* I wish to thank Professor Lavinia Merlini Barbaresi, Wolfgang U. Dressler and Alan Partington for their comments on an earlier draft of this paper. I am very grateful to Richard Dury for stimulating discussion and valuable suggestions. .  In Quirk et al.’s classification (1994: 590), ‘amplifiers’ are degree adverbs that “scale upwards from an assumed norm”, whereas ‘minimisers’ (a subcategory of ‘downtoners’) are degree adverbs “usually scaling downwards from an assumed norm”.

 Stefania Biscetti

synchronic investigation was that bloody is probably best described as a pragmatic focus marker which does not merely intensify the semantic content of what it modifies but affects the illocutionary force of the speech act where it appears. The aim of the present study is twofold: 1.  to provide a new account of the origin of bloody’s intensifying use; 2. to show that the non-prototypical status of bloody reflects a divergent diachronic development from that of a number of other intensifiers such as very, extremely, utterly, entirely, absolutely on one hand, and good, nice, dirty, jolly, pretty, lovely on the other. Following a strict chronological approach, I shall start by considering the likely socio-historical context where the taboo quality and the intensifying meaning of bloody emerged, and focus afterwards on its peculiar grammaticalisation path up to the present. This study is based on data from a number of electronic databases, notably the Oxford English Dictionary online (OED), the Michigan Early Modern English Materials (MEMEM), the Helsinki Corpus of English Texts (750–1710), ChadwyckHealey Literature Online (LION), the Early Modern English Dictionaries Database (EMEDD), A Representative Corpus of Historical English Registers 1650–1990 (ARCHER), A Corpus of English Dialogues 1560–1760 (CED) and The Textbase of Early Tudor English.2 2.  E  arliest record of bloody intensifier and current etymological proposals Bloody originated as an adjective, and is first recorded as such in the OED. Its main senses go from “of the nature of, composed of, or like blood” (1) and “covered, smeared with blood” (2) to “involving the spilling of blood” (3), “with, portending, decreeing bloodshed” (of words and thoughts) (4), “blood-thirsty, cruel” (5) and “of the colour of blood, blood-red” (6):

(1) Dissenteria, blodig utsiht” (a1000 ÆLFRIC)



(2) Wearð se mona lange nihtes swylce he eall blodig wære. (a1117 O.E. Chron.)

.  I am indebted to Douglas Biber and Matti Rissanen for remote access to the ARCHER corpus, and to Meria Kytö and Jonathan Culpeper for access to CED (Biber and Kytö actually searched the corpora for me). Special thanks are also due to the OED lexicographers in the person of Katrin Thier for access to MEMEM and for providing a selection of unpublished quotes from the OED archives.

The diachronic development of bloody 





(3) Or hadde in armys manye a blodi box. (c1385 Chaucer)



(4) Ruben, þu read þeof, þu blodi delit. (a1225)



(5) They reporte me to seek bloud, and call me bloudye Boner. (1563 Foxe)



(6) Now Somerset, where is your argument? Som. Here in my Scabbard . . . that Shall dye your white Rose in a bloody red. (1591 Shakes.)

According to the OED, the earliest record yet found of bloody with an unquestionably intensifying meaning goes back to the 17th century:

(7) Not without he will promise to be bloody drunk (1676 Etherege).

Database searches producing no earlier examples and the unconvincing nature of attempts to antedate this use3 seem to confirm the OED’s claim. 2.1  Intensifying function Several proposals have been made concerning the origin of bloody’s intensifying function. The popular etymological hypothesis which traces this function back to the phrase ‘by Our Lady’ – a sacrilegious invocation of the Virgin Mary, the contracted form of which (i.e., byrlady) was used as an interjection from 1570 – is dismissed as phonetically implausible by Partridge (1933). An additional reason for regarding this explanation as implausible is that there is no trace of an intensifying use of ‘byrlady’ before the first record of bloody intensifier in 1676. In fact, the first record of this use seems to be a hundred years later:

(8) it grows by’r Lady cold, and I have no waistcoat on. (1766–1768 Swift)

Hughes (1991: 24, 30) is probably right in saying that this is an instance of folk etymology. According to the Oxford Dictionary of English Etymology (ODEE) “the expletive use [of bloody] was probably from the interjection blood, ’sblood,” an ancient oath shortened from God’s blood, “as woundy, similarly used, was formed on wounds, ’swounds (ZOUNDS)”. The fact that woundy was an intensifier some

.  Weekly (1967) suggests that bloody is already used as an intensifier in Marston (1606: I.ii 249–250): “… Laelius Balbus, a man cruelly eloquent and bloodily learned”; however, both the context and Tacitus’s (AD 37: book VI, chap. 48) notes on Balbus rather point to the reading ‘learned or skilled in the arts of blood’ (killing, torture etc) for “bloodily learned”. Hughes (1991: 46) reads an emotive function of bloody in Douglas’s (1513) translation of Aeneis “Bot than the trumpettis weirly blastis abundis,/ With terribill brag of brasyn bludy soundis”. Again, the battlefield context seems rather to encourage the literal reading ‘sound announcing the shedding of blood’ (i.e., deadly sound).

 Stefania Biscetti

time earlier than bloody (“Tis woundy cold, sure!” (c1621, OED)) would seem to bear out this hypothesis. Nevertheless, there are at least two reasons for perplexity. Firstly, the form ’sblood is never used as an intensifier in our data; secondly, and most importantly, the functional shift ‘interjection > intensifier’ is to the best of my knowledge unattested in language.4 It therefore seems unlikely (contrary to the ODEE) that the interjections ‘swounds and ’sblood can have given rise to the intensifiers woundy and bloody. This hypothesis is also rejected as groundless by the OED which, given the fact that bloody occurs in combination with ‘drunk’ in its earliest two records as an intensifier ((7) and (9)), makes the following proposal: “there is good reason to think that it [the intensifying adverb bloody] was at first a reference to the habits of the ‘bloods’ or aristocratic rowdies of the end of the 17th and beginning of the 18th century. The phrase ‘bloody drunk’ was apparently = ‘as drunk as a blood’ (cf. ‘as drunk as a lord’)”, as in the following early example:

(9) The doughty Bullies enter bloody drunk (1684 Dryden)

However, the suggested meaning of the phrase ‘bloody drunk’ is not so apparent, and the proposal hardly convincing, the most significant reason being that while there are records of phrases such as “as drunk as a lord” (10), “as drunk as a prince” (11) and “to get drunk like a gentleman” (12) from the same period, there is no trace of the phrases ‘as drunk as a blood’ or ‘drunk like a blood’ in the literature: (10) “The Gentlemen are most of them very intemperate, yet the Proverb goes, ‘As drunk as a Lord’.” (1651 Evelyn) (OED) (11) … Nectar, with which they’l be as drunk as a Prince–a Beggar–a … (1685 Wesley) (LION) (12) Get drunk like a Gentleman, with no Scandal. (1706 Ward) (OED)

This absence is rather strange if we consider that the related synthetic phrases ‘lordly drunk’ (13) and ‘princely drunk’ (14) were apparently formed after the correspondent analytic similes ‘as drunk as a lord/prince’: (13) “If I,” said he, “remember right, I was most lordly drunk last night:” (1869 Combe)

.  In the light of these considerations and of the fact that no instance of ‘swounds’ with an intensifying function was found in the data, the etymology of the intensifier woundy (proposed by the ODEE and the OED) might be worth reconsidering. A possible starting point could be the adjective wounding, meaning “That wounds or injures; capable of causing hurt or pain. lit. and fig.” (OED) e.g., “Their own tongues to their own woe Shall all their wounding sharpnes bend” (1586) (OED).



The diachronic development of bloody 

(14) Georgy did go it till he got (according to the vulgar idiom) princely drunk. (1807 Barrett)

The OED’s proposal becomes even less convincing when the fact is considered that lordly, princely, and porterly, also used in collocation with drunk, did not develop an autonomous intensifying function outside the co(n)text of drunkenness. This means that: a. the reference to excessive drinking carried by items combining with drunk is not sufficient to induce their functional shift to intensifiers and promote their spread to other lexical environments;5 b. the early meaning of bloody in the phrase ‘bloody drunk’ is not that of ‘like an aristocratic rowdy’. We are presently going to see what this early meaning was. 3.  Socio-historical scenario for the association ‘bloody – drunk’ In its new intensifying function bloody shows a remarkable tendency to collocate with drunk. Besides (7) and (9) above we have: (15) Sir Tho.: Huzzah, Cuz, thou’rt unmarried now: Odsooks/let’s go and be bloody Drunk for Joy. (1696 Motteux) (LION) (16) My Friend Nic and I, not being used to such heady Stuff [champagne], got bloody Drunk. (1712 Arbuthnot) (OED) (17) Aye, aye, we were all bloody Drunk: /You don’t forget, I suppose, what a Douce in/the Chops I hit our Curate; because he would/not be drunk too./(1720 Shadwell) (LION) (18) … House went Two Wherein the bloody drunken Sutheron were, And them … (1722 Hamilton) (LION) (19) A Coach! a Cart, a Wheel-barrow, you Jade–by/the Mackin, she’s drunk, bloody drunk, most confoundedly/drunk.–(1731 Coffey) (LION)

These data seem to confirm the OED’s suggestion implying that: (1) the shift of bloody from adjective to intensifier with all probability took place in relation with ‘drunk’, (2) this collocation must have been semantically and pragmatically motivated in origin.

.  Quoting from the OED: “thence [i.e., from the meaning “as drunk as a blood”] it was extended to kindred expressions, and at length to others”.

 Stefania Biscetti

3.1  The meaning of ‘bloody drunk’ The earliest record of the phrase ‘bloody drunk’ seems to date back to the 16th century: (20) 89 His rage defilde the seat with crime, 90 that nations far could say: 91 A drunken man dooth take in hand, 92 to guide the ship her way. 93 Not drunk wt wine tho iudgement might, 94 declare he loou’d it more: 95 Then Christes pasture sheep wherby, 96 he should haue set great store. 97 But bloody drunk sith hee not one, 98 did spare of Christes sheep: 99 Whiche did desire their conscience pure, 100 by Gospel for to keep. 101 Yet he did watche, though as a Woolf, 102 Christes lambs for to deuoure: (Knell 1569) (LION)

In this quote bloody shows no trace of an intensifying meaning yet, but refers literally to blood. The whole phrase reads metaphorically as ‘drunk on blood’. This reading is apparent from the counterposing of “not drunk with wine” and “But bloody drunk”, the latter being a clear metaphor for a disposition to extreme violence and ferociousness (possibly involving insanity or loss of reason), a quality also suggested by the analogy between the man and a wolf 6 (line 101). Such a hyperbolic image of bloodthirstiness is not an isolated example in the literature, although it is expressed by means of an analytic construction in a later quote: (21) to free the country from such Wolues [i.e., Priests and Iesuites], who make themselues drunke with the bloud of the Saints, playing with imperiall Globes, as Whales do with barrels, which they tosse vp and downe at their pleasures. (1615 Hoby) (CED)

Quite strikingly, the metaphorical meaning of the analytic phrase “drunke with bloud’” is once again accompanied by the same ferine analogy as the synthetic phrase in (20). This contextual analogy, reinforced by the presence of the opposing expressions “Christes sheep” (20) and “the Saints” (21), confirms the descriptive meaning of bloody in (20) and provides a hint as to the likely socio-historical context where the association ‘bloody – drunk’ originated.

.  In the earliest pamphlet (from 1581) associating Catholics with murderous tendencies Papists are “lyke madde Dogges […] biting all that come in their way” (quoted in Robson 2004).



The diachronic development of bloody 

3.2  The Reformation context The passage in (20) is from Knell’s “Short Discourse Made upon the Life & Death of D. Boner Sometimes Unworthy Bishop of London”. Edmund Bonner (1500?– 1569), also known as “bloody Bonner”,7 was an inquisitor at the time of the Reformation. He was one of the many “blouddie Papistes [who] murther and slaughter in all places rounde aboute vs our poore brethren” (Northbrooke 1577 (OED)), a “Cannibal” who “in three yeares space three hundreth Martyrs slew” (Foxe 1576; Book 12: 1937). The Reformation was undoubtedly a most bloody phase in British history, which could have favoured the use of pragmatically related linguistic expressions. But as history is often (and everywhere) sanguinary, bloodshed and cruelty could not be distinctive features of this particular historical period, that is, distinctive to the point of explaining why our collocation should have come into being at this very moment in time. Moreover, the notions of blood and cruelty would also be pragmatically insufficient to account for the taboo quality that bloody has had over the centuries. As a matter of fact, cruelty, violence and blood are unlikely to be regarded as socially inconvenient or offensive to the point of becoming taboo.8 This means that the notion of cruelty needs to be complemented with some other feature(s) specific to the historical period in question. We can assume that this specificity is in the causes and nature of violence rather than in its deathly effects. The text by Knell is revealing in this sense. The clue is contained in the concessive clause (ll. 93–94). Boner is sanguinary, drunk with blood, not drunk with wine, “tho iudgement might, declare he loou’d it [i.e., wine] more”, a clear allusion to Boner’s drinking habit, as confirmed some lines below: (22) He lay ful soft and had inough of Beer, and chaunge of wine: (ibid., ll. 185–6)

The connection between drunkenness and violence was probably never so perverse and striking in history, given the social class involved. In his article on alcohol consumption by the clergy Martin (2003) writes: “So widespread was the reputation of clergy for drunkenness that it attained the status of proverbs. ‘Bibamus papaliter’, that is, ‘Let us drink like a pope’, did not mean to drink in moderation”.

.  Cf. quote (5). Cf. also Hillerbrand (1996: 189) “he [Bonner] earned the title ‘bloody butcher Bonner’ among Protestants”. .  Cf. Hughes (1991: 11) “Societal taboos […] can be very diversified or specific, but commonly include the deity, death, madness, sex, excretion and strangers”.

 Stefania Biscetti

Evidence of this objectionable habit of the clergymen is also found in Foxe’s Book of Martyres (1570 edition). These are the words of a “popish” priest to the Archbishop of Canterbury: (23) The priest confesseth his fault to the Archbishop. I besech your grace to forgiue me this offence: assuring your grace that I spake those words being druncke and not well aduysed. (1570 ed., Book XI: 2037)

Of course, in the 16th century drunkenness was widespread among all social classes.9 However, its association with moral decay and contemptibility was especially true of the clergy, as this habit sharply contrasted with the ideology of being above worldly things to which the ministers of Christ were supposed to adhere. And here we come to the heart of our issue.

4.  An etymological proposal For a representative of the Catholic Church during the Reformation the vice of drunkenness had necessarily strong religious connotations and implications. At the core of the theological dispute of Luther with the Roman Catholic Church is the dogma of transubstantiation, that is, the belief that consecrated wine is substantially transformed into the blood of Christ in the Eucharist, although it preserves the appearance of wine. In Luther’s view, anathematised in the Council of Trent (1545–1563), the substance of the wine remains together with the blood of the Lord. In other words, the transformation is only symbolic, located in the signification of wine, not in its substance. Thus, ‘blood’ is a key term of the Reformation. Foxe’s Book of Martyrs (1576 ed.) provides us with the case of a dispute on transubstantiation between a Protestant, Maister Bland, and a Catholic priest, Mylles, which took place in 1555. This passage is of paramount importance to shed light on the origin of the association of blood with drunkenness. One of the arguments used by Bland against transubstantiation is the remark that if substantial transformation of the wine really occurred in the Eucharist, it would be impossible for a priest to get drunk with consecrated wine (because blood has not the quality to make anybody drunk); and that if drunkenness ensued, it would be a miracle. (24) Q. Mary. M. Bland confuteth the Popish absurdities of transubstantiation. (Book 11, p. 1584) .  “The prevalence of alcohol in the sixteenth century earned it the title of “drunken century” ” (Cole 2006). On this point see Spode (1991).



The diachronic development of bloody 

 Mylles: We eate Christes flesh and bloud spiritually, when we receyue it wt fayth and charitie. And we also doo eate it corporally in the sacramente: and the body that we so receiue hath lyfe. […] And if a man be drunken, it is not by receyuyng of ye bloud of Christ, for it is contrarye to the nature of Christes bloud. If he be drunken, it is by the qualities and quantities, without substance of bloud.  Bland: […] a more truth ye confesse then ye dyd thinke, when ye sayde: if a man be drunken, it is by the qualities and quantities, without the substaunce of bloud: for in deede bloud hath no such qualities With it: whiche is euident that there is no naturall bloud. […] If a man be drunken with wyne consecrated, it muste be a myracle, as I thinke you wyll haue it, that the sayde accidences should be without their naturall substaunce, […]

It goes without saying that Bland was put to death for his claims. The importance of this passage resides not so much in providing evidence that priests could get drunk with consecrated wine (in fact, ‘sacred drunkenness’ could be a reasoning ad absurdum, an argumentative device used by Bland to support his thesis). Its paramount importance consists in providing evidence that drunkenness could be used as a strong argument against transubstantiation. In a scenario where Protestants are persecuted for negating transubstantiation, and where the ministers of Christ indulged in alcohol abuse, it was possible for the word bloody to develop an ambiguity of sense that would make it suitable for a contemptuous, probably sarcastic use by the persecuted. In other words, it was possibly in the mouths of the persecuted in this particular socio-historical context that the phrase ‘bloody drunk’ may have came to be used with the sense ‘drunk with God’s blood’, that is, ‘drunk with consecrated wine’. Such a use of bloody would also hinge on the analogy between the colour of blood and that of wine (i.e., red) normally used to celebrate the Eucharist.10 According to my proposal, bloody was originally not merely an oath, a swearword (cf. Hughes (1991: 12) and the ODEE), it was a sacrilegious, heretic expression. Hughes (1991: 12) states that bloody was “borrowed about three centuries ago from underworld slang”. This underworld slang was possibly that of the gallows, to which Protestants convicted of heresy were condemned. The prison11 could have been a place where anti-Catholic prisoners came into contact with common criminals and the possible characterisation of persecuting Catholics as ‘bloody drunk’ may have been taken over by underworld, always looking out for forceful phrases.

.  Simon Ditchfield, personal communication. .  Special evidence that bloody was a feature of prisoners’ slang is the astonishing fortune that bloody had in Australia, where it “arrived with the earliest settlers from England and […] by the end of the nineteenth century it came to be known as ‘the great Australian Adjective’.” (Montagu 1967: 268). Needless to say, the earliest English settlers were convicts.

 Stefania Biscetti

Some time later Grose (1811) [1785] observed that bloody was a “favourite word used by the thieves in swearing” and later still the OED (in the fascicule published 1887) said that the word was then “constantly in the mouths of the lowest classes, but by respectable people considered ‘a horrid word’, on a par with obscene or profane language”. These observations seem to be compatible with the hypothesis of the prison being a possible locus of contact between Anti-Catholics and thieves, and with the hypothesis that the disparaging (blasphemous) connotation of bloody originated in religious circles. 5.  Functional shift 5.1  How bloody became an intensifier We shall now consider the processes whereby bloody became an intensifier. It was said above (3.1) that the historical data available on bloody suggest that its functional shift took place in connection with drunk in the sense ‘inebriated’ (i.e., of a person, not in the sense ‘drenched, saturated’, i.e., of a thing). This induces us to exclude the possibility that bloody might have developed its intensifying function with other lexical items, for example, with lexical items whose semantic properties favored a reinforcing interpretation. “Semantic feature copying” (Lorenz 2002: 148–149) is a common process of intensifier formation: a word becomes an intensifier by associating with lexical items that mean nearly the same thing. In (25) and (26) bloody premodifies its synonym cruell and has a clear reinforcing, intensifying effect. (25) So bloudie cruell was I then, so blinde. (1602) (Tudor Texts) (26) … owne example punisht bee. The bloudy cruell captaynes I in pryson … (1581 Heywood)

Jespersen (1961: Vol. I, 367) observes “how in such combinations the first adjective tends to become a subjunct to the second, and as it were, a mere adverb of degree”, and adds: At first it can only be used as such before an adjective of related signification; but if it is used extensively in such combinations, it is by and by felt as signifying nothing else but intensification, independently of the meaning of the following adjective, and may then be used before all kinds of adjectives”.12 (Jespersen 1961: Vol. I, 367) .  It is worth noting that Jespersen’s statement is contradicted by Lorenz’s (2002: 149) corpus-based evidence on “semantic feature copying intensifiers”, such as ‘clearly visible’, ‘crucially



The diachronic development of bloody 

Now, if this was the starting point of bloody’s transformation into an intensifier, bloody should have occurred in combination with cruel or some other synonymous item with significant frequency in the data. Unfortunately, it does not. However, corpus evidence shows that bloody had a remarkable tendency to co-occur (not collocate) with cruel. Here are a few examples: (27) Luther … reproveth his cruell and bloudy mynde. (1560 Daus) (OED) (28) Paul, … from a cruell and bloody enemy conuerted to a new man, with sodaine and vnhoped change. (Norton 1561) (OED) (29) The proud, cruell, and bloudy rage of the Catholique Seat. (1563 Foxe) (OED) (30) alas how soone is his great loue conuerted to cruell and/bloody hatred, I see this prouerbe is not used in vain, that (1579 Chettle) (LION)

This being the case, the hypothesis that the semantic feature [cruel] was a key factor in the functional shift of bloody in connection with ‘drunk’ cannot be easily dismissed. We might formulate the ‘cruelty hypothesis’ as follows. Bloody came to express the degree of inebriation because the phrase ‘bloody drunk’ was originally intended as ‘drunk and cruel, violent, merciless’, that is, ‘drunk to the point of becoming violent and cruel’ and eventually as ‘violently/cruelly drunk’ i.e., very, excessively drunk. In other words, the notions of cruelty and violence entailed that of excess. Now, if this was really the process, that is, if ‘cruel’ was the original meaning of bloody in ‘bloody drunk’, it should not be impossible to find cruel as a collocate of drunk. In fact, there is no instance of the phrase ‘cruel(ly) drunk’ in the data, although cruel was already an intensifier13 in the 16th century: (31) That cruell cald hes saillit him so soir. (1535 Stewart) (OED)

This absence bears on my hypothesis that the semantic feature [cruel] was hardly at the core of the association of bloody with drunkenness. Additional evidence of paramount importance on this is the fact that terrible – a synonym of cruel and bloody (32) and an intensifier since the turn of the 17th century according to the OED (33)– is also never found in collocation with drunk until the 19th century (according to evidence from LION). important’, etc. According to Lorenz’s data, when a lexical item achieves its intensifying effect by reduplicating the meaning of its collocate(s), it is too closely bound to its sub-modified collocate to be used independently of it and spread easily to other lexical items (i.e., adjectives) when de-lexicalised. Of course, this is not the case of bloody, which shows a steady increase in collocability through time. .  On the -ly morphological marking of adverbs derived from adjectives see Nevalainen (1997).

 Stefania Biscetti

(32) [Cr[_u]dus,] [a, um.] Raw, fresh, greene, or new made, not ripe, not digested: hard, fierce, cruell, terrible, bloodie. […] (1587 Thomas) (EMEDD) (33) The world is a Sea..terrible salt thorough sin. (1606 Gardiner) (OED)

The conclusion is that the notion of violence, cruelty and rage is not the main relevant cognitive area selected by drunkenness for expressing a high degree of inebriation. The question is what the relevant notion was. 5.2  Detestable drunkenness We can start by observing that horribly often collocated with drunk: (34) … drunke, horribly drunke, horribly drunke, there was a wench one Franke Frailty, a puncke, an honest pole-cat, … (1605 Marston) (LION) (35) … our Parson rails against Players mightily I can tell you, because they brought him drunk upo’th’Stage once,–as he will be horribly drunk. (1664 Anonymous) (LION)

It is quite an interesting fact that horrible/horribly, but not terrible/terribly, combined with drunk, given the semantic closeness of the two items. Various lexicographic sources consider them near-synonyms in reference to fear and dread: (36) Terrible: Exciting or fitted to excite terror; such as to inspire great fear or dread; frightful, dreadful.” (OED) Horrible: “Exciting or fitted to excite horror; tending to make one shudder; extremely repulsive to the senses or feelings; dreadful, hideous, shocking, frightful, awful.”(OED) (37) [Horr[. i]b[. i]lis,] [le.] Horrible, terrible, fearefull. (1587 Thomas T.) (EMEDD) (38) Terribile, terrible, dreadfull, horrible, gastly, cruell, fell, to be feared. (1598 Florio) (EMEDD)

The crucial point of divergence between terrible and horrible comes out from Palsgrave’s (1530) English-French Dictionary, where Fr. ‘terrible’ corresponds to E. ‘terrible’ or ‘fearfull’ (39), whereas Fr. ‘horrible’ equals E. ‘horrible’ and ‘execrable’ (40): (39) Terryble or fearfull ma. et fe. terrible s. (EMEDD) (40) Horryble ma. et fe. execrable s. ma. et fe. horrible s. (EMEDD)

It is clear that horrible had a strong evaluative force expressing moral contemptibility which terrible was lacking. In other words, while horrible expressed strong



The diachronic development of bloody 

negative ethical evaluation, terrible conveyed a strong negative aesthetic evaluation. Most significantly, moral execration, shamefulness and detestation are all found in reference to drunkenness in (41), and abominable – a synonym of horrible and detestable14 – premodifies drunk in (42): (41) An execration of Drunkennes, described with its shamefull, dangerous and detestable effects. (1621 Du Bartas) (LION) (42) Then being all abominable drunke, A Gallant drinkes (1630 Taylor) (LION)

These data tell us that the deplorable, socially sanctionable character of drunkenness15 tended to trigger the use of items expressing moral condemnation and reprobation. This indicates that [objectionable] was the pragmatic feature preferably selected by drunkenness. Indeed, horrible and abominable had this objectionable sense to a high degree, as did bloody. This sense comes out clearly from the co-occurrence of bloody and horrible (43)–(44), and, more generally, from the strong association of blood-shedding with horror and execration (45)–(47).16 Here are a few examples: (43) many horrible and bloodie enterprises. (1563 Rainolde) (LION) (44) Hee denies this horrible and bloody crime of his, with many oathes and asseuerations (1623 Reynolds) (LION) (45) You haue acted, certaine Murders here in Rome, /Bloody and full of horror (1622 Webster) (LION) (46) in detestation of these her execrable and bloody crymes of murther, pronounce sentence on her (1621 Reynolds) (LION) (47) Whereupon the Iudges, in horrour and execration of her inhumane and bloudy crime, pronounce sentence (1622 Reynolds) (LION)

5.3  Horribly drunk, bloody drunk In the light of this evidence, it is reasonable to hypothesise that bloody was recruited into the domain of degree and reinforcement because it belonged to the same .  Cf. Cotgrave (1611) “Abomination: [f.] [an abhomination, a detestation, a horrible, or execrable thing]” (EMEDD) .  Cf. Caxton (1474) “Dronkenshyp is the begynnyng of alle euylles”. (OED) .  It is worth noting the low frequency of occurrence of terrible (and terror) with bloody (and blood). Moreover, unlike horrible and bloody, terrible is never found in co-occurrence with execrable or detestable. This is further evidence that terrible did not have the ethic feature [objectionable], but only expressed aesthetic aversion/repulsion.

 Stefania Biscetti

conceptual domain as horrible, which was an intensifier as early as the 15th century (48): (48) By cause of the grete stone that was at his necke whiche was horryble hevy. (c1489 Caxton) (OED)

This recruitment occurred in connection with ‘drunk’ through the mechanism of selective binding (Paradis 2000), by which the meaning of a polysemous lexical item in context is largely determined by the lexical item it combines with. The negative connotation of the scalar item ‘drunk’ selected and fore-grounded the evaluative feature [objectionable] of bloody – normally back-grounded in favour of the referential, descriptive meanings ‘cruel’ and ‘pertaining to blood’ – while the scalarity of ‘drunk’ prompted a reinforcing function of bloody. In fact, it seems that the ‘selective binding’ qualifies more properly as ‘absolute binding’ for drunk and bloody, if we concede that the birth of bloody’s intensifying function is exclusively related to ‘drunk’. In other words, the feature [objectionable] is not enough to explain the taboo nature of bloody or to explain the strong bond between bloody and drunk, if horrible also possessed this feature but was never regarded as a socially inconvenient term. It was suggested above that bloody may have been a taboo word because of its possible blasphemous overtones. Therefore, for the hypothesis of absolute binding to be true, inebriation should have had the same sacrilegious character as bloody. This is evidenced by: (49) Drunkunsum men, vsurers, and who euer is contrari to þe doctrin, and to þe word of God, he is anticrist. (c1400) (OED)

The semantico/pragmatic shift was thus possibly: bloody drunk: ?drunk with God’s blood = > ?sacrilegiously/sinfully drunk = > execrably/horribly drunk, i.e., objectionably drunk. 5.4  Damnably drunk This hypothesis and the sacrilegious quality of drunkenness are also confirmed by the collocation of drunk with damn(ably) and cursed(ly), terms having the original religious meaning “deserving a curse, worthy of a curse” for some mortal sin or execrable deed/quality (cf. OED): (50) I was drunk; damnably drunk with ale. (1667 Dryden) (LION) (51) Why so thou art insufferably, cursedly drunk. (1663 Porter) (LION)

The religious connotation attached to these items makes them suitable to express extreme, hyperbolic execration: the feature [objectionable] becomes hyperbolically [sacrilegious]. Citations (50)–(51) above and (52)–(53) below (the latter showing the functional closeness of bloody to damned and cursed) suggest that



The diachronic development of bloody 

bloody had the same feature [sacrilegious] as damned and cursed and was likewise a hyperbolic means for reprobation: (52) He sortes me out a damned bloudie crew, /Of ruffians, swearers, murderers, and theeues, (1594 Anonymous) (LION) (53) Such cursed bloodie men Gods plague doth follow still; (1589 Dowriche) (LION)

6.  Grammaticalisation cline We can now move on to illustrate the peculiar grammaticalisation path of bloody. We are going to see how bloody followed neither the path of a number of items such as very, utterly, entirely, absolutely, nor that of a group of other items such as pretty, jolly, nice, fairly. 6.1  The grammaticalisation of bloody In his diachronic study on intensification Partington (1993: 181) shows how very, utterly, entirely and absolutely were originally manner adverbs used to comment on the truth of the matter under discussion or to vouch for the sincerity of one’s words: (54) The compyler here-of shuld translat veray so holy a story (1485)17 (55) You wyll utterly say unto me this proverbe (1539) (56) Noon oughte to swear absolutly for a thinge but that by his wne eyen he be sure and certeyn that it is soo (1489)

The data available on bloody suggest that this use was an unlikely starting point for the intensifying meaning of our item, as bloody was scarcely ever used for verb modification. Quote (57) is the only instance found of bloody functioning as a manner adverb with the sense ‘in a cruel, sanguinary manner’: (57) But he, not like a wearie traueilere, Their sharpe assault right bloudy did rebut, (1590) (MEMEM)

In the light of this type of evidence, the only viable alternative to this modal hypothesis seems to be the expressive/evaluative one, as argued in the etymological discussion above. In the phrase ‘bloody drunk’ (meaning ‘execrably drunk’) the function of bloody was to express the speaker’s negative evaluation on someone else’s drunkenness and its effects. As the negative effects of drunkenness are presumably proportional to .  Examples taken from Partington (1993: 181).

 Stefania Biscetti

the degree of drunkenness and this to the severity of the blame, bloody could be easily reanalyzed through metonymic transfer (see Traugott & König 1991) as an intensifier of ‘drunk’. The shift was from ‘worthy of extreme blame and execration for being excessively drunk’ to ‘excessively drunk’. Here is a likely grammaticalisation cline: Stage 1. the semantics of bloody is enriched with the semantic feature [sacrilegious] in connection with drunk; Stage 2. s infulness/sacrilege is subjectively associated with extreme negative (moral) evaluation; Stage 3. t he notion of extremity or excess is fore-grounded, prompting an intensifying reading, the semantic feature [negative] and the pragmatic feature [evaluative] are preserved; Stage 4. t he semantic feature [negative] is weakened and progressively back-grounded. Thus, synthetically, we have: descriptive adjective (cruel, merciless) > ?semantic enrichment with the feature [sacrilegious] > evaluative adjective (extremely objectionable/objectionable to an extreme degree) > intensifier. To enlarge the gap between bloody and the group of intensifiers studied by Partington further is the divergent outcome of the grammaticalisation process in terms of syntactic bondedness. While very, extremely, absolutely, etc. followed the natural tendency of grammaticalised items in losing their syntactic freedom and reducing syntactic range18 of collocability range via a process associated with semantic bleaching, bloody has instead increased its syntactic freedom and range notwithstanding its complete semantic depletion. This is illustrated by the following citations: (58) Faith and troth, you were bloody angry. Ibid. III. i. 38 She took it bloody ill of him. (1693 Southerne) (OED) (59) Liza: Walk! Not bloody likely. (Sensation). I am going in a taxi. (1914 Shaw) (OED) (60) Half bloody dead … stoney bloody broke … like any-bloody-thing … a handy-bloody-cap … hoorah! Hoo-bloody-rah! (1923 Manchon) (OED) (61) You bloody know you didn’t (1953) (OED)

.  For example, extremely (now almost exclusively occurring in premodifying position) used to occur both before and after the verb it modified (greater syntactic freedom), and before nouns and prepositional phrases (wider syntactic range) (see Partington 1993: 190).



The diachronic development of bloody 

From pre-modification of adverbs and of adjectives (both in attributive and predicative position) bloody has come to modify phrases (such as “Not likely”), to be used in tmesis (60) and as a verb modifier in pre-verbal position19 (61). It is true however that bloody is only found in pre-modifying position. Increased syntactic freedom is not unusual in grammaticalisation processes, but it usually involves an increase in structural scope. In Lehman’s (1995: 165) words, “The syntagmatic variability of an item can increase only if its structural scope likewise increases.” The idiosyncrasy of bloody consists precisely in that increased syntactic mobility has not affected its structural scope, either increasing or decreasing it,20 for neither has bloody widened its scope becoming a disjunct, nor has it undergone phonological reduction and morphologisation. Rather than its structural scope, bloody appears to have widened its pragmatic scope, since the semantic intensification it may determine in any pre-modified lexical item is usually subsidiary to the upgrading of the pragmatic force of the whole utterance where it appears (Biscetti 2004). This means that bloody has made a step forward along the grammaticalisation cline, which can be formulated as follows: Stage 5 (pragmaticalisation): semantic intensification gives way to illocutionary strengthening, the stable semantic feature [negative] is lost and the pragmatic feature [evaluative] preserved. Bloody becomes a focus marker. The cline is therefore: descriptive adjective (cruel, merciless) > evaluative adjective (extremely objectionable/objectionable to an extreme degree) > intensifier > focus marker. This last phase may be identified with the fairly recent use of bloody in tmesis (60) and as a verb modifier (exemplified by (61)), where this pragmatic richness is especially clear. 6.2  Unusual grammaticalisation process for bloody This pragmatic status of focaliser explains why bloody does not necessarily carry its descriptive sense of “covered, smeared with blood” (OED) when appearing before a noun (e.g., “a long bloody road”), as claimed instead by Adamson (2000). In this sense, bloody is different from a number of items such as good, nice, dirty, jolly, pretty and lovely, which can function both as adjectives (as in “long

.  Bloody has never occurred in post-verbal position. This supports the claim that its intensifying use does not descend from that of manner adverb. .  Reduced scope is frequently associated with grammaticalisation (see Lehmann 1995).

 Stefania Biscetti

good road”) and intensifiers (as in “good long road”), and which retain their descriptive sense in the adjectival function (Adamson 2000). Adamson (2000) includes bloody in this group of adjectives which developed their intensifying function from an evaluative one. She argues (2000: 55) that the shift from descriptive to evaluative adjective prompted a syntactic shift of these items to the left periphery of an adjectival string before a noun (leftmost position being the unmarked position of speaker-oriented adjectives) and this syntactic shift to the left prompted a categorial reanalysis from adjective to intensifier. However, the data available on bloody seem to suggest that bloody does not quite conform to this pattern of change. In the quotes below21 an evaluative meaning of bloody does not seem to stand out clearly despite its left-external syntagmatic position; indeed it seems to clearly retain the preponderant descriptive sense ‘sanguinary’: (62) and if you leaue her now, you take it on, Nay you incurre a bloody mortall sinne, You do become an actuall murtherer. If you neglect her, she will kill her selfe This night, by poyson, knife, or other meanes, […] (1612 Field) (LION) (63) Indulgence: Out vpon that bloody butcherly weapon. What a base thing it is, that a man should bee arm’d against children? What naturall Mother can suffer her owne flesh and blood to bee torne by these blacke gown’d Canibals? He that rancheth the flesh of my child; had as good kisse–(1627 Hawkins) (LION) (64)

If I have sought or lov’d my Kingdomes woes, Nor did my studies faithfully employ, These bloody wild distractions to compose Then let thy hand my fathers house destroy. (1657 Stanley) (LION)

(65)

Tis time to punish, Not to deplore, in such a fatall fortune Expresse thy grief by bloody brave effects Of rage and courage, vain regrets, and sighs Suit with my sex, revenge belongs to thee … (1661 Lower) (LION)

(66)

Then let each Crittick here, all Hell inherit, You have attractions that can lay a Spirit. A bloody fatal Play you’l see to night, I vow to Gad, ‘thas put me in a fright. (1675 Lee) (LION)

With the evaluative meaning not so evident even in the left-hand external syntactic position, the hypothesis that categorial reanalysis of bloody as an intensifier was triggered by syntagmatic position appears unlikely. .  These quotes shortly precede the year when the shift of the adjective bloody to intensifier is first attested (1676).



The diachronic development of bloody 

7.  Conclusions The aim of this paper was to outline the history of the highly idiosyncratic lexical item bloody (which stands out as a non-prototypical member of the category of intensifiers) and to propose a new etymological account for the origin of its intensifying meaning. Investigation of a large database of electronic sources led to rejection of current etymological hypotheses as implausible and enabled us to single out a possible socio-historical background in which bloody became a taboo word and an intensifier. My proposal was that bloody, which first appears as an intensifier in the 17th century in the collocation ‘bloody drunk’, may have acquired its distinctive taboo character from the same phrase ‘bloody drunk’ which could have been used sacrilegiously at the time of the Reformation with the meaning ‘drunk with Christ’s blood’ (i.e., with consecrated (red) wine), in allusion to the Catholic dogma of transubstantiation. My hypothesis is based on the evidence that bloody makes its first appearance as an intensifier in combination with drunk, on the evidence of its taboo quality (which other hypotheses fail to explain), and on the inconsistency of other etymological hypotheses. In contrast to Partridge (1933); Weekly (1967) and Montagu (1967), who suggest that the adverbial bloody became offensive to educated people only from about mid 18th century, my hypothesis is that bloody acquired a taboo quality at an early stage and never lost it, and that its presence in written records was subject to the alternate vicissitudes of censorship, which was especially concerned with religious and political matters (cf. Crocheron Gildersleeve 1908). It is perhaps significant that the earliest record of the “vulgar” (Weekly 1967: 166) bloody drunk dates back to the Restoration, when the stage enjoyed its greatest freedom of expression in history in reaction to Puritan censorship, and “practically nothing by way of swearing was prohibited” (Montagu 1967: 173). It may also be no chance that the seeming decline of the adverb bloody in the second half of the 18th century22 coincides with the Parliamentary enactment of “the most stringent of the statutes designed to put an end to ‘the offence of profane and common swearing and cursing.’ ”23 This act was issued in a socio-historical context in which swearing “was considered an ornament” (Montagu 1967: 213) in comedies. If so, the

.  There are no records of bloody (adv.) in the OED for the period 1754–1800. .  “This Act (19 Geo. II. c. 21) was discussed by Sir William Blackstone in his Commentaries on the Laws of England (1765–1769).” (Montagu 1967: 213).

 Stefania Biscetti

fact that in 1711 Swift could write that it was “bloody hot walking today” in a letter to Stella, or that in 1742 Richardson says of a character in Pamela “he is bloody passionate” cannot properly be used as clear evidence that bloody was perfectly “respectable”24 (Partridge 1933: 81; Montagu 1967: 243) up to the middle of the 18th century. As a matter of fact, a different reading of Swift’s “bloody hot” is given by Hughes (1991). Considering Swift’s propensity for ‘bad’ language,25 Hughes argues that in this private context of a personal letter the satirist was “using bloody as the coarse intensive of the times” (1991: 144). The shift ‘adjective > intensifier’ was determined by the evaluative feature [objectionable] which bloody shared with the adjective horrible, a collocate of drunk and already an intensifier. In other words, bloody became an intensifier because it belonged to the same conceptual domain as horrible, that of moral negative evaluation. The change from descriptive to evaluative adjective was determined by the process of ‘selective binding’, or rather, ‘absolute binding’, whereby drunk selected and foregrounded the pragmatic features [objectionable] and [sacrilegious] of bloody. The distribution of bloody also showed that our item underwent a different historical development from that of a number of other intensifiers such as very, extremely, utterly, entirely, absolutely. Unlike these, bloody did not develop its intensifying function from a modal one. Moreover, while these items lost their independent lexical content of modality and reduced their syntagmatic variability via a process associated with ‘semantic bleaching’, this same process did not yield syntactic rigidity for bloody. In fact, bloody has acquired greater syntactic flexibility through time. Nevertheless, increased syntactic mobility has not involved an increase in structural scope. Instead, the history of bloody is marked by an increase in pragmatic scope, and its evolution as a focus marker. As an effect of pragmaticalisation and complete semantic bleaching, bloody is the intensifier with the widest collocational range, even wider than that of very, which might well be considered an “all-purpose” amplifier (Partington 1993), but which, unlike bloody, is limited in use by some semantic constraints (Biscetti 2004). Its unique pragmatic status of focus marker among intensifiers explains why bloody does not always preserve its descriptive meaning when used as an adjective (as claimed instead in Adamson (2000)). In this, it differs from another set of

.  It is to be noted that Weekley (1967: 165) seems to contradict himself when he qualifies as “vulgar” the use of bloody in the phrase ‘bloody drunk’ while invoking the quotation from Swift to show that bloody was “not originally offensive” a few lines below. .  Swift resuscitated the four-letter terms.



The diachronic development of bloody 

intensifiers such as good, nice, dirty, jolly, pretty and lovely, which, like bloody, developed their intensifying function from an adjectival one, but which, unlike bloody, became intensifiers through a syntagmatically motivated process of reanalysis.

References Primary sources CED = A Corpus of English Dialogues 1560–1760. 2006. Compiled under the supervision of Merja Kytö (Uppsala University) and Jonathan Culpeper (Lancaster University). EMEDD = Early Modern English Dictionaries Database. At <www.chass.utoronto.ca/english/ emed/ EMEDD .html>. Foxe, John (1563, 1570, 1576, 1583) Acts and Monuments […]. The Variorum Edition. At <www. hrionline.ac.uk/johnfoxe/>. Grose, Francis (1811) [1785] Dictionary of the Vulgar Tongue. London: Chappel. At <www. gutenberg.org>. Helsinki Corpus of English Texts (750–1710). 1999. ICAME corpus collection on CD Rom. LION = Chadwyck-Healey Literature Online. At . Marston, John. 1965 [1606]. The Fawn ed. by Gerald A. Smith. London: Edward Arnold. MEMEM = Michigan Early Modern English Materials. 1975. Compiled by Richard W. Bailey, Jay L. Robinson, James W. Downer & Patricia V. Lehman. At . ODEE = The Oxford Dictionary of English Etymology. 1966. Edited by C.T. Onions. Oxford: Clarendon Press. OED = The Oxford English Dictionary. 2nd edition, 1989. Prepared by J.A. Simpson & E.S.C. Weiner. Oxford: Clarendon Press. At <www.oed.com>. Tacitus, Publius Cornelius. AD 109. The Annals. Translated by Alfred John Church & William Jackson Brodribb. At . The Textbase of Early Tudor English. At <www.hlm.co.nz/tudortexts>.

Secondary sources Adamson, Sylvia. 2000. A lovely little example. Word order options and category shift in the premodifying string. Pathways of Change. Grammaticalization in English ed. by Olga Fischer, Annette Rosenbach & Dieter Stein, 39–66. Amsterdam & Philadelphia: John Benjamins. Biscetti, Stefania. 2004. Using corpus techniques to study pragmatic meaning: The case of bloody. Corpora and Discourse ed. by Alan Partington, John Morley & Louann Haarman, 285–301. Bern: Peter Lang. Cole, Mark B. 2006. ‘Getting to the bottom’ of drink: Recent approaches to alcohol in early modern European historiography. At <web.clas.ufl.edu/users/louthan/Courses/Ref-Grad>. Crocheron Gildersleeve, Virginia. 1908. Government Regulation of the Elizabethan Drama. New York: The Columbia University Press. Hillerbrand, Hans, ed. 1996. The Oxford Encyclopedia of the Reformation, 4 Vols. Oxford: Oxford University Press.

 Stefania Biscetti Hughes, Geoffrey. 1991. Swearing. A Social History of Foul Language, Oaths and Profanity in English. Oxford: Blackwell. Jespersen, Otto. 1961. A Modern English Grammar on Historical Principles. London: Allen & Unwin. Lehmann, Christian. 1995. Thoughts on Grammaticalization. Munich: Lincom Europa. Lorenz, Gunter. 2002. Really Worthwhile or not Really Significant? A corpus-based approach to the delexicalization and grammaticalization of intensifiers in modern English. New Reflections on Grammaticalization ed. by Ilse Wischer & Gabriele Diewald, 143–161. Amsterdam & Philadelphia: John Benjamins. Martin, Lynn. 2003. Alcohol and the clergy in traditional Europe. History has Many Voices ed. by Lee Palmer Wandel. Kirksville, Mo.: Truman State University Press. Montagu, Ashley. 1967. The Anatomy of Swearing. New York: The Macmillan Company. Nevalainen, Terttu. 1997. The processes of adverb derivation in Late Middle and Early Modern English. Grammaticalization at Work. Studies of Long-term Developments in English ed. by Matti Rissanen, Merja Kytö & Kirsi Heikkonen, 145–189. Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter. Paradis, Carita. 2000. Reinforcing adjectives: A cognitive semantic perspective on grammaticalization. Generative Theory and Corpus Studies ed. by Ricardo Bermúdez-Otero et al., 233–258. Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter. Partington, Alan. 1993. Corpus evidence of language change: The case of the intensifier. Text and Technology. In Honour of John Sinclair ed. by Mona Baker, Gill Francis & Elena Tognini Bonelli, 177–192. Amsterdam & Philadelphia: John Benjamins. Partridge, Eric. 1933. Words, Words, Words. London: Methuen. Quirk, Randolph, Sidney Greenbaum, Geoffrey Leech & Jan Svartvik. 1994 [1985]. A Comprehensive Grammar of the English Language, 2nd ed. London: Longman. Robson, Lynn. 2004. The ‘bloody Papist’: Murder, Papists and propaganda in early modern prose murder pamphlets. Renaissance Journal 2:1. At <www2.warwick.ac.uk/fac/arts/ren/projects/publications/journal/nine/>. Spode, Hasso. 1991. Alkohol und Zivilisation: Berauschung Ernüchterung, und Tischsitten in Deutschalnd bis zum Beginn des 20. Jahrhundert. Berlin: Tara. Traugott, Elizabeth Closs & Ekkehard König. 1991. The semantics-pragmatics of grammaticalization revisited. Approaches to Grammaticalization ed. by Elizabeth Closs Traugott & Bernd Heine, Vol. 1, 189–218. Amsterdam & Philadelphia: John Benjamins. Weekley, Ernest. 1967. An Etymological Dictionary of Modern English, 2 vols. New York: Dover.

Variation and change in the writings of 17th century scientists Lilo Moessner

University of Aachen The paper investigates changes of the genre ‘science’ in the 17th century. The method of multidimensional analysis applied to two texts of the first and to four texts of the second half of the 17th century stops a methodological and a chronological gap. On the dimensions ‘narrative vs non-narrative concerns’ and ‘overt expression of persuasion’, hypotheses of earlier studies about later developments are supplemented, on the dimension ‘abstract vs non-abstract style’, earlier hypotheses are supported, and on the dimensions ‘involved vs informational production’ and ‘elaborate vs situation-dependent reference’, earlier hypotheses about developments between the second half of the 16th and the second half of the 17th century are refuted. A complementary text type analysis reveals that the science texts of the corpus represent the two text types ‘involved topical argumentation’ and ‘producer-oriented narrative’. The former predominates in the first, the latter in the second half of the 17th century.

1.  Introduction The 17th century was a crucial period in the development of the natural sciences. New inventions and discoveries, but especially the new approach to the investigation of natural phenomena went hand in hand with changes of the genre properties of science texts. In this study I will investigate the direction of these changes through the analysis of six texts from the first and the second half of the 17th century. The results will be integrated into the broader frame-work of changes of the genre ‘science’ between the 15th and the 20th century. In a complementary text type analysis I will demonstrate that the texts of my corpus belong to two different text types; they will be labelled ‘involved topical argumentation’ and ‘producer-oriented narrative’. The unorthodox linguistic structure of two texts of the corpus, however, calls into question any hypothesis of a straightforward correlation between the production time of the texts and their

 Lilo Moessner

text type membership. It supports instead the interpretation of the text types as prototypical categories, which allow a fair degree of variation. After a review of previous research on scientific writing (Section 2), I will describe my corpus and research method (Section 3). A detailed text analysis will be provided in Section 4. Changes of genre properties will be traced in the first part, the identification of text types and their distribution across the texts of my corpus is the object of the second part. The main findings of the study will be summarised and some conclusions will be drawn from them in Section 5. 2.  Previous research on the linguistic structure of science texts Studies which deal with science texts of the 17th century and/or include diachronic aspects are of two types. They either focus on special grammatical features (Gotti 1996, 2001, 2003, 2005; Halliday 1988; Moessner 2004, 2006; Taavitsainen 1994a, 1994b, 2002; Taavitsainen & Pahta 1995), or they use the framework of multidimensional analysis, which was established by Biber in 1988 for PDE texts (Atkinson 1996, 1999; Biber 2001; Biber & Finegan 1997; González-Álvarez & Pérez-Guerra 1998). The descriptions of the changing properties of the genre/register ‘science’ between the second half of the 17th and the 20th centuries by Atkinson (1996, 1999) and Biber & Finegan (1997) are based on extracts from the Philosophical Transactions of the Royal Society between 1675 and 1975. González-Álvarez & Pérez-Guerra (1998) analysed genre changes between the beginning of the 15th and the middle of the 16th century. Three of their texts were taken from the category ‘science’ in the EModE part of the Helsinki Corpus of English Texts and another one from the corpus of Middle English Medical Texts. From these studies it can be inferred that the genre ‘science’ underwent significant changes from ME to PDE on all dimensions of variation. On the dimension ‘involved vs informational production’ (= D1), science texts became more involved from the first half of the 15th to the second half of the 17th century (González-Álvarez & Pérez-Guerra 1998) and more informational from the second half of the 17th century onwards (Atkinson 1996, 1999; Biber & Finegan 1997). On the dimension ‘narrative vs non-narrative concerns’ (= D2), they became less narrative from the second half of the 17th century onwards (Akinson, Biber & Finegan). On the dimension ‘elaborate vs situation-dependent reference’ (= D3), they became less elaborate between the first half of the 15th and the second half of the 17th century (González-Álvarez & Pérez-Guerra) and more elaborate afterwards (Atkinson, Biber & Finegan). Only Atkinson studied the development



Variation and change in the writings of 17th century scientists 

on the dimension ‘overt expression of persuasion’ (= D4), and he established a “clear evolution toward a ‘nonpersuasive’ norm” (1999: 124) for the period after 1675. On the dimension ‘abstract vs non-abstract style’ (= D5), science texts underwent a unidirectional development from less to more abstract from the first half of the 15th to the second half of the 20th century (González-Álvarez & Pérez-Guerra; Atkinson, Biber & Finegan). So far, texts from the first half of the 17th century have not been included in multidimensional analyses at all, and those of the second half of the 17th century are short excerpts from a journal, the Philosophical Transactions of the Royal Society.1 The present study is a first attempt at filling this methodological and chronological gap. The list of linguistic features investigated in 17th century scientific texts is long and varied. They include: first and second person pronouns (Taavitsainen 1994a, 2002; Taavitsainen & Pahta 1995), stance adverbs (Taavitsainen 1994b; Taavitsainen & Pahta 1995), modal expressions (Gotti 2001, 2003, 2005; Taavitsainen 1994b; Taavitsainen & Pahta 1995), nominalisations and complex noun phrases (Halliday 1988), hedges (Gotti 2001, 2003, 2005). Since apart from Taavitsainen (1994a) no quantitative data are given, some observations are difficult to assess, e.g., Halliday (1988: 166) notes with reference to Newton’s Treatise on Opticks that “descriptions often come in the passive”, whereas Gotti (2003 and 2005: 236) states that “the voice commonly used in experimental essays is active”. Gotti’s claim is supported by quantitative data in my own previous studies (Moessner 2004: 136, 2006: 70). Changes happening between the 16th and the 17th century or the first and the second half of the 17th century include the replacement of speech act verbs of reporting by verbs of observation (Taavitsainen 2002), and decreasing frequencies of be as main verb and of modal auxiliaries as well as an increase of past verb forms (Moessner 2006). Observations like these have led researchers to claim that the “birth of scientific English” dates from the second half of the 17th century (Halliday 1988: 166), and that this period was characterised by a “general trend from impersonal to a more subjective and author-centred way of writing” (Taavitsainen 2002: 219). In the text type analysis part of this study I will argue more modestly that scientific texts of the 17th century can be attributed to one of two major text types, but that some of them are core members of their respective text types, whereas others occupy positions at their peripheries.

.  The corpus used in Biber & Finegan (1997) [=ARCHER] contains around 20,000 words from the 17th century, Atkinson’s around 35,000 words.

 Lilo Moessner

3.  Corpus and research method My corpus contains the following six texts, of which the first two date from the first and the remaining four from the second half of the 17th century:

(1) William Barlow: Magneticall Aduertisements: or Divers Pertinent obseruations, and approued experiments concerning the nature and properties of the Load-stone (1616) (= Barlow)



(2) Gabriel Plattes: A Discovery of Subterraneall Treasure (1639) (= Plattes)



(3) Robert Hooke: An Attempt for the Explication of the Phænomena, Observable in an Experiment Published by the Honourable Robert Boyle (1661) (= Hooke1)



(4) Henry Power: Experimental Philosophy. In Three Books. Containing New Experiments Microscopical, Mercurial, Magnetical. With some Deductions and probable Hypotheses raised from them, in Avouchment and Illustration of the now famous Atomical Hypothesis. (1664) (= Power)



(5) Robert Hooke: Micrographia (1665) (= Hooke2)



(6) Robert Boyle: Continuation of new Experiments Physico-mechanical, touching the Spring and Weight of the Air, and their Effects (1669) (= Boyle)

Robert Boyle (1627–1691), Robert Hooke (1635–1703), and Henry Power (1623– 1668) represent scientific writing in the second half of the 17th century. All three authors were renowned members of the Royal Society. Boyle’s fame rests on his discoveries of the properties of air (Boyle-Mariotte Law). Hooke’s most important publication has the title Micrographia; it is a collection of descriptions of “minute bodies”, as its sub-title explains. Although Power published only one book, his active involvement in the promotion of the natural sciences is attested in many written contributions which exist only as manuscripts (MSS Sloane 1326, 1380, 4022, etc.). The two authors, whose works were published in the first half of the 17th century, William Barlow (?–1625) and Gabriel Plattes (fl. 1638), are far less well-known. Yet both, though living in very modest circumstances, wrote several books (Barlow on matters of navigation, and Plattes on agriculture). Electronic text files were produced from the original texts, which are accessible as microfilms, pdf-files via Early English Books Online or facsimile editions. The extracts from Hooke’s Micrographia (= Hooke2) were taken over from the Helsinki Corpus. Plattes and Hooke1 are complete texts, whereas Barlow, Power and Boyle are extracts from the beginning of the corresponding bigger works. The complete corpus contains 73,835 words. Its structure is mapped in Table 1. The research method adopted here follows the principles of multidimensional analysis. It assumes that clusters of co-occurring linguistic features reflect shared communicative functions. The feature clusters are produced automatically through



Variation and change in the writings of 17th century scientists 

Table 1.  The structure of the corpus Text

Barlow

Plattes

Hooke1

Power

Hooke2

Boyle

Total

Size

15,615

10,831

10,392

15,606

6,153

15,238

73,835

factor analysis. Following Biber’s (1988) decision to interpret the first five factors in terms of communicative functions, it has become customary to take over the same five dimensions of variation for studies of other texts as well. This model was adopted here, too.2 Since genres are mainly defined via their communicative function, it follows that the texts which belong to the same genre are characterised by similar frequencies of linguistic features on each of the five dimensions. When the dimensions are represented by scales, texts of the same genre occupy similar positions on these scales, and genre changes will result in positional changes on the scales. Conversely, positional changes can be interpreted as genre changes. In the original version of multidimensional analysis, which was established for the analysis of PDE texts (Biber 1988), 67 linguistic features were considered. For the present study this number had to be reduced considerably for several reasons. For some features (e.g., place and time adverbials, conjuncts, downtoners, hedges, amplifiers, etc.) the 17th century inventories are different from their PDE counterparts, and the necessary lists have not yet been compiled. The inventories of some other features are the same, but the individual elements have different functions, e.g., the PDE style distinction between the relative marker that and the wh-relative pronouns was not yet established in the 17th century. Therefore it would not have been appropriate to treat wh-relative constructions as a feature of one and that-relative constructions of another dimension as Biber did in his PDE analysis. Finally the choice of features was also subject to practical constraints; although the corpus is untagged, the features should at least partially be automatically recoverable. Care was taken that each dimension was characterised by at least three features. On the basis of their domain and their communicative functions the texts of my corpus can be identified as members of the genre ‘science’. The necessary genre identification competence, which for modern languages is attributed to mature native speakers, is claimed for the philologist here (cf. Diller 2001: 26f.). In contrast, their membership of a particular text type cannot be established a priori,

.  A separate factor analysis was not attempted, because it would have made a comparison of the results obtained in Atkinson (1996, 1999), Biber & Finegan (1997) and González-Álvarez & PérezGuerra (1998) with those of the present study impossible.

 Lilo Moessner

since it is determined by their salient linguistic features. For PDE, Biber (1989: 13–38) identified eight text types by means of cluster analysis. The identification of the text types to which the texts of the present corpus can be assigned will follow similar lines. As genres are defined by extralinguistic and text types by linguistic features, there is basically a many-to-many relation between the two categories. Consequently, the texts of one genre need not belong to one text type only. This is particularly the case when genres contain several subgenres and are therefore not very homogeneous. Heterogeneity is also a property of genres in the process of change. Since it is assumed that the genre ‘science’ changed during the 17th century, it can be expected that these changes also manifest themselves in different text type constellations. 4.  Analysis 4.1  Changes of the genre ‘science’ In the following paragraphs, the relative positions of the corpus texts on the five dimensions will be established via the frequencies of co-occurring linguistic features. Through comparisons with results achieved in previous research (cf. Section 3), conclusions will be drawn concerning changes of the genre ‘science’. 4.1.1  Dimension 1: Involved vs informational production The following 7 features were considered: present tense verb, second person pronoun, first person pronoun, the neutral pronoun it, be as main verb, causative subordination (= adverbial clauses introduced by the conjunction because), and possibility modal (= can, could, may, might). In Table 2 the normalised frequencies (per 1,000 words) are given for each text. The texts are arranged in chronological order from left to right. Table 2.  Normalised frequencies of the features on dimension 1 present tense verb 2nd person pronoun 1st person pronoun pronoun it main verb be causative subordination possibility modal

Barlow

Plattes

Hooke1

Power

Hooke2

Boyle

41.11 9.73 3.39 20.62 18.95 1.66 5.89

34.25 8.77 11.35 25.66 17.08 0.83 10.34

31.17 4.13 18.76 18.95 14.62 0.96 11.35

33.83 9.99 14.67 19.15 12.68 1.98 5.95

39.49 1.30 19.99 22.42 18.03 0.16 7.31

18.63 1.05 24.28 16.40 13.32 1.57 8.13



Variation and change in the writings of 17th century scientists 

High frequencies indicate a high degree of involvement. The figures for the individual texts are difficult to interpret, because they do not reveal a clear chronological development. The difference between the early texts (= Barlow, Plattes) and those produced in the second half of the 17th century (= Hooke1, Power, Hooke2, Boyle) can be seen more clearly in Table 3, which contrasts the two sets of texts. Table 3.  Normalised frequencies of the features on dimension 1 (early vs late texts) present tense verb 2nd person pronoun 1st person pronoun pronoun it main verb be causative subordination possibility modal

Early texts

Late texts

37.68 9.25 7.37 23.14 18.01 1.24 8.11

30.78 4.11 19.42 19.23 14.66 1.16 8.18

González-Álvarez & Pérez-Guerra’s claim (1998: 330) that the genre science became more involved between the second half of the 16th and the second half of the 17th century3 is supported only by the values of the features first person pronoun and possibility modal, the frequency of the latter increasing only by 0.07. All other features actually show decreasing frequencies, and this has to be interpreted as a development towards less involvement. This hypothesis is clearly supported by a comparison of the ‘genre dimension scores’4 of the sub-corpora of the first and the second half of the 17th century: +7.06 vs −0.68. The same development is claimed in Atkinson (1996, 1999) and in Biber & Finegan (1997) for the period after the 17th century. Consequently, it seems that the turningpoint from more to less involvement was not in the second, but in the first half of the 17th century. 4.1.2  Dimension 2: Narrative vs non-narrative concerns The frequencies of the following three features were counted: past tense verb, perfect aspect verb, third person pronoun. The normalised frequencies for the individual texts and for the two sets of texts are given in Tables 4 and 5.

.  All their claims about developments between the second half of the 16th and the second half of the 17th century are derived from a comparison between the genre dimension scores of their 16th century texts and those calculated by Atkinson for his texts of the second half of the 17th century. .  For the calculation of genre dimension scores or mean factor scores cf. Biber (1988: 93–97).

 Lilo Moessner

Table 4.  Normalised frequencies of the features on dimension 2 (individual texts) past tense verb perfect aspect verb 3rd person pronoun

Barlow

Plattes

Hooke1

Power

Hooke2

Boyle

6.85 2.11 12.80

11.44 3.23 9.87

11.93 1.82 9.62

16.27 3.07 6.47

19.82 6.33 12.02

33.07 6.95 6.30

Table 5.  Normalised frequencies of the features on dimension 2 (early vs late texts) past tense verb perfect aspect verb 3rd person pronoun

Early texts

Late texts

9.14 2.67 11.33

20.22 4.54 8.60

High frequency values of all features are interpreted as a high degree of narrativity. Atkinson’s (1996, 1999) and Biber & Finegan’s (1997: 271) claim of a decreasing degree of narrativity is supported in my corpus only with respect to the feature third person pronoun; only Hooke2 deviates here from the common trend. The remaining two features point in the other direction; a clear development becomes obvious when not individual texts, but the sets of early and late texts are compared. The figures of Table 5 and the corresponding genre dimension scores of −2.98 and +0.33 respectively warrant the conclusion that the tendency towards a lower degree of narrativity set in only after the 17th century. This claim finds support in Gotti’s statement (2006: 65): “[T]he basic narrative structure of early scientific experimental accounts was retained into the 19th century.” 4.1.3  Dimension 3: Elaborate vs situation-dependent reference On this dimension only Biber’s ‘negative’ features, i.e., those marking elaborate reference (cf. Biber & Finegan 1997: 258) were counted. These are different forms of relative clauses. For the reasons mentioned before (Section 3) no distinction was made between relative clauses introduced by that and those introduced by a wh-pronoun, and zero-introduced relative clauses were not included. The features are determined by the function of the relative marker. Tables 6 and 7 contain the normalised frequencies. Table 6.  Normalised frequencies of the features on dimension 3 (individual texts) rel. marker subject rel. marker object pied piping constr.

Barlow

Plattes

Hooke1

Power

Hooke2

Boyle

6.29 1.78 2.16

6.09 1.56 2.76

8.27 1.15 4.42

7.62 1.28 2.56

11.37 1.62 5.20

7.54 2.23 3.54



Variation and change in the writings of 17th century scientists 

Table 7.  Normalised frequencies of the features on dimension 3 (early vs late texts)

Early texts

rel. marker subject rel. marker object pied piping constr.

Late texts

6.19 1.67 2.46

8.70 1.57 3.93

González-Álvarez & Pérez-Guerra’s claim (1998: 333–35) that science texts became less elaborate between the second half of the 16th and the second half of the 17th century is supported in my corpus only by the frequency development of relative clauses with a relative marker functioning as object. A clear development in the opposite direction, i.e., towards more elaborate reference, is witnessed by the other two features. They as well as the genre dimension scores of −13.71 and +0.82 for the early and the late texts respectively are in line with Atkinson’s (1996, 1999) and Biber & Finegan’s (1997) results for the development after the 17th century. Therefore it is more adequate to hypothesise that the turning-point of the development from less to more elaborateness was in the first, not in the second half of the 17th century. 4.1.4  Dimension 4: Overt expression of persuasion On this dimension the following three features were considered: prediction modal (= will, would, shall), conditional subordination (= adverbial clauses introduced by the conjunctions if or unless), and necessity modal (= should, must). The results are entered in Tables 8 and 9. High frequency values are interpreted as overt expression of persuasion. Even if the frequencies of the individual texts do not indicate a linear development along the time axis, the comparison of the figures of the early and the late texts Table 8.  Normalised frequencies of the features on dimension 4 (individual texts) prediction modal condit. subordination necessity modal

Barlow

Plattes

Hooke1

Power

Hooke2

Boyle

13.25 7.68 2.49

9.69 6.09 3.41

13.27 3.65 1.63

11.34 3.97 2.37

4.87 1.78 2.11

6.43 3.34 2.62

Table 9.  Normalised frequencies of the features on dimension 4 (early vs late texts) prediction modal conditional subordination necessity modal

Early texts

Late texts

11.47 6.88 2.95

8.97 3.18 2.18

 Lilo Moessner

shows that the development of all features investigated supports the claim set up by Atkinson for the period after the 17th century. The same development is reflected by the genre dimension scores: +3.64 vs −2.08. On the basis of these results, it can now be additionally claimed that the linear development of scientific texts from more to less overt persuasion started already in the first half of the17th century. 4.1.5  Dimension 5: Abstract vs non-abstract style The following three features were considered on this dimension: passive,5 past participle WHIZ deletion (= past participle constructions as postmodifiers of nouns), other adverbial subordination (= adverbial clauses introduced by conjunctions other than because, if, or unless). Tables 10 and 11 contain the respective frequencies. Table 10.  Normalised frequencies of the features on dimension 5 (individual texts) passive past part. WHIZ deletion other adv. subordination

Barlow

Plattes

Hooke1

Power

Hooke2

Boyle

9.22 2.49 3.84

16.61 5.07 4.89

16.35 3.75 2.98

8.84 3.71 5.38

10.07 5.03 3.73

16.53 5.77 8.00

Table 11.  Normalised frequencies of the features on dimension 5 (early vs late texts) passive past part. WHIZ deletion other adv. subordination

Early texts

Late texts

12.91 3.78 4.36

12.94 4.56 5.02

High frequency values indicate a high degree of abstractness. My results support González-Álvarez & Pérez-Guerra’s claim (1998: 335f.) that science texts underwent a development from a less to a more abstract style between the second half of the 16th and the second half of the 17th century. My figures also show that the linguistic structure of science texts from the first half of the 17th century neatly fits into this development. The genre dimension score changes from −0.88 in the first to +0.36 in the second half of the century. When we add Atkinson’s (1996, 1999) and Biber & Finegan’s (1997: 268) findings of an increasing abstractness of science texts after the 17th century, a unidirectional development from a less to a more abstract style emerges from the first half of the 15th to the end of the 19th or the beginning of the 20th century. .  Here, too, Biber’s features ‘agentless passive’ and ‘by-passive’ were conflated into a single feature.



Variation and change in the writings of 17th century scientists 

4.2  Text types The text type analysis carried out here is less sophisticated than Biber’s, because I do not yet have access to the necessary statistical program. Instead, text types are identified as sets of texts with high frequencies of salient linguistic features. Table 12 contrasts the frequency values for each linguistic feature in the texts of the first and of the second half of the 17th century; cells of features whose values exceed those of the other set of texts by more than 20% are shaded. Table 12.  Normalised frequencies of all linguistic features on all dimensions (early vs late texts) present tense verb 2nd person pronoun 1st person pronoun pronoun it main verb be causative subordination possibility modal past tense verb perfect aspect verb 3rd person pronoun rel. marker subject rel. marker object pied piping constr. prediction modal conditional subordination necessity modal passive past part. WHIZ deletion other adv. subordination

Early texts 37.68 9.25 7.37 23.14 18.01 1.24 8.11 9.14 2.67 11.33 6.19 1.67 2.46 11.47 6.88 2.95 12.91 3.78 4.36

Late texts 30.78 4.11 19.42 19.23 14.66 1.16 8.18 20.22 4.54 8.60 8.70 1.57 3.93 8.97 3.18 2.18 12.94 4.56 5.02

This constellation of salient features suggests that two text types are involved. One is characterised by the features present tense verb, second person pronoun, pronoun it, main verb be, third person pronoun, prediction modal, conditional subordination, and necessity modal. I will call this text type ‘involved topical argumentation’. The following passage illustrates it:6 I f you touch the end of any Magneticall needle vpon A, being the true North end of that Magnet, that end of the needle will become a true South end, and will point vnto the North of the Horizon: if you touch it vpon B, that will become a

.  Characteristic features of the text type are underlined.

 Lilo Moessner

true North end, and will point vnto the South of the Horizon. And the like will it doe, if you touch it vpon, C: as when you touched it upon, A, and vpon, D, as when you touched it vpon B, although in both these not so strongly; so that Doct: Gilberts assertion doth not gaine-say the Marriners opinion, that his Flower de Luce should not still remaine the North point of his Compasse, onely hee sheweth which end of the Magnet it is, which doth giue him that vertue, namely, that it is the true North end; so that if you hold the true North end of the Magnet neere vnto the Flower de Luce it will come vnto him: if you take away the Magnet, it will come vnto the North of the Horizon. (Barlow 1616: 15)

The other text type is characterised by the features first person pronoun, past tense verb, perfect aspect verb, relative clause with relative marker as subject, pied piping construction, and past participle WHIZ deletion. It will be labelled ‘produceroriented elaborate narrative’. The following passage illustrates this text type:7 After this Learned Person and I had continued Spectators as long as we thought fit, we withdrew into another Room, where we had not sat long by the fire, before we were surpriz’d by a suddain noise, which the person, that occasion’d it, presently came running in to give us an account of, by which it appear’d, that this Ingenious young Man, (whom I often imploy about Pneumatical Experiments, and whom I mention’d to Your Lordship, because l. M. has the honour to be somewhat known to You,) being desirous in our absence to satisfie the Curiosity he had to know, whether the Quick-silver could not be rais’d higher in the pipe than I had foretold, plyed the Pump so obstinately, that at length, the Bottle being not, it seems, every where equally strong, the imprison’d air found it more difficult to make the Quick-silver run over at the top of the pipe, than to break the Bottle in the weakest place, and accordingly did not onely throw off a piece of the Bottle, but threw it with such violence against the large and strong Receiver, as broke that also, and render’d it unserviceable for the future. (Boyle 1669: 10)

The text type distribution seems to suggest that the argumentative text type was replaced by the narrative text type in the course of the 17th century, thus reflecting the genre change identified before (paragraph 4.1). A more intriguing picture evolves, however, when the frequencies of the salient features of both text types are compared in the individual texts. Table 13 shows the relevant values; the cells with the highest and the second highest values are shaded. It was to be expected that Barlow and Plattes would represent the argumentative, the other four texts the narrative text type. This expectation is only fulfilled by Barlow and Boyle. Barlow shows the highest or second highest frequencies for six out of the eight characteristic features of the argumentative and Boyle for four

.  Characteristic features of the text type are underlined.



Variation and change in the writings of 17th century scientists 

Table 13.  Normalised frequencies of the salient linguistic features of both text types (individual texts) present tense verb 2nd person pronoun 1st person pronoun pronoun it main verb be past tense verb perfect aspect verb 3rd person pronoun rel. marker subject pied piping constr. prediction modal conditional subordination necessity modal past part. WHIZ deletion

Barlow

Plattes

Hooke1

Power

Hooke2

Boyle

41.11 9.73 3.39 20.62 18.95 6.85 2.11 12.80 6.29 2.16 13.25 7.68 2.49 2.49

34.25 8.77 11.35 25.66 17.08 11.44 3.23 9.87 6.09 2.76 9.69 6.09 3.41 5.07

31.17 4.13 18.76 18.95 14.62 11.93 1.82 9.62 8.27 4.42 13.27 3.65 1.63 3.75

33.83 9.99 14.67 19.15 12.68 16.27 3.07 6.47 7.62 2.56 11.34 3.97 2.37 3.71

39.49 1.30 19.99 22.42 18.03 19.82 6.33 12.02 11.37 5.20 4.87 1.78 2.11 5.03

18.63 1.05 24.28 16.40 13.32 33.07 6.95 6.30 7.54 3.54 6.43 3.34 2.62 5.77

out of the six characteristic features of the narrative text type.8 Obviously they are the prototypical representatives of their respective text types. The amazing result of Table 13 is the large number of shaded cells in the column Hooke2. Even more amazing is their distribution. Out of the nine linguistic features with markedly high frequencies, four are characteristic of the argumentative text type (present tense verb, pronoun it, main verb be, and third person pronoun), the other five (first person pronoun, past tense verb, perfect aspect verb, relative clause with relative marker as subject, and pied piping construction) of the narrative text type. Hooke2 fits neither text type perfectly; it can at best be identified as a peripheral member of the narrative text type. This property, which sets this text apart from the other texts of my corpus, is paralleled by another peculiarity. Hooke2 consists of three extracts from different parts of Micrographia, whereas the other texts are either complete books or uninterrupted passages from the beginning of books. The uneven distribution of some linguistic features (main verb be, first and second person pronoun, conditional subordination) across the three samples of Hooke2 has been pointed out before (Moessner 2004: 136f.). Table 14 contains the normalised frequencies of the text type specific linguistic features of Hooke2a to Hooke2c and contrasts them with

.  The high frequency for the feature ‘necessity’ modal in Boyle is unexpected, since it characterises the argumentative text type, which otherwise predominates in the early texts.

 Lilo Moessner

the frequencies in the whole text of Hooke2. The cells with the highest frequencies for the characteristic features of the argumentative text type are shaded light grey, those with the highest frequencies for the characteristic features of the narrative text type darker grey. Table 14.  Normalised frequencies in the three samples of Hooke2 present tense verb 2nd person pronoun 1st person pronoun pronoun it main verb be past tense verb perfect aspect verb 3rd person pronoun rel. marker subject pied piping construction prediction modal conditional subordination necessity modal past part WHIZ deletion

Hooke2a

Hooke2b

Hooke2c

Hooke2

38.28 2.09 22.02 17.82 23.59 23.07 7.86 9.96 13.61 6.80 5.76 2.09 3.14 6.81

37.40 1.71 28.80 18.05 16.33 16.33 6.87 12.89 11.01 3.52 4.72 2.57 1.71 2.57

43.22 0.00 1.56 32.29 14.58 20.83 4.16 13.02 9.91 5.73 4.16 0.52 1.56 6.25

39.49 1.30 19.99 22.42 18.03 19.82 6.33 12.02 11.37 5.20 4.87 1.78 2.11 5.03

The first sample (Hooke2a) has the highest frequency values for four features of the argumentative text type (second person pronoun, main verb be, prediction modal, necessity modal) and for five of the narrative text type (past tense verb, perfect aspect verb, relative clause with relative marker as subject, pied piping constructions, past participle WHIZ deletion). Consequently, this sample cannot be clearly assigned to either text type. At best it is a peripheral member of the narrative text type. A similar situation holds for the second sample (Hooke2b), where the highest frequency for the feature conditional subordination, which characterises the argumentative text type, is counterbalanced by the highest frequency for the feature first person pronoun, which characterises the narrative text type. By contrast, the last sample (Hooke2c) proves an unambiguous representative of the argumentative text type with highest frequencies for the features present tense verb, pronoun it, and third person pronoun. A preliminary conclusion to be drawn from Hooke2 could be that the last sample preserves traces of a linguistic structure characteristic of science texts from the first half of the 17th century. Close reading of Plattes convinced me, however, that matters were more complex than that. Chapter 9 of Plattes seemed different from the rest of the text. This intuitive impression was borne out by the analysis of the individual



Variation and change in the writings of 17th century scientists 

linguistic features. Table 15 contrasts the normalised frequencies of the text type specific features in Chapter 9 and in the complete text. Table 15.  Normalised frequencies of text type specific features in Chapter 9 and in the whole text of Plattes present tense verb 2nd person pronoun 1st person pronoun pronoun it main verb be past tense verb perfect aspect verb 3rd person pronoun rel. marker subject pied piping construction prediction modal conditional subordination necessity modal past part. WHIZ deletion

Chapter 9

Plattes

12.43 0.00 32.33 28.60 13.68 63.43 6.21 12.43 7.46 1.24 7.46 2.48 0.00 4.97

34.25 8.77 11.35 25.66 17.08 11.44 3.23 9.87 6.09 2.76 9.69 6.09 3.41 5.07

Four of the six characteristic features of the narrative text type (the dark-shaded cells in Table 15: first person pronoun, past tense verb, perfect aspect verb, relative clause with relative marker as subject) occur in Chapter 9 with a higher frequency than in the whole text. They assign Chapter 9 of Plattes to the text type which is predominant in science texts of the second half of the 17th century. This result is supported by the frequency of five out of the eight characteristic features of the argumentative text type (the light-shaded cells in Table 15: present tense verb, second person pronoun, main verb be, prediction modal, conditional subordination). Their frequency is lower in Chapter 9 than in the whole text. The linguistic structure of Chapter 9 of Plattes is as atypical as that of the last sample of Hooke2. They are mirror images of each other in that one is part of a late text, but has the linguistic structure of the early texts (the last sample of Hooke2), and the other is part of an early text, but has the linguistic structure resembling that of the late texts (Chapter 9 of Plattes). This constellation refutes the preliminary hypothesis that the argumentative text type of science texts of the first half of the 17th century was replaced by the narrative text type in the second half of the 17th century. It rather underlines the interpretation of these text types as prototypical categories with core and peripheral members. Barlow and Boyle are core members of their respective

 Lilo Moessner

text types, whereas Plattes and Hooke2 are located at their peripheries. Text type variation was a feature of science texts in the first and in the second half of the century. 5.  Summary and conclusions The genre analysis of two texts from the first and four of the second half of the 17th century yielded the following results: Dimension 1: The earlier claim by González-Álvarez & Pérez-Guerra (1998) of a development towards a higher degree of involvement from the second half of the 16th to the second half of the 17th century could not be supported. The frequency decrease of five out of seven linguistic features on dimension 1 and the decreasing genre dimension scores led me to claim that the development towards less involvement, which was claimed by Atkinson (1996, 1999) and Biber & Finegan (1997) for the period after the 17th century, started already in the middle of the 17th century. Dimension 2: The hypothesis of a unidirectional development from more to less narrativity after the 17th century was supplemented by the claim of a contrary development from less to more narrativity between the first and the second half of the 17th century. Dimension 3: The earlier claim by González-Álvarez & Pérez-Guerra (1998) of a development towards a lower degree of elaborateness from the second half of the 16th to the second half of the 17th century was rejected. Instead, the complementary claim by Atkinson (1996, 1999) and Biber & Finegan (1997) of a development towards a higher degree of elaborateness for the period after the 17th century was extended back to the first half of the 17th century. Dimension 4: The earlier claim of a development from a higher to lower degree of overt persuasion after the second half of the 17th century was also extended back to the first half of the 17th century. Dimension 5: The earlier claims of a linear development from a less to a more abstract style from the first half of the 15th century onwards could be supported. These results allow the conclusion that the properties of the genre ‘science’ changed in the 17th century on all dimensions of variation, and that these changes started not in the second, but in the first half of the century. Science texts became less involved, more narrative, more elaborate, less persuasive, and more abstract.



Variation and change in the writings of 17th century scientists 

The text type analysis revealed that the science texts of the corpus represent the two text types ‘involved topical argumentation’ and ‘producer-oriented narrative’. Barlow emerged as a core member of the argumentative, Boyle as a core member of the narrative text type. A preliminary hypothesis of a straightforward correspondence between the production periods and the text types was refuted on the basis of the linguistic structure of two texts. Passages of the supposedly late, i.e., narrative, text type were identified in an early text (Plattes), and passages of the supposedly early, i.e., argumentative, text type were observed in a late text (Hooke2). These texts are more adequately described as peripheral members of their respective text types. Nevertheless it can be inferred from these results that the predominant text type of early science texts was the argumentative and that of the late texts was the narrative text type. A similar conclusion was reached by Taavitsainen in her study of speech act verbs of reporting in LME and EModE medical texts, where she observed a “new style of first person narration […] in experimental essays” in the second half of the 17th century (2002: 214). As in the present study, she discovered early traces of this writing style already in texts of the 15th century. These results nicely demonstrate the validity of Biber’s tenet (1989: 39) that there need not be a one-to-one correspondence between genre and text type classification. The genre change which happened between the first and the second half of the 17th century has been interpreted as the rise of a new genre, the experimental essay (Gotti 2005, Moessner 2006). The present study has traced the details of this development, and it has shown the relations between genre change and text type variation.

References Primary sources Barlow, William. 1616. Magnetical Aduertisements. 1968 facsimile edition. Amsterdam & New York: Da Capo Press. Early English Books Online. At <eebo.chadwyk.com>. Hall, Marie Boas, ed. 1966. Experimental Philosophy, in Three Books: Containing New Experiments Microscopical, Mercurial, Magnetical, by Henry Power. New York & London: Johnson Reprint Corporation. Hunter, Michael & C.W. Davis, eds. 1999–2000. The Works of Robert Boyle, 14 vols. London: Pickering and Chatto. Hooke, Robert. 1661. An Attempt for the Explication of the Phænomena, Observable in an Experiment Published by the Honourable Robert Boyle. London: Sam. Thomson.

 Lilo Moessner ICAME Collection of English Language Corpora ed. by Knut Hofland, Anne Lindebjerg & Jørn Thunestvedt 1999. University of Bergen: The HIT Centre. Plattes, Gabriel. 1639. A Discovery of Subterraneall Treasure. London.

Secondary sources Atkinson, Dwight. 1996. The Philosophical Transactions of the Royal Society of London, 1675–1975: A sociohistorical discourse analysis. Language in Society 25. 333–371. Atkinson, Dwight. 1999. Scientific Discourse in Sociohistorical Context. The Philosophical Transactions of the Royal Society of London, 1675–1975. London & Mahwah, NJ: Laurence Erlbaum. Biber, Douglas. 1988. Variation across Speech and Writing. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Biber, Douglas. 1989. A typology of English texts. Linguistics 27:3–43. Biber, Douglas. 2001. Dimensions of variation among 18th-century speech-based and written registers. Towards a History of English as a History of Genres ed. by Hans-Jürgen Diller & Manfred Görlach, 89–109. Heidelberg: Winter. Biber, Douglas & Edward Finegan. 1997. Diachronic relations among speech-based and written registers in English. To Explain the Present: Studies in the Changing English Language in Honour of Matti Rissanen ed. by Terttu Nevalainen & Leena Kahlas-Tarkka, 253–276. Helsinki: Société Néophilologique. Diller, Hans-Jürgen. 2001. Genre in linguistic and related discourses. Towards a History of English as a History of Genres ed. by Hans-Jürgen Diller & Manfred Görlach, 3–43. Heidelberg: Winter. González-Álvarez, Dolores & Javier Pérez-Guerra. 1998. Texting the written evidence: On register analysis in Late Middle English and Early Modern English. Text 18:3. 321–348. Gotti, Maurizio. 1996. Robert Boyle and the Language of Science. Milano: Guerini. Gotti, Maurizio. 2001. The experimental essay in Early Modern English. European Journal of English Studies 5:2. 221–239. Gotti, Maurizio. 2003. Specialized Discourse. Linguistic Features and Changing Conventions. Bern: Peter Lang. Gotti, Maurizio. 2005. Investigating Specialized Discourse. Bern: Peter Lang. Gotti, Maurizio. 2006. Disseminating Early Modern Science: Specialized news discourse in the Philosophical Transactions. News Discourse in Early Modern Britain: Selected Papers of CHINED 2004 ed. by Nicholas Brownlees, 41–70. Bern: Peter Lang. Halliday, M.A.K. 1988. On the language of physical science. Registers of Written English. Situational Factors and Linguistic Features ed. by Mohsen Ghadessy, 162–178. London & New York: Pinter. Moessner, Lilo. 2004. The opposition involvement vs informativeness in Early Modern English experimental essays. An International Master of Syntax and Semantics. Papers presented to Aimo Seppänen on the Occasion of his 75th Birthday ed. by Gunnar Bergh, Jennifer Herriman & Mats Mobärg, 129–139. Göteborg: Acta Universitatis Gothoburgensis. Moessner, Lilo. 2006. The birth of the experimental essay. Explorations in Specialized Genres ed. by Vijay K. Bhatia & Maurizio Gotti, 59–77. Bern: Peter Lang. Taavitsainen, Irma. 1994a. On the evolution of scientific writings from 1375 to 1675: Repertoire of emotive features. English Historical Linguistics 1992. Papers from the 7th International Conference on English Historical Linguistics. Valencia, 22–26 September 1992 ed. by Francisco Fernández, Miguel Fuster & Juan José Valvo, 329–342. Amsterdam & Philadelphia: John Benjamins.



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Taavitsainen, Irma. 1994b. Subjectivity as a text-type marker in historical stylistics. Language and Literature 3. 197–212. Taavitsainen, Irma. 2002. Historical discourse analysis. Scientific language and changing thought-styles. Sounds, Words, Texts and Change. Selected Papers from 11 ICEHL, Santiago de Compostela, 7–11 September 2000 ed. by Teresa Fanego, Belén Méndez-Naya & Elena Seoane, 201–226. Amsterdam & Philadelphia: John Benjamins. Taavitsainen, Irma & Päivi Pahta. 1995. Scientific ‘thought-styles’ in discourse structure: Changing patterns in a historical perspective. Organization in Discourse. Proceedings from the Turku Conference ed. by Brita Wårvik, Sanna-Kaisa Tanskanen & Risto Hiltunen, 519– 529. Turku: University of Turku. Taavitsainen, Irma, Päivi Pahta & Martti Mäkinen. 2005. Middle English Medical Texts. Amsterdam & Philadelphia: John Benjamins.

part ii

Lexical and semantic change

The convergence of two need verbs in Middle English1 Lucía Loureiro-Porto

Universitat de les Illes Balears This paper is concerned with OE and ME need v.1, ‘compel, force’ and need v.2, ‘be necessary, need’. It analyses a 2.4 million-word corpus of OE and ME with regard to three factors: relative frequency of both verbs in the two periods, their syntactic properties, and their semantic implications, which are interpreted in terms of Force-Dynamics (cf. Sweetser 1990; Talmy 2000). The results show that, counter-intuitively, need v.2 ‘be necessary, need’ alone is not the only etymological ancestor of PDE semi-modal need, since no clear boundary can be drawn between the two verbs in the periods under analysis. This is most evident in Middle English, when both verbs fully converge syntactically and semantically. Consequently, and most importantly, I show that both need v.1 and need v.2 play a role in the development of PDE need (cf. also Molencki 2002; van der Auwera & Taeymans 2004; Loureiro-Porto 2005b).

1.  Introduction The obsolete verb need v.1 (‘to compel’) and the familiar need v.2 (‘to be necessary’, ‘to require’) are two apparently related verbs, whose similarity is, at least, orthographic and morphological, since both of them go back to Old English weak verbs derived from the noun neod, ‘necessity’. According to Bosworth and Toller (An Anglo-Saxon Dictionary), the OE variant forms of need v.1 are: neodian, neadian, nydan, nedan, geneadian, genedan, geniedan, genydan, and those of need v.2 are neodian, geneodian. That is, the form neodian is common to both verbs, which means that we are bound to find confusion when trying to discern whether a given verbal form belongs to

.  For generous financial support I am grateful to the Autonomous Government of Galicia (grants nos. PGIDIT05PXIC20401PN and 2006/XA-133) and the Spanish Ministry of Education and Science and the European Regional Development Fund (grant no. and HUM2007–60706). I would also like to thank Prof. Teresa Fanego, Prof. Manfred Krug and Dr. Elena Seoane for their fruitful comments on earlier drafts of this paper, as well as the ­audience at the 14th ICEHL in Bergamo.

 Lucía Loureiro-Porto

need v.1 or to need v.2. This is most evident if we consider sentence (1), which is considered to be an instance of need v.2 in Visser (1963–1973: 1425, §1345), and an instance of need v.1 in the MED (s.v. neden v.1): (1)

ӡitt nohht att hofelæs Ne mede [read: nede] þeӡӡm to swinnkenn. both-of-you not immoderately not is-necessary/compel them to work-hard2 ‘(both of you?) It is not immoderately necessary for them to work hard’/ ‘Both of you do not compel them immoderately to work hard’. (?c1200 Orm. (Jun 1) 6225)

The fact that nede in (1) is given two different interpretations (‘it is not necessary for them’ and ‘you do not compel them’) reveals two important aspects: a) that there are not only orthographic and morphological similarities, but also important syntactic similarities between need v.1 and need v.2, and, as a consequence, b) that we will be facing ambiguity when analysing the examples from the corpus. English historical dictionaries, however, highlight the fact that these two verbs are, semantically and syntactically, quite distant. From a semantic perspective, for instance, the OED describes need v.1 as meaning ‘compel, force, oblige’, while need v.2 means ‘be necessary, need’. We find similar definitions in other historical dictionaries, such as Bosworth and Toller (s.v. neodian; neodian, neadian) or the MED (s.v. neden v.1, neden v.2). From this we see that, although both verbs are concerned with the expression of necessity and obligation, need v.1 has clear causative nuances, whereas need v.2 does not, as seen in sentences (2) and (3) respectively: (2)

& þerfor þei ben not nedyd to sellen here possessyouns & therefore they were not compelled to sell their possessions ‘and therefore they were not compelled to sell their possessions’. ((a1382) WBible(1) (Bod 959), from MED s.v. neden v.1)

(3)

On cealdum eardum neodaþ ðæt ðæs reafes mare sy. on cold lands is-necessary that the vestment more is ‘In cold lands it is necessary that there are more garments’. (R. Ben. 89, 6, 8, from Bosworth and Toller s.v. neadian, neodian v.)

This paper offers a deeper syntactic and semantic analysis of these verbs as represented in a 2.4 million-word corpus of OE and ME. The aim of this analysis is to ascertain whether or not these two verbs are unrelated as seems to be implied by the information in the dictionaries. I also hope to throw some light on the ongoing debate of whether need v.1 and need v.2 are instances of one or two verbs.

.  Unless otherwise stated, both the gloss and the translation are mine.

The convergence of two need verbs in Middle English 



The corpus selected comprises the OE and ME sections of the Helsinki Corpus of English Texts, which amount to c. 500,000 words each, and a random selection of 700,000 words from texts from the Dictionary of Old English Corpus and the Corpus of Middle English Prose and Verse (as found in the Middle English Compendium).3 The OE and the ME period are represented by 1.2 million words each, distributed by subperiods as shown in Table 1. Table 1.  Number of words per subperiod HC subperiod O1 + O2 O3 + O4 Date range Words

M1

M2

M3

M4

Total

to 950 950–1150 1150–1250 1250–1350 1350–1420 1420–1500 248,042 957,613 288,571 207,032 365,856 387,306 2,454,420

Despite the fact that I have selected all extant texts from M2, this subperiod remains the poorest in number of words. To compensate for this, normalised frequencies have been calculated. This paper starts by providing the frequency of each verb per subperiod ­(section 2). Section 3 describes the theoretical foundations on which this study is based. Section 4 provides the analysis of the corpus data, paying especial attention to the syntactic and semantic features of need v.1 and need v.2. Finally, section 5 summarises the main findings and draws the main conclusions of the study. 2.  Frequency of need v.1 and need v.2 in Old and Middle English A preliminary overview of the corpus reveals that, interestingly enough, need v.1 is most common in earlier periods of the language, until need v.2 takes the lead in subperiod M3, that is, between 1350 and 1420. Table 2 contains the absolute and the normalised frequencies (boldface) of both verbs. Table 2.  Absolute and normalised (per 100,000 words) frequencies of need v.1 and need v.2 in Old and Middle English Period

O1+O2

O3 + O4

M1

M2

M3

M4

Total

abs. norm. abs. norm. abs. norm. abs. norm. abs. norm. abs. norm. abs. need v.1 52 21 51 5 7 2 2 1 6 2 – – 118 need v.2 – – 1 <1 2 1 – – 72 20 72 19 147

.  The selection of texts within each subperiod has been made randomly in order to avoid bias of any type. The length of texts in each subperiod was carefully observed in order to provide enough representativity of each of the periods under analysis.

 Lucía Loureiro-Porto

Unfortunately, need v.2 is not present in any of the existing texts of M2, which leaves a gap in the evolution of this verb. This may be due to the scarcity of texts dating from this period. Even though I have selected all texts available, the sample proves quite unrepresentative, because it mainly contains Dan Michel’s Ayenbite of Inwit, where need v.1 or need v.2 never occur.4 Be it as it may, we observe that need v.2 is scarcely used in OE and early ME, but it undergoes an exponential increase in M3, precisely the last period in which need v.1 is recorded. We may interpret these data as a mere coincidence, or we may think that they may be revealing an actual replacement of one verb by another. I will defend the second hypothesis, for which, a priori, I find some historical evidence. In fact, there are some historical reasons for this replacement. In OE need v.1 is the only verb meaning ‘compel, force’ and it is not until the ME period that the English language borrows from French words such as compel, force, oblige, making need v.1 an unnecessary verb. Therefore, this would allow need v.2 to take over and become the main verb meaning ‘need’ in a moment in which the rival ‘need’ verb thurven, a common pre-modal in OE times (i.e. OE þurfan), is undergoing a decrease in frequency apparently due to its phonological confusion with durren (cf. Visser 1963–1973: 1423, §1343). Whether or not the replacement of need v.1 by need v.2 can be explained in terms other than historical and orthographic will be the aim of this chapter, and, for that reason, we must continue looking at their semantic and syntactic features, not without describing first the theoretical framework in which the data will be analysed.

3.  Theoretical framework: Force Dynamics The theoretical framework chosen for the semantic analysis of these verbs is Force Dynamics, the cognitive approach followed by Sweetser (1990) and Talmy (2000). This approach has revealed itself as the most suitable in the discussion of the historical evolution of need v.1 and need v.2 especially when it comes to account for fuzzy examples which may prove significant in a gradience. Indeed, Force Dynamics is the key for the interpretation of the modal meanings of these verbs, contrary to

.  Actually, of all of the five verbs meaning ‘need’ available at the time (thurven, bethurven, neden v.1, neden v.2 and bihoven), Dan Michel’s Ayenbite of Inwit only contains one verb meaning ‘need’, namely bihoven (cf. Loureiro-Porto 2006).

The convergence of two need verbs in Middle English 



what is stated by Traugott & Dasher (2002: 111), as will be seen in the empirical part of this paper (cf. also Loureiro-Porto 2005a). According to Force Dynamics, possibility and necessity, the two basic modal meanings, are cognitively identified with barriers and forces respectively. That is, the expression of possibility implies the absence of any cognitive barrier: she can open the door because there is no physical barrier – e.g., she has the key – or she may open the door because there is no metaphorical barrier – e.g., she is allowed to do it. If there were any kind of barrier (either physical or metaphorical), then the notion conveyed would be impossibility, because the barrier blocks the event from taking place (she cannot open the door – because it is locked, for example). Likewise, the expression of necessity implies the presence of a force which induces the agonist to act in a given way (e.g., you must pay taxes – because the antagonist, i.e. the state, represents a social force which constrains you to do so).5 The absence of a force implies absence of obligation, as in you need not tell the truth (‘you are not obliged to’). And the presence of a negative marker may also convey a force not to act in a given way, i.e. prohibition, (e.g., you must not buy the tickets). These relationships are sketched in Figure 1: BARRIER → impossibility • she cannot open the door NO BARRIER → possibility • she can open the door

FORCE → necessity • you must pay taxes NO FORCE → absence of necessity • you need not tell the truth FORCE NOT TO → prohibition • you must not buy the tickets

Figure 1.  Barriers and forces:  possibility and necessity respectively.

The concepts of force and barrier, therefore, may stand for physical ­meanings and they may also convey the metaphor underlying root modality, as in the examples quoted. In addition, Force Dynamics also accounts for the evolution of these meanings from root modal to epistemic modal meanings. Sweetser (1990) exemplifies the evolution of modal may, which first, in OE, conveys the referential meaning ‘be strong’, related to the physical world; it then develops the root meaning ‘be allowed to’, related to the social world; and finally it evolves to an epistemic meaning, ‘be likely to’, exclusively concerned with the mental world. This semantic evolution, also present in Traugott (1989), is sketched in Figure 2:

.  The term ‘agonist’ is used in Force Dynamics to designate one of the two opposing forces underlying in the notion of necessity. The other force is the antagonist, which is more powerful and, therefore, conditions the agonist.

 Lucía Loureiro-Porto Referential meanings

>

Root meanings

>

Epistemic meanings

physical world

>

social world

>

mental world

Figure 2.  Meanings implied by modal verbs in the history of English: from the physical to the mental world (adapted from Traugott 1989 and Sweetser 1990).

In the analysis of my verbs I have found it necessary to make further distinctions within the category root modality, taking into account the origin of the forces. Thus, I have found that in the progressive process of metaphorisation from physical to epistemic forces, the root forces Sweetser distinguishes may be: 1. of an external origin (i.e. quite objective), if the force originates in an external antagonist (as in you must pay taxes, the antagonist being the state). 2. of an internal origin (i.e. more subjective), if the antagonist is within the agonist’s self (as in I need to eat now, because there is some inner force within me that forces me to eat). 3. and of a general origin, if we cannot identify the origin of the force, i.e. the antagonist is indefinite (as in it is necessary to use the flash for this picture). This threefold distinction implies a progressive desemanticisation of the verbs involved, since the external forces are more objective than internal forces, and these, in turn, are more concrete than general forces, since the agonist of general forces is not even identifiable, it is, in Langacker’s (1999: 308) words, a “nebulous authority”. It must be noted that this cline I propose here goes against van der Auwera & Plungian’s (1998) general evolution of modals, because they claim that internal meanings are expressed earlier than externally-originated ones. As will be seen below, the case of need-verbs is a clear historical counterexample to their claim and is in tune with the view of Traugott & Dasher (2002), who state that historical evidence does not always support van der Auwera & Plungian’s cline. Just as cognitive forces are not equal as regards their origin, so not all the external forces are exerted with the same strength; on the contrary, they oscillate in strength, and, therefore, they can be considered strong, weak or neutral. Strong forces will be those in which the agonist must necessarily surrender to the antagonist. However, when weak forces are expressed, the agonist is not so violently compelled and has a certain degree of freedom. Neutral forces, in turn, are those in which the antagonist is indefinite and, therefore, the strength with which the force is exerted cannot be determined. Thus, the meanings conveyed by need v.1 and need v.2 will be classified according to the following scale: physical meanings, at one end, and mental (epistemic)

The convergence of two need verbs in Middle English 



meanings, at the other. In between, we find social meanings (which will be analysed according to two axes, namely origin – external, internal or general – and strength – strong, weak or neutral). 4.  Analysis of need v.1 and need v.2 in the corpus 4.1  Syntactic features The two verbs need v.1 and need v.2 have at least two clearly different syntacticsemantic features, namely the syntactic function of the agonist in the sentence and their preference as to polarity. Starting with the syntactic function of the agonist in the sentence, it must be noted that need v.2 is a so-called ‘experiencer verb’ featuring in experiencer verb constructions (cf. Allen 1995), elsewhere called impersonal constructions (cf. Elmer 1981; Fischer & van der Leek 1983, 1987). I have followed Allen’s terminology and classification, because on the one hand, it is more transparent, as opposed to the term ‘impersonal construction’, which appears to imply that there is no person involved, as in it rains, and, on the other hand, it provides a neat classification of constructions depending on the nature of the constituents of the sentence. Consider (4): (4)

And therefore us nedit mekil for to prayen our lord of grace and therefore us needs much for to pray our lord of grace ‘And therefore we greatly need to pray / must pray our lord for grace’. (1373 A Revelation of Love)

This is what Allen (1995) calls an experiencer verb construction Type S. Hence, the experiencer, us, is oblique, and the theme (term used by Allen (1995) to refer to the thing needed) is a to-infinitival clause (alternatively introduced by for to in ME). It is from this type of construction that dictionaries say that one meaning of this verb is ‘be necessary’, but need v.2 may also be found with a nominative experiencer and hence it favours the translation as ‘need,’ as in: (5)

I nede not to speke of yt, yowr reson wyll tell it yow. I need not to speak of it your reason will tell it you.obl ‘I need not speak of it, your reason will tell you about it’. (1,585 helsinki\cmmankin)

In this case, the experiencer is the nominative pronoun I, and the theme is another to-infinitival clause. This sentence is, then, what Allen (1995) calls an experiencer verb construction Type ‘Personal’. Irrespectively of the experiencer verb construction in which need v.2 occurs, the agonist, i.e. the force confronted by the

 Lucía Loureiro-Porto

antagonist, is always the experiencer. Indeed, some scholars, such as Elmer (1981), would consider that the experiencer is always a syntactic subject, irrespective of its inflected case. As is well known, in the course of time the experiencer of need v.2 ends up in the nominative form and, hence, it becomes a clear functional subject. Thus, for need v.2, it could be concluded that the agonist has always played the syntactic function of the subject. Need v.1, in turn, may be a transitive verb, as in ‘X pushes Y’, or it may also be a causative verb, featuring in the pattern S + V + O + Clause/PP (cf. PDE make, as in She made her promise to keep the secret), as in the following sentences with clausal and prepositional complements respectively: (6)

Ða sona he nydde his leorningcnihtas on scyp stigan then immediately he compelled his disciples on ship board ‘He immediately compelled his disciples to board the ship,…’. (Mk(WSCp) 6.45)

(7) ðær Riciouarus se gerefa mid miclum witum hyne there Riciouarus the high-official with many tortures him nydde to hæðengylde. compelled.sg to idolatry ‘there Riciouarus, the high official, forced him to idolatry by means of many tortures’. (11,445 helsinki\comartyr)

This syntactic pattern has the semantic effect that the agonist, his leorningcnihtas and hyne, respectively, is the object of the verb, while the antagonist, he and se gerefa, is the subject. This appears to be an important semantic-syntactic difference between need v.1 and need v.2 (where, as we have just argued, the agonist always has the function of subject). Nevertheless, the verb need v.1 also occurs in the passive voice both in OE and ME, as will be seen in Table 3 below, which provokes an important syntactic-semantic shift, since the agonist now becomes the subject of the clause, as in: (8)

ic eom neded þæt ic sceal hraðe deað underhnigan. I am compelled that I shall quickly death succumb ‘I am forced to succumb to death quickly’. (Bede 3 11.190.16)

The agonist in this sentence is ic, which is also the syntactic subject and, hence, the translation of the verb is no longer ‘to compel, to force’, but rather, ‘to be forced’ or ‘must’. Thus, it can be concluded that when need v.1 occurs in the passive voice, it comes closer to need v.2 both syntactically and semantically, since the phrase that stands for the semantic agonist fulfils the syntactic role of subject. This data would not be so significant were it not for the fact that need v.1 occurs unexpectedly often in the passive voice for a period of history in which the use of the passive was



The convergence of two need verbs in Middle English 

highly restricted (cf. among others, Seoane 2006), since ca. 26% of its occurrences in OE are in the passive, and 100% of its occurrences in subperiod M3 (see Table 3 below), the last period in which it is recorded. This proves an interesting finding because it reveals a similarity, if only superficial, between need v.1 and passiveform PDE semi-modals such as be obliged to. A second important syntactic difference between the two verbs under analysis concerns polarity. Need v.2 has a strong tendency to occur in non-affirmative contexts, conveying, therefore, absence of force (lack of obligation or necessity, see example 5, above) or (very rarely) a force not to (prohibition); very much in the same way as OE þurfan or PDE modal need. Need v.1, in contrast, does not exhibit this tendency and, therefore, it most often conveys the presence of a given force (obligation mostly). 4.2  Semantic analysis Given the important syntactic differences between need v.1 and need v.2, when trying to describe the semantic notions they convey, it is crucial to take into account syntactic variables such as voice (active or passive) and polarity (affirmative vs. non-affirmative). For that reason, Table 3 lays out the semantic features of both verbs from OE to ME paying attention to polarity (hence the distinction between obligation and lack of obligation, for instance) and to the voice of need v.1. Each cell contains up to three figures. The figures at the top of each cell, in italics, correspond to the active/passive occurrences of need v.1. The figure at the bottom, not in italics, correspond to need v.2. Table 3 includes all possible meanings conveyed by verbs meaning ‘need’ from OE to EModE, including barriers and forces, and dividing the forces according to the classification I have made from the analysis of examples, that is: physical, root (external, internal and general), and logical or epistemic.6 The layout of the table attempts to provide an iconic representation of the evolution of forces from the referential meanings (upper part of the table) to the most metaphorical meanings related to the mental world (lower part of the table). I proceed now to analyse the data in this table in order to find out the extent to which need v.1 and need v.2 are semantically and syntactically related. First of all, in a general overview, we observe that the types of forces conveyed by both are instances of physical forces and social forces of external, internal and general origin. In other words, they have been found to convey all possible types of forces in the line of semantic evolution described above for the evolution .  I have also included physical-metaphorical and socio-physical forces, which are considered to act as a bridge between purely physical and purely root meanings, and which will be explained in detail below.

 Lucía Loureiro-Porto

Table 3.  Types of forces and barriers expressed by need v.1 and need v.2 in Old and Middle English (actual occurrences; italics = v.1 active/passive; roman = v.2) OE*

M1

M2

–

–

–

–

PHYSICAL PHYSICAL – METAPHORICAL SOCIO – PHYSICAL

11/0 5/0

– –

2/0 –

– –

3 – –

15/3

–

–

–

–

OBLIGATION

35/18

5/0

–

8/5

2/0

–

0/6 13

4

PROHIBITION

–

–

–

5 –

8

OBLIGATION

1/1

–

–

–

–

LACK OF OBLIG.

–

–

–

–

–

PROHIBITION NECESSITY LACK OF NECESSITY

– – –

– 2 –

– – –

1 18 11

– 19 19

1/0

–

–

4

4

LACK OF NECESSITY PROHIBITION

1 –

– –

– –

20 –

12 –

NECESSITY

–

–

–

–

–

LACK OF NECESSITY

–

–

–

–

–

76/27 1

7/0 2

2/0

0/6 72

72

BARRIER FORCE

EXTERNAL (root modality)

LACK OF OBLIG.

INTERNAL OBLIGATION (root modality)

NECESSITY GENERAL (root modality)

LOGICAL (epist. modality) TOTAL

NECESSITY

M3 M4

3

*Table 3 does not differentiate between early and late OE, because no relevant semantic differences have been observed for these two subperiods (cf. Loureiro-Porto 2005b).

of modal meanings, except for epistemic forces, which, in any event, were not expected to be grammaticalised so early in the history of language. As is widely acknowledged, epistemic meanings appear later in the language (cf. Traugott 1992: 197–198). In fact, it will not be until late EModE (1640–1710) that need is found to convey epistemic, i.e. logical, necessity (cf. Loureiro-Porto, in preparation).



The convergence of two need verbs in Middle English 

Let us now concentrate on the analysis of each of the need-verbs separately. Beginning with need v.2, the first finding worthy of comment is that it not only expresses forces, as expected in a verb meaning ‘necessity’, but it may also convey barriers, as seen in the first line of Table 3, in subperiod M4. In other words, need v.2 expresses not only necessity, but also possibility, or, rather, impossibility, since in all three instances in which need v.2 conveys a barrier, it occurs in a nonaffirmative context. Consider the following example: (9) These dide merveilously wele, and so dide Sir Ewein, that a better these did marvellously well and so did Sir Ewein that a better knyght than he neded no man to be-holde. knight than he needed no man to behold ‘These did marvellously well, and so did Sir Ewein, that no man could behold a better knight than him’. (1450–1460 Merlin)

Need v.2 in this sentence conveys the presence of a cognitive barrier which blocks out the possibility that anyone finds a better knight than Sir Ewein, hence its translation as ‘could,’ rather than as ‘need’ or ‘must’. This is not, by any means, surprising, since ME thurven (from the OE preterite present verb þurfan), a clear semantic predecessor of need, could as well express absence of possibility (cf. Loureiro-Porto, in preparation), as in the following example: (10)

he wax so mylde and so meke,/ A mylder man þurt no man seke. he was so mild and so meek/ a milder man could no man seek ‘he grew so mild and so gentle, no one could find a milder man’. (6,024 helsinki\cmhansyn)

The modal meanings of necessity and possibility are, indeed, intimately related, something noted in Lyons (1977) or Palmer (1979, 1986).7 Even if the convergence of necessity and possibility nuances in a same lexical item is highly interesting, it falls out of the scope of this paper and, therefore, we must go on with the semantic analysis of need v.2, looking now at the expression of cognitive forces. In terms of frequency, we must recall that need v.2 is scarcely recorded in OE. In this period, þurfan was by far the most commonly occurring necessity verb. Need v.1, with a different meaning from þurfan, is, in contrast, quite common. It is not until M3 that need v.2 takes the lead in frequency and is extended to express forces based on external (social), internal and general factors, that is, all kinds of root meanings. When it conveys social and general forces, it appears to be significantly associated with non-affirmative contexts (which was also one of the main features of .  The logical relations between necessity and possibility state that: ‘if X is not possible, not-X is necessary’ and ‘if X is not-necessary, not-X is possible’.

 Lucía Loureiro-Porto

OE þurfan and ME thurven).8 Due to the amount of texts of religious content, it is not at all surprising to find need v.2 conveying absence of religious obligation, as in (11): Here may we sen us nedith not gretly to seken fer out to knowen here may we see us needs not greatly to seek far out to know sundry kindes, but to holy church. different kinds but to holy church ‘Here we may see we need not search far out to know different kinds, but the holy church’. (1373 A Revelation of Love) (11)

In this sentence, need v.2 conveys absence of strong external (religious) obligation to search anything but the holy church. Especially interesting is the number of cases in which need v.2 expresses general force from M3 onwards, and particularly in EModE (as shown in Loureiro-Porto, in preparation), because this implies that the original concrete meanings of need v.2 (originating in internal and external entities) fade away and give way to more general meanings (originating in abstract entities). These abstract meanings will develop epistemic nuances in EModE (cf. Loureiro-Porto, in preparation). In addition, this reinforces my subdivision of root meanings into a gradience from external to internal and, finally, to general forces, the first being closer to referential meanings, and the last being closer to epistemic meanings. The general force expressed by need v.2 cannot be identified as external or internal, strong or weak, but it is exerted by a generalised, nebulous authority (cf. Langacker 1999: 308). This has sometimes been called desemanticisation or bleaching and is one of the mechanisms involved in the process of grammaticalisation (cf. Lehmann 1995; Bybee & Pagliuca 1985; Heine 1990, 1993; Kuteva 2004; among others). For example, in sentence (12), quoted above as (5): (12)

I nede not to speke of yt, yowr reson wyll tell it yow. I need not to speak of it your reason will tell it you.obl ‘I need not speak of it, your reason will tell you about it’. (1,585 helsinki\cmmankin)

need v.2 conveys the absence a general neutral force so that the agonist, I, feels released from speaking about anything. It expresses the absence of a generalised nebulous force, which implies a higher degree of desemanticisation than the external force conveyed in example (11). Thus, from the semantic analysis of need v.2 we may conclude that it is significantly associated with non-affirmative contexts and it shows a preference for expressing absence of external and general necessity and obligation.

.  25 cases in M3 against 17 in affirmative contexts; 23 against 8 in the M4 period.



The convergence of two need verbs in Middle English 

As for the semantic analysis of need v.1, Table 3 shows that this verb occurs only (1) in the left-hand side, which represents the early stages of English, and (2) in the upper part of the table (leaving aside barriers), which stands for referential meanings (i.e. physical forces such as pressure) and first metaphorical uses of such referential meanings (e.g., social obligation and absence of obligation). In fact, before M3 need v.1 is the more frequent of these two verbs, and it basically expresses meanings such as physical force and social obligation (cf. examples (13) and (14) below). Only on 2 occasions does it express an internal force, and it conveys general forces only once, but even in those cases the meaning of the verb is ‘compel’ or ‘be compelled’: (13) he hine nydde ut of paradiso […] we eac nydað ut þa he him pushed out of paradise […] we also push.pl out the forsyngodan of Godes cyrican. sinners of God’s church ‘he (God) pushed him out of paradise […] we also push the sinners out of God’s church’. (WHom 15 37) (14)

We ne magan eow neadian, ac we mingiað eow, we not may you.dat.pl compel but we remind you.dat.pl þæt ge clænnysse healdan. that you.nom.pl chastity keep ‘We are not able to compel you, but we remind you to keep chastity’. (2,261 helsinki\coaelet3)

In sentence (13) need v.1 expresses a referential meaning, and it is translated as ‘push’, in which the antagonist literally pushes the agonist out, exerting a physical force. In (14), in turn, this verb proves to have gone a step towards desemanticisation, since it expresses absence of obligation, that is, the antagonist, we, exerts a root external force on the agonist, eow. Between these meanings, as seen in Table 3, need v.1 can also express what I have labelled as physical-metaphorical and socio-physical forces. For a better understanding of these meanings, consider the following examples: (15) Ac se suðerna wynd […] swyðe gedrehte and hyne but the southern wind […] very much tormented.sg and him swa genydde, þæt he to þam gete becom æt þære ceastre Lybie. so compelled.sg that he to the gate go at the castle Lybie ‘But the Southern wind […] tormented him very much, and compelled/ pushed him to go to the gate of the castle Lybie’. (VSal 1 (Ass 16), 19)

This sentence illustrates what I call metaphorical physical force. Although the force exerted on the agonist (him) may be physical (if we understand that the meaning is

 Lucía Loureiro-Porto

‘push’), it may also imply that the presence of the antagonist (the southern wind) obliges the agonist to move in a given direction (hence the meaning ‘compel’). Therefore, the force is ambiguously defined. In addition to the meaning of the verb, the antagonist is non-human and inanimate, and so cannot be said to exert any force consciously. The southern wind may physically condition the movements of the agonist, but it cannot impose an obligation on him, because it is an inanimate entity. Therefore, in order to understand the meaning of neodian in this instance as ‘compel’ we have to resort to metaphor. This example is a sign that the verb is possibly evolving towards metaphorical uses. In turn, sentence (16), quoted above as (7), illustrates what I have labelled as socio-physical force: (16) ðær Riciouarus se gerefa mid miclum witum hyne there Riciouarus the high-official with many tortures him nydde to hæðengylde. compelled.sg to idolatry ‘there Riciouarus, the high official, forced him to idolatry by means of many tortures’. (11,445 helsinki\comartyr)

Here, one of the OE variants of neodian, namely nydan, expresses the obligation exerted by the antagonist (the high official) on the agonist (him). However, this is not a paradigmatic example of obligation, because standard PDE obligation is based on social matters, and in this sentence the obligation is exerted on the basis of physical superiority. In other words, the antagonist exerts his force on the agonist by means of physical tortures, with the aim of obtaining a social response, namely that the agonist worships the antagonist. On the basis of the cognitive explanation of the semantic evolution of verbs, it does not seem incoherent to hypothesise that a term referring to a force first designated a physical force. Such a term would then undergo metaphorisation and would be used to refer to forces which had no physical component, but purely social ones. In the process of metaphorisation, it is possible that the term refers to socio-physical forces such as that conveyed in (16). For all these reasons, I consider that examples such as (16), which have been analysed as expressing socio-physical force, stand at the boundary between instances referring to pure physical forces (such as (13) above) and strictly social forces, such as the ones which I describe below. Before doing so, however, a word in is in order about the syntactic pattern preferred by need v.1. As mentioned in 4.1, need v.1 often occurs in the passive voice (more than 26% of its occurrences in the OE corpus). This syntactic choice brings along a semantic change, as mentioned, because the agonist becomes a syntactic subject. In the earlier stages of ME we do not observe this tendency, but revealingly enough, in M3 all the six instances of need v.1 in my corpus, all of which express social obligation,



The convergence of two need verbs in Middle English 

occur in the passive voice, that is, this verb does not occur in the active voice at all in this subperiod. This implies that in subperiod M3 need v.1 and need v.2 coincide in a basic syntactic-semantic aspect, namely the NP standing for the cognitive agonist fulfils the function of subject. Therefore, sentences with passive need v.1 such as ic eom neded þæt… ‘I am compelled to…’ become practically equivalent to sentences with a modal of obligation, such as ‘I must…’. In fact, as mentioned, PDE constructions with passive be obliged to are already considered quasi-modals of obligation (cf. Agrafojo 2003). It does not seem improbable that the overwhelming frequency of need v.1 in the passive voice (40% in ME) is a factor leading to its semantic confluence with need v.2, which, at this time of history also has the possibility to express obligation in a similar way to PDE must, as seen in the following sentences: (17)

he is nedede to deye for the firste synne. he is compelled to die for the first sin ‘he is compelled to (he must) die for the first sin’. (fl1410 Mirrour of the blessed lyf of Jesu Christ)

(18) and God lovith wol tenderly us while (we) be in synne, and so us and God loves well tenderly us while (we) be in sin and so us nedyth to doe our neybor. needs to do our neighbour ‘and God loves us tenderly while we are in sin, and so we must do to our neighbours (lit.: so it is necessary for us to do to our neighbours)’. (1373 A Revelation of Love)

These two examples illustrate how need v.1 and need v.2, respectively, overlap semantically, in that both express external (religious) obligation, and syntactically, in that both have an agonist as subject (or experiencer). In addition, these sentences exemplify another syntactic feature of need v.1 and need v.2 in ME, that is, their overwhelming preference for to-infinitival clauses, which are complements, in the case of need v.1, and which are considered themes, in the case of need v.2, following Allen’s (1995) terminology as for experiencer verb constructions (i.e. the infinitive is selected by 100% of instances of passive ME need v.1, and by 81% of the instances of ME need v.2 with a sentential theme). Summing up, we can claim that in subperiod M3 (1350–1420) passive need v.1 and active need v.2 share two syntactic features: agonist subject (or experiencer, in the case of need v.2) and choice of to-infinitival clauses. Subperiod M3, therefore, represents a turning point in the evolution of need v.1 and need v.2, in terms of frequency, syntax and semantics. Before M3, need v.1 is the most common and after M3 need v.2 takes the lead. In addition, in M3 they coincide semantically in the expression of social obligation, and, syntactically in the

 Lucía Loureiro-Porto

choice of agonist subjects and to-infinitival complements. This may be graphically illustrated as in Figure 3: M3 (1350–1420)

v.1 ‘he compels’ ‘he is compelled’

v.1 ‘he is compelled’ (~ ‘must’) v.2 ‘he needs’ (~ ‘must’)

v.2 ‘he needs’

Figure 3.  Syntactic-semantic confluence of need v.1 and need v.2 in M3 (1350–1420).

This semantic convergence would not be possible without the syntactic closeness between both verbs due to the overwhelming and unexpected preference of need v.1 for the passive voice.

5.  Conclusions In this paper I have studied the relationship between need v.1 and need v.2 as found in a representative OE and ME corpus in order to ascertain the extent to which these two verbs are unrelated, as dictionaries suggest. To begin with, the analysis of the examples of need v.1 and need v.2 in my corpus reveals that need v.1 and need v.2 are similar not only orthographically, but also morphologically, since both are weak verbs derived from the same OE noun, i.e. neod ‘necessity’. From a syntactic perspective, although they are in principle quite different (need v.2 being an experiencer verb, and need v.1 basically a causative verb), at the end of the 14th century (subperiod M3) both are found most frequently with an agonist subject (or experiencer, in the case of need v.2) and a to-infinitival complement (or theme, in the case of need v.2). Semantically, need v.1 and need v.2 have been analysed in terms of forces, following the model of Force Dynamics (cf. Sweetser 1990; Talmy 2000). While need v.1 is more concerned with the expression of physical and external forces, need v.2 expresses external forces and, with an increasing frequency, internal and general forces. Thus, they only coincide in the expression of external forces, more concretely in the expression of obligation, that is, external forces in affirmative contexts.

The convergence of two need verbs in Middle English 



All the meanings conveyed by these two verbs fall within the scope of the evolution of the meaning of modal ‘necessity’, as understood in Force Dynamics. That is, the meanings of these verbs correspond diachronically to the metaphoric development of modal necessity and we can insert our two verbs into the grid as in Figure 4. External > (Physical)

External > (Social)

Internal > General > (Subjective)

need v.1

need v.1 need v.2 need v.2 need v.2

Mental (Epistemic) need v.2

Figure 4.  Replacement of need v.1 with need v.2.

As shown in Figure 4, need v.1 evolves from the physical to the social domain, although it only expresses the most concrete of the meanings of the social domain, namely external forces. Need v.2, in contrast, starts by showing a preference for social and internal meanings, and it increasingly conveys general types of forces that culminate in the development of epistemic meanings in Early Modern English (cf. Loureiro-Porto, in preparation). Thus, external forces are prior to internal forces in the evolution of need (understood as a single verb that may be manifested through need v.1 and need v.2), which goes against van der Auwera & Plungian’s (1998) claim that the movement of the semantics of the modals in the process of grammaticalisation moves from internal to external and not vice versa. The evolution of need, then, supports Traugott & Dasher’s (2002: 121) claim that historical evidence does not always show that internal meanings precede external ones. Finally, need v.2 comes to express epistemic necessity, that is, it enters the mental domain, therefore following the same steps as, for instance, modal may (cf. Sweetser 1990). The progressive loss of referential and concrete meanings of these verbs can be understood as a sign of desemanticisation, one of the processes involved in grammaticalisation (cf. Heine 1993: 58 ff.). In other words, in ME need appears to have started its way towards grammaticalisation, which in Early Modern English will also be manifest in morphological and syntactic aspects (cf. Loureiro Porto, in preparation). Contrary to what is claimed by Traugott & Dasher (2002: 111), I have shown that Force Dynamics is the key for the interpretation of modal necessity and, more specifically, the key for the overlapping of need v.1 and need v.2 and their evolution, because (1) it incorporates semantic nuances not present in other frameworks (e.g., referential meanings such as ‘to press’), and (2) it allows us to accommodate the intermediate cases of the semantic cline of the development of these verbs, as defended in Loureiro Porto (2005a; 2005b).

 Lucía Loureiro-Porto

The last question I would like to address concerns the status of need v.1 and need v.2 as one or two different verbs. Given the morphological, syntactic and semantic similarities between need v.1 and need v.2, I conclude, as opposed to what is found in the dictionaries, that they are two manifestations of the same verb (as claimed also by Molencki 2002; van der Auwera & Taeymans 2004; Taeymans 2006), rather than two different verbs. If we understand that need v.1 and need v.2 are two manifestations of the same verb, we may find an explanation for the recent emergence of need (need to) in PDE as a modal of obligation, replacing must in some contexts (Nokkonen 2006). This new use of need could be interpreted as a case of semantic retraction (cf. Haspelmath 2004). In other words, need to comes to express in PDE strong social forces in the same way as ME need v.1 used to do. In fact, this interpretation has already been suggested (cf. Taeymans 2004). Therefore, although only need v.2 is usually considered the ancestor of PDE need, we must conclude that need v.1 cannot be left out of the picture when trying to account for the evolution of this marginal modal verb.

References Agrafojo Blanco, Héctor. 2003. On the diachronic evolution of the English semi-auxiliary verb be supposed to. Fifty Years of English Studies in Spain (1952–2002). A Commemorative Volume ed. by Ignacio M. Palacios, María José López Couso, Patricia Fra López & Elena Seoane Posse, 295–300. Santiago de Compostela: Universidade de Santiago de Compostela, Servicio de Publicacións e Intercambio Científico. Allen, Cynthia L. 1995. Case Marking and Reanalysis. Grammatical Relations from Old to Early Modern English. Oxford: Clarendon. Bosworth, Joseph & T. Northcote Toller. 1898. An Anglo-Saxon Dictionary. Supplement by T. Northcote Toller 1921. Enlarged Addenda and Corrigenda by Alistair Campbell 1972. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Bybee, Joan & William Pagliuca. 1985. Cross-linguistic comparison and the development of grammatical meaning. Historical Semantics – Historical Word Formation ed. by Jacek Fisiak, 59–83. Berlin: Mouton. diPaolo Healey, Antonette, Joan Holland, Ian McDougall & Peter Mielke. 2000. The Dictionary of Old English Corpus, TEI-P3 conformant version. Toronto: DOE project on CD-Rom. Elmer, Willy. 1981. Diachronic Grammar. The History of Old and Middle English Subjectless Constructions. Tübingen: Niemeyer. Fischer, Olga & Frederike van der Leek. 1983. The demise of the Old English impersonal construction. Journal of Linguistics 19. 337–368. Fischer, Olga & Frederike van der Leek. 1987. A ‘case’ for the Old English impersonal. Explanation and Linguistic Change ed. by Willem Koopman, Frederike van der Leek, Olga Fischer & Roger Eaton, 79–120. Amsterdam & Philadelphia: John Benjamins. Haspelmath, Martin. 2004. On directionality in language change with particular reference to grammaticalization. Up and Down the Cline. The Nature of Grammaticalization ed. by Olga Fischer, Muriel Norde & Harry Perridon, 17–44. Amsterdam & Philadelphia: John Benjamins.



The convergence of two need verbs in Middle English 

Heine, Bernd. 1990. Grammaticalization chains. Studies in Language 16:2. 335–368. Heine, Bernd. 1993. Auxiliaries. Cognitive Forces and Grammaticalization. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Kuteva, Tania. 2004 [2001]. Auxiliation. An Enquiry into the Nature of Grammaticalization. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Langacker, Ronald W. 1999. Grammar and Conceptualization. Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter. Lehmann, Christian. 1995 [1982]. Thoughts on Grammaticalization. Munich: Lincom Europa. Loureiro-Porto, Lucía. 2005a. Force-dynamics: The key for an interpretation of modal necessity in Old English. Neuphilologische Mitteilungen 106:2. 211–227. Loureiro-Porto, Lucía. 2005b. The Semantic Predecessors of Need: From Old to Early Modern English. Santiago de Compostela (Spain): Servicio de Publicacións da Universidade de Santiago de Compostela. Loureiro-Porto, Lucía. 2006. Dan Michel’s use of behove in Ayenbite of Inwit. Paper delivered at the First IDEA Conference, Istanbul (Turkey), April 2006. Loureiro-Porto, Lucía. In preparation. The Semantic Predecessors of Need in the History of English (c750–1710). Lyons, John. 1977. Semantics. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. MED = Kurath, Hans, ed. 1982–. Middle English Dictionary. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press. Middle English Compendium. At <ets.umdl.umich.edu/m/mec>. Molencki, Rafal. 2002. The status of dearr and þearf in Old English. Studia Anglica Posnaniensia 35. 363–380. Nokkonen, Soili. 2006. The semantic variation of NEED TO in four recent British English corpora. International Journal of Corpus Linguistics 11:1. 29–71. OED = Murray, James A.H., Henry Bradley, William A. Craigie & Charles T. Onions, eds. 1933. The Oxford English Dictionary (CD-Rom version, 2nd edition). Oxford: Oxford University Press. Palmer, Frank Robert. 1979. Modality and the English Modals. London: Longman. Palmer, Frank Robert. 1986. Mood and Modality. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Rissanen, Matti, Ossi Ihalainen & Merja Kytö, compilers. 1991. Helsinki Corpus of English Texts: Diachronic and Dialectal. Helsinki: University of Helsinki. Seoane, Elena. 2006. Information structure and word order: The passive as an information rearranging strategy. Handbook of the History of English ed. by Ans van Kemenade & Bettelou Los, 360–391. Oxford: Blackwell. Sweetser, Eve. 1990. From Etymology to Pragmatics: Metaphorical and Cultural Aspects of Semantic Structure. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Taeymans, Martine. 2004. An investigation into the marginal modals dare and need in Present-Day British English: A corpus-based approach. Up and Down the Cline. The Nature of Grammaticalization, ed. by Olga Fischer, Muriel Norde & Harry Perridon, 97–114. Amsterdam & Philadelphia: John Benjamins. Taeymans, Martine. 2006. An Investigation into the Emergence and Development of the Verb Need from Old to Present-Day English: A Corpus-Based Approach. Ph.D. dissertation, Universiteit Antwerpen. Talmy, Leonard. 2000. Toward a Cognitive Semantics. Volume I: Concept Structuring Systems. Cambridge, Mass.: MIT Press. Traugott, Elizabeth C. & Richard B. Dasher. 2002. Regularity in Semantic Change. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

 Lucía Loureiro-Porto Traugott, Elizabeth C. 1989. On the rise of epistemic meanings in English: An example of subjectification in semantic change. Language 65. 31–55. Traugott, Elizabeth C. 1992. Syntax. The Cambridge History of the English Language. Volume I: The Origins to 1066 ed. by Richard Hogg, 168–289. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. van der Auwera, Johan & Martine Taeymans. 2004. On the origin of the modal verb need. Words in their Places. A Festschrift for Lachlan Mackenzie ed. by Henk Aertsen, Mike Hannay & Rod Lyall, 323–331. Amsterdam: Vrije Universiteit. van der Auwera, Johan & Vladimir A. Plungian. 1998. Modality’s semantic map. Linguistic Typology 2. 79–124. Visser, Fredericus Th. 1963–1973. An Historical Syntax of the English Language (4 vols.). Leiden: Brill.

Rivalry among the verbs of wanting1 Minoji Akimoto

Aoyama Gakuin University This paper discusses rivalry amongst the verbs of wanting, e.g., desire, hope, want and wish. Investigation of these verbs from Middle English to present-day English based on various corpora shows that the functional and semantic expansion and reduction of these verbs during these periods have caused reshuffling among these verbs leading to the establishment of a new system of the verbs of wanting. The verb desire has reduced its function over time, while want has expanded its function since around 1800. Hope and wish have retained their functions in their respective habitat of indicative and subjunctive mood.

1.  Introduction The verbs of the wanting type, e.g., desire, hope, want and wish have developed in competition with each other. Hope and wish were already in existence in the OE period, and desire and want came in during the ME period: desire from Old French, want from Old Norse respectively. It is around 1500 that these four verbs entered the phase of rivalry. I shall discuss the syntactic and semantic change of these rival verbs, together with such related subjects as the vicissitudes of conjunctive that and the expansion of to-infinitive constructions. Unlike Rynell (1948), which limits itself to the numerical frequency of nimen and take in ME texts and dialects, that is, on the level of words, my aim is to suggest, in a broad perspective, that there are also syntactic and semantic differences among rival forms, but that such differences bring about change in the system as a whole, with the implication that rivalry always exists at the peril of the system into which lexical or phrasal items enter. Problems of rivalry are of particular interest in the history of English. Rynell (1948) is a typical study which describes in detail the process of replacing nimen,

.  I am grateful to Laurel Brinton, Peter Robinson and the anonymous referees for helpful comments and suggestions on an earlier version of this paper. Thanks are also due to Merja Kytö for enabling me to make use of the Archer Corpus.

 Minoji Akimoto

a verb of native origin by take, an Old Norse loan word. Samuels (1972: 77–79) refers to the competition between cast and throw. Another example of competition is between kill and slay. These are cases where one word ousts the other (i.e., throw ousts cast and kill ousts slay), and the ousted word is then limited to a narrower range of meaning and use in terms of registers. Decline and replacement, and consequent narrowing of meaning, are often associated with the semantic field advocated by Trier (1931: 1–26), where emphasis is placed on the organisation and interrelation of words in the semantic field, although we cannot discuss this problem due to space limitations. His well-known examples are given in Ullmann (1964: 248–249). A parallel phenomenon can be observed in the grammaticalisation process. The development of the auxiliaries expressing future, such as shall, will and be going to, reveals rivalry among the auxiliaries. Shall, which was used most frequently in earlier English, has become less and less frequent in PDE, and now will and be going to are frequent auxiliaries expressing future (see Bybee & Pagliuca 1987; Bybee et al. 1994; Brisard 2001). Be going to, which is newer than will, is very frequent, particularly in present-day American English (see Biber et al. 1999: 488). Shall has become archaic, and now will and be going to are used differently depending on pragmatic contexts. Rivalry among will, shall and be going to is similar to that among desire, hope, want and wish. In the case of desire, hope, want and wish, desire has become archaic and formal in terms of registers; hope, want and wish share the use of to-infinitive; and hope and wish are followed by a subordinate clause (with an indicative verb after hope, a subjunctive after wish). In this way, while these verbs show semantic synonymity, they form a syntactically different set of relations, tending to assume rivalry within the categories (auxiliary verbs, wanting verbs). Furthermore, the former reflect functional development, while the latter reflect a change of semantic field/habit. After surveying the state of these verbs in earlier periods, that is, OE and ME, I shall pay particular attention to the change from the EModE to the presentday periods, because in this period the functional and semantic expansion and reduction of these verbs during these periods are particularly notable. As regards the data for this investigation, I used the Oxford English Dictionary on CD-ROM, the electronic version of the Middle English Dictionary, the Helsinki Corpus, the Archer Corpus, and the FLOB corpus for PDE.

2.  Previous studies Regarding the general survey of these four verbs, the OED is most detailed. While, of these verbs, want has been investigated most thoroughly in such works



Rivalry among the verbs of wanting 

as Bertschinger (1941) and Krug (2000),2 the other verbs have been touched on only sporadically in the literature. For instance, Curme (1959: 401–405), in the section on the subjunctive in substantive clauses, gives examples of each verb as follows:

(1) She desires that he do (or may do) it.



(2) I hope (= desire and expect) that he may recover.



(3) I wish I had wings. (emphasis in the original)

Bertschinger (1941) traces the evolution of want for the ME period when want was borrowed (13th century) to the ModE period, illustrated with abundant examples, firstly semantically, and then syntactically in correspondence to the following semantic classification: s ense 1: sense 2: sense 3: sense 4: sense 5: sense 6:

‘to be lacking’, subjective ‘to lack’, objective ‘to be in the state of lacking’, objective-subjective ‘to suffer from the lack of, to need’ ‘to wish for, desire’ ‘will’

Syntactically the important stage of change is sense 5, dating from 1700, when want began to take the to-infinitive. He further discusses want in relation to its synonyms, wish and desire (1941: 210–236). Krug (2000: 117–166) discusses the development of want to based on the Helsinki Corpus, the Archer Corpus, the British National Corpus and other corpora, together with other emerging modals, such as have to and have got to. He aims to show that want to gives signs of ongoing auxiliarisation, or more exactly, modalisation. Regarding modalisation, he claims that cross-linguistically, verbs of desire and volition are a common source for other modalities and future markers (2000: 118). As regards the development of the modal want to, he summarises the major forces as follows (147): a. syntactic operations: generalisation from NP complements to infinitive complements, b. pragmatic inferencing: enrichment from ‘lack’ (probably via ‘necessity’) to ‘volition’, c. semantic considerations: the reciprocal character of ‘lack’ giving the core meaning ‘be absent from’, which in turn facilitates, d. syntactic reanalysis of topicalised erstwhile Experiencers as agentive subjects. .  For the use of want in ModE, see Mair (1990); Aarts & Aarts (1995) and Verplaeste (2003).

 Minoji Akimoto

3.  Functional changes of the verbs 3.1  Desire According to the OED (s.v. desire v. 1. trans.), the first citation in the sense of ‘To have a strong wish for; to long for, covet, crave’ is as follows: (4) Ant þenne wile . . . þe king of all kinges desire þe to leofmon. (And then the king of all kings will desire you as a beloved one)  (1230 Hali Meid. 11 [OED])

The constructions with to-infinitive (hereafter to-inf) and that-clauses appear soon after the simple object construction. (5) Suik a worthi sun . . . Als sco desired for to haf.. (Such a worthy son . . . as she wanted to have.)  (1300 Cursor M. 10486 (Cott.) [OED]) (6) þenne desired þo caitiffs bade þat þei had ben by noe ladde. (Then those bad caitiffs wished that they would be led by nobody)  (1340 Cursor M. 1801 (Trim.) [OED])

As will be discussed later, desire has been taking a NP constantly from the ME period up to the present. A following to-inf construction was also frequent until LModE, but in PDE the construction has become scarce, with only three examples occurring in the FLOB corpus (see Table 1). The construction with that-clauses has also never been frequent. The OED gives one Shakespeare example after Cursor Mundi (1340), and in the Helsinki Corpus (hereafter HC), the construction appears once in ME III (1350–1420), and twice in ME IV (1420–1500) (see Table 1). Table 1.  Change of syntactic frequency of desire from ME to present-day English (Normalised = per 100,000 words)

ME Example I

II

III IV

EModE I

II III

LModE* I

II III IV PDE**

desire + NP (12) 1 5 21 23 8 12 25 26 27 16 10 93 desire + to-inf (13) – 2 17 24 5 18 33 19 32 23 9 3 desire +NP + to-inf (14) – – – – 8 4 9 27 50 9 – – desire + that-cl (15) – – 1 2 1 4 3 2 10 3 1 – desire + Ø (16) – – – 1 2 1 9 3 22 – – – be + desired + to-inf (17) – 1 8 5 5 3 12 5 14 10 5 5 other (18) – – 6 4 4 1 3 3 11 4 1 – Total 1 8 47 55 29 42 91 82 155 61 25 101 Normalised 1,8 8,2 28,7 27,6 17,3 22,6 54,9 42,5 27,6 10,8 4,3 10,1 * The Archer Corpus was used. I have shown the data for overlapping periods between the Helsinki Corpus and the Archer Corpus without modification. For convenience, I have divided the periods as follows:  I = 1600–1699, II = 1700–1799, III = 1800–1899, IV =1900. ** The FLOB Corpus (one million words) was used.



Rivalry among the verbs of wanting 

In the subordinate clause after desire, the indicative, the subjunctive and the periphrastic subjunctive with should appear, as in (7) I am not so hardy . . . For to desire that you should love me. (I am not so bold … to desire that you should love me)  (a1500 (c1370) Chaucer Compl. L. 85 [HC])

What is peculiar with this construction with that-clauses is the appearance of the pronoun before the that-clause:

(8) I desire you that we may abyde in composicyon. (I desire that we may abide in a truce)  (1523 LD BERNERS Froiss. I. cviii. 130 [HC])

In my data, one example appears in ME IV (1420–1500), two in EModE, and one example in LModE (the Archer Corpus, hereafter AC).3 Another construction worth mentioning is the ‘desire + NP + to-inf ’ construction. This construction appeared first in the ME IV period: (9) He desired me to wryte ffore it … (He desired me to write for it)

(d1425 Paston Letter [HC])

This construction was frequent until about 1700, but disappeared completely after 1900. Bertschinger (1941: 228) gives examples from Spenser. (10) I him desirde … to be pleased To turne aside unto my Cabinet, And staie with me

(F. Q. VI. i. 29.5)

There is another archaic use of desire, taking after, and the OED gives the following example: (11) þo desired þe queen muche after þe nailes þre War-wiþ our lord was Inailed to þe tre. (Then the queen desired much for the same nails that were used to nail Christ to the Cross) (a1300 Holy Rode 347 in Leg. Rood 46 [OED])

Desire after finally disappeared, replaced by desire for. In this connection, Bertschinger (1941: 227) mentions that Chaucer uses desire exclusively for the notion of wishing. He also hints that the pattern ‘have a desire’ contributes to the decline of desire as a verb, together with the frequent uses of want and wish. Table 1 shows the change of frequency of desire in different syntactic patterns from ME to PDE. The following are some representative examples. (12) I desire more acquaintance of you.  (d. folio 1623(1597) The Merry Wives of Windsor [HC])

.  Los (2005: 247) states that there are 21 occurrences of ‘desire + NP + that-clause complement’ out of a total of 139 occurrences in the Paston Letters.

 Minoji Akimoto

(13) … in as moche as it lyveth naturely, that forletith the talent or appetyt of his beynge and desireth to come to deth … (… in as much as it lives naturally, it gives up the disposition and appetite of his being and desires to approach death) (?a1425 (c1380) Chaucer, Boethius [HC]) (14) She desired me to excuse her not writing to you …

(1665 econ. x1 [AC])

(15) … þu hast wrowt in me, desiyng þat I schulde deyin in myschef & gret disease. (… you have worked in me, desiring that I should die in mischief and great disease) (a1438 Kempe, The Book of Magery Kempe [HC]) (16) … he desired he would please to sit down and take share on’t.  (1727 davy. f2 [AC]) (17) The Inhabitants are desired to be careful of their Doors, Windows …  (1773 nyol. n4 [AC]) (18) I desire of God if it were his will hee would let me goe to Rochdale …  (1661 newc. j1 [AC])

3.2  Hope According to the OED (s.v. hope v. 1.a. intr.), this verb (OE hopian) was used in the OE period as an intransitive verb in the sense of ‘To entertain expectation of something desired; to look (mentally) with expectation’ as follows: (19) We to þinum hidercyme hopodan & hyhtan. (We expect and hope for your arrival)

(971 Blickl. Hom. 87 [OED])

The construction with the that-clause was already in existence in OE, as in (20) Ic hopiӡe þæt cherubin se mæra æt wesan wylle. (I hope that the cherub will see more action)  (1050 Byrhtferth’s Handboc in Anglia VIII. 325 [OED])

Note that the indicative was used in the that subordinate clause. In the OE period, the conjunction that appeared, but the conjunction was not often used in the ME period, as in (21) I hope to heuene king mi help schal nouӡt fayle. (I hope to the king in heaven (that) my help shall not fail.)  (c1350 Will. Palerne 1097 [OED])

From the EModE period, the use of conjunctive that has been frequent up to the present, although the that-less construction has been predominant. The construction with to-infinitive appeared in the ME period, as in (22) He . . . hopede to wynne Rome, wane he come eft aӡe. (He hoped to win Rome, when he came after age.)  (1297 R. GLOUC. (1724) 220 [OED]



Rivalry among the verbs of wanting 

The sense of ‘To suppose, think, suspect’ (OED) was used particularly during the ME period: (23) Our Manciple I hope he will be deed. (Our manciple I think will be dead.) (c1386 CHAUCER Reeve’s T. 109 [OED])

Hope for, which appeared during the EModE period, is now used to take a noun. (24) This nauigation . . . was not brought to the ende hoped for.  (1553 EDEN Treat. Newe Ind. (Arb.) 39)

Parenthetical I hope has been in use since the EModE period: (25) That were a iest indeed: they haue not so little grace I hope, that were a tricke indeed. (1597 Shakespeare, The Merry Wives of Windsor [HC])

The germ of the development of hope as a parenthetical marker was already seen in ME: (26) Thyn hyre, hurde, as iche hope, hath nouht to quyty þy dette. (Your payment, shepherd, as I hope, has not repaid your debt)  (c1400 (?a 1387) PPL.C. (Hnt) 10.275 [MED])

In connection with this, Brinton (1996: 212–214) lists ‘first-person’ epistemic parentheticals in Chaucer, but ‘(as) I hope’ is not mentioned. The expression ‘I’m hoping’ is of modern origin, not found in the Helsinki Corpus, but eight examples including I was hoping (1) and I’m hoping for (1) are found in the Archer Corpus, and also eight examples in the FLOB corpus. They are all 20th-century examples. (27) I’m hoping that I can get Lewis Johnson to say publicly that …  (1950 trum. x0 [AC]) (28) ‘I was hoping to see the shadow dancers,’ Robot said. (FLOB)

Table 2 shows the frequency change of the syntactic patterns of hope from ME to PDE. Table 2.  Frequency change of syntactic patterns of hope from ME to present-day hope + NP hope + to-inf hope + that-cl hope + Ø

ME Example I (29) (30) (31) (32)

1 1 – 1

II III 1 3 – –

– 2 2 5

EModE

LModE

IV

I

II

III

2 8 9 6

– 2 – –

– 15 1* 33

– 4 1* 42

I

II III IV

– 3 15 43 6 13 33 115

5 35 28 77

2 25 31 93

PDE – 45 39 72

(Continued)

 Minoji Akimoto

Table 2.  Continued

ME Example I

II III

EModE IV

I

II

III

LModE I

II III IV

PDE

parenthetical use (33) – – – – 1 9 8 8 30 12 12 2** hope + for (34) – – – – – 2 4 3 7 14 14 8 be + hoped + to-inf (35) – – – – – – 2 4 4 4 4 – other – 24 3 8 1 7 4 5 19 14 12 4 Total 3 28 12 33 4 81 79 74 234 189 193 194 Normalised 2,6 28,7 6,5 15,4 2,1 35,3 38,0 37,0 39,0 31,5 32,1 17,1 * Rissanen (1991: 284) gives figures: zero 32/ that 3 for EModEng II, and zero 43/ that 2 for EModE III. ** I checked the parenthetical us of I hope in the BNC corpus, and found 34 examples.

(29) Ston he dude lede, þer he hopede spede. (He led the stone, there he hoped for speed)  (1300 (?1225) Horn, King Horn [HC]) (30) Sere, I hope to be her a-geyn þe next woke … (Sir, I hope to be here again next week)  (a1438 Kempe, The Book of Magery Kempe [HC]) (31) I hope that you find your selfe in a better condition as to your health than formerly.  (1653 finc. x1 [AC]) (32) Ffor wha-swa wil it here or rede, I hope he sal be stirred þar-by. (For whoever will hear or read it, I hope he shall be stirred.)  (a1425(a1400) The Prick of Conscience [HC]) (33) But this cloud I hope will doe my soule good.

(1661 newc. j1 [AC])

(34) Mayn’t we hope for the Honour to see your Ladyship added to # our Society, Madam? (1697 The Relapse [HC]) (35) … it is to be hoped that those who are responsible for the results will…  (1883 tim1. n6 [AC])

3.3  Want This verb came from Old Norse vanta meaning ‘to be lacking, absent’. The first citation in the OED (s.v. want v. 2.a. trans.) is as follows: (36) All þatt wannteþþ Cristess hald All sinnkeþþ inntill helle. (All that lack Christ’s protection sink into hell.)  (c1200 ORMIN 13380 [OED])



Rivalry among the verbs of wanting 

It is during the semantic change of want from ‘to be lacking’ to ‘desire’ that the verb came to take the to-infinitive. (37) All such as want to ride in Post-haste from one World to the other.  (1706 E. WARD Wooden World Diss. (1708) 2 [OED])

As mentioned in the section on previous studies, Bertschinger (1941) traces the history of want in detail dividing it into six stages of semantic development. At stage 5, want began to take the to-infinitive. The predecessor of ‘want + N + to-inf ’ construction appeared, as in (38) … where all my want was that I wanted roome to containe halfe the good cheere … (d. 1630 Taylor, The Pennyles Pilgrimage [HC])

The meaning of want in this context is ‘to need’, and the function of the to-infinitive is ‘for purpose’. The nouns used in this context are all abstract nouns, such as wit, prudence and money. Bertschinger (1941: 182), however, gives an example of Goldsmith (1766), where the personal object is used: (39) ‘Oh, sir!’ cried the Squire, ‘I am your most humble servant; I find you want me to furnish you with argument and intellects too …’ (1766 Goldsmith, Vicar 50)

Table 3 shows the frequency change of the syntactic patterns of want from ME to PDE. Note that this verb has never been followed by a finite subordinate clause. Table 3.  Frequency change of the syntactic patterns of want from ME to the present-day

ME Example I

II III IV

EModE I

II

LModE III I

II III

IV PDE

want + NP (40) 1 2 8 2 1 24 19 5 16 21 39 155 want + to-inf (41) – – – – – – – 4 34 105 359 390 want +NP+to-inf (42) – – – – – – – – 6 27 71 96 other – – – – 5 6 1 1 – – – 9 Total 1 2 8 2 6 30 20 10 56 153 469 650 Normalised 0,88 2,05 4,34 0,93 3,14 15,8 11,68 5 9,32 25,5 78,16 65

(40) And all-þogh þai in helle want light … (And although they lack light in hell …)  (a1425 (a1400) The Prick of Conscience [HC]) (41) I chiefly want to prosecute this design. (42) I want you to observe closely, Jeeves, and …

(1671 cary. d1 [AC]) (1923 wode. f8a [AC])

 Minoji Akimoto

3.4  Wish According to the OED (s.v. wish 1.a. trans.), this verb (OE wýscan) was used in OE as a transitive verb, in the sense of ‘to desire’, as in (43) Ne cuæð he ðæt forðdyðe he æneӡum men ðæs wyscte oððe wilnode. (He did not say this because he wished or desired it to befall any man.)  (c897 ÆLFRED Gregory’s Past. C.i.29 [OED])

Wish takes that or that-less clauses with the indicative, subjunctive and (later) periphrastic subjunctive: (44) Hie . . . wyscaþ þæt hie næfre næron ascennede from fæder ne from meder. (They wish that they never ascended from father or mother)  (971 Blickl. Hom. 93 [OED]) (45) þenne I wussche hit weore myn. (Then I wish it were mine)  (LANGL. P. PL. A. v. 92 [OED]) (46) I wish that it may not prove ominous foretoken of misfortune.  (1586 SIDNEY Arcadia II. x. (1912) 208 [OED])

As will be discussed later, in PDE wish has narrowed down the range of subordinate tenses to the subjunctive in PDE. The conjunctive that was used in OE, but has been generally omitted since the earliest ME period. The function of wish followed by periphrastic may or the indicative has been superseded by that of hope. The construction with to-infinitive began to appear in the ME period. (47) Sche wissheth forto ben unbore. (She wishes to be unborn)  (GOWER Conf. I. 149 [OED])

The accusative with infinitive appeared in EModE: (48) Aftur a maner … the wych I would wysch to be put in vse with vs. (According to a manner . . . which I would wish to be put into use for us)  (1538 STARKEY England II. i. (1878) 176 [OED])

Wish after was used earlier, but has been replaced by wish for since the EModE period. (49) Men . . . wisten Zerne after ure lauerd ihesu cristes tocume. (Men wished willingly for our Lord Jesus Christ’s arrival)  (c1200 Trin. Coll. Hom.3 [OED]) (50) They cast iiij ancres out of the sterne: and wysshed for the daye.  (1526 TINDALE Acts xxvii. 29 [OED])



Rivalry among the verbs of wanting 

Table 4 shows the frequency change of the syntactic patterns of wish from ME to PDE. Table 4.  Frequency change of the syntactic patterns of wish from ME to the present-day

ME Example I

II III IV

EModE I

II

LModE III I

II III

IV

wish + NP (51) 9 4 4 4 2 2 5 4 11 12 2 wish + to-inf (52) 1 1 – – 1 1 1 3 48 73 50 wish+NP + to-inf (53) – – – 1 – 8 4 1 10 20 7 wish + that-cl (54) 5 – 1 2 1 7 2 – 6 4 5 wish + Ø (55) 2 – – 2 1 2 7 11 46 63 55 wish for (56) – – – – – 1 2 2 12 4 1 wish + obj + obj (57) – – – – 1 1 1 8 22 – 3 other 11 3 – – 1 4 5 6 21 8 5 Total 28 8 5 9 7 26 27 35 176 184 128 Normalised 24,8 8,2 2,7 4,2 36,7 13,7 15,7 88 29,3 30,6 21,3

PDE – 64 – 2 29 4 – – 99 9,9

(51) Gretter worshypp I cannot wysshe than for to sytte in the # kynges owne Benche. (I cannot wish greater worship than to sit in the king’s bench)  (1497 In Die Innocencium [HC]) (52) For there is in our nature an inbred desire to ayme at the best, and to wish to equalise them in each commendable quality …  (1627 Ludus Literarius or The Grammar Schole [HC]) (53) þe fyfte virtue or thewe es ‘sleghte’ or ‘sleghenes,’ þat wysses vs to be-warre with wathes of þe # werlde. (The fifth virtue is ‘sleight’, which urges us to be aware of the wrath of the world)  (c1440 Dan Jon Gaytryge’s Sermon) (54) & ec forr þatt teӡӡ wisstenn wel þat Godd comm. Her to manne … (and for that you wish well that God would hear her lament)  (?1200 Ormulum [HC]) (55) As Nero the Emperor wold to his mayster Seneca, the same wysshe I wold to my mayster I love soo well. (As Nero the Emperor went to his master Seneca, I desire that I would go to my master I love so well) (1497 In Die Innocencium [HC]) (56) I do more than wish for her Safety, for ev’ry wish I make I find immediately changed into a Prayer … (1714 pope. x2 [AC]) (57) I wish you joy of your new honour …

(1688 crow. d1 [AC])

 Minoji Akimoto

4.  Factors differentiating the four verbs 4.1  Mood in the subordinate clauses of desire, hope, and wish Mood is usually understood as the speaker’s expression of his/her mental attitude towards the fulfilment of the action or state expressed by the predicate (cf. Poutsma 1926: 161). The attitude of certainty involves the indicative mood, and that of uncertainty involves the subjunctive mood. The indicative includes present and future (will) forms. Poutsma (1926: 161–202) describes two types of subjunctive – inflectional subjunctive and periphrastic subjunctive. With the decline of the inflectional subjunctive, the periphrastic subjunctive with shall, should, may and must has developed.4 The choice of these auxiliaries is determined by the verbs and the intensity of volition the speaker expresses. The following sections and tables present the breakdown of mood differences in the subordinate clauses following desire, hope and wish as found in the Archer Corpus. 4.1.1  Desire + that/Ø In the ME and EModE periods, ‘desire + that/Ø’ is not so frequent. In the LModE period, its peak subperiod is II (1700–1799), and afterwards the pattern ceased to be used. In LModE while the indicative and subjunctive appear, their numbers are not so large in ME and EModE. The periphrastic was most frequent between 1700 and 1799, as can be seen in Table 5. Table 5.  Indicative, subjunctive and periphrastic forms in subordinate clauses after desire in LModE

LModE Example

I

II

III

IV

desire + that +

(a) indicative* (b) subjunctive (58) (c) periphrastic (59)

– – 2

1 – 9

– 1 1

– 1 –

desire + Ø +

(a) indicative (60) (b) subjunctive (c) periphrastic (61)

1 1 1

4 – 18

– – –

– – –

* In this category I included only distinctive indicative forms in each context. The indicatives in the corpus usually took the form of ‘desire + that/Ø … will V’.

.  Poutsma (1926: 177) includes shall in the periphrastic auxiliaries.



Rivalry among the verbs of wanting 

(58) An impoundment order was in accordance with standard practice and the lawyer involved desired that confidentiality be maintained. (1988 atto. 10 [AC]) (59) as he came to Paris to send to desire that he might waite upon my Lord Stair  (1715 sara. x2 [AC]) (60) I desire you will order him and this barber

(1753 smol. f3)

(61) I desire he may be made to explain himself.

(1778 reev. F3 [AC])

4.1.2  Hope + that/Ø ‘hope + Ø’ is more frequent than ‘hope + that’ throughout all the periods up to the present (with the insignificant exception of MEII, cf. Table 2). In LModE the indicative use is predominant. The periphrastic use is fairly frequent, but the subjunctive has rarely been used. Visser (1966: 690–691) mentions that hope (in particularly ‘hope + Ø’) is one of the few verbs used without an auxiliary, giving an example from Chaucer (c1386), as well as examples with auxiliaries from the same period. For further explanation of hope, see James (1986: 30–32). Table 6 shows the frequency of the indicative, subjunctive and periphrastic forms in the subordinate clauses in LModE. Table 6.  Indicative, subjunctive and periphrastic forms in subordinate clauses after hope in LModE

LModE



Example

I

II

III

IV

hope + that +

(a) indicative (62) (b) subjunctive (c) periphrastic (63)

6 – –

13 – 3

17 – 8

30 – 1

hope + Ø +

(a) indicative (64) (b) subjunctive (c) periphrastic (65)

30 1 3

103 – 11

74 – 7

93 – –

The following are some of these examples: (62) We hope that the business of Avignon will now end well 

(1665 inte. n1)

(63) I hope that the end I had in view may finally outbalance this heavy charge.  (1895 mach. f6) (64) Lord bless me, I hope you don’t mean any wickedness by the young creature.  (1819 beaz. d5) (65) I hope in God I may be an instrument in his hands

(1665 gtrk. x1 [AC])

 Minoji Akimoto

4.1.3  Wish + that/Ø Table 7 shows the frequency of indicative, subjunctive and periphrastic forms in the subordinate clauses after wish in LModE. The subjunctive in the that-less construction is by far the most predominant. Table 7.  Indicative, subjunctive and periphrastic forms in subordinate clauses after wish in LModE

LModE



Example

I

II

III

IV

wish + that +

(a) indicative (b) subjunctive (66) (c) periphrastic (67)

– – –

– 4 1

– 4 –

1 3 1

wish + Ø +

(a) indicative (b) subjunctive (68) (c) periphrastic (69)

– 11 –

– 43 2

1 60 2

– 55 –

The following are some of these examples: (66) He expressly wishes that you go to sleep, so that he may have the honour of waking you. (1943 haml. d8) (67) He seem’d to wish much that this affair might go no further. (68) We wish our information were of a kind to be doubted

(1749 dodi. j2) (1845 manl. n5)

(69) It Gives me no small satisfaction to be assured by you that your Late Visit was agreeable and sincerely wish it may be in such a degree as to induce you to repeat (1773 mrcy. x4)

‘Wish + that’ was common during the ME, EModE and LModE periods, but is less frequent in PDE. In the ME period, the indicative was occasionally used, but since the EModE period, the subjunctive has been predominant, particularly in the pattern of ‘wish + Ø’. The pattern of ‘wish + Ø (subjunctive)’ has been established since 1700. Regarding this point, Visser (1966: 826–827) says: ‘Remarkable […] is the use of were after I wish’, giving an example from Langland (1327). 4.2  To-infinitive constructions of desire, hope, want and wish It is generally acknowledged that the to-infinitive construction has encroached on the that clause construction in the history of English, and the finite clauses decreased steadily during the 17th and 18th centuries (cf. Rohdenburg 1995; Denison 1998: 256–257). One reason for the preference of the to-infinitive over that-clauses



Rivalry among the verbs of wanting 

will be an economical one; that is, the former type cares less about tense and mood than the second type where depending on the subject and predication the exact choice of tense and mood is required (cf. Rohdenburg 2007). The verb want in particular has expanded its to-infinitive construction since the LModE II period (see Table 3). In the same period, hope and wish is less frequently found followed by a to-infinitive constructions. Though hope, desire and wish have a longer history followed by to-infinitive, they are all overtaken by want in LModE III (Tables 1–4). As regards the accusative with infinitive constructions, only want has expanded the construction, and desire and wish are rarely found followed by this structure in PDE. Hope seems never to have taken the accusative with infinitive construction (Noël 2003: 359).5 Los (2005) argues that the that-subjunctive has been replaced by the to-infinitive in the history of English. On the other hand, it can be argued that the to-infinitive structure has not replaced the indicative structure. However, desire, which is associated with a certain number of that-clauses in EModE (especially periods I and II, see Table 1), with more periphrastic subjunctives than indicative forms in the subordinate clause in LModE (Table 5) has seen a virtual elimination of that-clauses (and therefore of associated subjunctive forms) in PDE, but no corresponding increase in to-infinitive forms. In addition, wish maintains both to-infinitive and that-less subordinate clauses in EModE and PDE, the latter structure associated particularly with the subjunctive (Table 7), and actually increased the use of that-less subjunctive forms in LModE (Table 7). Hence, we cannot simply say that the to-infinitive structure has replaced the subjunctive clause structure in the history of English. The development of wish, in particular, goes against this trend. 4.3  Omission of conjunction that The omission of the conjunction that was already frequent in OE (see Gorrell 1895: 348). Reasons for this phenomenon are various and depend on verbs. That, on the contrary, is said to be retained when some intervening elements, such as adverbs, are inserted (cf. Rohdenburg 1995). The Table 8 shows the frequency of intervening elements before the that/that-less clauses of each verb in each period.6

.  There was no occurrence of the accusative with infinitive construction in my data, but see the following example (Dixon 2005: 190): I’m hoping for Mary to promote me. .  Finegan & Biber (1995) discuss that and zero complementisers based on the Archer Corpus. They rely on three registers: letters, sermons and medicine, at the same time limiting their description to the set of verbs: say, tell, know and think. They make no reference to our verb category.

 Minoji Akimoto

Table 8.  Numbers of intervening elements (=X) before that and that-less clauses from ME to present-day English (HC, ARCHER, FLOB)

ME Example I

EModE

LModE

II III IV

I

II

III

I

II III IV PDE

2 – 3 –

10 1 22 –

desire + that (tot.) desire + X + that (70) desire + Ø (tot.) desire + X + Ø

– – – –

– – – –

11 1 – –

12 1 – –

1 – 2 1

4 – 1 –

3 1 9 –

hope + that (tot) hope + X + that (71) hope + Ø (tot) hope + X + Ø (72)

– – 1 –

– – 3 –

2 – 5 1

9 – 6 2

– – – –

1 – 33 2

1 – 42 3

wish + that (tot) wish + X + that (73) wish + Ø (tot) wish + X + Ø (74)

5 2 2 1

– – – –

1 1 – –

2 – 2 –

1 – 1 –

7 – 2 –

2 – 7 –

3 1 – –

1 – – –

– – – –

6 13 28 31 2 2 4 8 23 115 77 93 1 6 2 1

31 2 62 –

– – 11 –

2 – 29 –

6 4 5 2 1 2 46 63 55 1 2 2

Because of the scarcity of the number of intervening elements, we cannot say anything definite except that the intervening element does not play a deterministic role in the appearance of that-clauses, for that-clauses often appear without any intervening element before the clause. In addition, the that-less construction sometimes occurs even when there are some intervening elements. This is particularly true about hope. It is probable that other types of verbs, such as verbs of perception/ thought allow the insertion of intervening elements more often than verbs of the wanting type under discussion here. As intervening elements, adverbs/adverbials including a negative element are most frequent, followed by vocative expressions. The following are some examples: (70) I desire, my Lord, that she may tell how she does remember it.  (d. 1685 The Trial of Titus Oates [HC]) (71) and may I hope at last that you are mine. 

(1699 farq. f1 [AC])

(72) I hope in God I may be an instrument in his hands 

(1665 gtrk. x1 [AC])

(73) you stand about helplessly fingering things on the counter and wishing with (1960 mons. f 9 [AC]) growing exasperation, that they’d get on with it. (74) where I wish, most heartily, I had been present to act as host  (1892 stoc. f 7 [AC])



Rivalry among the verbs of wanting 

5.  R  ecent changes and reshuffling leading to the establishment of a new system Desire has become less frequent in PDE after a peak of frequency during the EModE and LModE periods (Table 1). Its usage now has been confined almost exclusively to the pattern ‘desire + NP’. The other uses, such as ‘desire + NP + to-infinitive’ and ‘desire + (that) clause’ are not in use in PDE. Hope is increasingly found with that or zero clauses from the ME period but especially from the LModE period for that-claises and from EModE II for zero-clauses, and this use is now its most frequent context of use in PDE. Next to this function is that of taking the to-infinitive, which has also increased in PDE. Hope cannot take the direct object now, and instead has developed the ‘hope + for’ construction. The parenthetical use of hope is not so frequent in PDE as in LModE. Want began to be very frequent towards the end of the LModE period, particularly the ‘want + to’ construction. The ‘want + NP + to’ construction has also been on increase since 1800. Wish has narrowed down its range of constructions to ‘wish + to’ and ‘wish + Ø clause’. The ‘wish + Ø clause’ construction expresses unrealised facts with preterite verb forms in PDE. Taking into account these functional and semantic changes of the verbs from the OE period to present-day times, I can hypothesise a series of replacements and reshufflings in the history of English (with the proviso that other verbs, such as demand, expect and require may also have influenced the system). In Figures 1 through 4, I show ratio measures of the percentage syntactic use of each verb from ME to PDE. I. Reshuffling among the verbs    (a) desire + to    (b) desire + NP + to     (c) wish + NP + to

}



   (d) desire + that (indicative)

→ want (+ NP) + to

→ hope + that (indicative)

   (e) desire + Ø (subjunctive/periphrastic) → wish + Ø (mostly subjunctive)    (f) wish + that (indicative/periphrastic) → hope + that (indicative) As Figures 1 through 4 show, syntactic and semantic changes of each verb have taken place accompanied by an increase or decrease in the syntactic and semantic domains of the other verbs. The general tendency in the replacement and

 Minoji Akimoto

reshuffling can be summarised as follows. The patterns in the left-hand column have been partially replaced by the patterns on the right column indicated by the arrow symbols.

ME % 100

100

90 80 70

58 44

10 0

desire

that ∅

31 25

that ∅ to inf. that

20

NP to inf.

30

NP

34

40

22 that

50

52

NP

60

hope

10

10 wish

want

EModE % 100

90

90

75

80

20 10 0

14

16

desire

NP

31

22

27

3

hope

10 want

22 22

NP+to inf. that that ∅ NP

30

39

to inf.

40

NP+to inf.

50

to inf NP

60

that ∅

70

9

wish

Figure 1–4.  Percentage use of the four verbs, showing syntactic change from ME to present-day English. The shaded bars show other uses of each verb (see Tables 1, 2, 3 and 4).



Rivalry among the verbs of wanting  LModE % 100 90

70

80 70

0

15

14

desire

14

4

hope

that ∅

to inf. 22

40 40 to inf.

10

15

NP

20

to inf. that

30

29 28 28 NP+to inf. to inf. NP

40

that ∅

50

NP+to inf.

60

60

20

1

want

wish

PDE % 100

96

90 80

67

70

60

60

0

4 desire

2

hope

to inf.

NP+to inf.

24

14

want

2

30 that ∅

10

to inf.

20

23

NP

25

30

that ∅ that to inf.

40

50

NP

50

3

wish

Figure 1–4.  Continued.

As a result of the reshuffling, the following constructions have remained in PDE: II. After the reshuffling 1. desire + NP 2. (a) hope + that/Ø (indicative)   (b) hope + to   (c) parenthetical I hope

 Minoji Akimoto

3. (a) want + to   (b) want + NP + to 4. (a) wish + Ø clause (subjunctive)   (b) wish + to 6.  Conclusion Rivalry among lexical and functional verbs has never been discussed fully in the history of English, despite the clear examples mentioned in the Introduction. The concept, as stated before, involves various factors leading to decline, replacement and reshuffling of verb syntax and meanings. In this paper, we have considered the interplay of verbs of ‘wanting’ (desire, hope, want and wish), on the basis of various corpora. The verbs have changed their functions drastically in the history of English. Desire was very frequent in ME, but has become infrequent in PDE. Hope and wish have been used since OE, but are now associated with different subordinate contexts – indicative and subjunctive respectively. Want, which was borrowed from Old Norse in the ME period has become very frequent since 1800 in the construction of ‘want + (NP) + to’, encroaching on the functions of the other verbs. Consequently we can say that these changes in the verbs have brought about a reshuffling of their system.

References Primary sources AC = Archer Corpus (A Representative Corpus of Historical English Registers). BNC = British National Corpus (100 million words) distributed by Shogakkan Company. FLOB = The Freiburg update of the Lancaster/Oslo/Bergen Corpus. A Corpus containing about 1 million words of British English in 1991. (Included in ICAME). HC = Helsinki Corpus of English Texts, Diachronic Part, ed. by Matti, Rissanen, Merja Kytö & Palander-Collins. (Included in ICAME). MED = The Middle English Dictionary. 1952–2001. Kurath, Hans, Kuhn Sherman M. and Lewis Roberts (eds.). Ann Arbor, MI: University of Michigan Press. http://ets.umdl.umich.edu/ m/mec/. OED = The Oxford English Dictionary on CD-ROM. 1989 [2nd ed.]. Simpson, John A. & Weiner, Edmund S.C. (eds). Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Secondary sources Aarts, Jan & Flor Aarts. 1995. find and want: A corpus-based case study in verb complementation. The Verb in Contemporary English ed. by Bas Aarts & Charles F. Meyer, 159–182. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.



Rivalry among the verbs of wanting 

Bertschinger, Max. 1941. To Want: An Essay in Semantics. Bern: Francke. Biber, Douglas, Stig Johonsson, Geoffrey Leech, Susan Conrad & Edward Finegan. 1999. Longman Grammar of Spoken and Written English. London: Longman. Brinton, Laurel J. 1996. Pragmatic Markers in English. Berlin & New York: Mouton de Gruyter. Brisard, Frank. 2001. Be going to: An exercise in grounding. Journal of Linguistics 37. 251–285. Bybee, Joan & William Pagliuca. 1987. The evolution of future meaning. Papers from the 7th International Conference on Historical Linguistics ed. by Anna Giacalone, Ramat Onofrio Carruba & Giuliano Bernini, 109–122. Amsterdam & Philadelphia: John Benjamins. Bybee, Joan, Revere Perkins & William Pagliuca. 1994. The Evolution of Grammar. Chicago & London: The University of Chicago Press. Curme, George O. 1959 [1931]. Syntax. Boston & Tokyo: D.C. Heath and Company and Maruzen Company Limited. Denison, David. 1998. Syntax. The Cambridge History of the English Language, vol. IV 1776– 1997 ed. by Suzanne Romaine, 92–329. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Dixon, R.M.W. 2005. A Semantic Approach to English Grammar. 2nd ed. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Finegan, Edward & Douglas Biber. 1995. That and zero complementisers in Late Modern English: Exploring ARCHER from 1650–1990. The Verb in Contemporary English: Theory and Description ed. by Bas Aarts & Charles F. Meyer, 241–257. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Gorrell, Hendren J. 1895. Indirect discourse in Anglo-Saxon. PMLA 10. 342–485. James, Francis. 1986. Semantics of the English Subjunctive. Vancouver: University of British Columbia Press. Krug, Manfred. 2000. Emerging English Modals: A Corpus-based Study of Grammaticalization. Berlin & New York: Mouton de Gruyter. Los, Bettelou. 2005. The Rise of the To-Infinitive. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Mair, Christian. 1990. Infinitival Complement Clauses in English. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Noël, Dirk. 2003. Is there semantics in all syntax? Determinants of Grammatical Variation in English ed. by Günter Rohdenburg & Britta Mondorf, 347–377. Berlin & New York: Mouton de Gruyter. Poutsma, Hendrik. 1926. A Grammar of Late Modern English. Groningen: P. Noordhoff. Rissanen, Matti. 1991. On the history of that/zero as object clause links in English. English Corpus Linguistics ed. by Karin Aijmer & Bengt Altenberg, 272–289. London & New York: Longman. Rohdenburg, Günter. 1995. On the replacement of finite complement clauses by infinitives in English. English Studies 76:4. 367–388. Rohdenburg, Günter. 2007. On functional constraints in syntactic change: The rise and fall of prepositional constructions in Early and Late Modern English. English Studies 88:2. 217–233. Rynell, A. 1948. The Rivalry of Scandinavian and Native Synonyms in Middle English Especially Taken and Nimen. Lund: C.W.K. Gleerup. Samuels, Michael L. 1972. Linguistic Evolution. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Trier, Jost. 1931. Der deutsche Wortschatz im Sinnbezirke des Versandes. Die Geschichte eines sprachlichen Feldes. Band I. Von den Anfängen bis zum Beginn des 13. Jahrhunderts. Heidelberg: Carl Winter.

 Minoji Akimoto Ullmann, Stephen. 1964. Semantics: An Introduction to Meaning. Oxford: Basil Blackwell. Verplaetse, Heidi. 2003. What you want and I want: A functional approach to verb complementation of modal want to. Modality in Contemporary English ed. by Roberta Facchinetti, Manfred Krug & Frank Palmer, 151–189. Berlin & New York: Mouton de Gruyter. Visser, F. Th. 1966. An Historical Syntax of the English Language. II. Leiden: E.J. Brill.

A look at respect Investigating metonymies in Early Modern English Heli Tissari

University of Helsinki This paper analyses the occurrences of the verb and noun respect in the EModE period of the Helsinki Corpus of English Texts, and in the Corpus of Early English Correspondence Sampler, with respect to their conceptual metonymies and metaphors, and to which other words they combine with. The paper suggests the term ‘emotion word bundle’ for recurrent phrases with emotion words. It emphasises the role of the concept of vision in the conceptualisation of respect, both metonymically and metaphorically. This has been downplayed in earlier cognitive linguistic research, but becomes particularly clear in a historical study, which shows respect being used for physical, metaphysical and metatextual attention. Coupling eyesight and intellect with emotion and interpersonal communication also makes sense in a wider scientific perspective.

1.  Introduction Beside resembling other English emotion words such as love, or pride, which can also denote attitudes or moral qualities, the range of senses of both the noun and verb respect stretches towards the domain of reference, phrases with the noun respect often specifying the focus of interest, as in (1).

(1) Not that contraries can be in the same subiect at the same instant, in the same part, and in the same respect. (HC: E2 HANDO GIFFORD B3R)

These functions are nicely summarised in the OED definition of the obsolete phrase to have respect to, which means “to have an eye to, to give heed to, by looking at” (n2b). Vision is often a source domain for metaphors of intellect (Sweetser 1990: 23–48), while reference is associated with reasoning. According to the OED, the phrase to have respect to (n2b) was in use ca. 1483–1611, i.e., in the EModE period, and the same holds for several senses having to do with eyesight and reason. This paper relies on both cognitive linguistic theory (emotion concepts, metaphor, metonymy) and corpus linguistic theory (metaphorical patterns, lexical bundles).

 Heli Tissari

Also relying on the OED, it discusses a small set of data from the EModE period of the Helsinki Corpus of English Texts (HC, 71 items) and the Corpus of Early Modern English Correspondence Sampler (CEECS, 140 items). Kövecses (1990: 109–127) deals with the emotion of respect in his book Emotion Concepts, listing conceptual metaphors of respect which can be divided into two groups. While a person is supposed to respect people whose status is higher than his/hers, because, power is up (better is up, the object of respect is up), in terms of metaphors (cf. Lakoff & Johnson 1980), both respect and people who are respected can be seen in terms of a ‘valuable commodity’ (people are commodities, the object of respect is a valuable commodity; respect is a commodity). Note that these metaphors do not describe what respect feels like, but convey social norms. This is another reason to choose the word respect as an object of study, raising the question of whether respect actually is an emotion. Although Kövecses (1990: 109–127) treats it as one, many other books on emotions do not pay any particular attention to it (e.g., Wierzbicka 1999; Lewis & HavilandJones 2000). It appears close to what Damasio (2003: 156) calls ‘social emotions’. The primary reason to study respect, however, is my general objective of describing characteristics of emotion concepts through examining metaphors occurring together with English emotion words (Tissari 2003, 2006a & b). 2.  Theoretical framework In this section, I will compile a ‘methodological toolkit’ with which we can approach the current topic more successfully. Within the framework of cognitive linguistics, much has been written at the turn of the millennium both on metonymy itself and its relationship to metaphor (e.g., Panther & Radden 1999; Dirven & Pörings 2002; Barcelona 2003). Here, I will focus on one article in particular, Dirven’s “Metonymy and metaphor: Different mental strategies of conceptualisation” (2002), because it is a good analytical summary of the topic. I will then discuss Stefanowitsch’s article on what he calls ‘metaphorical pattern analysis’, where he deals with emotion words in English (2006). For my own purposes, I will suggest the term ‘emotion word bundle’ to deal with linguistic patterns with emotion words. To explain why, I will refer to the work of Biber et al. on corpora and English grammar (1999). 2.1  Metaphor and metonymy Dirven summarises his article on the relationship between metonymy and metaphor in what he calls a ‘metaphor-metonymy continuum’. This continuum can be conveniently represented as a figure (Dirven 2002: 93), but here it will be recaptured textually, with relevant examples discussed briefly.

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Dirven discusses conceptual closeness and conceptual distance in terms of the two poles of syntagmatic and paradigmatic relationships. These poles form the basis of the metaphor-metonymy continuum. The syntagmatic end of the continuum consists of non-figurative metonymies, which may be either linear or conjunctive. Conjunctive metonymies may also enter the domain of figurative meaning, and inclusive metonymies belong there exclusively. Metaphor forms the figurative, paradigmatic end of the continuum (2002: 92–93). Dirven includes the following exemplary sentences in his discussion of the topic (original emphases retained):

(2) a.

Different parts of the country do not mean the same.

Sentence (2a) represents linear metonymy. The idea is that language users mentally scan different parts of the country for their people, and think about how they use some linguistic expression. The mental scanning is thus considered a linear exercise (Dirven 2002: 79–80).

(2) b. Tea was a large meal for the Wicksteeds.

Sentence (2b) represents conjunctive metonymy. The word for a drink which was originally drunk in conjunction with a certain meal, tea, has begun to be used as a word denoting the meal itself (Dirven 2002: 80–82).

(2) c.

The crown has not withheld its assent.

Sentence (2c) enters the figurative dimension. It also represents conjunctive metonymy, because the crown is the symbol for the king or queen. However, the meaning is even more layered, because it is not necessarily the royal personages themselves who grant their assent to suggestions, but a larger administrative body of people (Dirven 2002: 95–97).

(2) d. He has a good head on him.

Sentence (2d) represents inclusive metonymy. The head includes the brains which are used for thinking and can therefore stand for intelligence (Dirven 2002: 82–86).

(2) e.

Kriek-Lambik is eating and drinking together. (2002: 93)

Finally, sentence (2e) represents metaphor, because Kriek-Lambik, which is a type of beer, can be considered food only in a metaphorical sense. Here, Dirven considers food and drink to be two different conceptual domains, and a relationship between different conceptual domains can no longer be considered metonymy. A major difference between metonymy and metaphor is that metonymy operates on the principle of contiguity, and metaphor on the principle of contrast. In Lakoff & Johnson’s (1980) theory of metaphor, this contrast occurs between two different conceptual domains (Dirven 2002: 86–92).

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2.2  Metaphorical pattern analysis Stefanowitsch attempts to make corpus-based studies of conceptual metaphors more refined and rigorous by defining a unit of investigation. According to him, “[a] metaphorical pattern is a multi-word expression from a given source domain (SD) into which one or more specific lexical items from a given target domain (TD) have been inserted” (Stefanowitsch 2006: 66). In Stefanowitsch’s method, one chooses a target domain, such as argument, which one wishes to investigate in more detail, and looks for metaphors occurring with the word argument in corpus data (2006: 67). This is exactly what I have done in my previous studies of English emotion words and their metaphors (Tissari 2003, 2006a & b). Stefanowitsch divides the metaphorical pattern into four parts, which are the target domain, the source domain, the general mapping, and the specific relation. To illustrate, let us quote an example from his analysis:

(3) He shot down all my arguments. (original emphasis)

He explains that the target domain here is discussion (argument). The source domain is war (arguments instead of planes or missiles). The general mapping is discussion is war, and the specific relation exists between arguments and planes/ missiles (Stefanowitsch 2006: 67).1 Similarly, one could divide the metaphorical pattern with respect in example (4) into four parts:

(4) … in this case I desier no respect nor regard of me (CEECS: LEY 1585 RDUDLEY 22)

The target domain here is respect, the source domain is a valuable commodity in an economic exchange (respect instead of money or goods), the general mapping is respect is a valuable commodity in an economic exchange, and the specific relation applies between respect and money/goods. However, nothing is quite as simple as that: a similar metaphor applies to regard (of me), and the quote forms only a part of a longer and more complex sentence. Stefanowitsch’s article (2006) succeeds in two things in particular. He formulates an approach and besides, is able to present statistically significant results regarding a large amount of corpus data on PDE emotion words (anger, fear, happiness, sadness, disgust). 2.3  Emotion word bundles Stefanowitsch’s interest in linguistic statistics closely resembles the interests of Douglas Biber and his team. Working on the grammar of PDE, they came up

.  See also Lakoff & Johnson on argument is war (1980: 77–96).



A look at respect 

with the concept of ‘lexical bundles’, which they define as “recurrent expressions, regardless of their idiomaticity, and regardless of their structural status. That is, lexical bundles are simply sequences of word forms that commonly go together in natural discourse” (Biber et al. 1999: 990). Their examples include what they call the ‘academic’ the nature of [sth] and as a result of [sth] (Biber et al. 1999: 992). In EModE, the noun respect occurs in many potential lexical bundles – ‘potential’, because no statistically significant results concerning these exist as yet –, such as in respect of, in respect that, without respect of, for the respect of, for many/ diverse/all (etc) respects, and in which/that respect. Since these patterns are not precisely metaphorical, I would prefer calling them ‘emotion word bundles’ instead of ‘metaphorical patterns’, à la Stefanowitsch (2006). A proper definition of ‘emotion word bundles’ nevertheless combines Biber et al.’s definition of ‘lexical bundles’ (1999: 990) with Stefanowitsch’s ‘metaphorical patterns’ (2006: 66), because some of the emotion word bundles which one can find in corpus data are likely to be metaphorical (cf. be in love, fall in love). It is easier to find statistically significant lexical bundles occurring in PDE than in EModE, because less EModE data is available for such purposes – there is nothing like the British National Corpus for EModE. Perhaps even more importantly, since EModE texts are not as standardised as PDE texts, EModE lexical bundles are likely to be less fixed than PDE ones. In this contribution, I will talk about emotion word bundles without referring to statistical significance, because the theoretical crux is the relationship between metonymy and the word respect, rather than questions of statistical significance concerning its distribution. While the present data clearly shows that metonymic ‘bundling’ is typical of the noun respect, it is too small to yield very much statistical information concerning the bundles. 3.  A closer look at respect This section will first deal with the definition of the noun and verb respect in the OED, the main idea being that the various senses attributed to these can be summarised in three groups – physical attention, metaphysical attention, and metatextual attention. The focus will then shift to the corpus data gathered from the HC and CEECS, keeping in mind the methodological toolkit, including issues of metaphor, metonymy, and emotion word bundles, as well as the information garnered from the OED. 3.1  The noun The OED distinguishes between 18 senses of the noun respect, as opposed to the 6 different senses it ascribes to the verb. It seems that the proliferation of senses

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concerning the domain of reference characterises the noun especially, and that it is easier to categorise the senses of the noun than those of the verb into distinctly separate groups. However, the meaning of the verb is close to the meaning of the noun, and a separate look at it complements the picture. 3.1.1  Three groups of senses Assuming that metonymy operates on the principle of contiguity, the various senses of the noun respect can be seen to consist of three different ‘chains’ of metonymic meaning. The first of these chains has to do with physical attention, the second with metaphysical attention, and the third with metatextual attention. These chains are also assumed to have a metonymic-metaphoric relationship to each other, in that physical attention can metonymically stand for metaphysical and metatextual attention, and be a metaphor for the latter two (cf. Dirven 2002: 86–92). The idea of ‘chains of reasoning’ is adapted from an article on ‘compression’, which is a form of conceptual integration. Compression allows the human mind to “simultaneously control long diffuse chains of logical reasoning and to grasp the global meanings of such chains” (Fauconnier & Turner 2000: 283). Below, I will use the arrows to suggest a plausible direction of logical reasoning. Where this is difficult to postulate, I will use the em dash. The chain of physical attention includes the following, semantically related ‘steps’ that can be considered as links in the chain: to turn to > to have in view > to have an eye to > to give heed, attention, or consideration to something > discrimination, partiality, or favour. I would also like to include here the ‘emotional’ sense of the noun respect, “deferential regard or esteem felt or shown towards a person or thing” (n16a). Example 5 concerns what the OED terms “discrimination, partiality, or favour in regard of persons or thing” (n13b), and also suggests a metaphor of containment, respect being contained (or not) in the person addressed (Lakoff & Johnson 1980: 29–32):

(5) Is there no respect of place, persons, nor time in you? (1601 SHAKES. Twel. N. II. iii. 98)

For ‘metaphysical attention’, let us follow the definition of the noun metaphysics (n1a) in the OED, which is, “dealing with questions about being, substance, time and space, causation, change, and identity”. This chain includes: to have a relation to something – relatively, in due proportion – an aspect of a thing, a relative property or quality – a particular, a point, a detail (example 6, n8b) – appearance, aspect – a relationship – in comparison. These senses appear to ‘metonymically converse’ with each other, as well as with the first group of senses, because one needs to become aware of something in order to analyse its essence. Note also how example (6) represents linear metonymy (Dirven 2002: 79–80).





A look at respect 

(6) Neuer scorne those that be not in all respects so complete as they should bee. (1611 BIBLE Transl. Pref. 15)

The chain of metatextual attention even more clearly overlaps with the chain of metaphysical attention, including such senses as: to have relation to something > to refer to something/with reference to, in view of, by reason of or because of, in comparison (even: considering, seeing, since that) > an opinion or view, a consideration. The following example comes from the EModE period (“by reason or because of”, n4b):

(7) This Quadrant . . . I hold to be as necessary an Instrument as Seamen can use, in respect of its plainness, and brevity. (1669 STURMY Mariner’s Mag. II. vi. 68)

It is perhaps necessary to make two more points here. Firstly, this division of the senses is based on the wording of the OED definitions. This necessarily means that it is a simplification, conflating several diachronic issues, especially the relationship between the Latin roots of the English word and the development of the English word itself. Secondly, this division of senses into three groups is certainly affiliated to Traugott’s claims about subjectification (1989). Rather than to suggest a competing view, the point here is to emphasise the affinity between eyesight, which belongs to human physiology, reasoning about the ‘nature of things’, and the textual presentation of arguments. 3.1.2  An optional grouping of some of the senses Another way to group the senses of the noun respect is to focus on the emotion or attitude, “deferential regard or esteem felt or shown towards a person or thing” (n16a). Sometimes the noun respect is used to convey the emotion or attitude itself, sometimes to convey the idea of somebody’s being the object of such respect; furthermore, the noun can be used to refer to people showing such respect towards others. These groups are contingent on each other, and can thus be seen to be related to each other metonymically. More specifically, they could be seen in terms of conjunctive or inclusive metonymy, depending on whether one would regard these senses in terms of connection, as phenomena which occur together, or in terms of inclusion, as phenomena which involve each other (Dirven 2002: 80–92). Example (8) represents “deferential regard or esteem felt or shown towards a person or thing” (n16a). It also exemplifies the conceptual metaphor respect is a commodity (which may be deserved).

(8) Zeale to promote the common good . . . deserueth certainly much respect and esteeme. (1611 BIBLE Transl. Pref. 1)

The second group, which concerns the object of respect, mainly involves two senses of the noun, “the condition or state of being esteemed or honoured” (n16b,

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example 9), and the now obsolete, “rank, standing; station in life” (n16c, example 10), once current in EModE. Note also how example 10 relates respect to both vision and intellect. In the passage quoted, Cassius exhorts Brutus to recognise himself as the great man people think he is.

(9) What wants reason, wants respect. (1655–60 STANLEY Hist. Philos. (1701) 78/2)

(10) I haue heard, Where many of the best respect in Rome . . . Haue wish’d, that Noble Brutus had his eyes. (1601 SHAKES. Jul. C. I. ii. 59)

The third group, which has to do with showing respect towards others, consists of the seventeenth category of OED senses of the noun, including the now obsolete, (a) “deferential or courteous attentions; actions expressive of respect for a person; politenesses, courtesies” (example 11), and (b) “deferential salutations”, once current in EModE, as well as the two senses (c) “in complimentary formulæ, usually conveying a message expressive of regard or esteem”, and (d) “to pay one’s respects, to show polite attention to a person by presenting oneself or by making a call”. (11) The Science of Respects, is, as I may say, the Soul of Society. (1707 Refl. upon Ridicule 352)

3.2  The verb Several of the senses of the verb respect in the OED cluster around physical attention. These include: to face/to look towards > to regard, consider, take into account > to heed, pay attention to; to observe carefully. As in the case of the noun, I would like to include the ‘emotional’ sense of the verb, “to treat or regard with deference, esteem, or honour; to feel or show respect for” (v4, example 12). Actual occurrences of the verb in these senses can be fairly abstract and metaphorical in nature, as in (12), which personifies fortune, confidence, and reputation. (12) Fortune is to bee honoured and respected, and it be but for her daughters, Confidence and Reputation. (1612 BACON Ess., Fortune)

The OED example of the sense “to resemble” (v3c) combines the domains of physical and metaphysical attention, because it compares physical shape with an abstract notion (13). (13) The heart . . . of man triangularly respecteth the blessed Trinitie; every corner a Person, and the solide substance your common essence. (1604 T. WRIGHT Passions (1620) 219)

It seems preferable to conflate the two categories of metaphysical and textual attention so as to involve the senses: to be directed to; to deal or be concerned with – to expect, anticipate, look for – to relate to, as regards the effect or result produced.



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The verb differs from the noun in extending concern with something (“to deal or be concerned with”, v3a) to concern about the future (“to expect, anticipate, look for”, v5, example 14), which is a rare sense only attested in EModE. (14) I verily suppose there is none among you, who respects to heare his owne praises; if there be, I come not hither to give satisfaction to such. (1623 PEMBLE Wks. (1635) 1)

3.3  Th  e Early Modern English period of the Helsinki Corpus of English Texts The EModE period of the Helsinki Corpus covers the years 1500–1710 (Kytö 1996: 2), and includes 71 occurrences of the verb and noun respect. The verb is much less frequent than the noun, with only 9 occurrences, two (2) of which represent the present participle form respecting (“with reference or regard to”, OED v3b), which occurs in letter headings, as in (15). (15) Thomas Bedyll to Lord Cromwell, respecting the monks of the Charter House at London. A.D. 1537. (E1 XX CORO BEDYLL I, 76)

In the data from the HC, the verb respect is used two or three times to refer to an emotion or attitude, the remainder having to do with ‘regarding’ something or someone in some other way – note how synonymous the two verbs (and nouns) respect and regard in fact are. Example (16) could be read in two ways, either as representing the OED sense “to regard, consider, take into account”, which is said to have been “in common use c 1560–1660” (v2a), or as representing another obsolete OED sense “to esteem, prize, or value (a thing)” (v4b), depending on whether one wishes to lay more weight on paying attention to something or having a positive attitude towards something. These two concepts are very close to each other. It could even be said that metonymy is ‘alive’ in the verb respect, allowing for these different readings. (16) And Moses was very wroth, and said vnto the LORD, Respect not thou their offering: I haue not taken one asse from them, neither haue I hurt one of them. (E2 XX BIBLE AUTHOLD XVI, 1N)

In general, uses of either the verb or the noun attesting a physical act of looking at something with one’s eyes are rare, but (17) is an exception, suggesting a direct link with the physical world around us, and to the senses of taste and touch. (17) Now for his hey you shall see that it be hie short vplandish hey, and so it be sweet, respect not how course or rough it is; sith it is more to scower his teeth and coole his stomacke: then for any nourishment expected from him. (E2 IS HANDO MARKHAM 77)

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Example (18) is interesting because the emotion word bundle in respect of could be interpreted as referring both to the physical act of looking at something carefully in order to investigate it (even to the physical act of walking up and around something) and to the obsolete OED sense “in comparison with”, “common in the 16th and 17th centuries” (n3a), which I would here interpret as metaphysical, because it deals with substance and identity (OED metaphysics n1a). (18) Thus with extreme trauell, ascending and descending, mounting and alighting, I came at night to the place where I would be, in the Brea of Marr, which is a large County, all composed of such mountaines, that Shooters hill, Gads hill, Highgate hill, Hampsted hill, Birdlip hill, or Maluernes hill, are but Molehills in comparison, or like a Liuer, or a Gizard vnder a Capons wing, in respect of the altitude of their tops, or perpendicularitie of their bottomes. (E2 NN TRAV JOTAYLOR 135.C1)

That the idea of fixing one’s gaze at something is still quite alive is nevertheless suggested by other occurrences as well. Example (19) discusses spiritual matters, and includes the metaphorical looke not backe. (19) Lift up your minds to God, and care not too muche for the Worlde; looke not backe to the Fleshpots of Egypte, whiche will allure you from heauenly Respectes to worldlye Securitie, and can thereof neyther make you anye Suretie. (E1 XX TRI THROCKM I, 76.C2)

Example (20) with the emotion word bundle in respect of also involves fixing one’s gaze at something (OED n4b, “in view of, by reason or because of  ”), and even anticipation of something, although the OED includes anticipation only in the senses of the verb, not the noun (cf. section 3.2.). There thus seems to be metonymic interaction between the meanings of the verb and noun even beyond the similarities suggested by the OED. (20) A beautiful young Gentlewoman of Canterbury, being wedded to an old Man in respect of his Riches, he being as full of Ice, as she of Fire, had a mind to try the difference between young and old Flesh … (E3 NI FICT PENNY 160)

That the word respect can also be used to organise discourse (metatextual meaning) is evidenced by (21), which repeats a traditional understanding of the ten commandments as forming two groups: (21) … he which loueth God, will keepe all the Commaundements which respect God, and he which loueth his neighbour will keepe all the Commaundements which respect his neighbour … (E2 IR SERM SMITH B4R)

However, even (19) can be seen to attest a metatextual use of Respectes, which refer to “considerations” (OED n14a).



A look at respect 

In general, the data suggests that the various senses of the verb and noun respect blend in actual usage, and cannot be entirely captured either by their OED definitions or by a division into physical, metaphysical, and metatextual attention. In other words, it seems that in this case, the best solution may not be either to resort to an extended list of senses or to a few generalised senses (cf. Geeraerts 1997: 47–62, Koivisto-Alanko 2000: 186–202), but to allow for metonymic interaction between senses as well. While metonymy enables conflations of contiguous senses, metaphor rather tends to be used to underline the fact that there are several dimensions to the meaning of respect (example 19, cf. example 10). As for emotion word bundles, while the OED treats phrases with the noun respect as forming distinct categories of meaning, authentic EModE examples suggest that the formation of fixed phrases does not exclude metonymic and metaphorical interaction with a wider repertoire of meaning (example 20). Here one might, for example, enter into discussion with Evans, who suggests that to accurately account for the various senses of a word, apart from defining its meaning per se, one needs to recognise “selectional or collocational distinctions” and “unique grammatical constructions”, and use these as criteria for distinguishing between different categories of senses (2003: 93–94). To search for what he calls a ‘sanctioning sense’ (a sense which ‘sanctions’ all the others) for both the verb and noun respect could be helpful in terms of specifying sense variants (Evans 2003: 96–98), but a dynamic model such as suggested by Głaz seems more attractive, since it allows for several local prototypes (major senses) and for interaction between these (2002: 47–80, 85). The emotion word bundles in the HC data include at least the following: in all respects, (in) respect of, in that respect, in the same respect, and in which respect. The preposition for occurs in various combinations, such as for divers respects, for no respect, and for respect of. Other prepositions occurring with the noun respect include above (above other respects), and without (without respect of persons, cf. examples 23 and 35). There are also at least two verbal phrases which ought to be included in an account of the collocations of the noun respect, although they form less fixed bundles. Occurring in letters, these are to pay respect(s) to sb (OED n17d), and remember respect(s) (cf. example 39). In this data, there is an interesting similarity between the participial forms respecting and having respect to involving a potential ambiguity. It has already been mentioned that the present participle form respecting occurs in letter headings to state the topic of the letter (example 15). The emotion word bundle having respect to in this data is also used in a metatextual sense to suggest the reasons for a political decision (OED n1b, example 22). However, having respect to in (22) can simultaneously be understood to convey the idea that “deferential regard or esteem” has been shown towards his Grace (OED n16a).

 Heli Tissari

(22) Beseching your most noble and benigne Grace that, seen upon consyderacion that we fynde as yet no sufficient mater agenst hym, and that having respect aswell to your mercyfull clemencye, as also to your Graces honor, that wold not have hym upon a weak grounde (wherof he myght clere hym self afterwarde) to be extremely handeled, we have respyted his Emprisonement. (E1 XX CORO LORDS I, 124)

3.4  The Corpus of Early English Correspondence Sampler The first part of the CEECS (1418–1638) provides us with 57 respect items, which include only 2 verb forms, an imperative and a present participle. The second part of the CEECS (1580–1680) contains 82 respect items, including 3 verb forms, and 21 past participial adjectives.2 This is a more mixed bag of data than the HC supplies. For example, the set of nouns does not consist of the singular respect and the plural respects only, but one also finds an instance of the noun respecter (example 23, cf. example 35). The idea that one should not regard a person’s outward status resurfaces several times in the data, which negotiates suitable objects of respect: (23) … I have rejoyced in my hearte to consider the faithfullness of our Father, who hath said that he is noe respecter of Persons, but pulleth downe ye proud from their seates, and exalteth the humble and meeke … (JON 1651 JJONES 179)

The past participial form respected can be found in address formulae. This can also be regarded as a means of negotiating or establishing objects of respect, in other words, social roles (cf. 11): (24) To his most respected friend the Lady Cornewalleys, at her lodginge in the Strand. (COR 1613 NA2BACON 17)

The first and second parts of the CEECS differ from each other in that the first part provides us with respect occurring mainly in official and political letters, while the second provides occurrences of respect in less formal contexts. This means that respect is used differently as well: in the first part, it applies more to reasoning, when people offer their opinions and views, and in the second, to asserting one’s positive attitude towards the recipient of the letter. This is likely to reflect a change in the meaning and usage of respect, beyond the contents of the two parts.3

.  For more information on the CEECS, see Nurmi (1998). .  These are not designed to be thematically different, although there are more administrative letters in the first part than in the second.



A look at respect 

Examples (25) and (26), especially the latter, support the view that respect is a commodity which is exchanged between people (Kövecses 1990: 113–114). However, since people are operating with a whole set of ‘commodities’ involving, for example, ‘love’ and ‘service’, it is not the only ‘commodity’ that is exchanged. (25) And now I have donne this, it is tyme I ende, whos love and respect to you shall be endless, in which, to my sorrow, you cannot have so much advantage as I have satisfaction to know myselfe for your most affectionate and faithful, though most unfortunate friend, L. Bedforde. (COR 1625 LRUSSEL 131) (26) My deare respetes and seruis to your good frend Mr. Tindal.  (BAS 1651 FBASIRE 110)

In (25) and (26) the noun respect itself is used like a commodity – it becomes an object of exchange. However, the noun service suggests the possibility of a more concrete exchange in the form of actions. The plural noun favours, which also occurs several times with the noun respect in the data, similarly suggests an exchange of actions or gifts, although favours are apparently received from someone who is above the receiver in the social hierarchy, in contrast to services, which are offered to such people, and also to equals. Example (27) talks about outward expressions of respects (OED n16a, n17a): (27) … I confesse the duty runnes retrograde in these outward expressions of Respects, and I have been fayling in mind towards him …  (JON 1652 JJONES 202)

Earlier occurrences of the noun respect tend to be more abstract in this data. In (28), something is heeded, or taken into account (OED n2c): (28) Deerest brother We ar greitly rejosit that we se ᴣe have respect to oure disese, and thairfor We geve ᴣou oure hartlie thankis, and ᴣoure writing is to ws gude confort. (OR 1513 MTTUDOR 64)

Example (29) suggests a reason for behaving in a certain manner (OED n4b): (29) … for of late I receyved a letter from my nephew Matthew, wherein he desyred that with patience his jorney to London for that occasion might be deferred till Candlemas terme, in respect both of his owne weaknes and his wyf ’s dangerous sicknes, whom to leave so soone in suche a case woulde be to her a great discomfort and discouragement. (HUT 1627 TABOWES 316)

In respect of in (30) could be paraphrased “considering, seeing, since (that)” (OED n4c): (30) I wyll excuse your lordships absence in respecte of the necessytye of your being at London for the better expedytyon of your preparatyons.  (LEY 1585 FWALSINGHAM 9)

 Heli Tissari

Abstract topics require abstract uses of respect: (31) It was a tract against the Bishop of Chichester, for divers errors of his in point of Predestination. The first was, that though we be justified frely, yet not without respect to faith … that though it be with respect to faith, it is farr from Pelag[ianism] … (COS 1627 RMOUNTAGU I, 105)

Example (31) combines several categories in the entry for the noun respect in the OED, which provides us with the phrase without respect to (n6b), “without consideration of, or regard to, something”, but paraphrases with respect to (n7b) in a slightly different manner, “with reference or regard to something”, omitting “consideration”, which occurs in sense 13a, “regard, consideration”. The issue then becomes whether we need to distinguish between “regard” and “consideration” in the paraphrases of without respect to and with respect to, and whether we need a separate entry for each phrase attesting “regard” and/or “consideration” of something (cf. 30). This issue even covers the verb, as attested in (32): (32) But no more of this matter: it concernes me more to have you respecting your health, and to entreate you to have a care that you oppresse not your body or your mynd with too much agitac~on, for they are both greate enemyes to weake spirites. (COR 1626 EBACON 162)

The noun respect forms bundles in a variety of ways in the CEECS data. The following is an attempt to categorise these bundles. Seeing that there are so many related expressions helps us to understand why the editors of the OED resorted to providing us with a sense for each syntactic phrase with the noun respect. However, the list also shows how difficult it is to capture all the variation in form, not to mention the variation in meaning.

(a) With for: for any respect, for many respects, for some respect(s), for sundry respects, for which respect

(33) I wishe it for sundrie respectes, but it will requier a very skillfull man to examine it. (LEY 1586 RDUDLEY 190)

(b) With in: in respect, in respect of, in respect both of, in respect that, in respect to, in any respect, in some respect, in that respect, in these respects, in which respect, in all respects, in all other respects

(34) I have signifyed to her Highnesse that you are better, in respect of living, now where you are placed, and that I thowght you wold be lothe to remove.  (HUT 1594 JWHITGIFT 87)

(c) With with and without: with respect to, without respect to, without respect of

(35) Doctor Gibson’s graunte was by lawe, and for that purpose I charged Doctor Drewrye and Doctor Awbrey that they sholde, withowt respect of persons, geve me their opynions in writinge; which they dyd … (HUT 1582 EGRINDALL 68)

A look at respect 





(d) With other prepositions: beside the respect of, of that respect, out of true respects

(36) And I assure you yf ye saw these places, with the dysposicion of the people as I doe, ye wold think, even for hir majestys own safty sake, but for her own tyme only, beside the respect of Englond, that more money than yet she hath leyd out to be most happely spent yf ther were no gage or hope to have yt payd ageyn. (LEY 1586 RDUDLEY 75)

(e) With have: (to) have respect to (also with for)

(37) So declaryng your sylf therin that the world may perceive that by your good meanys the Kyng ys the better goode Lorde unto me; and that, nowe, newly in maner commyng to the world, ther may be such respect had to my poore degre, olde age, and longe contynuyd servys, as shal be to the Kyngs hygh honor and your gret prayse and laude … (OR2 1520S? TWOLSEY 5)

(f) Linear metonymy: in all respects, in other respects, for sundry respects

(38) Deare Unkle, I doe asure you, though I preferd my health in the first place, I look upon France to be no less advantagose, in all other respects.  (TIX 1670S? ECOTTINGTON 64)

(g) Politeness in letters: my most respected friend, (with) my best respects, with his best respects, to his much respected friend, my dear respects, my humble duty and respects to, combinations with favour(s) and respect(s), combinations with remember, present, and recommend, etc.

(39) Favor me, sweete Sister, soe much to recommend my kind respectes unto my sweete neveu and my neece … (COR 1633 AMEAUTYS 266)

(h) Other: no respect of, the respect of, whatsoever respects

(40) I besech you, for Godes sake, lett no respect of comodyus lying about London cause hir saftye to be neglected, and albeyt she is in all places in the handes of God, yet yt ys good to avoyd the most lykliest places for harme.  (LEY 1586 RDUDLEY 203)

The data suggests that the first period (1418–1638) develops bundles which assist the presentation of reasoning, while the second period (1580–1680) develops bundles which assist people to express their positive attitude towards the recipients of the letters or, more generally, reflect respect as a ‘social emotion’ (Damasio 2003: 156).4 Only a couple of instances of respect in the first part of CEECS represent

.  Th  e examples above are divided as follows: CEECS 1 (first period): (28), (29), (30), (33), (34), (35), (36), (37), (40). CEECS 2 (second period): (23), (24), (25), (26), (27), (31), (32), (38), (39).

 Heli Tissari

the latter category, as against about 80% in the second part. The finding appears significant in spite of the overlap in the periods. No earliest attestations can be established on the basis of this data only, but it seems that the bundles, and even the word respect, are not in frequent use in the fifteenth century. What happens then could be compared to a centrifuge, which separates aspects of reasoning from the basic ‘viewing, regarding’ sense of respect, and to a weaving machine, which later joins the concept of ‘respect’ to other concepts such as ‘favour’, ‘love’, and ‘service’ in order to produce a full linguistic fabric of sociability. The Latin verb respectō conveys the idea of ‘turning around to look for something’, and already had metonymic and metaphorical senses, such as ‘to move towards something’ and ‘to expect’. Even the verb spectō, ‘to look at’, has senses similar to the English verb respect, such as ‘to consider’, and ‘to deal with (abstract topics)’ (Georges 1959: 2349, 2751). It is likely that the EModE writers who employed respect for purposes of reasoning were well aware of these connections. However, the development of the meaning of respect towards a ‘social emotion’ has downplayed such associations in the course of time, and this process appears to have begun even in EModE. 4.  Concluding remarks It is probably best to regard both the noun and verb respect as having at least two different sets of senses, one having to do with reasoning, and the other having to do with sociability. However, this is not the way the OED presents them, allotting much more space to the ‘viewing, regarding and considering’ senses of both, than to an emotion or social attitude. Although the EModE data treated in this article suggests that the latter set was in frequent use as much as four or five hundred years ago, it simultaneously underlines the importance of the former set. Instead of regarding these two sets as separate, it pays to see them as connected through the body: the same eyes that regard objects as wholes and divide them into parts, also regard people and their behaviour. Moreover, both sets of senses cover a continuum of concrete to abstract senses: the objects regarded may be present either physically or mentally, even textually; and people can be respected in thought, word, and deed. It does not suffice to say that metonymy binds the two sets of senses that can be allotted to the verb and noun respect together. Instead, the whole concept of respect in English could be defined in terms of metonymy. It resembles a hall of mirrors which invites a person to see and consider anything that is put



A look at respect 

before the mirrors, reflecting wholes and parts, pulling their various aspects apart and putting them together. In EModE, this characteristic of respect is even more pronounced than in PDE, in which the two sets of senses are further removed from each other and in which there is less interaction between various strands of meaning. The present study complements the previous understanding of the concept of respect as presented by Kövecses (1990: 109–127), not only through adding some historical considerations to his contemporary perspective, but also through emphasising that the concept of vision plays a key role in the conceptualisation of respect. There are two metaphorical sides to the coin, which could be formulated as seeing is understanding and being noticed is being valuable. The similar verb and noun regard seem to call for a comparative study. The idea of vision is inherent in the word respect, and could therefore be seen in terms of either conjunctive or inclusive metonymy (Dirven 2002: 80–86). The connection with Latin confirms Györi’s suggestion (1998, cf. Sweetser 1990) that in order to understand how emotions are conceptualised and to chart their cultural variation, cognitive linguists can usefully study emotion words and their etymologies. Can we then say that respect is an emotion? The connection between respect and vision provides us with one possible answer. Emotions are associated with eyes, especially in that eyes are often seen to ‘contain’ (show) an emotion (Loos et al. 1998). In the case of respect, vision connects emotion and rationality with each other, in agreement with current ideas concerning these concepts (e.g., Damasio 2003). This conclusion challenges Sweetser’s finding that metaphors of vision correlate with what is “objective” and “intellectual”, as against metaphors of hearing which correlate with “interpersonal communication” (1990: 38). As a word used for asserting one’s positive attitude towards the recipient of a letter, for example, respect, if anything, concerns interpersonal communication.5

References Barcelona, Antonio, ed. 2003. Metaphor and Metonymy at the Crossroads: A Cognitive Perspective. Berlin & New York: Mouton de Gruyter. Biber, Douglas, Stig Johansson, Geoffrey Leech, Susan Conrad & Edward Finegan. 1999. Longman Grammar of Spoken and Written English. London: Longman.

.  I thank Laura Visapää for noticing this ‘obvious fact’ and pointing it out to me. I also wish to thank the editors, especially Richard Dury, for their kind assistance in improving this paper. The latter’s suggestion “that perhaps the basic distinction of meaning of respect derives from a distinction of the act associated with eyes: seeing=understanding, while looking=considering valuable” surely deserves our attention in the future.

 Heli Tissari Damasio, Antonio. 2003. Looking for Spinoza: Joy, Sorrow, and the Feeling Brain. Orlando etc.: Harcourt. Dirven, René. 2002. Metonymy and metaphor: Different mental strategies of conceptualisation. Dirven & Pörings 2002. 75–111. (Originally published in 1993 in Leuvense Bijdragen 82. 1–28.) Dirven, René & Ralf Pörings, eds. 2002. Metaphor and Metonymy in Comparison and Contrast. Berlin & New York: Mouton de Gruyter. Evans, Vyvyan. 2003. The Structure of Time. Amsterdam & Philadelphia: John Benjamins. Fauconnier, Gilles & Mark Turner. 2000. Compression and global insight. Cognitive Linguistics 11: 3/4. 283–304. Geeraerts, Dirk. 1997. Diachronic Prototype Semantics: A Contribution to Historical Lexicology. Oxford: Clarendon. Georges, Karl Ernst, ed. 1959. Ausführliches Lateinisch-Deutsches Handwörterbuch. (10th edition.) Basel: Benno Schwabe. Głaz, Adam. 2002. The Dynamics of Meaning: Explorations in the Conceptual Domain of earth. Lublin: Maria Curie-Skłodowska University Press. Györi, Gábor. 1998. Cultural variation in the conceptualisation of emotions: A historical study. Speaking of Emotions: Conceptualisation and Expression ed. by Angeliki Athanasiodou & Elżbieta Tabakowska, 99–124. Berlin & New York: Mouton de Gruyter. Koivisto-Alanko, Päivi. 2000. Abstract Words in Abstract Worlds: Directionality and Prototypical Structure in the Semantic Change in English Nouns of Cognition. Helsinki: Société Néophilologique. Kövecses, Zoltán. 1990. Emotion Concepts. New York etc.: Springer. Kytö, M., comp. 1996. Manual to the Diachronic Part of the Helsinki Corpus of English Texts: Coding Conventions and Lists of Source Texts. 3rd edition. Helsinki: University of Helsinki, Department of English. Lakoff, George & Mark Johnson. 1980. Metaphors We Live By. Chicago & London: The University of Chicago Press. Lewis, Michael & Jeannette M. Haviland-Jones. 2004 (2000). Handbook of Emotions. London & New York: Guilford. Loos, Eugene E. et al., ed. 1998. Metaphors in English. At <www.sil.org/LinguaLinks/lexicon/ MetaphorsInEnglish/Index.htm> . Nurmi, Arja, ed. 1998. Manual for the Corpus of Early English Correspondence Sampler CEECS. Helsinki: University of Helsinki, Department of English. At . OED = Oxford English Dictionary. Online edition at . Panther, Klaus-Uwe & Günter Radden, eds. 1999. Metonymy in Language and Thought. Amsterdam & Philadelphia: John Benjamins. Stefanowitsch, Anatol. 2006. Words and their metaphors: A corpus-based approach. CorpusBased Approaches to Metaphor and Metonymy ed. by Anatol Stefanowitsch & Stefan Th. Gries, 63–105. Berlin & New York: Mouton de Gruyter. Sweetser, Eve. 1990. From Etymology to Pragmatics: Metaphorical and Cultural Aspects of Semantic Change. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Tissari, Heli. 2003. Lovescapes: Changes in Prototypical Senses and Cognitive Metaphors since 1500. Helsinki: Société Néophilologique. Tissari, Heli. 2006a. Conceptualizing shame: Investigating uses of the English word shame, 1418–1991. Selected Proceedings of the 2005 Symposium on New Approaches in English



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Historical Lexis (HEL-LEX) ed. by R.W. McConchie et al., 143–154. Somerville, Mass.: Cascadilla. Tissari, Heli. 2006b. Justified pride? Metaphors of the word pride in English language corpora, 1418–1991. Nordic Journal of English Studies 5:1. 15–49. At . Traugott, Elizabeth Closs. 1989. On the rise of epistemic meanings in English: An example of subjectification in semantic change. Language 65:1. 31–55. Wierzbicka, Anna. 1999. Emotions across Languages and Cultures. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Germanic vs French fixed expressions in Middle English prose Towards a corpus-based historical English phraseology Manfred Markus

University of Innsbruck Based on an analysis of the Innsbruck Prose Corpus, this paper gives evidence of the West Germanic heritage in Middle English fixed expressions. The samples include the non-French and non-modern use of prepositions and of the zeroarticle in prepositional phrases with adjectives (with loud word), moreover some seemingly German but in fact West Germanic idioms in Middle English, twin formulas with and marked by concatenating formal features, such as rhyme, alliteration and repetition, and the special syntagms Adj + N, N + N and a few comparisons with as. A final chapter deals with complex predicates headed by to do, to get, to work and to make. To make + N, as the youngest of the patterns investigated, shows that predicates with the same head may have different ages: to make haste is a relative oldtimer, to make war is an evergreen, and to make love a fairly recent coining.

1.  Introduction Some striking cases of Middle English phraseology, such as on English (rather than in English), show its West Germanic heritage, opposed to the new French influence apparent in the LME standard, such as in English, in line with French en anglais. Unsurprisingly, Modern German has preserved the West Germanic way of referring to a language in the way of a platform metaphor (auf Englisch), rather than of a container metaphor. This paper will glean examples of idiomatic and collocational usage from the Innsbruck Corpus of Middle English Prose and from both the Oxford English Dictionary (OED) on CD-ROM and the Middle English .  This description draws on Lakoff & Johnson (1980). .  The editions and abbreviations used for the individual texts of this corpus, as well as the policy of compiling, are provided in Markus (1999b: 41–79) (Manual of ICAMET).

 Manfred Markus

Dictionary online (MED), with the aim of starting to fill the gap in studies of Middle English phraseology. As a pilot study the paper does not claim to provide an exhaustive description of ME phraseology in terms of empirical quantification. However, before the analysis proper some of the problems of corpus retrieval have to be discussed. The fact that French words took the place of Germanic words in ME is a commonplace and was nicely expressed by the anonymous author of Ancrene Riwle (around 1230, beginning of text): “In this may be notid howe the English tonge is altered in time both in wordes Sentences and Phrases”. And then he contrasts old terms with what he calls “Inkhorne termes” (in the second column): In witt for Conscience ���������������������������������� mans foundels.�������������������� ������������������� for mans Invencions ������������������������������ fore dele.�������������������� ������������������� for the forth parte �������������������������������� h[eue]d sinne������������������� ������������������ for Capitall sinne ����������������� bone.������������ ����������� for desier. ���������������������������� shir heorte.���������������� ��������������� for puer hearte ����������������������� Domelick.�������������� ������������� for Iudiciall ����������������������� Licamlick�������������� ������������� for corporall �������������������� Dedelick������������ ����������� for mortall ������������������������� Ealderlick��������������� �������������� for principall flugol for fugitiue.

While this list focuses on words only, the author rightly claims in his introduction that sentences and phrases were also affected by English turning Romance. Past research in this area has concentrated on syntax. Thus, the reference to cardinal numbers from 21 onwards functioned up to the late 15th century as it does in present-day German, with the units first and the tens following (one and twenty), whereas after that time, obviously under the influence of French (vingtdeux), the other option (twenty-two) was preferred, in writing and (perhaps later) in speech. As regards phrases, however, scholars have only recently started to be interested in idioms and various types of phrases, such as the complex verbs (type: to have a shower). A good example and useful introduction to the topic of historical English fixed expressions is the republication of eight substantial articles by

.  ‘anccor’ in the Innsbruck Prose Corpus, p. 2. .  The deficiency is obvious from a simple query for ‘phrases’, ‘phraseology’ etc. in the MLA Bibliography on CD-ROM: the last thirty years do not provide more than a handful of titles, usually concerned with special fixed expressions.



Germanic vs French fixed expressions in Middle English 

Brinton and Akimoto in 1999. But while the book represents an encouraging contribution to the detailed study of complex verbs, phrasal verbs (like to look up) and complex compositions (like on behalf of), other phraseological units have been disregarded and, what is more, EME texts have only eclectically been included. In another book published in the same year, Hartle (1999), Middle English texts of the Alliterative Revival are at the centre of interest. But the book, as a mere collection of examples, is limited to (alliterative) collocations in verse and offers few conclusions drawn from the analysis. Methodically, it practises a similar approach to that of Oakden in 1935. A more modern approach is demonstrated in a short article (Torresquesana 1999) on historical English phrasal verbs as opposed to prepositional verbs. This is the difference between to break up (the party) (with an accent on up) and to break with (one’s girl friend), where with is unstressed and has to be interpreted as part of the following NP. But since this paper does not focus on a typological classification of collocations, the point has to be left unconsidered in the following. Nor is there time to discuss other aspects of the theory of idioms and collocations. An additional reason, apart from time, is that idiomaticity must be recognised as a graded concept, as has been rightly suggested by Brinton & Akimoto (1999: 8). Moreover, idioms, with their varying degrees of possible lexical substitution, of syntactic flexibility and semantic opacity, are hard to define against mere collocations, especially within the overlapping language systems of EME. Given these unsolved problems, I suggest considering both idioms and collocations in this paper mainly by recourse to the basic and ‘old-fashioned’ parameter of etymology. Since ‘fixed expressions’ (which is the term here used for covering both collocations and idioms) are generally conservative, many OE expressions are likely to have survived in ME and can thus be contrasted with the ‘new wave’ of French.

2.  How to trace Germanic fixed expressions in ME One of the main reasons for the deficiency in the research of historical English phraseology is that phrases, above all idiomatic phrases, are more difficult to grasp in machine-readable form than simpler lexemes. With phrasal verbs, for

.  For details, see my review of Hartle’s book in Anglia (2005). .  Also see the tentative definitions of collocation and idiom in The Oxford English Dictionary of English Idioms (Cowie et al. 1993: XII–XIII).

 Manfred Markus

example, unexpected spellings and divisions of words or the lack of them make collocations and idioms hard to trace, as in is umbe forte (‘is about to, designs to’). Lexicological archaisms and deviant grammatical patterns increase the difficulty of retrieval, as in the case of deð hire into (‘[she] puts [lit.: ‘does’] herself into’), with the personal pronoun used as a reflexive. To make deviant phrasal word forms of this kind retrievable by computer, the texts in question should – ideally – be normalised and selectively tagged, namely in view of the structures which the corpus user expects or hopes to find. At the moment, such ME texts are not available. In order to find Germanic idioms in the haystack of ME texts, we need an appropriate selection of corpus texts, and an efficient method of computer retrieval. 2.1  The selection of texts The ME texts liable to use idiomaticity inherited from OE are preferably those that can be associated with (a) oral (vs written) texts; (b) provincial background (vs the London area); (c) the ‘people’ and popular taste (rather than specifically courtly concerns); (d) the relative simplicity of prose rather than the sophistication of verse; and (e) EME texts rather than later ones. The texts listed in Appendix 1 and 2, mainly of sermons and religious treatises selected from the Innsbruck Prose Corpus, are good candidates for covering most of the criteria mentioned. At any rate, they can be characterised as fairly popular; and some of them reveal an apparent affinity to spokenness. Appendix 1 lists such texts of EME, up to 1350, while Appendix 2 contains later Middle English texts, with Chaucer’s ‘Parson’s Tale’ as the earliest example. 2.2  Computer methods of corpus analysis For a detailed consideration of the problems ensuing from the extreme dialectal variation of ME texts, the interested reader is referred to Markus 1999a, 2000, and 2002, where I last discussed issues of retrieval, normalisation and tagging. To illustrate the problems involved, however, the reader is invited to look into a combined index list for the random collocation heaven and earth, based on the first Rolle text in the corpus (rollhor1) (Figure 1).

.  For the Penn-Helsinki Parsed Corpus of Middle English, which, however, does not fully meet these needs, see www.ling.upenn.edu/midengl/documentation/manual.txt. .  The manuscript dates, dialects and genres are those provided in the headers of the Innsbruck Prose Corpus; they are based on LALME (1986) and – in some cases – on the MED or the editions used for corpus compilation. – In the case of fuzzy datings, the earliest dates given have been used as the criterion for attribution to the two tables of the Appendix.



Germanic vs French fixed expressions in Middle English 

Please select every reference that has: [A] BOTH heeuen/heeuene/… AND erth/erthe/erðe/… [B] with heeuen/heeuene/… BEFORE OR AFTER erth/erthe/erðe/… [C] and within 20 Characters 〈 Enter the number of characters 〉 Press [A], [B], or [C] to change the COMBINE instructions. First Word List Total = 255 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11.

Second Word List Total = 9

heouen 1 1. heuen 113 2. heuene 114 3. heuenes 2 4. heuennes 1 heven 1 hewen 8 hewene 1 hewenes 2

erth 3 erthe 3 erðe 2 eorðe 1

Figure 1.  Heaven and earth in a Rolle text (in WordCruncher Index List).

As Figure 1 shows, there are eleven spelling variants of heaven and four of earth in the Rolle text. With 44 theoretical possibilities of spelling the binomial phrase, we are bound to overlook variants when scanning index lists. Moreover, many forms in the EME texts have inconsistent and ambiguous spellings, for example, as regards the preposition by vs the copula to be in Ancrene Riwle and Ayenbit of Inwyt. As long as no normalised and manually checked text versions are available, one way out of the problem is to proceed text-specifically and to try to be aware of special spelling habits in individual texts. Accordingly, the investigation below will, at least initially, very much focus on just one text, namely Ancrene Wisse/Riwle (Corpus Christi Coll. MS, henceforth ‘anccor’). Beyond concordances and index lists, a convenient method of finding information about ME phrases is, of course, the use of the two well-known large dictionaries, the OED and the MED on CD-ROM or online.10 In addition, traditional

.  At my department in Innsbruck we have experimented with normalisation and applied it on The Innsbruck Letter Corpus. But the much larger quantity of the texts of the Prose Corpus (almost 6 million words) has made us shy away from trying to solve the problem manually. Automatic normalisation of non-specific ME texts has, to my knowledge, so far failed to function. .  For the possibilities and weaknesses of the OED 2 on CD ROM cf. Markus (1999b). Version 3.0 of OED 2, which was recently published and is being strongly advertised, is an enlarged version of its predecessor and more convenient with its modernised interface, but surprisingly restrictive when it comes to the retrieval of fixed expressions. All in all, it does not offer many advantages from the scholar’s point of view.

5 30 91 165 69 38 2 9 24 94 8 27 1 21

anccor*

164 175 137 208 133 679 13 18 117 10 22 81 10 56

by

17 7 8 15 24 15 2 1 8 8 1 3 0 5

down 75 18 26 118 7 139 11 2 71 2 7 64 9 6

from 636 293 352 1349 566 204 78 93 2 45 54 c50 50 122

in 21 9 11 10 13 9 4 4 8 12 0 1 2 2

near 292 112 312 10 28 97 44 41 695 1424 4 807 18 351

on 1530 726 1530 1557 1282 3705 216 217 125 274 127 561 124 587

of 190 72 92 151 181 78 8 8 9 33 3 44 17 34

out 769 312 152 1026 778 1534 109 131 166 586 42 301 84 261

for 205 79 187 181 156 1 23 22 105 242 16 42 12 14

through 1218 564 943 1602 1297 2344 203 241 529 1003 65 874 81 555

to

132 39 111 75 105 53 3 2 2 44 1 19 2 53

up

* Variants in anccor: at, et (4x), bi, by (1x), dun, fro (1x), from, i, in, inne, neh, on, of, ut, ute, uten, for, thorough, thoroughe, þurh, Þurh, to, te (not Latin te!), up, upp, with, withe, wið. ** Variants in ancgon: et, at, bi, dun, from, i, in, inne, neh, o, of, ut, ute, out, for, fore, þurh, þurch, te, to, up. upe, uppe, wid. wiþ, wið.

ancgon** ancnero ancpepys anctit danayen halibod halitit homilbod homilves kentserm oehom sawleswd vices

at

Text

Table 1.  Occurrences of main prepositions in Early Middle English 652 280 137 524 649 24 80 80 39 87 50 71 45 12

with

 Manfred Markus



Germanic vs French fixed expressions in Middle English 

stylistic studies, such as Oakden (1935) and Blake (1972), can be used for identifying trends. Aware that historical phraseology is a yet underdeveloped research area, we will start the analysis of fixed expressions with three classes of phrases: prepositional phrases, twin formulas with and, and complex predicates.

3.  Prepositions Monosyllabic prepositions in English have been selected for study,11 since they are likely to have been frequent in ME (see Table 1, for abbreviations of text identities, see Appendix). From this table we can draw a few general conclusions. First, the preposition by is extremely frequent and, on inspection, mainly used in the ‘old’ sense of a local or temporal attributor, which has survived in ModE by day/night and is illustrated by the analogous function of German bei. Unsurprisingly, we find EME phrases which have more or less analogous patterns in German, but are definitely archaic or non-existent in ModE (cf. Table 2). Table 2.  ME by in anccor ME pattern

cf. German

ModE pattern

bi mi read bi tiden bi ðe muð bi þeos tre bi þe seolf rawe bi rawe bi riht

bei meinem Wort* beizeiten (mit dem Mund),** bei der Hand bei diesem Baum bei dir selbst Zelt bei Zelt† (mit Recht)

in my opinion in time with the mouth at this tree in yourself row for row, cf. step by step rightly, by rights

* As a formula of assertion. ** Parentheses mean that German does not fully go with the Middle English pattern. † Der Große Duden. Bedeutungswörterbuch 1970, v. ‘bei’.

Likewise, the preposition on is occasionally used in an idiomatic way unknown today and partly similar to Modern German, whereas ModE shows some similarity to, and traces of being influenced by, French (cf. Table 3).

.  I have, however, ignored those (like past, like and round) which – according to the OED – hardly existed in ME.

 Manfred Markus

Table 3.  ME on in anccor and its correlates in modern E, G and Fr ME pattern

cf. German

ModE pattern

cf. French

on a wise on ower ahne wise on alle cunne wise on ende on oðer wise bereð on heorte on alre earst on ebreische on englisch on ure ledene mare on hond þenche on cumen on þe on a stunde deien on hunger

auf eine Weise auf eure eigene Weise auf jede erdenkliche Weise am Ende auf andere Weise hat auf dem Herzen (zu allererst) auf Hebräisch auf Englisch (in unserer Sprache) mehr auf der Hand denke an kommen auf dich (in einer Stunde) (vor Hunger sterben)

in a way in your own way in all kinds of ways in the end in another way bears in the heart in the first place in Hebrew in English in our language more in hand think of come to you in an hour die of hunger

(d’une manière) enfin, à la fin (d’une autre manière) porte dans son cœur en premier lieu en hébraïque en anglais en notre langage (prendre) en mains pense à/de venir à dans une heure mourir de faim

It is also striking that many phrases have nouns without referential markers, i.e., unlike their correlates in PDE, they lack articles in the singular (cf. Table 4); this reveals their institutionalised quality. It is true that in PDE we have this kind of ellipsis or zero-articles as well, above all in doublets, such as bed and breakfast, with kith and kin. The Ancrene Riwle text also has these, but in addition one finds a great many other cases of single-noun samples. Table 4.  Zero-article after preposition (in anccor) ME pattern

cf. German

ModE pattern

i muð i trone i niht in heorte i schrift in honde i stude in anli stude for hwil to soðe come ich to ende icoren to pape nan ne halt to oðer in euen wið lut word

in Mund und Nase (auf dem Thron) über Nacht mit Herz und Hand (in der Schrift) mit Herz und Hand von Stund’ an in einsamer Stunde (für eine Weile) in Wahrheit komme ich zu Ende gewählt (zum) Papst keiner hält (zum) andern gegen/zu Abend (essen) mit lauter Stimme

in the mouth on the throne in the night in the heart in the Gospel in the hand* at the hour in a lonesome hour for a while to the truth let me come to an end elected to be pope nobody supports the other in the evening in a loud voice

* In hand ‘being dealt with’, i.e., a specified meaning; cf. also hand in hand, on hand ‘close by’.



Germanic vs French fixed expressions in Middle English 

Interesting enough, the ME pattern is still that of an inflectional language – like that of Present-Day German, where the grammatical categories gender, number and case are expressed by the –er suffix (mit lauter Stimme as opposed to mit der/einer lauten Stimme). While ME has not preserved the OE adjectival inflection (cf. the last line of Table 4: wið lut word), it still reveals the old pattern unmarked by an article.12 As by and on, discussed above, have shown, the deviation from modern usage sometimes consists in the selection of the preposition itself (cf. Table 5). Table 5.  in and through in anccor and its equivalents in German and ModE ME pattern

cf. German pattern

ModE pattern

i niht i þe dei i stude in the front in the last ende in euch time ðurh þat

in der Nacht (am Tage) in der Stunde am Anfang am Ende (zu jeder Zeit) durch das/dadurch

at night during/at the day at the hour at the front at the end (of the book) at any time by that/therefore

Finally, some of the phrases/clauses found in the concordances of prepositions (in anccor) show a general idiomatic petrification,13 which has not survived in PDE, but in German (cf. Table 6). Table 6.  Selected fixed expressions with prepositions (in anccor) Middle English

cf. German pattern

PDE transl.

ibroht to nawt cume we nu to swa to noht iwurðen come ich to ende al to cuðe to wel we witen hit is neod to habben þet he us wið asailed*

zu nichts gebracht kommen wir nun zu so zunichte geworden komme ich (nun) zum Ende all zu bekannt (all)zu gut wissen wir es ist nötig zu haben da(s)/wo er uns mit bedroht (coll)

achieved nothing let us now come to ended up so much in nothing let me come to an end ever so known we know only too well one needs to have that he assails us with

* For this kind of ‘preposition stranding’ in Middle English generally, see Fischer (1992: 387–391).

.  cf. Laʒamon 1429: mid ludere stefne (‘in a loud voice’), Stratmann & Bradley (1967), ‘loud’. .  This term has sometimes been used to characterise idioms, cf. Cowie et al. (1993: XII), with reference to the use of the term by Geoffrey Leech.

 Manfred Markus

Summing up, the use of prepositions in the Corpus Christi MS of Ancrene Riwle reveals the OE and, thus, West Germanic heritage, while there are practically no traces of French calques yet. The role of these in later English, as well as the Germanic heritage of prepositions in other early and later ME works, has to be left to further study, perhaps based on easily accessible, i.e., normalised text versions.

4.  Twin formulas with and Ancrene Riwle seems full of idiomatic twin formulas or doublets with and. While these word pairs cannot be mechanically identified in the text, there are formal or other hints allowing the assumption that certain phrases with and are the very fixed expressions we are looking for. A formal indication can, for example, be seen in the alliterative pattern, as well as in end rhyme and assonance. Thus, sorhful & sari, hest & nest, and efne & smeðe (‘evenly and smoothly’) are good candidates for identification as idiomatic twin formulas. Other criteria are provided on the levels of semantics and pragmatics. The two elements connected by and may be very close or synonymous in meaning, or, on the other hand, antonymous. Or the meanings involved may pragmatically be so basic – as in lif & deað, dei & niht – that they are most likely to have played as important a role in EME as they do today. Further evidence of the idiomatic quality of twin formulas is added by the visual character of the concept expressed as well as by the likelihood that the units allow no literal interpretation. But the decisive criterion for a syntactic group to be classified as a fixed expression is its repeated use. Unless we can trace a phrase with some frequency, we cannot be sure about its idiomatic quality, whatever the internal structure. Thus, the phrase dumbe & deaf, strikingly deviant from PDE deaf and dumb, could be formulaic or merely a syntactic group as long as frequency is disregarded. Table 7, therefore, provides a quantitative survey of the different types distinguished above, related to different works, with Ancrene Riwle (Corpus Christi) used as a master text to start from. The results of Table 7 allow for the following conclusions: (a)  The totals (in the right-hand column) show that our list of collocations or idioms does not include nonce-phrases (as the OED and the MED sometimes present them), since all formulas can be attributed to more than one text, at least in different manuscript versions of Ancrene Riwle. All phrases (except one hope & dread) have been found in another work. (b)  The normalised figures of frequency of the phrases in the last line of Table 7 vary only slightly, as long as we stick to the same work (Ancrene Riwle) or dialect area

ancgon/ -nero/ -tit/-pepys sawl- eswd danayen

homil- ves

kent- serm

homil- bod oehom vices

rollhor1/ 2a/b

Total



(Continued)

dialect area SWML S(W)ML WML Kent Kent Kent S S EML North love & wilning 4 10 – 6 1 – 2 – – – 23 before & after/ 5 3 2 5 – – – – – 2 17 behind day & night 3 5 1 2 4 1 4 – 5 12 37 night & day 3 8 – 2 – - – – 5 23 40 dumbe & deaf 1 3 – 2v 1 1 – – – – 8 flesh & blod 2v 9 – 3 1v 1 – 6 3 12 37 grislich & 2 7 2v – –* – – – – –** 11 grureful heouene & 3v 14 1 6 9 7 – 5 5 16 66 eorðe hope & dred 4v 4*** –† – – – – – – –†† 8 king & keiser 3 8 1 1 – – –††† –‡ – – 13 licome/body & 7v 16v – – 4v 2 1 14 16 21 81 sawle life & death 1 4‡‡ – 3v – 1 1v – 2 – 12 men & women 28v ‡‡‡ 139v – 5 – 1 – – – 73 256 mete & drink 12v 28 – 14 1 – – 2 – 4 61 pine & passion 2 6 – – – – – – – 1v 9 reste & peace 1 4 – – – – – – – 6v 11 shame & pine 2 9 – – – – – – – 8v 19

Text(s) anccor

Table 7.  Idiomatic twin formulas with and in anccor and their occurrences in other ME prose

Germanic vs French fixed expressions in Middle English 

ancgon/ -nero/ -tit/-pepys sawl- eswd danayen

homil- ves

kent- serm

homil- bod oehom vices

rollhor1/ 2a/b

Total

* Variant: grislic & egeslic, egeslic & grislic. ** But there are variants, for example, grisly and greuously and grisly and dreaduol in rolho2b. *** 2x variant: hope without dread. † But there are variants: hope and confidence; hope and trust. †† Variants: hope and confidence, hope and trust. ††† But there is a variant king of kings. ‡ Variant king of kings 2x. ‡‡ 7 variants from death to life. ‡‡‡ 1x woman oðer mon. § But there is the favourite collocation works of brightness and works of darkness (þesternesse).

soft & sweet 3v 8 1 1v – – – – – 2v 15 sorrowful & 2 6 – – – – – – 1v 1 10   sorry weole & 3v 10 1 – – – – – – – 14 wunne wið innen & 2 2 – 3 1 1 – – 1 1 11   wið uten words/ 2 8v – – 3 1 3 –§ 2v 1v 20 speech &   work tokens 95 311 8 53 25 16 11 27 40 184 770 total words 75,372 246,653 4,937 104,128 60,982 3,996 27,517 42,304 28,569 259,265 853,723 in text(s) Per 100,000 126 126 162 51 41 400 49 64 140 71 90

Text(s) anccor

Table 7.  Continued

 Manfred Markus



Germanic vs French fixed expressions in Middle English 

(WML). They range from 126 to 162. In the other dialect areas they vary so much (from 40 to 400) that no dialect-specific conclusions can be drawn. c.  Like today, some of the fixed expressions in ME, too, were more fixed than others. In Table 7, I have marked variation of the conjunction and of the order of elements in an idiom by a 〈 v 〉 . The doublet soft and sweet, for example, occurs in Ancrene Riwle (Corpus Christi College) only once; the other two cases counted were those of the noun (i softnesse. i swetnesse) and of the verbs (softeð & sweteð). This example shows that we have to reckon with networks of pairings which are motivated partly by form, partly by concepts. However, the separation of different types of fixed expressions, on the one hand, and of mere concepts of thought, on the other, has to be the task of further study. Semantically we can split our list of phrases into two main groups: a group of more universal concepts, in particular, in the form of antonyms like day and night, and a group mainly of synonyms which are more conditioned by the implicit norms and values of a text and its time. A typical example of the latter category is love and wilning (‘desire’), the first example on our list. This type is the more interesting of the two, since there is less conceptual need for such phrases than in the case of the ‘universals’. The universals, such as before and after, heaven and earth, body and soul, life and death, men and women, within and without, are found in later English and in other, non-English languages as well (though not necessarily with the same order of elements) and are, on average, better represented in our texts right through the different dialects. The synonyms, on the other hand, are a rhetorical means of emphasis. In EME they frequently have alliteration, with alliteration perhaps being even the cause for their coining, and they generally show more variation in the dialects and texts considered than the universals. Thus, grislich and grureful does not occur in Rolle’s texts, i.e., in the North, but instead we find the variants grisly and greuously and also grisly and dreaduol (‘dreadful’). And in the Kentish homilies (Vespasian MS) the correlative phrases are both grislic & egeslic (‘terrible’, from OE) and egeslic & grislic. There is a similar tendency towards variation in most of the other (more or less) synonymous twin formulas: pine & passion, rest & peace, shame & pine, soft & sweet, sorrowful & sorry (sare), weole & wunne. In view of these observations, the following questions may arise: a. To what extent does alliteration play a role as the initial impulse of ME idiomatic coinings?14 .  For the role of alliterative “two-stress phrases” in Ancrene Riwle and other prose associated with it, see Millett & Wogan-Browne (1990: XXXIII–XXXVI).

 Manfred Markus

b. In what way and why did Early ME twin phrases change their shape, or vanish? c. Which of the ‘non-universal’ ME idioms had a merely regional or text-specific distribution, which of them were used more generally? This paper cannot exhaustively answer these questions, but a glimpse at twin formulas of 15th-century works (Table 8) shows that they now tend to be less general, i.e., that they are more work-specific. Thus, the findings on the London text Speculum Sacerdotale are hardly confirmed by the other texts. Characteristically enough, the only striking exception to this, namely body & soul, is a doublet not of synonyms, but of (universal) antonyms. Another question to be raised is: what is the share of Germanic and Romance etymology? It is obvious that the 15th-century doublets made good use of French words, often coupled with Germanic synonyms (fed & pastoured, freedom & liberty), and clearly alliteration had lost ground (marvels & miracles is one of the few examples). At any rate, while twin formulas with and were a well-known general feature of 15th-century ‘aureate’ style (cf. Markus 1983), our analysis has shown that they were also very common in the 13th, though the motivation was different then. The role of alliteration in the Early ME doublets can be expected in other fixed expressions of that time as well, irrespective of their syntactic form. The text of Hali Maidhad, for example, strikes the reader by its frequent use of noun phrases with adjectival or nominal attributes. To the extent that they are “stereotyped figurative phrases”,15 we could classify them as Early ME kenningar in the OE tradition.16 Here are a few examples: a. adj + noun: fleshly filth; licomliche lustes; fals folc; bittre bale (‘mischief ’); heste halhen (‘highest saints’); b. N + (of) N: here of helle (‘army of hell’); might of maidenhood; maidenhood’s menske (‘grace’); life’s lord Since alliteration here functions as a stylistic means of emphasis, other such means can also be expected, for example, rhyme and literal repetition: wullen ha, nullen ha (‘willy-nilly’); king of kings; blisse upo blisse (‘bless over bless’); crune upo crune (‘crown’); evil over evil; wonder over wonder (anccor).

.  Cf. the definition of a kenning in Thrall, Hibbard & Holman (1962). .  The use of various types of Middle English phrases in ME literature in line with the OE tradition was emphasised and substantially demonstrated by Oakden (1935: 233–379); however, almost all his examples are from alliterative poetry. Likewise, Hartle’s corpus (1999) is based on poetry only.

speculum

tretlov

perske

mandevil

mirbles

abbey

lollard



dialect area Lond Lond Lond EML EML North S/CML affection & charity 2 - - - 1 - - body & soul 7v 10v 4v - 12v 1 19v bondage & servitude 1 - - - - - - cause & reason 1 - - - - - - charity & friendship 1 - - - - - - comfort & joy 2v - - - 6v 1v - (re)commend & praise 1 - - - 1v - - custom & manner 1 - - - - - - dear & familiar 1 - - - - - - descended & came down 1 - - - - - - due & needful 1 - - - - - - faith & belief 1 - - - 3v - - false & evil 2v - - - - - - fed & pastured 1 - - - - - - freedom & liberty 2v - - - - - - ground & firmament 1 - - - - - - humility & lowness 1 - - - - - - humility & meekness 1 - 1v - - - - liking & pleasing 1 - - - - - - malice & wickedness 1 - - 1v 1 - - marvels & miracles 2v - - - - - - meekness & mercy 1 - - - - - - mercy & pity 3v 3v - - 4v - -

Text

Table 8.  Twin formulas with and (normalised spelling) in speculum and their occurrences in other LME prose texts (v = includes slight variations) Total

(continued)

SW - 3 - 53 - 1 - 1 - 1 - 9 - 2 - 1 - 1 - 1 - 1 - 4 - 2 - 1 - 2 - 1 - 1 - 2 - 1 - 3 - 2 - 1 - 10

trevdia

Germanic vs French fixed expressions in Middle English 

speculum

tretlov

perske

mandevil

mirbles

abbey

lollard

named & called 1 – – – – – – noise & cry 1 – – – – – 1 ordained & set 2v – – – – – – shamefully & lewdly 1 – – – – – – simplicity & meekness 1 – – – 1v – – sins & trespassings 3v – – – 2v – – sins & vices 5v – – – 3v – – solace & comfort 1 – – – 1v – – sorcery& witchcraft 1 – – – – – – speech and works 1 – – – – – – speedily & swiftly 2v – – – – – – vanities & lesinges/lies 1 – – – – – – vices & evil 1 – – – – – – vices & sins 6v – – – – – – well & worshipfully 1 – – – – – – wicked & unkind 1 – – – – – – wonders & signs 1 – – – 1v – – worship & honour 3v – – – 3v 1v 1v worthiness & sublimity 1 – – – – - - Tokens 80 13 5 1 39 3 21 Total words in text(s) 121,003 47,848 36,246 27,077 115,456 5,145 109,403 Per 100,000 66 27 14 4 34 58 19

Text

Table 8.  (Continued) Total

– 1 – 2 – 2 – 1 – 2 – 5 – 8 – 2 – 1 – 1 – 2 – 1 – 1 – 6 – 1 – 1 – 2 – 8 – 1 0 162 7,118 469,296 – 35

trevdia

 Manfred Markus



Germanic vs French fixed expressions in Middle English 

The repetitive pattern seems to be an old one, as can be gathered from its role in German (Wunder über Wunder). Another feature of an emphatic style is comparison, of the type as cool as a cucumber. An eclectic query concerning this point has provided a few examples: as fyn as emperoure, kyng, or quene (lollard); as rede as ony blod; as rond as an horse sho (mandevil); as grete as the sonne; as þicke as grauylle lyþe in the see; symple as the dowue; wyse as the serpent (speculum) This feature is more frequent in the 15th century texts than in those of the 13th, but for lack of space it cannot now be pursued empirically. Instead, the following discussion will focus on fixed expressions in connection with selected everyday verbs and nouns.

5.  Complex predicates with do, get, work and make In PDE, basic verbs, such as to do, to go, to have, are very often part of a collocational group with a direct or prepositional object following. We ‘do’ homework, the dishes, one hundred miles per hour; we ‘go’ for a walk, on the dole, or down the drain; one may ‘have’ experience, ‘make’ trouble, and ‘take’ measures. There are clear collocational patterns here, no matter whether the elements are to be understood literally or whether idiomaticity is involved. English is – needless to demonstrate – most productive in this pattern, which is a verb-object pattern. In ME, its productivity was encouraged not only by the French example – prendre part was calqued into to take part –, but also by the growing importance of the subject-verb-object word order rule in LME. Because of this rule, the collocational preferences just described are rarer in EME than later, and also fairly untypical – because here the grammatical object often does not directly follow the verb, but precedes it. This is the case in many languages, such as German, where word order is steered by theme and rheme rather than a strict syntactic rule. While some VO-sequences occur in EME texts, they are rarely those that have survived in ModE, but they are typically traditional ones, and some of them, like the following from anccor, would remind us of German (see Table 9). Table 9.  Typical VO-sequences in early ME (from Ancrene Riwle) Early ME

German

PDE

haue the fore dele habben in3ong godd haue þonc

den Vorteil haben Zugang haben Gott hab’/sei Dank

have/be at an advantage gain entry thank God

 Manfred Markus

In view of the large number of VO-collocations in PDE, these few examples are exceptional and coincidental. The more typical and more idiomatic phrases are those that are difficult to identify from a present point of view, not due to the strange spellings in EME, but because of the fact that some of the syntactic patterns used no longer exist in PDE and are again apt to remind us of German. A case in point is ȝe habbeð leaue bearuot gan (‘you have preferred to go barefooted’, cf. Germ. ‘ihr seid lieber barfuss gegangen’). It does not matter here what type of words a verb typically collocates with; the point at issue is that a phrase is identified as an institutionalised pattern, marked by its archaic and/or deviant quality. Table 10 lists some of the idioms with to do from the 13th century (all of them confirmed by the OED or MED). Similar findings are available for to get (Table 11). Table 10.  do-phrases in Middle English Phrase

ModE equiv.

Sources cf.

German

to do of(f)

to deprive of*

wegtun

to do os. to

to go to

to do sb V

to cause/get sb to V

to do away

to remove/abolish

to do out

To put out, expel, extirpate, remove. To put to, add, apply

anccor: lutel strengðe ich do of ham (+3); MED 5b. OED Ancr.R. 430: Me were leouere uor to don me touward Rome OED Kentish Serm. OE Misc. 26: þo dede he somoni alle Þo wyse clerekes. OED Hali Meid. 11 Do Þu hit eanes awei; OED Mandeville: He byddethe hem to don here hond a wey. Cf. MED 5b. anccor: ear þe muð i schrift do ut þe heued sunne. Cf. MED 5b. anccor: as 3e habbeð idon & doð to alle oðre (+1). Cf. OED 51.

to do to

sich fort machen (arch)

wegtun

coll. raus-machen, raustun dazutun

* But cf. the old-fashioned verb to doff (‘to take off a piece of clothing’).

Table 11.  get-phrases in Middle English Phrase

PDE meaning

cf. German

geten þe ouer-hand to get one’s way to get together

to become superior to go away to collect

die Oberhand gewinnen seinen Weg nehmen zusammenkriegen



Germanic vs French fixed expressions in Middle English 

In the present context, however, the more interesting phrases are those with to work and to make, because these verbs competed with don in the EME period, and, in particular, to make started widely to replace it around 1200 (cf. OED under make vb V 57).

Table 12.  Early Middle English werken/wurchen Phrase (normal.)

Meaning OED

Source 1

Source 2

cf. German

to work a miracle/ wonders

A. I.1 to do, perform (a deed, course of action, etc)

a1225 Ancr. R. 424 Wurche Þet me hat hire wiðuten grucchunge.

rollho1: to wyrke myracles

Wunder wirken

to work evil

A.I.1b. to do sth evil or harmful

anctit: uilainie wurchen

lollard: wirche we goode werkis

Gutes/Böses wirken

to work worship

c. perform a ceremony

MED 3c(d) a1325 Cursor M. (Vsp. A.3) wirscipp for to wirke

to let work; to let God work

21b to allow to act or proceed; leave the rest to God

c1230 Hali Meid. (1922) 13 Ne Þarf Þe bute wilnen, & lete godd wurchen.

to work (thereafter)

21. To act, to perform work or labour

c1200 Vices & Vertues 27 Hem ðe on him be lieueð and ðar after wercheð; rolho2a: god werketh lyke a leche

Goethe: “der alles wirkt und alles schafft ...” ayenbit: þe fizicien ne may na3t wel werche

(danach) handeln

Irrespective of the meanings of to work in EME, in the general sense of ‘to do/ make’, the contexts of the passages given in Table 12 and of many other passages (omitted here for practical reasons) show that the major motivation for the continuing use of wyrcean/wurchen in EME can be seen in the role of this word within formulaic phrases, with alliteration being an important cohesive principle. The surviving preference for alliterative formulae seems to be the reason for the following favourite collocates of wurchen (Table 13).

 Manfred Markus

Table 13.  Middle English alliterative collocates of wurchen Collocate

Homilbod

Vices

Rollho

Sawlwd

well 5 1 wonder 5 work 5 3 1 will 2 2 1 waste 1

It does not come as a surprise that the syntax of the collocations with wurchen was subject to variation, as long as alliteration was still intact as a guiding principle. But since alliteration was generally losing ground in the 14th century, a few cases of wurchen phrases with non-alliterative collocates could also be traced (such as in thynkynge, in wyrkynge [rollho1]). Here the age-old tradition of collocating alliterating words has obviously been carried over to more or less synonymous word pairs, so that we are concerned again with conceptual figures rather than word figures. Thus, the alliterative phrase wordes and werkes seems to have given rise to the collocational variant wurchen and thinking/thought, or even to the phrase in hiis fantasies & in his wyrkynges (both from rollho1).17 Of course, all this happened before wurchen narrowed down its meaning to PDE to work, at the same time also undergoing a renewal phonemically (ch > k).18 In contrast to wurchen, maken had a continuous history in ME and beyond, and, therefore, a more productive one. In view of the large number of meanings – the OED (make v1) has 96 lemmas, some of them with dozens of subentries – Table 14 lists only a few of the phrases with to make, namely those that have OED citations before 1500 but have not survived in PDE and have structural correlates in German.19 As mentioned earlier, the pattern make + N was reinforced by the influence of French (faire + N) on Middle English, so that phrases such as to make experience, ~ marriage, ~ exposition were coined. Although these happen to have correlates in German (eine Erfahrung machen, Hochzeit machen, eine Ausstellung .  The Rolle text is the only one where I have found this. As a mystic, Rolle was interested in the contrast between inner life and (external) words. .  Due to conversion from the noun work and/or Scandinavian influence (OED work v.).- The OED’s first occurrence of to work in the modern sense of ‘to do one’s ordinary business’ is from 1307 (cf. OED 2, to work 26). .  For further examples cf. MED v(1) under maken rim, ~ thef, ~ token to, ~ chere, ~ a gift, ~ dronken, ~ loved, ~ fast, and many others.



Germanic vs French fixed expressions in Middle English 

Table 14.  Archaic and obsolete collocates of to make (maken), with German correlates Phrase

OED/MED

cf. German

make away/out of the way/hence

OED +33

~ oneself N/adj: ‘to maintain or pretend that one is (so-and-so)’ ~ forth: ‘to complete’, ‘to send forth’, ‘to issue’ ~ a miracle/fault/war

OED 51 +d refl. with n. or adj. as compl. OED 87 +b

auf-/fortmachen, auf den Weg machen sich dümmer machen/ stellen, zum N machen mach voran! (coll)

OED V. 57 +a/b

~ a bargain ~ ending/ a gathering/ overdoinge ~ mirth/ care

OED 57 +d, now only legal. OED 59 +b; MED 12a, 12c.

~ it ~ glad/ nice ~ again/ ~at one(e): ‘to repair’ ~ through: ‘to go through’

OED 68 +a OED +69 OED +83 OED +93 (since 1606)

OED 62 +a; MED maken 8b.

Fehler machen; but: Wunder tun; Krieg führen ei. Vertrag ~ ein Ende ~, eine Versammlung ~ Freude/sich Sorge machen es ~ froh ~, es nett ~ wieder ganz ~ durchmachen

machen) in these cases no Germanic background can be claimed for the English idioms. However, being French calques did not preserve some of such English phrases from becoming obsolete, sharing this fate with many words and structures of Germanic etymology. The OED and the MED list a few dozen nouns which are still in use as collocates of to make. Most of them are clearly French loans. This gives evidence of the fact that verb-object collocations are frequently French calques, and the dominance of French in this important syntactic pattern should not come as a surprise. Nevertheless, as we have seen, in EME, in various niches of idiomatic expression, there is a remarkable heritage of OE worth further excavation.

6.  Conclusion This paper has aimed at demonstrating the degree of evidence of the West Germanic heritage that ME shares with German in many of its fixed expressions, which can be found through analysis not of the well-known LME verse texts, but prose, preferably of the earlier ME period and those with some ­affinity

 Manfred Markus

to spoken English, such as homilies. We have not made a clear distinction between idioms proper, which we can understand to always imply transfer from a literal to a figurative meaning, and ‘mere’ collocations, where the question of the semantic relationship between what is said and what is meant is of little interest. The reason why this question was neglected was that both collocations and idioms likewise reveal the tendency of lexical word groups or phrases to petrify. As a result of petrification, many Early ME fixed expressions have turned out to be leftovers of old patterns, shared with a more conservative West Germanic language such as German. The point was first demonstrated by the non-modern and nonFrench use of some of the more frequent prepositions in prepositional phrases. In connection with this, we found that a few prepositional phrases with adjectives and a zero article, such as with loud word, show ME loss of suffixes combined with the OE zero article.20 Apart from eclectic findings of, as it were, Germanic idioms in ME, the paper, then focussing on twin formulas with and, proved their dialect and text specificity, but also a tendency of the ‘non-universal’ doublets to be kept alive for quite a long time by the use of concatenating formal features, such as alliteration, rhyme and repetition. We also looked briefly at other syntagms, namely Adj + N, N + N and a few comparisons with as. All these patterns would be worth further in-depth investigations. A final section was dedicated to complex predicates with the verbs to do, to get, to work and to make. Neither West Germanic/German nor French could claim ‘copyright’ for this pattern. Accordingly, the picture concerning complex predicates in ME turned out to be complex indeed. To make + N proved to be the youngest of the patterns investigated. Even here we obviously have different age groups: to make haste is a relative old-timer, to make war is, alas, an evergreen, and to make love, though ever valid in re, a fairly recent coining. It is hoped that this pilot study has shown the relevance of Middle English phraseology. Just as present native speakers, people of medieval English spoke in chunks rather than merely in words, more so than historical English grammar has so far taken into account. It is high time that we start discovering the various collocational and cohesive patterns that were part of speakers’ competence.

.  In OE the phrase would be: wiþ hludum word, with zero predetermination and the (strong) inflection of the adjective. In ModE, the widely obligatory use of the predeterminating article makes up for the loss of inflection.



Germanic vs French fixed expressions in Middle English 

References Primary sources The Middle English source texts have been selected from the Innsbruck Prose Corpus. The editions and abbreviations used for the individual texts of this corpus are listed in the Manual of ICAMET (Innsbruck Computer Archive of Machine-Readable English Texts) (Markus 1999b. 41–79). The Oxford English Dictionary, 2nd Edition. On Compact Disk. Oxford: University Press.

Secondary sources Blake, Norman F. 1972. Middle English prose and its audience. Anglia 90. 437–455. Brinton, Laurel J. & Minoji Akimoto, eds. 1999. Collocational and Idiomatic Aspects of Composite Predicates in the History of English. Amsterdam & Philadelphia: John Benjamins. Cowie, A.P., Mackin, R. & McCaig, I.R. 1993. Oxford English Dictionary of English Idioms. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Der Große Duden. Bedeutungswörterbuch. 1970. Mannheim, etc.: Dudenverlag. Fischer, Olga. 1992. Syntax. The Cambridge History of the English Language, Vol. II: 1060–1476 ed. Norman Blake, 207–408. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Hartle, Paul. 1999. Hunting the Letter. Middle English Alliterative Verse and the Formulaic Theory. Münsteraner Monographien zur englischen Literatur 21. Frankfurt a.M.: Peter Lang. Lakoff, George & M. Johnson. 1980. Metaphors We Live By. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Lalme 1986. A Linguistic Atlas of Late Mediaeval English by Angus McIntosh, M.L. Samuels and Michael Benskin. Aberdeen: Aberdeen University Press. Markus, Manfred. 1983. Metasprachliche Elemente im Spätmittelenglischen und Frühneuenglischen. Philologie und Sprachwissenschaft. Akten der 10. Österreichischen Linguistentagung, Innsbruck: Institut für Sprachwissenschaft, 23.–26. Okt. 1982 ed. by Meid W. und Hans Schmeja, 159–174. Markus, Manfred. 1999a. Getting to grips with chips and Early Middle English text variants: Sampling Ancrene Riwle and Hali Meidenhad. ICAME Journal 23. 35–51. Markus, Manfred. 1999b. Manual of ICAMET (Innsbruck Computer Archive of MachineReadable English Texts). Innsbrucker Beiträge zur Kulturwissenschaft, Anglistische Reihe 7. Wien: Braumüller. Markus, Manfred. 2000. Normalizing the word forms in The Ayenbite of Inwyt. Placing Middle English in Context ed. by Irma Taavitsainen, Terttu Nevalainen, Päivi Pahta & Matti Rissanen, 181–197. Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter. Markus, Manfred. 2002. The Innsbruck Prose Corpus: Its concept and usability in Middle English lexicology. A Changing World of Words. Studies in English Historical Lexicography, Lexicology and Semantics ed. by Javier E. Díaz Vera, 464–483. Amsterdam: Rodopi. Markus, Manfred. 2005. Review of Paul Hartle. Hunting the Letter: Middle English Alliterative Verse and the Formulaic Theory. Frankfurt a.M.: Lang (1999). Anglia 123. 298–300. Markus, Manfred. 2006a. Bed & board: The role of alliteration in twin formulas of Middle English prose. Folia Linguistica Historica 26. 71–93. Markus, Manfred. 2006b. Spotting spoken historical English: The role of alliteration in Middle English fixed expressions. Diachronic English Studies and Corpus Linguistics ed. by Roberta Facchinetti & Matti Rissanen, 53–78. Bern: Peter Lang.

 Manfred Markus Millett, Bella & Jocelyn Wogan-Browne, eds. 1990. Medieval English Prose for Women. From the Katherine Group and Ancrene Wisse. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Oakden, J.P. (with the assistance of E.R. Innes). 1935. Alliterative Poetry in Middle English. A Survey of the Traditions. Manchester: Manchester University Press. Stratmann, Francis Henry & Henry Bradley. 1967. A Middle English Dictionary. New Edition (orig. 1891). Oxford: Oxford University Press. Thrall, William Flint & Addison Hibbard, rev. and enlarged by C. Hugh Holman 1962. A Handbook to Literature. New York: The Odyssey Press. Torresquesana, Juan Andrés Jurado. 1999. Phrasal and prepositional verbs. From Middle to Modern English. ‘Woonderous Ænglissce’. SELIM Studies in Medieval English Language ed. by Ana Bringas López et al., 95–106. Vigo: Universidade de Vigo.

Appendices Ad hoc corpus for investigating ME phraseology (selected from The Innsbruck Prose Corpus) Appendix 1.  Early Middle English popular texts Short title

Abbrev.

MS

Date

Dialect

Genre

Ancrene Riwle

anccor

Corpus Christi

c1230

SWML

relig. treatise

Ancrene Riwle

ancgon

Gonville & Caius

1200+

S/ML

relig. treatise

Ancrene Riwle

ancnero

Nero A.XIV

1230–50

SW/SWML

relig. treatise

Ancrene Riwle

ancpepys

Pepys 2498

1300+

SW/ML

relig. treatise

Ancrene Riwle

anctit

Titus D. XVIII

1230–50

SWML/ NEML

relig. treatise

Ayenbite of Inwyt

danayen

BL Arundel 57

1340

Kent

sermon

Hali Meidenhad

halibod

Bodley 34

c1225

SWML

sermon

Hali Meidenhad

halitit

Cott.Titus D. 18

c1225

S/SW

sermon

12thc. Homilies

homilbod

Bodley 343

1150–1250

S

sermon

12thc. Homilies

homilves

VespasianD. XIV

1150–1250

K

sermon



Germanic vs French fixed expressions in Middle English 

Kentish Sermons

kentserm

Laud 471

c1275

K

sermon

OE Homilies

oehom

Trinity B 14,52

1200+

S

sermon (spoken)

Sawles Warde

sawleswd

Bodley 34

1150–1250

WML

sermon

Vices & Virtues

vices

BL Stowe 240

a1225

EML

relig. treatise

Appendix 2.  Late ME popular texts Abbrev.

Short title

MS

Date

Dialect

Genre

abbey

Abbey of the Holy Ghost

Thornton (Lincoln C.)

c1400

N

sermon

alpha1

Alphabet of Tales I

Addit. 25, 117

c1450 (MED)

N(Durham, Nh’land)

exemplum narrat.

alpha2

Alphabet of Tales II

Addit. 25, 117

c1450 (MED)

N(Durham, Nh’land)

exemplum narrat

gaytryge

Dan Jon Gaytryge’s Sermon

Thornton (Lincoln C.)

c1440

N

sermon

lantlit

Lanterne of Li3t

Harley 2324

a1415

EML

sermon

lollard

Lollard Sermons

Add. 41321 et al.

c1400

S/CentrML

sermon (spoken)

mandevil

Mandeville’s Travels

Bodl.E Musaeo 116

a1425

SEML (East Angl.)

travelogue

mirbles

Mirror of the Blessed Life

Cbr. Add. 6578

1400+

EML

relig. treatise

mirredm

Mirror of St Edmund

Thornton (Linc.)

c1440

N (ed.)

sermon

mirror

Myrour to Lewde Men

BL Harley 45

1400+

S/SW (Glouc)

sermon

pater

Pater Noster of Richard Ermyte

Westm. School Libr. 3

1400+

EML (Peterb.)

relig. treatise (Continued)

 Manfred Markus

Appendix 2.  Continued Abbrev.

Short title

MS

Date

Dialect

Genre

pecdon1

Pecock, The Donet

Bodley 916

1443–49

EML

sermon

pecdon2

Pecock, Folewer to the Donet

Bodley 916

1443–49

EML

sermon

pepys

Pepysian Gospel Harmony

Pepys 2498 Cbr.

c1400

EML/S

Bible paraphr.

persske

Chaucer, Person’s Tale (Skeat)

Ellesmere

c1387

London

sermon

rollhor1

Rolle, Yorkshire Writers

Cbr. U. Dd V. 64

1350–1450

N

relig. treatise

rollhor2a

Rolle and his followers, I

Cbr. U. Dd V. 64

1350–1450

N

relig. treatise

rollhor2b

Rolle and his followers, II

Cbr. U. Dd V. 64

1350–1450

N

relig. treatise

speculum

Speculum Sacerdotale

BL Add. 36791

1400+

London

sermon

treatise

A litil tretys

BL Harley 211

c1450

EML (Ipswich)

relig. treatise

tretlove

Treatyse of Loue

Pierpont Morg.L.

1450+

London?

relig. treatise

trevdia

Trevisa, Dialogues

BL Harley 1900

c1400

SW

educat. dialogue

trevmead

Trevisa, Methodius

BL Add. 37949

1400+

N

relig. treatise

trevmeth

Trevisa, Methodius

BL Harley 1900

c1400

SW

relig. treatise

Latin loanwords of the early modern period How often did French act as an intermediary? Philip Durkin

Oxford English Dictionary This paper examines borrowing into English from Latin and from French during the early modern period (EModE), based on documentation from the third edition of the Oxford English Dictionary now in progress (OED3). It looks in particular at dual borrowings from Latin and French, and also at cases of semantic influence from French on words borrowed from Latin, in order to assess whether such words make any significant difference to the overall picture of borrowing in the period. It also looks, albeit very tentatively, at some of the possibilities for further use of the very detailed information which can be extracted from the etymologies in OED3.

1.  Background and definition of terms There has been very little advance in knowledge about the volume of borrowing from French in EModE for many decades. While there have been some significant advances in the study of loanwords in the Middle English period (see below), data for EModE has remained largely dependent on the first edition of the Oxford English Dictionary, and accounts of the vocabulary in this period have all largely been dependent on various samplings of this data. The revision of the OED now in progress makes a new appraisal more of a possibility. Since March 2000, new and revised dictionary entries have been published at quarterly intervals. This paper draws on material published up until June 2006, comprising 52,940 entries in the alphabetical range between M (where revision work began) and PLEATING. There are three key areas of change: changes to the documentation on English word

.  See for example the discussions in Görlach (1978), Barber (1997) and Nevalainen (1999). See Durkin (2002a) for detailed discussion of the pitfalls of using data derived ultimately from the first edition of the OED via Finkenstaedt et al. (1970) or Wermser (1976).

 Philip Durkin

histories (antedatings, newly added words, etc.); changes to etymologies; and enhanced search possibilities as a result of new tagging. Any survey of loanwords must first define its terms. In the new edition of the OED, considerable pains are taken to distinguish wherever possible between immediate and remoter etymologies. That is to say, simply because a word is ultimately of Latin origin, it is not assumed that that is all there is to say about the matter, and editors will look closely at the forms, meanings, and dates of first attestation of the reflexes of the Latin word in the Romance languages and also at borrowings into other languages before reaching a conclusion about the likely route of transmission of the word into English. This is not a radical departure from the practice or the policy of the first edition of the dictionary, but greatly improved resources for the lexis of most of the major donor languages make it possible to gain a much fuller picture than was available to the editors of the first edition. One interesting result of this approach is the frequency with which OED3 is identifying words as being of dual etymology, showing more than one immediate etymon. By far the commonest pattern, although by no means the only one, is the borrowing of a word partly from French and partly directly from Latin, as identified through the range of senses found in each language, and through the contexts of the early uses of the English word (for instance, in translations from each of the languages). In such cases the French etymons will generally be words which have either been borrowed into Old French or Middle French from Latin, or which have been modified under classicizing influence. As such, they will show a greater than average proportion of words belonging to the learned vocabulary of various specialist fields. Such etymologies are most strikingly a phenomenon of the Middle English period, and it is worth noting that a trailblazing approach was adopted in this respect by the Middle English Dictionary, the value of which OED3 is able to demonstrate empirically using the fuller resources now available. The existence of such dual etymologies also in EModE has not gone unnoticed. However, such accounts, largely based on the evidence of the OED,

.  For an overview of changes in this area as regards EModE see especially Durkin (2002a). For further articles on the policies and methodology of OED3 see the list in Simpson (2004). .  For a general account see Durkin (1999), and specifically on loanwords see Durkin (2004). .  On dual etymologies in MED see Coleman (1995). On the contribution of OED3 to the analysis of dual etymologies in this period see Durkin (2002b). .  Among the standard surveys see for example Barber (1996: 228) or Nevalainen (1999: 365), although both assume that the number of such etymologies in the early modern period will be very small.



Latin loanwords of the early modern period 

have been hampered both by the difficulty of searching for such etymologies except by very laborious sampling by hand, and by the inconsistencies in the presentation and analysis of such material in the first edition. OED3 has, naturally, applied exactly the same criteria in assessing words ultimately of Latin origin in EModE as it has for ME, and indeed it has also applied the same criteria to words from other languages which may have entered English via French, such as words ultimately of Italian origin. As is well known, the closing centuries of the Middle English period showed a steady decline in the registers in which French was used in the British Isles, but precisely this LME development should warn us against changing our methodology abruptly with the beginning of the early modern period. Any change in the content of the EModE etymologies in comparison with the ME ones should reflect a real difference in the data, and not simply a change in the mindset of the etymologist when dealing with material either side of 1500.

2.  The methodology adopted in OED3 The methodology that has been adopted in OED3 can be summarised very simply. If an English word shows some senses which are shown earlier by the French word but not by the Latin word, plus some senses which are shown by the Latin word but not by the French word, a dual etymology from French and Latin is assumed. Also, if the French word and the Latin word both show the same range of senses relevant to the English word, and the dates of first attestation are earlier than those of the English word in the relevant senses, then a dual etymology from French and Latin is again assumed. The second of these types is in fact much more common than the first, and in practice it would be almost impossible to isolate only the first type, because of the obvious difficulties of comparing senses across different languages, and because of the gaps in the available lexicographical resources, particularly for Latin in the period corresponding to EModE. For instance in Example 1, negotiation n. (the first attestation of which in fact falls just outside our period with a date of a1500), OED3 assumes a dual

.  Naturally, the possibility of transmission via other languages is also investigated whenever such transmission seems plausible and the investigation is feasible, although that is largely outside the scope of the present paper. .  On the complexity of the process, and the need often to challenge common assumptions, see Rothwell (2005).

 Philip Durkin

etymology on the basis that either French or Latin would account equally well for the main early uses of the word in English, rather than on the basis that the range of English senses definitely comes from two different sources (which would mean assuming that, because we have not found firm evidence of the sense ‘discussion aimed at reaching an agreement’ in Renaissance Latin, it therefore did not exist).

(1) OED3, negotiation n., etymology, and definitions of each sense, with date of first quotation for each:

[< Middle French, French négociation commercial activity (1323 in Old French), discussion aimed at reaching an agreement (1544) and its etymon classical Latin negōtiātiōn-, negōtiātiō business, trade, a commercial transaction < negōtiāt-, past participial stem of negōtiārī (see negotiate v.) + -iō -ion¹. Cf. Catalan negociació (1395), Italian negoziazione (a1406), Spanish negociación (1454–7).]

1.  a. An act of dealing with another person; a private or business transaction. Also in extended use. Obs. a1500 (?c1425) b. Trading, commerce. Obs. 1601 c. Occupation, exercise. Obs. rare-¹. 1628 2. A discussion or process of treaty with another (or others) aimed at reaching an agreement about a particular issue, problem, etc., esp. in affairs of state; an instance of negotiating. Freq. in pl. 1563 3.  The action, activity, or process of negotiating with another or others. a. With possessive adjective. 1597 b. Without determiner. 1614 4. The action of crossing or getting over, round or through some obstacle by skilful manoeuvring; manipulation. 1882

Similarly, in the entry opulent a. (Example 2) the semantic information which can be gleaned from dictionary resources for both French and Latin provides a good match for the English word, but we would really want to have lexicographical coverage for both languages for all periods which was at the same level of detail as the OED’s in order to determine the exact route of borrowing with more confidence, and such coverage is not at present available.





Latin loanwords of the early modern period 

(2) OED3, opulent a., etymology, and definitions of each sense, with date of first quotation for each:

[< Middle French, French opulent rich, wealthy (14th cent.), abundant (1565), plump (1874), and its etymon classical Latin opulentus (also opulent-, opulēns) rich, wealthy, grand, sumptuous, rich in literary or intellectual resources < op-, ops power, ability, aid, (in plural) resources, wealth (< the same base as opus work: see opus n.) + -ulentus -ulent. Cf. Italian opulente, (now usu.) opulento (14th cent.), Catalan opulent (14th cent.), Spanish opulento (in opulentamente (adverb), 1437), Portuguese opulento (1572).] 1.  a. Rich, wealthy, affluent. ?1518 b. Yielding great wealth, lucrative. Obs. 1664 c. Indicative or suggestive of wealth; ostentatiously luxurious or grand, sumptuous. 1761 2. fig. a. Rich in respect of a quality; having an abundance of mental powers or resources. 1685 b. Of a flower or plant: having a wealth of blossom, colour, or fragrance; (of a scent) powerful, strong. 1863 c. Of a person’s figure or breast: plump, full, ample. 1882

Regular extensions of senses can present particular problems. In Example 3, morosity n., we have the count noun sense ‘an instance of moroseness’ attested in French as well as in English, but it would hardly be surprising to discover it in Latin as well. The first quotation for this word (as a non-count noun) is in fact in a translation from Latin, although we should probably not allow this in itself to dictate an etymology solely from Latin: multiple inputs are very common in this period, and it is also not unknown for OED first quotations to be antedated, even those in the revised edition. Interestingly, the first edition of the OED also offered a dual etymology for this word (unlike negotiation n. or opulent a.); possibly this was on morphological grounds, but if so it could be countered that substitution of English -ity for Latin -itāt-, -itās is a very regular process in this period.

(3) OED3, morosity n., etymology, definition, and all quotations earlier than 1600:



[< Middle French, French morosité moroseness, an instance of this (1486) and its etymon classical Latin mōrōsitās moroseness <mōrōsus morose a.¹ + -tās (see -ty¹; cf. -ity).]

 Philip Durkin



The state or quality of being morose; morose character or disposition. Formerly also (chiefly in the 17th cent.): an instance of moroseness (obs.). 1534 R. whittinton tr. Cicero Offyces (1540) I. 39 Leste..we shulde slyp in to morosyte yuell to please, vnprofytable and odyous to other men. 1563 G. Hay Confut. Abbote of Cosraguels Masse f. 4v, The stoike grauitie of the ministers of the one; and the stubborne morositie of the other. 1570 J. Foxe Actes & Monuments (rev. ed.) I. 917/1 The world is come now to such a morosity [1596 morossity] and peeuishe insensibilitie in these contentious and cauillyng dayes of ours, that [etc.].

A word which the first edition of the OED gave as purely a French loan is ­pedagogy n. (Example 4), presumably again on morphological grounds. However, in this case the use denoting an institution, which is now the earliest in English, is apparently not attested in French, although it is common in Latin, and the substitution of -y for Latin -ia is again a regular process in this period. Therefore in this instance an OED1 etymology solely from French is replaced by a dual etymology from Latin and French in OED3.

(4) OED3, pedagogy n., etymology, and definitions of each sense, with date of first quotation for each:

[Partly < Middle French, French pédagogie instruction, education (1495), and partly < post-classical Latin paedagogia school (1550 in a British source), teaching, education (a1560), college (a1575), both < ancient Greek παιδαγωγία office of a pedagogue, teaching, training < παιδαγωγός pedagogue n. + -ία -y³. Cf. classical Latin paedagōgium training establishment for boys, pupils in such an establishment, school building, practice of teaching, in post-classical Latin also . used of Christian teaching (c400), and its etymon ancient Greek παιδαγωγει¥ον room in a schoolhouse in which the attendant slaves waited for their boys, in Hellenistic Greek also school. Cf. Spanish pedagogia (1605). Cf. earlier pedagogue n. 4.] 1. A place of instruction; a school, a college; a university. Also fig. Now hist. and rare. Frequently used between the 15th and 17th centuries as a name for the universities of Glasgow and St Andrews; also for the faculty of arts at both places. 1571 2. Instruction, discipline, training; a system of introductory training; a means of guidance. Obs. Used of the Jewish law (seen as the means by which people are guided to Christianity), chiefly in reference to Galatians 3: 24. Cf. pedagogue n. 2. 1583



Latin loanwords of the early modern period 

3. The art, occupation, or practice of teaching. Also: the theory or principles of education; a method of teaching based on such a theory. 1623

In most individual cases, a word’s identification as having a dual etymology will be very much a matter of judgement on the basis of the available resources, and a slight change in the evidence could make a considerable difference to our assessment. However, such uncertainty in individual cases does not detract from the value of a survey of the impact of such etymologies on the overall picture of borrowing in a given period, particularly when all of the etymologies in question will have been prepared following the same procedures and with broadly the same resources. 3.  The results of the application of this methodology If one compares the whole period from 1150–1500 with the period from 1500–1750 (deliberately a very broad period), the result is the very broad-brush picture given in Table 1, which gives the totals of all Latin loans, all French loans, and all dual French and Latin loans per period. Just for completeness, the last line of the table gives the same data for the period from 1750 to the present. These figures are based on those parts of the OED so far revised and published for the third edition, from the beginning of M to PLEATING, so constituting about a tenth of the dictionary, although obviously representing only four letters of the alphabet. However, as the comparison is based on periods within this material, the distribution of words of different origins within those letters of the alphabet – for instance, the greater incidence of words ultimately of Latin origin in M, N, O, or P than in for instance W – should not have a negative impact on the results, and there is certainly no significant skewing of either French or Latin etymons in these letters of the alphabet. The table shows a steep decline in the frequency of dual etymologies, alongside a decline in the number of French loans generally, and an increase in the number of Latin loans. Table 1.  Totals of all new words, loans from Latin, loans from French, and dual French and Latin loans

All words

Latin

French

French and Latin

1150–1499   5770   719 (12%) 1484 (25%) 297 (5%) 1500–1749 14902 3433 (22%) 1098 (7%) 176 (1%) 1750–present 30401 2417 (8%) 1408 (5%)   21 (0.1%)

.  Dual loans are also counted in the respective totals of Latin and French loans.

 Philip Durkin

However, these first numbers do not provide a very detailed picture, since each is treating a very broad period. What happens if one looks at the figures for particular decades on either side of 1500? Figure 1 shows the incidence of mixed French/Latin etymologies in each decade from 1450 through to 1750. For comparison, Figure 2 gives the totals of all new words per decade, and of Latin and French loans (including the dual ones).10 Figure 1 shows a fairly steady rate of dual French and Latin loans during the later 15th, 16th, and early 17th centuries, although these absolute numbers should be set against the comparatively greater increase in the numbers of new words per decade during the same period that can be seen from Figure 2. After the early 17th century, even the absolute numbers of dual etymologies per decade become much smaller. From Figure 2 it can be seen quite readily that from the 1530s onwards there is a marked shift in the relative proportions of Latin loanwords to French loanwords, with Latin loans becoming comparatively much more frequent, and this remains the case until quite well into the 18th century.11 However, the simple pie-chart in Figure 3 shows how French greatly outnumbers any other donor language apart from Latin over the whole of the period 1500–1749.

4.  P  ossible complications: Morphological preference for Latinate formations; semantic influence from French words An obvious question is whether these figures reflect real shifts in patterns of borrowing, or whether they could just be a result of the way that etymologies are constructed in the OED. Are there other ways in which we could or should expect to

.  These figures begin at 1450 rather than 1500 in order to allow some comparison with the final decades of the ME period. .  Purely to aid legibility, Figure 2.1 gives the data on French and Latin loans in isolation from the totals of all new words per decade. .  One apparent oddity in Figure 2 is the huge peak of Latin loanwords in the 1650s. The total of all new words in 1650–1659 is one of the highest in the period, but the total of Latin loans is much higher than one would expect proportionately: Latin loans make up 44% of the new words in this decade, compared to an average of 21%, and the ratio of Latin loans to French loans is also the highest, at 10: 1. However, this can be explained by the publication of two works during this decade: 57 of the 510 Latin loans in this decade come from R. Tomlinson’s Medical Dispensatory of 1657, a translation of Jean de Renou’s Dispensatorium Medicum, and 220 come from Thomas Blount’s Glossographia of 1656, making up 54% of the total between them. Of the two Renou is a fairly typical source, but Blount is much less so, recording as English many words which are otherwise found only in Latin dictionaries.

Figure 1.  Dual French and Latin etymologies by decade.

9 9 9 9 9 9 9 9 9 9 9 9 9 9 9 9 9 9 9 9 9 9 9 9 9 9 9 9 9 9 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 -1 0-1 0-1 0-1 0-1 0-1 0-1 0-1 0-1 0-1 0-1 0-1 0-1 0-1 0-1 0-1 0-1 0-1 0-1 0-1 0-1 0-1 0-1 0-1 0-1 0-1 0-1 0-1 0-1 0-1 0 5 6 7 8 9 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0 1 2 3 4 14 14 14 14 14 15 15 15 15 15 15 15 15 15 15 16 16 16 16 16 16 16 16 16 16 17 17 17 17 17

0

2

4

6

8

10

12

14

16

18

Latin loanwords of the early modern period 

Figure 2.  Totals of all new words, and of Latin and French loanwords, per decade.

59 69 79 89 99 09 19 29 39 49 59 69 79 89 99 09 19 29 39 49 59 69 79 89 99 09 19 29 39 49 14 -14 -14 -14 -14 -15 -15 -15 -15 -15 -15 -15 -15 -15 -15 -16 -16 -16 -16 -16 -16 -16 -16 -16 -16 -17 -17 -17 -17 -17 50 60 70 80 90 00 10 20 30 40 50 60 70 80 90 00 10 20 30 40 50 60 70 80 90 00 10 20 30 40 14 14 14 14 14 15 15 15 15 15 15 15 15 15 15 16 16 16 16 16 16 16 16 16 16 17 17 17 17 17

0

200

400

600

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1000

1200

all words Latin French

 Philip Durkin

Figure 2.1.  Latin and French loanwords, per decade.

9 9 9 9 9 9 9 9 9 9 9 9 9 9 9 9 9 9 9 9 9 9 9 9 9 9 9 9 9 9 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 -1 0-1 0-1 0-1 0-1 0-1 0-1 0-1 0-1 0-1 0-1 0-1 0-1 0-1 0-1 0-1 0-1 0-1 0-1 0-1 0-1 0-1 0-1 0-1 0-1 0-1 0-1 0-1 0-1 0-1 0 5 6 7 8 9 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 0 1 2 3 4 14 14 14 14 14 15 15 15 15 15 15 15 15 15 15 16 16 16 16 16 16 16 16 16 16 17 17 17 17 17

0

100

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Latin French

Latin loanwords of the early modern period 

 Philip Durkin German 0% Dutch 1% Spanish 2% Italian 3%

Greek 7%

French 21%

Latin 66%

Figure 3.  The major donor languages, 1500–1749.

be able to detect continuing French influence in EModE? Conversely, are there any factors which could be inflating the figures for Latin loans? Could a morphological preference for Latin, or Latinate, forms perhaps be distorting the figures? Verbs ending in -ate (i.e., from the past participial stems of Latin verbs in -āre) are an interesting phenomenon in this period, and clearly sometimes a Latinate -ate verb comes to displace a synonymous verb from the present stem with the same meaning.12 This could be seen as displacement of a French/Latin borrowing by a Latin borrowing, or (as I think I would prefer) as a preference for one word form over another on morphological grounds. For instance, participe, first attested in 1508 and borrowed from either French participer or Latin participāre, is superseded by the Latinate participate (from the past participial stem of the same Latin verb), which is first attested in 1531. Likewise, perore, first attested in 1594 and borrowed from either French pérorer or Latin perorāre, is superseded by the Latinate perorate, which is first attested in 1603. The verbs participate and perorate are both still current, although in the

.  For discussion see for example Görlach (1978: 157–8), summarizing Reuter (1936).



Latin loanwords of the early modern period 

latter case the word is rather rare; by contrast, participe is last attested in c1510, and perore (in an isolated late occurrence) in 1755. Table 2.  Verbs ending in –ate from Latin past participles Period

Verbs in –ate as percentage of all Lat loans

1150–1499 2% 1500–1749 7% 1750–present 1%

While the totals of such borrowings, which are given in Table 2, show that EModE is, as expected, the heyday for verbs in -ate, they are much too small to have a significant impact on the overall picture seen in Figure 2. There are other minor categories, such as verbs formed from the past participial stems of Latin verbs from other morphological classes, e.g., conduct beside French-derived conduce or construct beside construe, and also some other minor patterns, such as English borrowing with the ending -ary of Latin adjectives in -arius in preference to their French reflexes in -aire, or preference of Latin agent nouns in -or over their French counterparts in -eur. However, wherever there is the possibility or probability that the corresponding French word has had a semantic influence on the English word, this will be noted in the OED3 etymology. For example, while the adjective popular is given in OED3 on morphological grounds as a loan from Latin populāris, the clear semantic influence which it shows from French populaire is also noted (Example 5).

(5) OED3, popular adj., first part of etymology section:

[< classical Latin populāris (adjective) of or belonging to the people as a whole, belonging to or used by ordinary people, available to the whole community, of the common people, supporting or professing to support the interests of the common people, liked or admired by many people < populus people n. + -āris -ar suffix¹; influenced also in sense by Middle French populaire (c1200 in Old French (Wallonia) as populeir; French populaire; also Middle French (rare) popular) of, relating to, or consisting of ordinary people (c1200 in Old French), current among the general public (c1330), seeking the favour of the populace (1559 in the passage translated in quot. 1579 at sense A.5; now obs. in this sense), known and liked among the people (1559; rare in this sense before the 18th cent.), (of a disease) epidemic (1580 in the passage translated in quot. 1603 at sense A.1; now obs. in this sense), vulgar, coarse (1580), democratic (1588). Cf. Catalan popular (end of the 14th cent. or earlier), Spanish popular (late 14th cent. or earlier), Portuguese popular (14th cent. as †popullar), Italian popolare

 Philip Durkin

(end of the 13th cent.). With use as noun cf. classical Latin populāris citizen, member of the ‘popular’ party, in post-classical Latin also (in plural populares) the common people collectively (late 2nd or early 3rd cent. in Tertullian), Middle French, French populaire member of the common people (first half of the 14th cent. in les populaires (plural) the populace; 15th cent. as singular), and also Old Occitan popular, noun (14th cent.), Catalan popular, noun (end of the 14th cent. or earlier), Spanish †los populares, plural noun (late 14th cent. or earlier), Portuguese popular, noun (15th cent.). …]

In the most recently edited components of OED3, as a result of enhancements to the project’s software, it is now possible to tag, and hence to extract and count, all such cases of semantic influence from a source other than the word’s primary etymon. In the (as yet quite limited) portion of the alphabet in which this electronic tagging has been applied, there are in fact roughly equal numbers of words in the period 1500 to 1749 which show secondary semantic influence from French and from Latin. However, when the smaller overall total of French loanwords is taken into account, these figures suggest that the total of Frenchinfluenced words (as compared with Latin-influenced words) should be increased by approximately 20%. Additionally, some words borrowed from French before 1500 may show continuing semantic influence from French after 1500. For example, presence is a Middle English borrowing from French and Latin, but its use with reference to the external appearance or the impressive or handsome bearing of a person (dated from 1570 in English in the draft entry for OED3) appears to follow slightly earlier use in French in the 16th century. Similarly the verb present in the sense ‘to stage or put on (a play)’ appears to follow French use in the 16th century, although the word was borrowed in a number of other senses over the preceding three centuries. If one makes a tally of all such cases where a French sense is dated earlier than the English sense (indicating, though not proving, the possibility of semantic influence), then on the showing of my sample the total of French-influenced words would be increased by a further 24%. These figures for French semantic influence on words borrowed from other languages in the period 1500–1749, or on words borrowed from French or other languages prior to 1500, are very approximate, being based only on a small sample of very recently edited OED3 material in the letter P. In the future, it should be possible to extract comparable information from a much larger sample of dictionary entries. However, it is also very clear that the figures from this sample are nowhere near high enough to make any significant difference to the picture given in Table 1 of a huge preponderance of borrowing from Latin over borrowing from French in the period 1500–1749, and it is highly unlikely that the availability of fuller data in the future will make a radical difference to this.



Latin loanwords of the early modern period 

5.  Some further considerations The figures for loans from each language, and dual loans, in Figures 1 and 2 also make it possible to look much more closely at the correspondence with historical events than did the more broad-brush figures that were previously available. For instance, it has previously been noted that the level of contemporary comment on French borrowing in the years following the Restoration of the monarchy in 1660 does not appear to correspond to any marked increase in the number of recorded French loans.13 This observation is certainly supported by my OED3derived figures. Figure 2 shows more French loans in the 1650s (i.e., just before the Restoration) than in any other decade after the 1610s, and the totals for the early Restoration decades of the 1660s, 70s, and 80s are little different from the 1620s, 30s, and 40s. This question merits much fuller investigation than is possible here, but these figures certainly amply reinforce the impression that it is necessary to look to such factors as register, frequency, and the social status of language users rather than simply crude numbers of borrowings in assessing the social perception of borrowing from a particular language in any given period. Considerations of register should also remind us that the OED is primarily a dictionary of the written language, and if one is looking at each lexeme on an equal footing, one should remember that a very great number of the lexeme tokens in the OED data will be very rare words, perhaps only occurring in restricted types of discourse, and perhaps belonging only to one or more registers of the extended vocabulary of scholarly writing. One might therefore suspect that there will be rather more correlation between the OED-derived figures for loanwords and the patterns of literary and scholarly translation in this period. If a survey such as Ebel (1967), which catalogues translations published during the reign of Elizabeth I, were carried out across the whole of the EModE period it would afford a very interesting comparison with the data in Figure 2.14 As a tool in researching OED etymologies, it is often necessary to examine the foreign-language original of a quotation from a translation. To aid this work, a database is being compiled giving bibliographical details of translated source texts. This work is in its infancy, but in fullness of time this database may become a very useful tool for comparing patterns of borrowing with patterns of translation. Although it would be a very major project, the most instructive approach would probably be to examine the patterns of OED first quotations in translations from a variety of different languages, allowing for text length, and analysing the results according to register and text type. .  See for example Görlach (1978: 167–8), Nevalainen (1999: 359–60). .  For a collection of more recent essays on associated topics see Iamartino (1995).

 Philip Durkin

It is also worth pausing to consider whether significant changes to the picture of borrowing in the period might result from the availability of better lexicographical resources for particular donor languages, since the etymologies that can be constructed for English words will always be heavily constrained by the quality and comprehensiveness of the available dictionaries or other databases for each of the potential donor languages. One notable instance is that of borrowing from Italian (on which see also Dietz (2005)). Italian historical lexicography has yet to benefit from the layers of successive and cumulative investigation enjoyed by French (or English), and there are many cases where the dating provided by dictionaries for a particular word or sense seems suspiciously late, and can often be antedated by researching the translated original of an English quotation. It would potentially be very interesting to make a particular investigation of the rate of borrowing of Italian words in translations from Italian in this period, as a way of at least partly circumventing the lack of comprehensive lexicographical resources. As regards the basic comparison of French with Latin, it should be noted that the resources available for French post-1500 are much in advance of those available for Latin post-1500.15 In an ideal world with ideal resources available for each language we might therefore expect to see an even more marked increase in the number of borrowings from Latin in this period in comparison with those from French.

6.  Conclusions If one employs the same methodology in examining the etymologies of ME and EModE words, and if one keeps an open mind with regard to dual French and Latin loans in the early modern period just as much as in ME, one gains a picture of patterns of borrowing in EModE very different from that in ME. More specifically, borrowing from Latin appears to come to predominate over borrowing from French from the 1530s onwards. An examination of the possible influence of morphological preferences for Latinate formations, and also of the continuing semantic influence of French on words borrowed earlier, suggests a slightly richer picture of French influence in EModE, but not sufficient to make any very radical difference to the overall picture. OED3’s revised etymologies, and the electronic searching made possible by the associated electronic tagging, provide a much more consistent and reliable

.  While such resources as Hoven (1994) are very useful for Latin in the period post-1500, the absence of a comprehensive dictionary on the lines of the Dictionary of Medieval Latin from British Sources is keenly felt.



Latin loanwords of the early modern period 

basis than has previously been available for investigating patterns of borrowing in this or any other period. This in turn makes it possible to make detailed comparisons with other extra- and intra-linguistic data, and in this area I hope at least to have highlighted some possible avenues for future research.

References Primary sources A Dictionary of Medieval Latin from British sources. 1975– (fascicle IX P-Pel 2005). Ed. Ronald E. Latham & David R. Howlett. London: Oxford University Press, for the British Academy. The Middle English Dictionary. 1952–2001. Ed. Hans Kurath, Sherman Kuhn and Robert Lewis. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press. The Oxford English Dictionary, 1884–1933, 10 vols., ed. Sir James A.H. Murray, Henry Bradley, Sir William A. Craigie and Charles T. Onions. Supplement, 1972–1986, 4 Vols., ed. Robert W. Burchfield. 2nd. ed., 1989, ed. John A. Simpson and Edmund S.C. Weiner. Additions Series, 1993–7, ed. John A. Simpson, Edmund S.C. Weiner and Michael Proffitt. 3rd. ed. (in progress) OED Online, March 2000–, ed. John A. Simpson, www.oed.com.

Secondary sources Barber, Charles. 1997. Early Modern English (revised edition). Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press. Coleman, Julie. 1995. The chronology of French and Latin loan words in English. Transactions of the Philological Society 93. 95–124. Dietz, Klaus. 2005. Die frühen italienischen Lehnwörter des Englischen. Anglia 123. 573–631. Durkin, Philip. 1999. Root and branch: Revising the etymological component of the OED. Transactions of the Philological Society 97. 1–50. Durkin, Philip. 2002a. Changing documentation in the third edition of the Oxford English Dictionary: Sixteenth-century vocabulary as a test case. Sounds, Words, Texts and Change. Selected Papers from 11 ICEHL, Santiago de Compostela, 7–11 September 2000 ed. by Teresa Fanego, Belén Méndez-Naya & Elena Seoane, 65–81. Amsterdam & Philadelphia: John Benjamins. Durkin, Philip. 2002b. ‘Mixed’ etymologies of Middle English items in OED3: Some questions of methodology and policy. Dictionaries: the Journal of the Dictionary Society of North America 23. 142–155. Durkin, Philip. 2004. Loanword etymologies in the third edition of the OED: Towards a classification. New Perspectives on English Historical Linguistics, Selected Papers from 12 ICEHL, Glasgow, 21–26 August 2002, Vol. II: Lexis and Transmission ed. by Christian Kay, Carole Hough & Irene Wotherspoon, 79–90. Amsterdam & Philaelphia: John Benjamins. Ebel, Julia G. 1967. A numerical survey of Elizabethan translations. The Library 22. 104–127. Finkenstaedt, Thomas, Ernst Leisi & Dieter Wolff, eds. 1970. A Chronological English Dictionary: Listing 80 000 Words in Order of their Earliest Known Occurrence. Heidelberg: Carl Winter. Görlach, Manfred. 1978. Introduction to Early Modern English. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

 Philip Durkin Hoven, R. 1994. Lexique de la prose Latine de la Renaissance. Leiden: Brill. Iamartino, Giovanni, ed. 1995. English Diachronic Translation. Rome: Istituto Poligrafico e Zecca dello Stato. Nevalainen, Terttu. 1999. Lexis and semantics. The Cambridge History of the English Language. Vol. III: 1476–1776 ed. by Roger Lass, 322–458. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Reuter, Ole R. 1936. Verb Doublets of Latin Origin in English. Helsinki: Akademische Buchhandlung. Rothwell, William. 2005. Anglo-French and the AND. Anglo-Norman Dictionary, 2nd edition, Vol. 1, A–C, ed. Stewart Gregory, William Rothwell and David Trotter, v–xx. London: Modern Humanities Research Association. Simpson, John. 2004. The OED and collaborative research into the history of English. Anglia 122. 185–208. Wermser, Richard. 1976. ����� Statistische Studien zur entwicklung des englischen Wortschatzes. ������ Bern: Francke.

Disseisin The lexeme and the legal fact in Early Middle English R.W. McConchie

University of Helsinki Revealing the processes of vernacularising the prefix dis- in English requires attention to each lexeme which uses it. This article explores the term disseisin and its associated lexemes from its earliest uses to about 1200 AD. The historical dictionaries suggest that disseisin is the earliest discompound in English. Elucidating its history requires more however than consulting a historical dictionary or amassing corpus data. I show that the differences between lexemes casts doubt on the standard accounts. The present data suggests that the seiz- disseis- lexemes may predate the dictionary evidence. Other sources reveal a rich legal background and enough tokens to suggest patterns of usage. It seems that, since seisin/disseisin is an antonymic pair only in legal fact, not in connotation, disseisin is privative but not necessarily pejorative. Since the language boundaries in England between French, Latin, and English were not simple, we should consider individual situations, writers, and individual lexemes wherever possible.

1.  Introduction This paper concerns the early history in English of the term disseisin and lexemes related to it from the earliest uses in legal Latin to about 1200 AD. Disseisin is the earliest of the dis- compounds to appear in English, at least according to the historical dictionary sources. I also wish to demonstrate that elucidating the history of a lexeme requires more than looking up a historical dictionary of English or amassing the electronic resources presently available. I also wish to show more generally that, despite apparent similarities between words formed in the same way, in this case (borrowed) PREFIX + (borrowed) BASE, the differences between lexemes is sufficient to render the standard accounts simplistic and perhaps even misleading. An account of the way in which English assimilated the prefix dis-, beginning in the early Middle English period, will first require a survey of the various lexemes which form the group. Previous research has considered the prefix only, ignoring the possible differences in the histories of the lexemes.

 R.W. McConchie

This paper continues the research I have been doing on the early history of the prefix dis- in English, intended to illustrate this point using some of the earliestknown examples of dis- words. I have assumed that close attention to the history of each lexeme will reveal something of the processes by which the prefix became established and vernacularised in English. Previous studies have considered distroublen and discomforten (McConchie 2006; McConchie 2007a). Some attention has also been paid to distinccioun and discrecioun in McConchie 2007b. I hope that studies of dis(af)foreten, disparplen, discateren and possibly distreinen and disherien/disheriten will follow in due course. The data sources used in this paper are the OED and MED, supplemented by data from the AND and DMLBS and a small selection of familiar works and sources on the history of feudal tenure and inheritance, alienation, etc. in England between the Norman conquest and the Angevins. This prefix appeared in English when England was a complex trilingual country, the divisions between Latin, Anglo-French and English crossing and re­crossing social, scholarly, economic and political boundaries. As Clanchy (1993: 108–109) has pointed out, “scholarship […] has tended to concentrate on medieval literary works in inverse proportion to their frequency […] the use of Latin has never been comprehensively surveyed […] French has fared much better […] but not as well as English” – a comment which applies to the individual languages as well text-types within them. A lexeme which has come into English through the medium of Latin or French, or both, thus needs to be seen in that linguistic context to be properly understood. 2.  Seisin, disseisin and the writ of novel disseisin Seisin means possession; the act of granting or being put in possession of freehold land. Hence disseisin is the privation of seisin, and came early to mean an act of dispossession as well. Any assessment of the status of disseisin (and seisin) as a borrowing must take account of its social context; in this case, the development of new concepts of property and new property law from the Norman Conquest through the troubles of Stephen’s reign (1135–54) to the legal reforms of Henry the Second (1154–1189). As English government moved inexorably towards a literate and .  See the lengthy discussion of terminology of re-grants and inheritance in Hudson, 72–85. .  On seisin and feudal homage, see Turner (1994: 1–15). Seisin could in fact also apply to such things as pasture and turbary, and the Assize could be invoked in cases of nuisance (Sutherland 1973: 11). .  Dissaisire did not exist in classical Latin; at least it does not appear in the Oxford Latin Dictionary, but is listed by Du Cange. Similarly saisire. The term is essentially French.



Disseisin: lexeme and legal fact 

written form of administration during the reigns following the Norman Conquest, these concepts increased steadily in importance. The notion of property itself and the notion of its proprietorship also grew and changed. The reign of Henry II was a period in which the business of issuing writs and charters relating to feudation and inheritance was approaching mass-production in standardised forms for use by plaintiffs (Lyon 1960: 288; Clanchy 1993: 67). It also saw the introduction of new forms of writs (Clanchy 1993: 60), one of the most significant being the writ of novel disseisin, intended to allow a plaintiff to recover lands lost through an unlawful act of dispossession. Any consideration of the language employed by such documents must take this background into account. This innovation, described by Sutherland as a “proceeding in a recent ejectment”, influenced English law profoundly even though it was to fall into desuetude by about 1500 (Sutherland 1973: 1). Although many of the preconditions for its appearance existed in Norman law, Maitland and Sutherland both argue that it appeared in England at a specifiable time, and was the result of deliberate policy rather than the gradual accretion of legal practice (Sutherland 1973: 5–6, 18). Sutherland claims that it was an ordinance issued some time between 1155 and 1166, and provides circumstantial evidence for this assertion (7). The assize was efficient and popular, cases being mentioned in all pipe rolls from 1166, with the exception of 1272–4, a gap for which there may be a reasonable explanation (8). The purpose of the assize seems to have been to allow rapid redress in a case of dispossession. Up till then the plaintiff who had been ousted had to get a ‘writ of right’, which simply entitled him to have a case heard. This case itself could then be dragged out by pleadings, and more particularly the use of essoins (excuses for non-appearance in court) (see Warren 1987: 114). The writ of novel disseisin was a standardised writ composed in the form which appears in Glanvill (Glanvilla 1965/1188). It was easy to obtain and, unlike earlier writs, which simply commanded a particular person to do something, put a process in motion and specified the steps to be taken as well as the persons who were to take them, which was a considerable legal innovation. No pleas or essoins were allowed (Warren 1987: 116). The legal work traditionally ascribed to Bracton (1210–1268) De legibus et consuetudinibus Angliae (On the Laws

.  For the argument that the Assize may have models in canon law, especially the interdict known as unde vi, see Sutherland (1973: 22–24). A somewhat more recent survey of the literature on this appears in Turner (1994: xiv–xv). .  That is, it empowered a sheriff to manage the hearing and summoned the parties, set times for a decision, empowered a justice, empanelled a twelve-man jury to advise the justice, and so on. The writ of mort d’ancestor, instituted about the same time, also initiated a process. See Warren (1987: 116); Bigelow (1880: 171).

 R.W. McConchie

and Customs of England), probably composed about 1220–1240, while too late in date to include in my primary data here, indicates the extent to which the concepts of seisin and disseisin had developed by the early thirteenth century. The assize of novel disseisin thus seems to have appeared no later than 1166, the year before the earliest illustrative citation of disseisin in the OED, and probably earlier. Both seisin and disseisin as concepts and legal terms must have preceded this date; indeed the assize itself may well have done so. What we seem to be dealing with in this dictionary entry is thus a case of an established legal term which the OED first cites as appearing in the surviving evidence by 1167, but which circumstantial evidence suggests existed well before that. Meanwhile, the legal concept was refined and spawned new forms, including both legal and lexical forms, such as the writ of sur disseisin, instituted in 1204 (Elhone) for cases in which either the disseisor or disseisee had died before the case was decided, and the notion of re-disseisin, the act of disseising the same possessor a second time. It is clear from the evidence of writs and charters that the writ of novel disseisin was in general use by the end of the twelfth century (Elhone). Some further implications also need to be considered. Seisin and disseisin are possessory not proprietary notions; that is, they are based upon possession, but not necessarily on the right to hold property. Next, we tend to think of possession of land as a horizontal phenomenon; that is, buyers, sellers, and even bank managers are in a sense equal in rank and events concerning ­possession

.  ‘While the attribution of the work to Bracton is of considerable antiquity, it now seems that the bulk of the work was written in the 1220’s and 1230’s by persons other than Bracton himself. It seems then to have been edited and partially updated in the late 1230’s, with various additions being made to it between that time and the 1250’s. The last owner of the original manuscript and the author of the later additions was probably Bracton.’ (Harvard Law School Library, at , accessed 14.7.06). .  ‘Assize’ meant a court, but also came to mean the decisions of the court and the documents relating to them. Hence a writ of novel disseisin may also be known as a ‘possessory assize’. .  See Bigelow (1880: 170). While there is no particular need for detail here, Bigelow argues at length that the principles underlying novel disseisin were well established before 1166. In discussing the opening phrase of a particular writ, Bigelow argues that ‘it can be shown to be highly probable that the writ referred to was an adaptation of the essential features of earlier process [sic].’ He argues that the principle of resolving whether the plaintiff had been ‘in peaceable possession’ prior to the disseisin was already established in England and that it was even older on the Continent (Bigelow 1880: 176). .  Mary Cheney (1984) suggests that the writ may have arisen in response to the actions taken by Archbishop Thomas Becket to recover Church lands lost through alienation and the disputes which arose as a consequence of the case of John Marshal especially.

Disseisin: lexeme and legal fact 



occur between them. However, in the twelfth century these relationships were vertical, between the feudal lord and his tenant, who holds the tenement of the lord, either for a knight’s fee, or for some form of commutation. Third, we need not assume that the notion of disseisin must be pejorative, since this action might well be proper and justified, as in the many cases of disseisin used as a distraint against tenants who failed to render the service they owed to their lords. The assize of Northampton (1176) in fact makes a clear distinction between just and unjust disseisin (see Warren 112–13). In lexical terms, then, there is no need to see seisin and disseisin as antonymic in connotation, despite their being so in legal fact. A further point here is that the concepts of seisin and disseisin were not symmetrically antonymic in law either – if someone was seized of (granted possession of) a parcel of land, and then disseised (dispossessed), it did not follow that the disseisor was automatically seized of that parcel, despite any claim to be so. The contract which seisin represented required the assent of both parties and was thus symmetrical.10 Thus this pair of terms is linguistically antonymic, but strictly so only as regards the legal fact (‘possession’ as against ‘dispossession’) not as to connotation, since both seisin and disseisin may be positive in connotation. Despite the foregoing, the assize of novel disseisin clearly had the effect of throwing the potential conflict between possession and the right to possession into sharp relief, a fact which has obvious lexical implications. Although just disseisin was recognised, there must have been a natural tendency to see it adversely (see Sutherland 1973: 40). This situation may have had a part to play in the development of the somewhat pejorative senses of the verb to seize, which developed in parallel with the positive “endow, grant possession of ” sense, as under sense 1b in the MED:

(1) c1300 SLeg.Becket (LdMisc 108) 705: þe king sende is men sone to saisi al is lond And al-so al is bischopriche ase it traitores In-to is hond.

3.  The dictionary evidence for disseisin/seisin The full complex of lexemes involved in this research arranged by first citation dates, including the later forms from the OED, appears in Table 1: The OED provides the following evidence for the earliest dates for disseisin:

(2) 1167 Pipe Roll 12 Hen. II, 65 [Dissaisina super assisam regis…] (OED)

.  An actual ceremony and the use of symbolic objects also seem to have been involved; see Hudson (1994: 159–164).

 R.W. McConchie

The MED seems not to accept the OED’s citation from the Pipe Rolls, offering a date of 1281 from the Ramsey Cartulary (still a Latin text, however): Table 1.  Chronology for the earliest –seis– citations Lexeme

First citation

disseisin n disseize v disseisee disseisor n disseisinen v disseisininge ger disseisinge ger disseizure n

(1167 OED in Latin; 1281 MED in Latin) (1215 OED; 1390 MED) (1377 OED; not n MED) (1377 OED; c1436 MED) (1584 OED; c1460 MED) (not in OED; c1460 MED) (not in OED; c1475 MED) (1579 OED; not in MED)

redisseisining ger redisseisin n redisseize v redisseisor n

(not in OED; a1475 MED) (1535 OED; not in MED) (1608 OED; not in MED) (1647 OED; not in MED)

reseize v reseiser n reseizure n reseisin n

(1413 OED; 1100–1123 MED) (1559 OED; not in MED) (1626 OED; not in MED) (not in OED; not in MED)

seisen v seisin n seisin v seisinen v seizer n seisible a seizure n seizor n

(1265 MED; 1290 OED)* (1297 OED; c 1330 MED) (13.. OED; not in MED) (not in OED; 1425 MED, in Latin) (not in OED; 1449 MED) (not in OED; 1461 MED) (1482 OED; not in MED) (1555 OED; 1410 MED)

* Some late derived forms such as seizement n (1581) have been omitted as not relevant.



(3) 1281 Cart. Ramsey in RS 79.3 43: [Si disseisina illa facta fuit per vim et arma.] (MED)

However, it does in fact supply the much earlier date of 1215, but under the headword assise n, in a quote from Magna Carta:

(4) 1215 in McKechnie Magna C. 269: Recogniciones de nova dissaisina, de morte antecessoris, et de ultima praesentacione non capiantur nisi in suis comitatibus et hoc modo (MED)

First impressions may be misleading. Since the OED entry gives the first date for disseisin as 1167 in Latin (Pipe Roll), and its second quotation for this word is from 1292, in Anglo-French (both of which are included to indicate the possible use of the term in ME), and the third quote in English from 1511–12, what this looks like

Disseisin: lexeme and legal fact 



is an exceptionally early date for an instance of disseisin and a decision by the OED editors that this was a case of code-switching (a French term into a Latin text), followed by a long period up to 1292 for which no information is supplied. This is, however, misleading in crucial respects, as we will see. The first date given for seisin, on the other hand, is 1297 (in English),11 but there is no reason to imagine that the actual use of either of these terms greatly antedates the other, as the OED evidence might suggest. Indeed, as a legal concept, ‘disseisin’ cannot exist without the prior concept of ‘seisin’. The OED entry for 1167 shows the Latin/French vowel ai, as elsewhere among the various examples cited in this paper. There is a tendency for Anglo-French to use the form ei, but it is no more than that, the new AND indicating a mixture of ai and ei. In the light of the AND evidence, a clear-cut distinction between Latin and French ai as against Anglo-French ei now seems rather simplified. In these circumstances, the 1167 date could be taken simply as indicative of the presumed period of the first use of the word in England, but the possibility that it is a codeswitch from Anglo-French into Latin does remain. In any case, the first use of the term must have been earlier, since examination of the documents of the early period plainly demonstrates the existence of the legal concepts, not only disseisin, but seisin and reseisin as well. In a similar way, the MED gives a first citation for seisin from c 1330:

(5) c1330(?a1300) KAlex.(Auch) 398: Tholomeu haþ þe saisin

At the same time, however, it gives an early date of 1100–1123 for reseize, a lexeme presupposing the existence of seize. We will see below that the historical dictionaries do not give an adequate representation of the chronology of the earliest use of this group of words. 4.  Other evidence: Beyond the English historical dictionaries It is not difficult to find other early instances of the use of both seisin and disseisin in Latin texts. The Pipe Rolls of the late twelfth century contain many examples, Stenton citing a number of instances in his Ford Lectures of 1929 (Stenton 1932), and others are cited by Dobson (e.g., 1976: 207). However, they can be found much earlier in other Latin texts, like the one occurring in a writ of about 1120 (Cot. MS Appendix xxi, f. 114b).12 The terms saisire, dissaisire, and resaisire were .  For the verb seize, 1290 is given. .  The datings below from Stenton’s work are his, as are the translations, with slight textual alterations, unless otherwise stated. Translations of the DMLBS material are very provisional, given that it has not always been possible to consult the full contexts.

 R.W. McConchie

all certainly used in Latin texts written in England considerably earlier than either English dictionary suggests. The earliest entry in the Regesta Regum Anglo-Normannorum (Bates 1998) is actually for resaisire: (6) ?1077 Mando et precipio ut faciatis sanctum Aug(ustinum)e et abbatem Scotland(um) resaisire burgum de Foruuic (Bates no. 83; Placita Anglo-Normannica 13) “I order and direct that [the church of] Saint Augustine and Abbot Scotland be reseized of the castle of Fordwich”

The next, dated 1080 by Bigelow (1970), concerns lands of the church of Ely: (7) 1082–3 Preterea facite ut abbas saisitus sit de illis theinlandis que ad abbatiam pertinebant die quo rex ÆDWARDUS fuit mortuus (Bates no. 119; Placita Anglo-Normannica 24)13 “Moreover, see to it that the abbot is seised of those thegnlands which pertained to the abbot on the day King Edward died”

The Regesta Regum Anglo-Normannorum also provides an early instance containing the verbs disseisire and resaisire: (8) c1077 (DMLBS a1087) De illis etiam hominibus Frodonis de quibus homines comitis Eustachii eundem Frodonem deseisierunt in Bucheshaleh, precepto meo eum reseiseatis. (Bates no. 43) “you should reseize Frodo’s men in Buxhall, whom the men of Earl Eustace disseised”

The dating of 1077 for what is a case of restitution to a certain Frodo disseised of a holding in Buxhall, Suffolk, while the King had crossed the sea (postquam mare transivi) is suggested by Bates (1998, no. 43). For disseise we have: (9) 1086 Aelredus […] dicit se eam [terram] tenuisse […] et dissaisitus fuit postquam rex W. mare transit (DMLBS; DB 1. 48b) “Aelred says that he had been possessed of that land […] and was disseised after King William crossed the sea.”

Another example comes from the Domesday Book: (10) 1086 Ipse N. inde saisitus fuit sed Radulfus eum dissaisivit (DMLBS s.v dissaisire; DB 1. 214) “This N. was seized but Radulf disseised him.”

.  An antedating to OED thegnland, WII, A1100.



Disseisin: lexeme and legal fact 

The Domesday Book, apart from being a cadastre, is also pre-eminently a document about seisin, containing data structured by the seisin of estates and manors at three points: the time of the survey, when the estate was granted by King William, and on the day King Edward died. One function of the work was to trace and rectify illegal seisin of properties since the conquest (Davis 1991: 61–2). The Historia novorum in Anglia by Eadmer of Canterbury supplies a further Latin instance of dissaisire: (11) 1095 ut illum pontificatu dissaisiret [rex] impossibile sibi videbat (DMLBS; EADMER HN 75) “The king considered it impossible that he would disseise him of his pontificate”

This instance appears to be a figurative use of the term, something which is not supposed to occur according to the conventional legal accounts. The laws of Henry the First of 1114–18 supply the following Latin instances of disseisin and reseisin: (12) 1114–1118 [53,3] Nullus a domino suo inplegiatus uel inlegiatus uel inuste dissaisiatus ab eodem implacitetur ante legittimam restitucionem [53,5] Et nemo dissaisiatus placitet, nisi in ipsa dissaisiacione agatur [53,6] Et postquam aliquis dissaisitus legem uel rectum domino suo uadiauerit et plegios, si opus est, addiderit, saisitus esse debet (Liebermann 1903: 574) “No one who has been obliged to provide sureties or has been outlawed or unjustly disseised by his lord is to be impleaded by him before lawful restitution […] And no one is to plead disseised except concerning the disseisin itself. And after anyone disseised has pledged his law and justice to his lord, and added sureties if needed, he should be seised.” (translation from Hudson, 33) (13) 1125–35 Precipio firmiter vobis quod resaizatis priorem H. Eye, et monachos, de ecclesia de Bergebi (Stenton 1932: 13, 265; Add. MS. 8177, p. 134) “I command that you reseize prior Henry of Eye [Nthn. Suffolk], and the monks, of the church of Barrowby [Lincs.]”

Another early instance comes from Cott. Nero F. xv, f 33: (14) 1125–30 Willelmus comes de Warenna Osmundo dispensario salutem Mando tibi et precipio ut ressaisias cito Monachos Sancti Pancratii de .x. solidatis terre quas Hugo de Grinnnosa ville donavit deo et sancto Pancrato pro anima sua (Stenton 1932: 20, 269; Cotton Vesp. F. xv, f. 33) “William Earl Warrenne greets Osmund the dispenser. I command you at once to reseize the said monks of Saint Pancras of 10 solidatae of land which Hugh of Gringneuseville gave to God and Saint Pancras for the sake of his soul”

 R.W. McConchie

(15) c.113014 Precipio tibi quatinus resaisias monachos meos de Stoke de decima de Gestingatorp sicut Ger’ filius Rengeri eos saisiuit precepto dapiferi mei et sicut erant saisiti die qua reddiderunt terram que fuit . Roberti fratris tui (Stenton 1932: 18, 268; Cott. MS Appendix. xxi, f. 114b) “I command that you reseize my monks of Stoke of the tithe of Gestingthorp as Gerard son of Renger had seised them at the direction of my dapifer and as they were seised on the day when they gave up the land which was Robert your brother’s”15

The OED takes no account of data such as this which, on the principle of early Latin attestations in texts written in England, adopted in relation to the 1167 entry, would have considerably antedated both seize and reseize.16 These early instances in (1) to (5) in fact provide a completely restructured early chronology for these lexemes which, despite the minor discrepancy between the first Latin citations of seize (1082–3) and its derived forms (going back a little further, to 1077), seems intuitively reasonable. Stenton (1932: 52) also provides the following pre-1167 material: (16) (after c.1146?) Dictum est mihi quod uobis preceptum est ex parte iusticiar’ Regis iurare quod vidistis Stephanum Dammartini saisiatum de terra de Pitelege sicut de feodo 7 hereditate (Stenton 1932: 21, 269; MS Cott. Appendix. xxi, f. 27) “I have been told that you have been ordered on behalf of the king’s justices to swear that you have seen Stephen de Dammartin seised of the land of Pitley as of fee and inheritance”17 (17) c.1150 Post supradictam conuentionem factam coram comite Willelmo in die quo Rogerus Mareschaldus saisiuit Rogerum de Beningword de seruitio Geruasii de Halton […] Et Rogerus postquam saisitus fuit de servitio Geruasii, et postquam Petrus ei fecit homagium suum, statim coram omnibus saisiauit eum de predicta medietate de Rogero tendenda et de heredibus Rogeri ipse et heredes sui. “After the aforesaid convention was made in Earl William’s presence, on the

.  Stenton gives a date of ‘‘before 1136” on p. 74, but in the appendix offers ‘‘circa 1130’’. The reference in footnote I on p. 74 is incorrect; it should be to ‘‘Appendix, no. 18’’ not 10 as stated. .  The address of this charter, directed to a member of the Peche family, presents some difficulties, and has been omitted here. See Stenton (1932: 268). .  Since D was published from 1893 to 1897, it does postdate at least some of the publications of the Pipe Roll Society. The Pipe Roll for 1166–7 was published in 1889–90. .  The reference later in this letter to ‘swearing’ (iuretis) may suggest a reference to the procedure of empanelling twelve jurors to investigate the claims in the assize of novel disseisin.



Disseisin: lexeme and legal fact 

day when Roger the Marshal put Roger of Benniworth in seisin of the service of Gervase of Halton […] And immediately after Roger was seized of the service of Gervase, and after Peter had done his homage to him, Roger, before all, gave Peter seisin of the aforesaid half, to hold of him and his heirs.” (18) 1162–66 Et si aliquis eorum huic composicioni non steterit et eam non tenuerit. et per comitem et per amicos hoc corrigere noluerit prece et peticione utriusque [;] comes seysiet feodum illius qui inde exierit donec iniuria emendetur. (Cotton Titus C. ix, f 143 b; Stenton 1932: 7, 263.) “And if one of them should not stand by this composition and observe it, and should refuse to make amends in obedience to the earl and his own friends, at the request of either, the earl shall take seisin of the fee of him who has departed from the agreement till the injury is made good.”

Perhaps the shift to the ‘French’ vowel form here (the ey in seysiet) is significant, but it should not be made too much of. The DMLBS also illustrates the noun dissaisina, which creates a further small change to the OED/MED chronology (1167/1281) in the list in Table 1 above: (19) 1166 r. c. de xxs. Pro dissaisina injusta Pipe 4 pro disseisina Pipe 4 65 (DMLBS s.v. dissaisina)

Beyond this date, examples multiply rapidly. These include the Assize of Northampton, a crucial document in the development of property law and the administration of Henry the First, which apparently makes the first allusion to the assize itself, without actually mentioning it by name: (20) 1176 II.D. Clause 5 of The Assize of Northampton Item Justitiae domini regis faciant fieri recognitionem de dissaisinis factis super Assisam, a tempore quo dominus rex venit in Angliam proximo post pacem factam inter ipsum et regem filium suum. (Stubbs 1876: 152) “Likewise, let the justices of the lord king cause an inquisition to be made concerning disseisins carried out contrary to the assize,[67] since the lord king’s coming into England immediately following upon the peace made between him and the king, his son.” (Elhone)

Many other examples from relatively early charters could be provided, such as: (21) c1200 in cuius manu ego Willelmus feci seisinam cum carta ista in ecclesia de Aldridelega “in whose hand I, William, have made seisin with this charter in the church of Alderley.” (Barraclough 30)

but there is little point, since what has been attested is probably sufficient.

 R.W. McConchie

The three lexemes, seize, disseize and reseize, can thus all be attested considerably earlier than the OED or MED by employing the principle determining their choice of an occurrence in a Latin text as an illustrative citation. All three can be attested shortly after the Norman Conquest. The chronology in Table 1 can now be amended to the first dates listed in Table 2. Table 2.  Restructured chronology for the earliest -seis- citations Lexeme

OED

MED

reseize (resaisire) disseise (dissaisire) seize (saisire) disseisin (disseisina) seisin (seisina(m))

1413   1100–1123 ?1114 1215   1390 1290 c 1300 1167   1281 1297 c 1330

New dating ?1077 c1077 1082–3 1166 c1200

5.  Conclusions What emerges from all of this? Comparing the dictionary data with that offered in this paper, two striking points emerge. First, both the seiz- disseis- nouns and verbs are much earlier than the dictionaries suggest if one accepts their appearance in Latin texts as indicative of their possible availability to Middle English as code-switchings or borrowings, as the editors of the dictionaries clearly did. There is ample evidence of both going back at least to the later eleventh century. Second, the form reseize is far earlier than either dictionary suggests, and appears to have been in use as early as the other two. Further, all three are much more frequent in this early period than appears in the dictionaries. A full account of the data would show that there are fewer tokens for disseisin than seisin, but its prior use is seen in the Laws of Henry the First, implied by the appearance of the writ of novel disseisin in the mid-twelfth century, and it is frequently used in Glanvill (1188). Adding material from Regesta Regum AngloNormannorum allows us to replace the rather bare entries in the dictionaries with what proves to be a relatively rich legal background and sufficient numbers of tokens to suggest patterns of usage. Next, although on the face of it seisin/disseisin form an antonymic pair, this proves to be less simple. The early evidence is that it is antonymic only as regards the possession/dispossession sense, but with no necessary antonymy in connotation, since the concept of just disseisin was well understood. Thus disseisin is privative but not necessarily pejorative. Further research may well show that antonymy of connotation develops with increased use in English, but this work has yet to be done. In general, the use of the derived forms disseisin and reseisin provide the preconditions for speakers of Middle English to see both the prefixes of these lexemes



Disseisin: lexeme and legal fact 

as well as the base as potentially separable and available for vernacularisation, a process which the conventional accounts claim does not take place until the early fifteenth century. How significant this is for the ultimately productive use of the prefix dis- in English will have to await a more thorough coverage of the lexical material available. It is also obvious that the language boundaries in England were by no means clear and simple. To cite Clanchy again: “Generalizations, such as that everybody was bilingual in English and French in 1200 or that only the clergy knew Latin, are pointless and misleading apart from being unproveable” (1993: 223). What we have in the present survey is evidence of borrowing from Anglo- or Norman French into Latin, and scope for further conjecture. If the terms discussed here were required for legal and administrative discourse in Latin, they may also have been required in English. Situations where there may have been trilingual discourse such as the Court of the Exchequer where speakers such as the royal officials and the barons used French, some of the sheriffs and their deputies probably used English and what French they could manage, and Latin was probably spoken as well as written, being the language of record, would obviously have facilitated borrowing. To understand the situation we need to come down to individual situations, individual speakers and writers and individual lexemes, as far as the data permits.

References AND = Anglo-Norman Dictionary, 2005, second edition, William Rothwell, general editor; Stewart Gregory, William Rothwell, & David Trotter, eds, 2 vols (A–C and D–E). Publications of the Modern Humanities Research Association 17 (I) and (II). London: Maney Publishing for the Modern Humanities Research Association. Barraclough, Geoffrey. 1957. Facsimiles of Early Cheshire Charters Publications of The Record Society of Lancashire and Cheshire. Oxford: Blackwell. Bates, David. 1998. Regesta Regum Anglo-Normannorum: The Acta of William I, 1066–1087 Oxford: Clarendon Press. At <www.questia.com/library/book/regesta-regum-anglonormannorum-the-acta-of-william-i-1066–1087–by-david-bates.jsp>. Bigelow, Melville M. 1970. Placita Anglo-Normannica: Law Cases from William I to Richard I. repr. New York: Rothman Reprints. Bigelow, Melville M. 1880. History of Procedure in England from the Norman Conquest: The Norman Period (1066–1204). London: Macmillan. Cheney, Mary. 1984. The Litigation between John Marshal and Archbishop Thomas Becket in 1164: A Pointer to the Origin of Novel Disseisin? Law and Social Change in British History (Royal Historical Society studies in history series, 40) ed. by J.A. Guy & H.G. Beale, 9–26. London: Royal Historical Society. Clanchy, M.T. 1993. From Memory to Written Record: England 1066–1307. 2nd ed. Oxford: Blackwell. Davis, R.H.C. 1991. From Alfred the Great to Stephen. London: Hambledon.

 R.W. McConchie DMLBS = Dictionary of Medieval Latin from British Sources. 1975–. Howlett D. & Latham R.E., eds. London: Oxford University Press, for the British Academy. Dobson, E.J. 1976. The Origins of Ancrene Wisse. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Du Cange, C. 1943. Glossarium ad scriptores mediae et infimae Graecitatis duos in tomos digestum accedit Appendix ad Glossarium mediae et infimae Latinitatis, Caetera subjectus Syllabus indicabit Charles Dufresne Ducange. Paris: College du France. Elhone, Bob. n.d. “Seisin”, at . Glanvilla, Ranulphus de. 1965. The Treatise on the Laws and Customs of the Realm of England commonly called Glanvill. (Tractatus de legibus et consuetudinibus regni Angliae qui Glanvilla vocatur.) ed. with introduction, notes and translation by G.D.G. Hall, Nelson: London. Hudson, John. 1994. Land, Law, and Lordship in Anglo-Norman England. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Liebermann, F., ed. 1903–16. Die Gesetze der Angelsachsen. Halle a.S. Lyon, Bryce 1960. A Constitutional and Legal History of Medieval England. New York: Harper. McConchie, Roderick W. 2006. Disturbing news from the thirteenth century: Variation in a borrowed lexeme in Middle English. Selected Proceedings of the 2005 Symposium on New Approaches in English Historical Lexis (HEL-LEX) ed. by Roderick W. McConchie, Heli Tissari, Olga Timofeeva & Tanja Säily, 95–112. Somerville: Cascadilla. McConchie, Roderick W. 2007a. Discomfort in Middle English. Studies in Middle English Forms and Meanings ed. by Gabriella Mazzon, 179–189. Frankfurt a.M.: Peter Lang. McConchie, Roderick W. 2007b. Dis-history: Modelling the introduction and diffusion of a borrowed prefix in Middle English. Change in Meaning and the Meaning of Change ed. by Matti Rissanen, Marianna Hintikka, Leena Kahlas-Tarkka & Roderick W. McConchie, 344–371. Helsinki: Société Néophilologique. MED = The Middle English Dictionary, 1952–2001. Hans Kurath, Sherman Kuhn and Robert Lewis, eds. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press. OED = The Oxford English Dictionary, 1884–1933, 10 vols, ed. Sir James A.H. Murray, Henry Bradley, Sir William A. Craigie and Charles T. Onions. Supplement, 1972–1986, 4 vols.; ed. Robert W. Burchfield. 2nd. ed., 1989; ed. John A. Simpson and Edmund S.C. Weiner. Additions Series, 1993–7; ed. John A. Simpson, Edmund S.C. Weiner and Michael Proffitt. 3rd. ed. (in progress) OED Online, March 2000–, ed. John A. Simpson, www.oed.com. OLD = Oxford Latin Dictionary 1982, ed. by P.G.W. Glare. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Stenton, Frank Merry. 1932. The First Century of English Feudalism, 1066–1166. (Ford Lectures, 1929.) Oxford: Clarendon Press. Stubbs, William. 1876. Select Charters and Other Illustrations of English Constitutional History from the Earliest Times to the Reign of Edward the First. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Sutherland, Donald W. 1973. The Assize of Novel Disseisin. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Turner, Ralph W. 1994. Judges, Administrators and the Common Law in Angevin England. London: Hambledon Press. Warren, W.L. 1987. The Governance of Norman and Angevin England 1086–1272. London: Edward Arnold.

Was Old French -able borrowable? A diachronic study of word-formation processes due to language contact Carola Trips

Institut für Linguistik/Germanistik, Universität Stuttgart

Achim Stein

Institut für Linguistik/Romanistik, Universität Stuttgart An in-depth corpus study will show that the ability of -able formations to ­highlight other arguments of the verbal base is present from the start in Old French texts, similarly to findings for Modern French (2003). Old French formations like (par)durable, decevable or changable show that unergatives and unaccusatives can just as well serve as input to -able formations, and that the traditional distinction between transitive and intransitive types cannot account for the variety of derivatives we are already faced with in the Old French period. We also argue against the assumptions that in Old French the active meaning was clearly dominant and that in ME the free morpheme able explains the rise of the suffix -able. The semantic analysis has shown that an adequate word-formation rule should account for the event structure of the base verb rather than rely on the syntactic or semantic frame alone.

1.  Introduction In this paper, we will examine the history of derived adjectives with the suffix -able in English and French. In Modern French (ModF), formations of this type are found with transitive verbal bases like analyser which is illustrated in (1):

(1) ModF: Cette forme est analysable

In Modern English (ModE), these formations are also found but with different bases: (2a) illustrates the same form as in ModF, i.e., with a non-native (or “learned”) base, and (2b) illustrates a formation with a native base: (2) a. ModE: This form is analysable b. ModE: This form is breakable

In both languages derivations with -able seem to have similar properties. It is a well-known fact that the English suffix was borrowed from French during the

 Carola Trips & Achim Stein

period of the Anglo-Normans in England (beginning in the 11th century) evidence of which are a plethora of loans with denominal and deverbal bases. In the following, we will shed light on the history of the deverbal derivations in both languages and explore the properties of the word-formation rules governing these formations in the lexicon. We will examine the argument structure of the bases and show that structural differences can not only account for constraints on the synchrony of these word formations but also explain diachronic facts.

2.  French influence in the history of English The Norman colonisation, starting with the Norman Conquest in 1066 under ­William the Conqueror, was a determining factor for the linguistic situation in England at that time and had far-reaching consequences for the English lexicon. Lutz (2002) claims that the strong impact of French on the English lexicon must be seen as the result of linguistic contact imposed on the English speaking community, i.e., French functioned as superstrate (see also Dietz 2002). This deep impact on the English lexicon manifests itself in many texts at that time, e.g., in the Peterborough Chronicle, the most long-lasting continuation of the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle. As Hughes (2000: 111) points out, this chronicle is an invaluable record of the period of the Norman invasion. Moreover, it is also a linguistic record in that in the annal for the year 1137 (written in 1154) French terms occur in it for the first time: (3)

Ðā hwīle þet se ærcebiscop wæs ūt of lande, geaf se kyng ðone then while the archbishop was out of land, gave the king the biscoprīce of Baðe þēs cwēnes canceler – Godefreið wæs gehāten, bishop of Bath the queen’s chancelor – Godefreið was called (PETERB,44.85)

(4)

& thēr wes underfangen, forði ðat hī uuenden ðat hē sculde and there was received, because they believed that he should ben alsuic alse the eom wes, & for hē hadde get his tresor; be just-such as the uncle was, and because he had found his treasure (PETERB,55.413)

According to Baugh & Cable (2002, §85) due to the introduction of a new AngloNorman nobility French remained the language of the upper classes in England for 200 years after the Norman Conquest (see also Berndt 1972 and Crespo 2000). But after 1250, those who had been accustomed to speak French were turning increasingly to the use of English. Whether to supply deficiencies in the English vocabulary or in their own imperfect command of that vocabulary, or perhaps merely



Was Old French -able borrowable? 

yielding to a natural impulse to use a word long familiar to them and to those they addressed, the upper classes carried over into English an astonishing number of common French words. (Baugh & Cable 2002 §123).

Berndt (1972, 347) notes that in the 14th and 15th centuries French was on the decline for a number of reasons, one of which was the “vernacular consciousness” and the growing awareness among the English people that the vernacular had a unifying effect. The countryfolk had always had a unified language maybe frenchified to some degree but still English was the main language for this social group. Although French played a more important role in clerical circles it was not the everyday language. Only among the feudal aristocracy was it the main language, since for the members of the royal family it had been the mother tongue for more than a century. In the 15th century, a rapid transition from French to English took place as a means of written communication, and at the end of the century French was almost generally displaced in England. With respect to some of the linguistic consequences of the Norman invasion, Baugh and Cable assume the existence of nearly a thousand French adjectives in Middle English (ME) and state the importance of borrowings in this domain: “Here [with adjectives] the additions were of special importance since Old English was not very well provided with adjective distinctions.” (§130). We will come back to this observation in section 5. From what was said above, it becomes clear that it is the ME and Old French (OF; until ca. 1350) period that is of importance here because it is this time in the history of English where borrowing from French was most intense.

3.  Properties of word-formations with -able 3.1  Word-formations with -able in English In this section we will discuss the properties of the English deverbal pattern. The entry in the Middle English Dictionary (MED) gives the following information: -āble (adj. suf.) Also -abel, -abil, -abul. OF -able (from L -ābilis). (a) Most of the OF adjs. in -able (as also the L adjs. in -ābilis, -ibilis) are formed on the stems of trans. verbs, with reference to the object .  Although a distinction between written and oral use has to be made because they had separate histories it has convincingly been shown in a number of papers (e.g., Rothwell 1968; Berndt 1972) that French did not have as much impact on English as previously assumed. Moreover, for our assumptions made here it is the spoken vernacular (including texts that represent spoken language) that is of importance because it shows the speaker’s word-formation competence.

 Carola Trips & Achim Stein

of the action; hence their ‘passive’ meaning, which may be paraphrased by such expressions as ‘fit (to be eaten), worthy (of being admired), subject (to change), etc.’ (b) Some are formed on verbs, with reference to the agent; hence their ‘active’ meaning, which may be rendered by ‘capable (of pleasing), entitled (to inherit)’. (c) A few are formed on nouns. (d) Some adjs. in -āble have both ‘passive’ and ­‘active’ meanings. The new formations in ME conform to the OF models.

In line with the description found in the MED, Marchand (1969, 230) notes that -able is a suffix borrowed from OF. It is found in ME words like acceptable, agreeable, measurable, reasonable etc. and he notes that these words could also well have been derivatives in ME because the bases of these words existed without the -able suffix either as verb (accept, agree) or as noun (measure, reason), and sometimes even as both (comfort, favour). Further, he observes a morphological dualism to which a semantic dualism is added: the words with verbal bases can have an active as well as a passive reading (‘fit for doing’ and ‘fit for being done’). He assumes that all the functions of -able seem to have been borrowed from French which had itself “found them in Latin”. With respect to differences between the deverbal and denominal pattern he notes that the former pattern is more frequent than the latter one, that it has a general passive meaning, and that the few formations with an active meaning are probably due to the passive character of the forms in French and Latin. In the entry for -able in the Oxford English Dictionary (OED) it is claimed that right from the beginning, the suffix could take both French bases and also native bases. This fact has always been associated or explained with the occurrence of the free morpheme able. What is problematic for this assumption is that able occurs much later in texts than the suffix -able. A more plausible semantic explanation is proposed by Dalton-Puffer (1996): she assumes that after the demise of -ly, -able provided a new means to form adjectival derivatives with verbal bases (see below). In her corpus study on ME, for -āble Dalton-Puffer found a type/token ­frequency of 0.25 (48 types vs. 187 tokens). In that respect only -ly and -ful (both native) are more frequent in her study. She further shows that the suffix is most ­frequent, highly transparent and productive in the subperiod M3 (1350–1420). She assumes that there are some words with -āble that are unanalysable (simplex) but most ­formations (66%) are analysable and were coined in ME. She finds both denominal and deverbal bases, the former occurring much less frequently. There are also cases where the base could be both (colourāble, customāble, profitāble, delitāble). With respect to the properties of the deverbal derivatives she notes that they can have an active and a passive meaning according to the syntactic properties of the underlying verb (the active meaning arises if the verb is intransitive). The ­occurrence of these meanings depends on the topicalisation of subject/object, so e.g., meuvāble can have both interpretations. The paraphrases of the active and the passive meanings are ‘apt to V’ and ‘apt to be VERBed’, loans from OF having



Was Old French -able borrowable? 

both readings in the original. In the course of time, the passive reading became the dominant reading and still is today. Dalton-Puffer suggests that it must have been the dominant one because new forms with Germanic bases were formed with passive meanings, which can be seen with formations like knowāble and wilnāble. The properties of the denominal derivatives are an abstract, vaguely possessive interpretation ‘has N’ as in, e.g., merciāble. These derivatives remained a closed set in ME. From the findings presented in the works discussed above, we can summarise the properties of -āble formations as follows: (i) denominal derivatives are rare, not productive (unanalysable, simplexes), (ii) deverbal derivatives are productive, the passive reading being more dominant, (iii)-able could take native bases right from the beginning, i.e., formations are decomposed, -able is analysed as suffix. In the next section, we will turn to empirical data from ME to see whether we can support these findings. 3.1.1  Data from Middle English The data presented here is taken from the Penn-Helsinki Parsed Corpus of Middle English 2 (PPCME2). In the corpus, the following periods of ME are distinguished: M1 (1150–1250), M2 (1250–1350), M3 (1350–1420), M4 (1420–1500). We will start with the findings from M1. In the first subperiod of the corpus only one occurrence of an -able formation is found: (5) gē beoð cristene men. gef hit is sōð þtt me seið. merciāble & milzfule. you are christen men if it is true that man speak merciable and merciful (1225, JULIA,115.329)

In line with Dalton-Puffer, it can be assumed that the formation merciāble was borrowed as simplex, evidence of which is the non-native base. In the following subperiod, M2, the picture looks different: here 37 tokens occur, 28 of them are new compared to M1 (16 types), however of Old French origin. The findings for M2 are presented in Table 1. In the M3 period suddenly the frequency of -able formations rises from 37 tokens (17 types) in M2 to 137 tokens (41 types) in M3: This finding is in line with Jespersen’s study of a thousand French borrowings based on the quotations of the OED (Jespersen 1982; first published 1905, this was one of the first ­statistical studies on lexical borrowing). Jespersen shows that the number of French words being adopted increases only slightly before 1250, but does not become really great until after 1250, with a climax at the end of the 14th century. This tendency follows closely the progressive adoption of English by the upper classes (1250–1400, cf. Baugh & Cable 2002, §95) and the wholesale transfer of vocabulary as text-types switch from one language to the other.

 Carola Trips & Achim Stein

The works of Reginald Pecock (c. 1395–1460) shed further light on the borrowing and integration of the suffix -āble. Apart from playing an important role in the history of the Lollard movement, his work is also notable for its attempt to establish English as written language: Pecock was one of the first writers to use the vernacular. In his main work, the famous Repressor of over-much weeting [blaming] of the Clergie (issued about 1455) many formations with -āble are found, and even more strikingly many with native bases (Table 3). If the hapaxes of -āble formations in this text are taken into account we see that a considerable number occur with native bases, thus indicating the suffixal status of the element as well as its productivity (Table 4). Table 1.  -āble formations in M2 Form

Meaning/(MED)

merciāble profitāble cuvenāble resonāble amyāble desiderāble unprofitāble unresonāble unsuffrāble abhomināble deceiuāble inprofitāble inumberāble mesurāble renāble seruisāble tretāble

merciful profitable suitable raisonable admirable desired unprofitable unreasonable unbearable disgusting decevable not profitable not countable measurable raisonable servisable traitable

Origin

Tokens

OF OF OF OF OF OF OF OF OF OF OF OF OF OF OF OF OF

9 4 3 3 2 2 2 2 2 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1

Total

Note old new new new new new new, neg. new, neg. new, neg. new new new new new new new new

37

The frequent use of -āble formations with native bases shows that the author decomposed these formations and that he was aware of -āble as an element to build new formations. For M3, we also find -āble formations with native bases in the PPCME2 corpus. It is striking that forms with native bases as in wilnāble (6) or knowāble (7, 8) occur; the

.  see Babington (1860).



Was Old French -able borrowable? 

Table 2.  -āble formations in M3 Form

Meaning/(MED)

Origin

moevāble perdurāble semblāble coupāble dampnāble customāble honourāble uncovenāble unmoevāble delitāble knowāble notāble unmesurāble acceptāble charitāble chaungeāble delectāble departāble mesurāble unnumberāble celebrāble colourāble comendāble curāble desirāble destināble doutāble durāble entrechaungeāble habitāble incurāble inhabitāble muāble mutāble reprevāble sesonāble sufferāble unchaungeāble uncurāble undepartāble wilnāble

movable permanent similar guilty damnable costumary honorable inappropriate unmovable delightful being known able to know notable immeasurable agreeable charitable chaungeable delectable departable measurable innumerable celebrable colourable commendable curable desirable destinable doutable durable reciprocal habitable incurable inhabitable unstable inconstant reprovable saisonable suffrable unchangeable incurable inseperable desirable

OF OF OF OF OF OF OF OF OF OF OE OF OF OF OF OF OF OF OF OF OF OF OF OF OF OF OF OF OF OF OF OF OF OF OF OF OF OF OF OF

Total

OE

Tokens 22 18 17 6 6 4 4 4 4 3 3 3 3 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 132

 Carola Trips & Achim Stein

Table 3.  -āble formations in Pecock’s Repressor Form

Meaning/(MED)

profitāble unmovāble allouāble seāble mevāble resonāble immovāble notāble hereāble covenāble doāble preisāble probāble unresonāble fyndāble knowāble unlackeāble assignāble delectāble reprouāble unprofitāble weernāble blamāble dampnāble smelleāble unsoilāble biholdāble boweāble chalengeāble groundāble inclināble mesurāble remediāble undoutāble usāble innumerāble approvāble

profitable OF unmovable OF praiseworthy OF visible     OE movable OF reasonable OF unmovable OF notable OF audible     OE suitable OF feasible     OE praiseworthy OF probable OF unreasonable OF understandable     OE being known     OE able to know indispensable     OE determined OF pleasurable OF blameworthy OF unprofitable OF impermissible     OE blameworthy OF damnable OF capable of being smelled     OE indisputable OF conceivable     OE flexible     OE questionable OF provable     OE amenable OF measurable OF remedial, reparable OF unquestionable OF useful OF great, numerous OF provable OF

Total

Origin

Tokens 75 59 48 40 35 36 22 21 15 15 13 10 8 7 6 6 6 5 5 5 5 5 4 4 3 3 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 2 483



Was Old French -able borrowable? 

Table 4.  -āble formations (hapaxes) in Pecock’s Repressor Form

Meaning/(MED)

Origin

changeāble colorāble considerāble coveitāble speculāble coupāble custumāble departāble dispreisāble doutāble excusāble forbedāble irremediāble kutteāble makeāble markāble mutāble pareāble precheāble procurāble reuleāble sufferāble takeāble unavoidāble unberāble uncovenāble undeclarāble unexcusāble unscapeāble unsparāble unsufferāble wepeāble

changeable OF persuasive OF conceivable OF desirable OF hypothetical OF guilty OF customary OF separable OF deserving of censure or blame OF doubtful OF excusable OF that may be forbidden     OE that cannot be remedied OF amenable to being cut     OE feasible, applicable     OE remarkable     OE inconstant OF prunable OF effective for use in preaching OF possible to achieve OF controllable OF endurable OF capable of being comprehended OF inescapable OF unendurable     OE inappropriate OF inexpressible OF undeserving of pardon OF unavoidable OF necessary     OE unbearable OF regrettable     OE

Total

Tokens 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 32

latter formation is a good example for illustrating the two interpretations: active (‘able to know or understand’) and passive (‘capable of being known’): (6) bot alle þei schulde streche in-to þe souerein desirāble and into but all they should strech into the sovereign desirable and into

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þe heigest wilnāble þing, þe whiche is God. the highest desired thing the which is god (a1425, CLOUD,18.93) (7)

Þe whiche is incomprehensible to alle create knowāble mit, as is the which is incomprehensible to all created knowable might as is aungel & mans soule. angel and man’s soul (a1425, CLOUD,18.96)

(8) Many mo of hem ben fyndeāble and knoweāble bi mannis resoun. many more of them ben findable and knowable by man’s reson ((c1449) Pecock Repr.(Cmb Kk.4.26))

In 1530, Palsgrave remarks that French -āble can be combined with all verbs forming present particples in -ant and have an active or a passive meaning, like mouvāble “apte or mete or able to chaunge, or to be chaunged”: in our tonge we have none suche [word-formation element like -able], but must nedes use circumlocution by apte, mete, or able, and our infinityve mode; save that we have admitted as well adjectyves of the frenche tonge endyng in able and ible, as commendable, visible (Palsgrave 1852, 303)

In ME, just as in OF, the meaning of -āble can be close to the present participle (hence active), as in (4), whereas the meaning is clearly passive in (4): (9)

This equinoxiall is clepid the gurdel of the first moeving, or ellis of the first moevāble. And note that the firste moevyng is clepid moevyng of the firste moevāble of the 8 speer, which moeving is from est to west, and eft ageyn into est. (ostro, M3)

(10)

but, certes, destyne is the disposicioun and ordenance clyvynge to moevāble thinges, by the whiche disposicion the purveaunce knytteth alle thingis in hir ordres; (boeth, M3)

As mentioned above some authors have assumed that the suffix -āble was ­identified with the free morpheme āble, which resulted in a frequent occurrence of the suffix. However, the free element occurs much later than the bound element, the former being foun’d in the M2 period while the free morpheme (adjective) āble does not occur before period M3. In the subperiod M4, 91 cases with native bases occur, some of which show both an active (11) and a passive (12) reading. The entries quoted from the ­Dictionary of Old English (DOE) in (13) confirm this.



Was Old French -able borrowable? 

(11)

Out of þilk sones seed schal rise a persoon which schal be to þe out of that son’s seed shal rise a person which shall be to the same kyng loveāble, honourable, and ful profitable. same king lovable honourable and fully profitable ((c1443) Pecock Rule (Mrg M 519))

(12)

Sothly, Ihesu, desiderabul es þi name, lufabul [vr. lufabyll] & greatly Jesus desirable is your name lovable and confortabul. comfortable (a1400 Rolle Encom.Jesu (Hrl 1022))

(13) a. Luffeabill [Monson: Lufabylle]: Amabilis. b. Luffeabill: . . . Amatorius, Amarosus. (?c1475 *Cath.Angl.(Add 15562)) Table 5.  -āble formations in M4 Form

Meaning/MED

Origin

Tokens

laudāble notāble unspekāble unchangeāble arāble conformāble tolerāble alterāble covenāble fauourāble untolerāble untretāble

laudable notable unspeakable unchangeable arable conformable tolerable alterable suitable favourable intolerable intractable

OF OF     OE OF OF OF OF OF OF OF OF OF

8 4 4 3 2 2 2 1 1 1 1 1

Total



30

Table 5 presents all formations found in M4. With respect to the prosody of -āble the following quotation clearly shows that stress is on the penultimate syllable (in accordance with the entries in the OED and MED): (14)

O yonge hugh of lyncoln, slayn also With cursed jewes, as it is notāble, For it is but a litel while ago, Preye eek for us, we synful folk unstāble, That, of his mercy, God so merciāble On us his grete mercy multiplie, For reverence of his mooder marie. Amen (Chaucer, The Canterbury Tales, Prioress Tale, l. 684–690)

 Carola Trips & Achim Stein

Formations like notāble thus had a Romance stress pattern and not a ­Germanic one where the first syllable bears primary stress (compared ModE nōtable). This implies that -āble was recognised as a foreign suffix. 3.2  Word-formations with -able in French In the previous section it was shown that ME had active and passive derivations in -āble, and that this goes back to OF and Latin. However, the assumptions about the situation in Old and Middle French differ. For OF, the Trésor de la langue française states that -able formations favour “active meanings”, rather than the expression of a “passive possibility” (possibilité passive; TLF entry -able, C. signification). The study of Hammar (1942) is quoted in the TLF and gives a more detailed account of the situation in OF: she distinguishes an active meaning, where the adjective refers to the subject of the verbal base (“sens subjectif ”) and a passive meaning, where the adjective refers to the entity which undergoes an action (“sens objectif ”). She qualifies the former as “French” use, the latter as “Latin” use and claims that the “Latin” use is typical for OF texts with a strong Latin background, as for example in translations. Nevertheless, this passive “Latin” type will gain importance and be the only productive type by 1600. In this respect, it should also be noted that the Latin suffix -bilis had an instrumental meaning, so carmen exorabilis is a song with which one can plead for something. This might actually explain how the modal component was introduced by the suffix. Hammar found only twenty forms expressing a passive modal meaning, mostly hapaxes, occurring in texts of Latin origin (translations and adaptations). The only texts in which these forms occur more frequently is Geoffroi de Monmouth’s Chronique des Ducs de Normandie, a text which might have been influenced by Wace’s chronicle of Henry II (both authors use the same forms in similar rhyming contexts). In her analysis of Guillaume de Conches’ (†1150 or 1154) translation of Moralium dogma philosophorum, Hammar notes that the forms which occur only in the French text never translate a passive modal meaning and that Latin forms with .  Parallel to Indo-European -dhlom, etymon of the nominal suffix -bulum, -dhlis is associated with the adjectival suffix -bilis (Lindsay 1894; Leumann 1917; cf. Hammar 1942: 9). Whereas some theories favour an active reading, Leumann (1917) attributes an instrumental meaning to the suffix, e.g., carmen exorabilis ‘a song as means to plea for something’. The fact that the qualified noun is not considered as an actor but as an instrument which can be used to perform the action may help to understand the modal component of the derivations in -bilis. Leumann also notes that word-formations in -bilis have developed exclusively in the Italic languages (i.e., they are not common Indo-European). In English, we find formations with -ible like invisible, horrible or terrible but their number is small in comparison to the formations with -able that are taken to have been borrowed from French. (-able has generally taken the place of the earlier -ible form.)



Was Old French -able borrowable? 

this meaning are never expressed by French forms in -able. The opposite is true for translated religious texts: they have numerous occurrences of -able forms with passive meaning normally corresponding to a Latin adjective in -bilis, whereas the forms with active meaning do not correspond to Latin forms. In OF literature, the passive use is, according to Hammar, restricted to the learned style of certain authors (she cites Jean de Meun’s Roman de la Rose). Therefore, and in line with the observations quoted in the TLF, Hammar ­concludes that the passive meaning of the suffix is extinct, and that the scarce occurrences should be attributed to the influence of Latin. The active meaning, on the other hand, clearly dominates in OF and belongs to the vocabulary of spoken French (Hammar 1942, 119). Our queries in the Nouveau Corpus d’Amsterdam (NCA, Stein et al. 2006), a 3 million word corpus of OF literature, show that Hammar’s corpus was too restricted with respect to literary texts: several passive -able-forms which she quotes (p. 121ff) as being used for the first time by Jean de Meun (1225) are attested in older texts. Moreover, an analysis of 945 occurrences in -able (for about 180 types) clearly shows that as far as literature is concerned, Hammar’s hypothesis cannot be confirmed, since a considerable part of the forms is clearly used in a passive meaning. The following OF examples are mostly taken from the NCA. In (15) through (17) we find active uses of aidable in the sense of ‘helping’ or ‘helpful’, chargable for heavily falling rain, and decevable for a deceiving life. (15) gentil furent li cunestable / e bien puissant e bien aidable gentle were the constables / and very powerful and very helping (Le roman de Rou de Wace, NCA l.527) (16)

car tant ert la pluie chargable / que tuit ensemble s because so much was the rain charging / that all together REFL. enfoirent fled (Miracles de Notre Dame de Chartres de Jean le Marchant, NCA l.2460)

(17) ceste vie qui si est decevable this life which so is deceiving (La vie de saint Antoine l.2893)

.  For example, decevable occurs in the Dialogus anime conquerentis et rationis consolantis (c.1200), in the Bestiaire de Guillaume le Clerc (1211), in Le chastoiement d’un pere a son fils (beginning of 13th c.), in the Lais de Marie de France (1165) and in the Roman de Thebes, fragments d’Angers, (c.1160). .  Line numbers in quotations refer to the line in the text or text sample as included in the Nouveau Corpus d’Amsterdam, 1st edition, (2006).

 Carola Trips & Achim Stein

The forms defensable and desirable can be used not only passively for castles and things (18a, 19a), but also actively for people who defend or desire something (18b, 19b,). (18) a. b.

en calabre out plusurs chasteaus defensables e bons in calabria was several castles defensible and good e beaus and beautiful (Ipomedon l.4844) aparaillerent tuz ces ki defensables esteient equipped all those who able to defend were (Le livere de reis de Brittanie, l.5992)

(19) a. b.

les desirables choses the desirable things (Lothringischer Psalter, l.1397) Dont il(s) sont chaut et desirables of which they are hot and desiring (Tobler/Lommatzsch: desirrable: Ov. Met. 96)

In the Middle French (MF) period (starting in the early 14th c.), the passive usage of the forms in -able gradually gains importance: for 16th century French (as mentioned above), Palsgrave confirms that active and passive forms still coexisted, but around 1600, the passive meaning seems to have superseded the active meaning, and the use of French -able corresponds to the modern use (Hammar 1942: 127). To summarise, from the data for ME, OF and MF we have obtained the following findings. In the ME period, mainly learned forms occur in -able in the PPCME2. Both active and passive meanings occur with both types of bases. OF had inherited the active and the passive type from Latin, but the active type dominates. The passive type is more frequent only in texts of Latin origin, mostly in translations and special purpose language. In the next section, we will present an analysis for these findings. 4.  Syntactic and semantic analysis of -able-formations 4.1  Word-formation rules and semantic roles Before we turn to ME again, we are going to have a closer look at the syntax and semantics of adjectives in -able. The traditional word-formation rule presented in (20) for deverbals does not adequately describe the properties of these ­ formations,

.  Note that in the MED about 20% of the adjectives have native bases.



Was Old French -able borrowable? 

it merely uses grammatical functions (subject, object) and the paraphrase ‘capable of being VERBed’: (20)

Deverbal -able Aronoff (1976); Akmajian et al. (1979); Anderson (1992): WFR: [X]V [Xbl]Adj Condition: [X]V is transitive (i.e. [+ —NP] Syntax: Object argument of [X]V corresponds to Subject of [Xbl]Adj Semantics: (VERB) → capable of being VERBed

In what follows we use the abbreviation Argable for the argument of the base verb of which the derived adjective expresses a property. This argument is the ­lambdabound variable in (21), that is y (the object) in (21a) and x (the subject) in (21c), corresponding to what we have called passive and active meaning. In both cases, the modal operator (the caret) can disappear, and this meaning shift produces lexicalised forms expressing a property instead of a possible action (21b, d). Semantic refinements of the word-formation rule use semantic roles to explain the grammaticality of the forms in (22), quoted from Fradin (2003) with English equivalents. They state that derivations are grammatical if Argable is a patient or theme of the base verb. Hence, (22a, b) are fine, but (22d, e, f) are not, and (22c) gets better if a result or an agent or a human intervention is introduced (deep­freezable), which makes the patient more typical, according to Dowty. The problems of this analysis is, that the semantic paraphrases are too vague, and the semantic roles, being only secondary entities derived from the event structure, are not defined well enough to prevent overgeneration like *puttable, *bringable, *fetchable etc. Therefore, we will briefly discuss the event structure of some verb classes. Following Fradin (2003, 269ss) we represent in (21) how events are related to adjectives in -able. (21)

a. b. c. d.

λy, ∃e, ∃x [◊ V’ (e,x,y)] . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . (–active, +modal: Fr. analysable) λy, ∃e, ∃x [V’ (e,x,y)] . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . (–active, –modal: Fr. adorable) λx, ∃e [◊ V’ (e,x)] . . . . . . . . . . (+active, +modal: Fr. périssable ‘perishable’) λx, ∃e [V’(e,x)] . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . (+active, –modal: Fr. durable)

The absence of the modal reading can be considered as a regular metonymic shift of meaning, from result to cause. For example, in the case of adorable, the fact that Argable can be adored is due to certain properties, and the derived meaning refers to these properties. Similarly, the Argable of durable has certain properties which are necessary for Argable to perdure. The modal component can also shift from an epistemic towards a deontic interpretation as in He is answerable, accountable etc. in the sense ‘he must answer, account for’ etc.

.  In our analysis, we will leave out the nominal cases since they are probably all borrowed as simplexes and since they do not show structural differences.

 Carola Trips & Achim Stein

The semantic restrictions of -able derivations are exemplified in (22). In many cases English and French behave similarly. (22)

a. b. c. d. e. f.

Fr. cassable / E. breakable Fr. lançable / E. throwable Fr. ?gelable, but: congelable / E. ?(deep-)freezable Fr. *tombable / E. *fallable Fr. *courable, but: skiable / E. *runnable, but: skiable Fr. *comportable / E. *containable

The semantic role of Argable has been analysed (i) as a patient or theme (Anderson 1992: 190), (ii) as a “potential non-volitional participant” (Plag 2004), (iii) as a prototypical patient, to account for cases where Argable is locative as in (22e) (Fradin 2003, 267ss), or (iv) negatively as [–agent, –goal] (Fradin 2003: 280ss). The problems which arise from these definitions are (i) that traditional wordformation rules (20) rely either on paraphrases (Argable can be VERBed) or on ­surfaceoriented syntactic transformations, (ii) that refinements of word-formation rules use semantic roles of Argable (patient etc.) without properly defining them, and (iii) that neither of these constraints prevents overgeneration: the direct object of verbs of ‘putting’ is clearly a patient, but *puttable, *fetchable, *bringable are ­ungrammatical if the context does not meet very specific requirements. 4.2  Verb classes and derivations in -able As an alternative to the aforementioned semantic role-based word-formation rules we suggest to recur directly to the event structure of the verbal base rather than to derived entities like semantic roles. The restrictions which predict the grammaticality of -able-derivation are closely related to those retained for syntactic alternations, e.g., between active and middle constructions, as in: to peel the coating (active) vs. the coating peels (well) (middle) vs. the coating is peelable (cf. Pinker 1989; chap. 5 on semantic representation, and Zribi-Hertz 1982, 347 for remarks on the diachronic affinity between -able derivatives and the middle construction). For example, if an event lacks both a manner and a result component, as in the change of location verbs put, fetch and bring, the base will admit neither derivation in -able nor the middle alternation (*the books put on the shelf easily). However, if manner is expressed the derivation is possible, as in squeezable, but not if the result is external to the verb (*The liquid is squeezable into the bottle). Derivations from telic verbs like pocketable are fine, because the event has a result component (the state of being in a pocket). Example (23) shows that the presence of a resulting state (here: ‘to class’) in the immediate context may improve the acceptability.



(23)

Was Old French -able borrowable? 

Please bring assigned texts to class so that you easily and quickly can find the passage(s) or image(s) under consideration. If video and other kinds of texts are not “bringable”, be sure to take good notes as you watch or listen. (www-personal.umich.edu/ ∼alisse/ENGL140w05/140pols.html)

Telic change of location verbs do not have this restriction: pocketable is well-formed for a verb base meaning ‘put into a pocket’, where the resulting state is part of the verb meaning (whereas in the case of put it is expressed by the prepositional phrase). Consequently, -able derivations are also possible for verbs of ‘removing’, e.g., ­removable. However, verbs which according to these regularities should normally not have -able derivations can appear in special contexts like puttable/callable bonds, where put means ‘sell’ and denotes an event which includes the result. We systematically analysed all English verb classes distinguished by Levin (1993), which allowed us to produce the rough classification in (24), where the numbers in brackets refer to Levin’s verb classes: (24) Verb classes and derivation in -able a. -able/*-able: putting (Levin 1993, class 9), removing (10), change of possession (13) b. mostly -able: learn verbs (14), hold and keep verbs (15), concealment (16), cutting (21), combining (22), separating (23), illustrate (25.4), creation (26), most verbs with predicative complements (29), ingesting (39), killing (42), destroy (44), change of state (45), measure verbs (54), avoid (52) c. mostly *-able: sending and carrying (11), exerting force (12), throwing (17), contact by impact (18), poke (19), engender (27), calve (28), perception (30), psychological state (31), desire (32), judgment (33), assessment (34), searching (35), social interaction (36), communication (37), sounds made by animals (38), verbs involving the body (40), grooming and bodily care (41), emission (43), lodge (46), existence (47), appearance, disappearance, and occurrence (48), body-internal motion (49), assuming a position (50), motion (51), lingering and rushing (53), aspectual verbs (55), weekend (56), weather (57),

Here we will only comment briefly on two interesting classes. Movement verbs are interesting because they raise the question if the locative-transitive alternation (e.g., he runs on the path – he runs the path) is a prerequisite for derivation in -able. In English, (25a) and (26a) are marginal, in French (28a) is clearly ungrammatical, but nevertheless even in these cases we found some occurrences of passives and adjectives in -able (25b, c; 26b; 27b; 28b). (25) a. ?This path has been run. b. Your bot will now have a complete and short path back from start to finish. The path can be run from end to start (for our expert class maze mapping), or it can be used to run the advanced maze in a faster time. . . (PAReX Maze Mapping) (www.parex.org/maze_mapping.shtml)

 Carola Trips & Achim Stein

c.

Go down hill south easterly with a wall on your left on a good runnable path, until you hit a five bar gate. (Rossendale Harriers Athletic Club) (www.rossendaleharriers.co.uk/whittle_pike.htm)

The same holds for English (25c/26b/27b) and French (28b) derivations of movement verbs, even if passivization is marginal or ungrammatical: (26) a. b.

?The town can be fled. It is open to the skies and but partially shielded from the elements. But it has two advantages: quick and easy construction, and easily fleeable (The Complete Guide to Dragon Parenthood) (www.furnation.com/BlueFish/Drac/Drgnraise.htm)

(27) a. b.

McDonald Island has been landed on only twice. . . . to Genovesa (Tower Island), the most northerly of the ‘landable’ islands. (www.v-liz.com/galapagos/diary05.htm)

(28) a. *la zone a été atterrie (‘the zone has been landed (on)’) b. zone atterrissable (‘landing zone’)

In the class of psychological verbs (henceforth ‘psych verbs’), two argument frames have to be distinguished. Among the verbs with a subject Stimulus and an object Experiencer (Levin’s amuse verbs, 31.1), some have derivations in -able, like ­excitable, irritable, others do not: *amusable, *agitatable, *surprisable, *charmable, *delightable, *disgustable, *upsettable (with only a few nonce occurrences in Google). Normally, -able should be possible, since the Stimulus produces a resulting mental state of the Experiencer which can usually be expressed by y is VERBed, e.g., he is disgusted. Restrictions seem to hold if the Stimulus has specific features which would be lost in the derivation process since the -able rule binds only the Experiencer argument. This can be seen in paraphrases like y got VERBed all on his own which are unacceptable with verbs like surprise presupposing certain properties of the stimulus or actions of the agent: He got excited/*surprised all on his own. Many -able derivations from the second psych verb class (with inversed semantic roles: subject Experiencer and object Stimulus; Levin: admire verbs, 31.3) have lost their modal interpretation and show the metonymic shift from result to cause in 4.1, e.g., detestable, enjoyable, hatable, likable. They share this property (among others) with verbs like honour, laud, pardon, praise as well as some negative counterparts like mock, persecute, punish etc. (cf. Levin’s judgment verbs, class 33), and usually do not sound very natural with the modal passive meaning. 4.3   Semantic and pragmatic restrictions To sum up, two factors seem to favour the acceptability of the verbal base in -able forms in the domain of concrete verbs: (a) telicity or the presence of a resulting



Was Old French -able borrowable? 

state, and (b) the presence of a manner or means component. -able performs a semantic operation which is sensitive to (if not licensed by) specific components of the event structure of the verbal base. With psychological verbs, the derivatives tend to shift towards the non-modal expression of a property of the Experiencer (pattern 1: excitable) or the Stimulus (pattern 2: adorable). In order to account for these restrictions, the input of a word-formation rule must be a compositional event structure of the base (compositional because it has to account at least for both the result and manner/means components), the output is a stative predicate expressing these components as properties of the noun. The semantic restrictions for French adjectives in -able seem to parallel the English ones. However, pragmatic restrictions hold independently of the semantic restrictions stated above and may blur the semantic analysis. The adjective must be sufficiently specific and therefore present a sufficient degree of rhematicity or “communicative dynamism” (Firbas 1971). Likewise, Leeman observes that the derived adjective expresses a property which is not presupposed (“qui ne va pas de soi”; Leeman 1990: 33). Synchronically, this contextual parameter helps explain why certain head nouns are more difficult to accept than others, like the questionably-­acceptable washable car, although they are telic. Diachronically, it explains why some ­adjectives in -able are first attested with negative prefixes, since the negation or restriction of a thematic element may produce a rhematic information, as in (3). (29) a. This car is unwashable! b. The car is washable after three weeks. (e.g., after having been repainted)

4.4  Semantics of ME -able forms If we apply the semantic analysis to the native ME forms in -able cited in the MED, most forms comply with the restrictions mentioned above: their bases are changeof-state verbs with a resultative component, like bouable ‘bendable’. ­ Particularly striking are the cases with a resultative particle like unawaydoable. We also find forms derived from verbs with indirect objects like undwellable as translations for Lat. inhabitabilis which in Latin is derived from an ­underlying transitive verb. Another example could be shipable (Lat. navigabilis), but the existence of a transitive construction (ship the river) cannot be excluded. In (30) Argable is the indirect object (þanken to god, MED): (30) [P]Reiseable lord and þankeable god aboue alle þingis, siþen þou hast vouchid saaf of þyn infinite mercy and pitee..to illumyne and enform vs, [. . . ] (c1443 Pecock Rule (Mrg M 519) 223)

.  41,7% of the 3810 adjectives in -able/-ible extracted from the OED by Meus (1975, 41) have a negative prefix (un-/in-).

 Carola Trips & Achim Stein

In some cases it is clear that the base does not have its modern meaning: wilnable in (31) is a synonym of ‘desirable’ and complies with our analysis of psych verbs, just like (over)weepable and bireuable. Like seable in (32), it was used for stylistic reasons to avoid the repetition of the latinisms desirable and visible. (31) Alle þei schulde streche in-to þe souerein desirable & into þe heiᴣest wilnable þing, þe whiche is God. (32) Þou hast ordeyned..visible and seable signes and tokenes or sacramentis to be takun and vsid of vs. (c1443) Pecock Rule (Mrg M 519) 247

Repeated coordinations with or indicate that the authors are often unsure about the best translation for the French or Latin equivalent, cf. unsightable and unseeable, and doable or makeable in (4). (33) a. b.

ME.: If a þing be kunnyd..it is . . doable or makable . . þe knowyng þerof is to be clepid ‘practick science’. (c1454) Pecock Fol.(Roy 17.D.9) 48/28 ModE. mak(e)able: But he missed a makable birdie putt at seven (PGA.com / The Open Championship: www.pga.com/openchampionship/2004/news_071804_tiger_reduced.html)

Other cases of hesitation are the forms which are ambiguous between the active and the passive meaning shown in (4): (34)

a. b. c. d. e. f.

forberable ‘lenient’ vs. ‘avoidable’ knouable ‘able to know’ vs. ‘capable of being known’ lovable ‘loving’ vs. ‘lovable’ strecchable ‘capable of stretching’ vs. ‘capable of being stretched’ felable ‘able to perceive’ vs. ‘understandable’ techable ‘able to teach’ vs. ‘capable of being taught’

5.  Productivity So far we have seen that the suffix -āble, borrowed from French, productively built derivations right from the start, evidence of which are especially those formations with native bases starting to occur in the subperiod M2. The question then is, why this suffix -āble could become so productive in English. To answer this question we need to look at the suffix system of English at the time when -āble came into the language. We assume that two suffixes seem to play a role here: the native OE suffixes -bære and -lice. In OE, the former builds adjectives from nouns as in, e.g., wæstm-

.  For further development of -able derivations see Hull’s 1877 classification.



Was Old French -able borrowable? 

bære ‘fruitful’, leohtbære ‘luminous’, slæpbære ‘soporific’. In other Germanic languages like Modern Dutch (-baar) or Modern German (-bar) this suffix productively builds adjectives from verbs, few with an active meaning, most with a passive meaning (Modern German: tragbar, ableitbar, verdrängbar etc.). Both languages also show a non-productive pattern with nominal bases. In ME this suffix has vanished, and thus is no longer available for deriving deverbal adjectives. Is the loss of this native suffix due to French influence? The latter suffix, -lice (OE), phonologically developed into ME -lich/-lī and continues to exist in ME building denominal adjectives (fleschly, freondliche) and deverbal ones, with active and passive meaning: unbesorgelich, sehelich. In the course of time, the deverbal pattern vanished (ModE only shows denominal formations like queenly, monthly). Dalton-Puffer (1996) assumes that there was an interaction between -lī and -āble: the language needed a suffix to build deverbal adjectives and -āble was the right candidate to fulfill this need. This would be in line with Baugh & Cable’s assumption that at that time the word-formation system in English lacked the formal possibility to build different types of adjectives. As concerns both native suffixes, -bære and (the deverbal pattern of)-lich/-lī it could be claimed that these formations were lost due to the borrowing of -āble. Since -āble occurred right from the start with native bases it seems to have been integrated completely into the word-formation system of English. This fact is corroborated by Lutz (2002: 423ff). In her study, she observes that in English -āble allows many hybrid formations (i.e., a native base + -āble) as opposed to German which exhibits only non-native borrowings.10 In Early ME word-­formations with -bære vanished because they were replaced by borrowings and hybrids with -āble. According to Lutz this explains why in ModG the suffix -bar productively builds adjectives with a deverbal base and why formations with -abel are much less frequent and restricted to higher registers. Thus, although both languages, English and German, used to have the same native elements to build adjectival derivatives, in English this possibility was lost due to the strong impact of French in ME times. 6.  Borrowing of words or word-formation rules? From what was shown above, it seems that -able was first introduced into the English language in lexemes which were stored as such, and then analysed by the speaker, since in ME a number of formations with native bases occur. Further, we observed that these formations had the same properties as the OF formations,

.  This implies that German borrowed words with -able as such and speakers stored them as such in their lexicon, not analysing -able as a word-formation element.

 Carola Trips & Achim Stein

deriving adjectives from transitive verbs with a passive meaning in most cases. This implies that when word-formations are borrowed its word-formation rules are also borrowed. According to the traditional view (e.g., Burnley 1992) word-formation rules are driven by the lexical material borrowed from a foreign language. Affixes of adopted words may become productive in three stages: (i) The word containing the affix is adopted into English and assimilated into the grammatical system of the language; (ii) after analysis of the word structure, stylistically the word is differentiated from the rest of the lexis. Synchronically, it is recognisable as foreign by the speakers, and its affix may be used to create new formations with a restricted set of bases also perceived to be foreign; (iii) when coinages become more numerous, the affix ceases to be considered foreign and is used to coin words on bases of any origin. Now the affix has become part of the general derivational system of the language. If this view is applied to -able we have to assume the following development: (i) A number of words with -able were borrowed, these were analysed as simplexes (stored as whole words in the mental lexicon); (ii) the element is recognisable as foreign suffix (it has been shown that in ME -āble had a stressed long vowel), but new formations were built with native suffixes right away, implying that the element was analysed as word-formation element; (iii) the suffix productively builds new formations with native verbal bases and has fully been integrated into the derivational system of English. In our corpus-based diachronic study of deverbal -able derivations in OF and ME we have argued against the assumptions that in OF the active meaning was clearly dominant and that in ME the free morpheme able explains the rise of the suffix -able. The semantic analysis has shown that an adequate word-formation rule should account for the event structure of the base verb rather than rely on the syntactic or semantic frame alone. When -able was integrated into the English wordformation system, these semantic restrictions were clearly present and could be applied to native bases right from the start in period M3. Finally, we ­contrasted the productivity of -able with other suffixes and favoured a notion of lexical ­borrowing based on word-formation rules to explain its immediate success.

References Akmajian, A., Demers R.A. & Harnish R.M. 1979. Linguistics: An Introduction to Language and Communication. Cambridge Mass.: MIT Press. Anderson, S.R. 1992. A-Morphous Morphology. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Aronoff, M. 1976. Word formation in generative grammar. (Linguistic Inquiry Monograph 1.) Cambridge Mass.: MIT Press.



Was Old French -able borrowable? 

Babington, C., ed. 1860. The repressor of over much blaming of the clergy, by Reginald Pecock. Rerum britannicarum medii aevi scriptores 19:1. 2 vol. London: Her Majesty’s Treasury. Baugh, A. & Cable, T. 2002. A History of the English Language. London: Routledge, 5th edition. Berndt, R. 1972. The Period of the Final Decline of French in Medieval England. Zeitschrift fur Anglistik und Amerikanistik 20. 341–369. Burnley, D. 1992. Lexis and Semantics. The Cambridge History of the English Language,Vol. 2: 1066–1476, ed. N. Blake, 409–499. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Crespo, B. 2000. Historical Background of Multilingualism and its Impact in English. ­Multilingualism in Later Medieval Britain ed. D. Trotter, 23–35. Cambridge: D.S. Brewer. Dalton-Puffer, C. 1996. The French Influence on Middle English Morphology: A Corpus-based Study of Derivation. Berlin, New York: Motonde Gruyter. Dietz, K. 2002. Lexikalischer Transfer und Wortbildung am Beispiel des französischen Lehng­utes im Mittelenglischen. HistorischeWortbildung des Deutschen ed. M. Habermann, P. Müller & H. Munske, 381–406. Tübingen: Niemeyer. DOE = Dictionary of Old English Corpus. 2004. University of Toronto: Centre for Medieval Studies. Firbas, J. 1971. On the concept of communicative dynamism in the theory of functional sentence perspective. Sbornik praci filosoficke fakulty brnenske University 19. 135–144. Fradin, B. 2003. Nouvelles approches en morphologie. Paris: Presses Universitaires de France. Hammar, E.T. 1942. Le développement de sens du suffixe latin -bilis en français. Lund: Gleerup. Hughes, G. 2000. A History of English Words. Oxford: Blackwell. Hull, F. 1877. English Adjectives in -able. London: Trübner & Co. Jespersen, O. 1982. Growth and Structure of the English Language. 10th edition. Oxford: Blackwell. Leeman, D. 1990. Verbes en tables et adjectifs en ‘-able’. Langue français 87. 30–51. Levin, B. 1993. EnglishVerb Classes and Alternations. APreliminary Investigation. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Lutz, A. 2002. Sprachmischung in der deutschen und englischen Wortbildung. In Historische Wortbildung des Deutschen, M. Habermann, P. Müller & H. Munske eds., 407–439. Tübingen: Niemeyer. Marchand, H. 1969. The Categories and Types of Present-Day English Word-Formation. 2nd edition. München: Beck. Meus, V. 1975. English adjectives in ‘-able’. Studia Germanica Gandensia 16. 35–59. Palsgrave, J. 1852. L’éclaircissement de la langue française. Suivi de la grammaire de Giles de Guez. Publiés pour la première fois en France, par F. Génin. Paris: Imprimerie nationale. Pinker, S. 1989. Learnability and Cognition. The Acquisition of Argument Structure. Cambridge Mass.: MIT Press. Plag, I. 2004. Syntactic category information and the semantics of derivational morphological rules. Folia Linguistica 38. 193–225. Rothwell, W. 1968. The Teaching of French in Medieval England. Modern Language Review 63. 37–46. Stein, A. et al., eds. 2006. Nouveau Corpus d’Amsterdam. Corpus informatique de textes littéraires d’ancien français (ca 1150–1350), établi par Anthonij Dees (Amsterdam 1987), remanié par Achim Stein, Pierre Kunstmann et Martin-D. Gleßgen. Stuttgart: Institut für Linguistik/ Romanistik. Zribi-Hertz, A. 1982. La construction ‘se-moyen’ du français et son statut dans le triangle. ­Linguisticae Investigationes 6:2. 345–401.

Women and other ‘small things’ ‑ette as a feminine marker* Lucia Kornexl

University of Rostock Among the inventory of English nominal suffixes, -ette stands out as a relative latecomer with a rather limited productivity and a variety of meanings. Apart from small size, -ette can also indicate imitation or female sex, with the resultant formations often being classed as derogatory. This range of applications has been ascribed to universal tendencies in the semantics and pragmatics of the diminutive. A closer look at the origin and development of personal formations in -ette reveals, however, a number of special traits that can only be explained as the results of specific conditions operative in the English system. This paper sets out to trace the history of female -ette nouns and tries to explain why this minor pattern with its structural and semantic peculiarities has managed to survive in a language in which neither gender marking nor diminution are regular morphological categories.

1.  The first attestation of -ette as a feminine marker The use of -ette as “a tentative suffix to denote female sex with personal substantives” (Marchand 1969: 290) is a relatively recent development that apparently had its peculiarities from the start: the first formation of this kind can be traced back to a specific occasion and was obviously the result of a well-considered formative act. When The Daily Mail on January 10th, 1906, under the heading “Mr. Balfour and the ‘Suffragettes’” reported on the reception of a group of women activists by the then British Prime Minister (cf. OED s.v. suffragette), the novelty of the formation was indicated by the inverted commas surrounding its first occurrence, yet the accompanying definite article and the capital 〈 S 〉 suggest that readers were assumed to be familiar with the referents of the newly coined term and thus expected to grasp its intended meaning. The OED explains suffragette as a derivation “f[ormed on] suffrage n. + ‑ette”. This contrasts with Marchand’s above-mentioned description of -ette as a female * I would like to thank Richard Dury and the anonymous external reviewers for their helpful suggestions and comments on earlier versions of this paper.

 Lucia Kornexl

marker that attaches to personal substantives. In line with this description, his laconic structural comment on suffragette – “(after suffragist plus -ette)” (Marchand 1969: 290) – suggests a formation process proceeding from a personal noun, which must, however, have worked by suffix suppletion rather than by derivation. In light of both the linguistic and the historical evidence, this seems indeed the more likely procedure. The assumed model, suffragist, had served to denote ‘an advocate of the extension of the political franchise, esp. (after about 1885) to women’ (OED s.v.) since the early 19th century.1 Suffragette, in turn, is defined by the OED as ‘a female supporter of the cause of women’s political enfranchisement, esp. one of a violent or “militant” type’. The more radical faction of the movement mainly consisted of members of the ‘Women’s Social and Political Union’ (WSPU), who tried to further their cause by public demonstrations and spectacular acts of civil disobedience. The new -ette formation thus contrasted with suffragist not only with regard to its explicit sex marking,2 but carried additional, and highly controversial, associations with the rigorous female promoters of women’s rights. Being clearly intended to antagonise, the denomination did so even among the feminist activists: while some of them fiercely rejected it, others defiantly adopted “the clumsy label” to “wear it proudly”.3 The WSPU leaders were quick to exploit the attention-catching potential of the novel formation with its emphatically stressed ultimate syllable for their purposes: “hardening” the ‘g’, they suggestively turned it into/sΛfrәget/. Reflecting on the terminological distinction between suffragist and suffragette, WSPU founder member Christabel Pankhurst later wrote: “Just ‘want the vote’ was the notion conveyed by the older appellation [but] as a famous anecdote had it, ‘the Suffragettes, they mean to get it’.” 4

.  The first quotation in the OED s.v. suffragist dates from 1822. .  Like the simplex, specifying formations such as woman suffragist (cf. OED s.v. suffragist, one citation dated 1900) could in principle be used to refer to advocates of women’s voting rights belonging to either sex, though in the majority of cases the referents were probably female. .  This quotation comes from the feminist novel The Convert by Elizabeth Robbins (1907) (cited in Mills 1991: 232). The appropriation strategy also found its expression in the title of the WSPU newspaper, called The Suffragette. .  Cited in Miller & Swift (1995: 151). For a brief treatment of the linguistic and cultural history of suffragist and suffragette from a feminist perspective cf. Mills (1991: 231–232) and Miller & Swift (1995: 150–151). In general, suffragette seems to have found much wider acceptance among women activists in Great Britain than in the United States.

‑ette as a feminine marker 

2.  ‘Diminutive’ and ‘female’ -ette: Descriptive and explanatory approaches As the above analysis reveals, the word that is generally considered the prototype of personal -ette formations neither fully matches the standard description of the pattern it is said to have established nor is the suffix it carries sufficiently described by the conventional label of a ‘feminine marker’. The assumption that suffragette was formed in marked contrast to the more inclusive suffragist leaves us with the question why -ette was chosen for this purpose. Had it been for gender specification only, the feminine marker -ess, though definitely on the retreat, would still have been a viable option at the beginning of the 20th century, especially in a British English context.5 The extension of -ette into the field of personal word-formation and gender marking thus calls for a more detailed explanation. Such an explanation is, however, not readily available. Treatments of -ette in dictionaries, handbooks on word-formation and grammars are primarily descriptive and do not regularly provide information on the assumed interrelation of -ette senses, though sometimes such information may be deduced from the way these senses are grouped. Explanatory approaches in turn tend to refer to universals in diminutive semantics (cf. Jurafsky 1993, 1996) without exploring the special characteristics of -ette in any more depth. The suffix originally represented the feminine counterpart of masculine ‑et in Old French diminutive formations (see OED s.v. -ette, suffix; Marchand 1969: 289– 290). The grammatical gender distinction of the donor language was, however, not adopted into English: we find the suffix invariably spelt 〈et〉 in ME and EModE loans such as bullet, pocket, and tablet. The modern spelling 〈ette〉 was regularised in the 19th century, when the diminutive marker became moderately productive6 in English with formations such as balconette, novelette, and stationette. Besides, -ette (again together with ‑et) had served as a marker for imitation material, specifically with words denoting cloth, mainly from the 18th century onwards (e.g., flannelette, leatherette, and satinette). .  Bauer (2006: 80–81) seems to suggest the idea of a suffix replacement when he notes that -ette “starts to be used to derive female nouns in the early twentieth century […], just when -ess appears to be failing”, but as I intend to show in a separate publication, the two suffixes are only partly comparable in scope and meaning. .  According to Görlach (1999: 121), the use of diminutive suffixes generally increased in 19th century English, though within the whole spectrum of English suffixes -ette no doubt was and remained a minor formative in terms of productivity and frequency of use. The OED entry for the suffix, which still refers to conditions prevailing in the late 19th century, states that “[d]uring the present century, a few words have been formed by the addition of -ette to Eng. ns; most of these, as leaderette, sermonette, essayette, can scarcely be said to be in good use, though often met with in newspapers”.

 Lucia Kornexl

On etymological grounds it is thus clearly justified that the diminutive, i.e., ‘small size’, sense of -ette is usually assigned a key role in semantic analyses of the suffix. Its classification as a marker with several meanings7 is backed by descriptions of the diminutive as a prototypically polysemous category (Taylor 2003: 173). A look at the literature though shows that most authors find it difficult to integrate the ‘female’ meaning of -ette into their respective classifications.8 The editors of the OED (s.v. -ette, suffix) without further comment subsumed the ‘imitation material’ sense under sense 1: ‘Forming diminutive ns.’ and established a second subsense: ‘Used to denote a female, as in majorette, suffragette, usherette’. The two semantic categories ‘diminutive or feminine’ also serve as headings for the spectrum of -ette meanings given in Quirk & Greenbaum (1973: 476): (a) ‘small, compact’, (b) ‘imitation’ (material), and (c) ‘female’. Similar to the arrangement in the OED, this grouping seems to imply the existence of a single ‘feminine’ meaning against two ‘diminutive’ ones, though it is not utterly clear whether the ‘or’ in ‘diminutive or feminine’ is to indicate a clear alternative or, on the contrary, intended to provide a suggestive link between these two categories and their suffixal realisations.9 In Marchand (1969: 289–291), we likewise find a basic division into three distinct meanings of -ette, i.e., ‘diminutive’, ‘female sex’, and ‘imitation resembling’ or ‘approximation’; again a specific connection between the latter meaning and the diminutive sense is suggested,10 while the female sense is left uncommented. That this sense of -ette cuts across standard classifications can also be demonstrated by the treatment of the suffix in the section on “Lexical word-formation” in Bauer & Huddleston (2002), which contains a special subchapter on “evaluative morphology” (5.2.), comprising diminutives and augmentatives. There, -ette is classed as a diminutive marking “small size […], imitation […], or female sex” (2002: 1677), but the ‘female sex’ meaning is treated in more detail in the section .  The possibility that, from a strictly synchronic point of view, -ette may be assumed to have three distinct meanings –‘small’, ‘imitation’ or ‘mock material’, and ‘female’ – which are realised by three homophonous suffixes, is addressed by Bauer (1983: 119 and 2003: 97), but this hypothesis is not pursued further in practical analysis. .  As gender marking is not regularly considered an integral part of diminutive semantics, there are even studies such as Dressler & Merlini Barbaresi (1994) which make no mention of the ‘female’ meaning of -ette. .  In contrast to Quirk & Greenbaum (1973), the Comprehensive Grammar by Quirk et al. (1985: 1549) avoids any semantic classification of denominal nouns and places -ette among an alphabetical list of noun suffixes which “combine with noun bases to yield concrete and individualizing items over a rather wide semantic range” (my emphasis). .  Marchand’s statement about “the diminutive nuance” that “led to that of ‘approximation’” (1969: 290) remains rather vague, though.

‑ette as a feminine marker 

on “Gender-marking morphology” (5.3). This accords with the authors’ description of the scope of the diminutive, which excludes sex marking,11 though “the disparaging tone” in “such pejorative nonce-word as editorette, reporterette, jockette” is ascribed to “the primary use of -ette as a diminutive marker” (2002: 1681). A full integration of all meanings of -ette into a single category seems only possible if the semantic range of this category is extended accordingly. Such an extended view is advanced by Adams (2001: 55–56): The patterns that can be labelled ‘diminutive’ are various. The suffixes -ess, -ette, ‑let, ‑ling and ‑oid occur in one or more of a range of related senses to form words denoting females, or entities which are small, or entities which resemble something indicated in the base, or which are imitations.

Both -ette, and – even more striking – also the genuine feminine marker -ess are here no longer presented on a par with diminutives, but subsumed under this wide category of “related senses”. For an exposition of all the concepts classed as ‘diminutive’ and a theoretical underpinning of their relatedness, Adams (2001: 56) refers to Jurafsky (1993, 1996). Jurafsky’s search for universals in the semantics of the diminutive in over 60 languages resulted in a ‘radial category model’ for which he claims an explanatory value both in diachronic and synchronic terms: it is said to explicate the extension of the diminutive from the postulated core senses ‘child’ and ‘small’ to multiple conceptually related senses by regular mechanisms of semantic change. In Jurafsky’s model, the link between ‘diminutive’ and ‘female’ is said to rest on a metaphor conceptualizing women as ‘children/small things’ (1996: 546; cf. also 1993: 427–428). Together with ‘morphemes’ from five other languages,12 English -ette serves to demonstrate the regular employment of diminutives suffixes as female gender markers. That the diminutive in English is, however, not particularly suitable for establishing universal semantic tendencies in diminution is proved by the fact that Jurafsky (1993: 432–433) had to devise an extra model, a so-called ‘abstract radial category’, in order to account for the specific situation prevailing

.  “The term diminutive applies to affixes which indicate small size and also, by extension, ones which (additionally or instead) mark the off-spring of animals, affection or informality, resemblance or imitation” (Bauer & Huddleston 2002: 1677). .  Jurafsky’s other examples for the ‘female/diminutive link’ (1996: 545) come from Hebrew, Hindi, Dizi (Omotic), Berber, and Mongolian, but he does not specify whether the relevant ‘morphemes’ have word-formational or inflexional status. Bauer’s examination of 42 languages from six different language families (2002: 45) yielded only two languages with the same marker for ‘diminutive’ and ‘female’, one of them being English on account of -ette (the second one is not specified).

 Lucia Kornexl

there, namely the existence of a diversity of formal markers, each of which covers only a small part of the field.13 3.  The formative impetus for female -ette nouns: An alternative suggestion Does the history of English -ette thus confirm what it is said to exemplify in a prototypical way: a regular transfer process from ‘small size’ to ‘female sex’ as “one of the standard extensions of a diminutive marker” (Bauer 2002: 45)? Jurafsky’s contrastive example for the ‘female/diminutive link’ in English, major vs. majorette (1993: 428; 1996: 545),14 is clearly not a straightforward case of morpho-semantic extension, but involves a considerable degree of semantic specialisation, i.e., lexicalisation,15 nor does the formal and semantic complexity of the allegedly first female -ette formation, suffragette, invite a strictly segmental approach. The development of -ette into a moderately productive personal marker seems to be the combined result of a number of factors, and, contrary to established opinion, I would argue that the decisive impetus did not come from -ette as a diminutive suffix in current formations of this kind via a metaphoric transfer from ‘small’ to ‘female’ and related kinds of ‘deficit meanings’ then associated with women according to current (male) stereotypes.16 It also .  According to Jurafsky (1993: 433), an abstract radial category “acts as an abstract ‘diminutive’ concept in the grammatical competence of the speaker; it links together distinct affixes unrelated by form”. This view on the way the diminutive is categorised and synthesised by modern English speakers is strongly called into question by Taylor’s assertion (2003: 172) that English “does not possess a productive diminutive affix”. For a similar position, see, for example, Kryk-Kastovsky (2000: 165), who in her study on the semantic and pragmatic complexity of diminutives decided to “ignore the English language, whose scarce use of diminutives makes it uninteresting, if not irrelevant, for the present purposes”. .  In addition, PDE girl, in contrast to boy, is said to carry a diminutive marker “from the Germanic -l- diminutive” (Jurafsky 1993: 428, 1996: 546). The OED in both cases speaks of an “obscure” origin. For girl, see also Lenker’s more recent résumé (1999: 8 n. 4): “The etymology […] remains a puzzle.” .  Cf., e.g., OALD: a drum majorette (said to be especially British English for North American English majorette) is there defined as ‘a girl in special brightly coloured clothes who walks in front of a marching band spinning, throwing and catching a long stick (called a baton)’. The unmarked drum major is given a much more prosaic description: ‘the leader of a marching band of musicians, especially in the army’, and major carries the definition ‘an officer of fairly high rank in the army or the US air force’. .  Strictly speaking, this interpretation already goes beyond the semantic scope Jurafsky assigns to ‘female’ -ette. In his model for the diminutive in English, the ‘unimportance/contempt’

‑ette as a feminine marker 

appears unlikely that the French-derived use of the suffix in female versions of male proper names such as Antoinette and Paulette triggered off the new usage,17 though it may of course have had a supportive influence. Suffragette can, to my mind, be more immediately linked to some established feminine designations ending in -ette that had entered English as borrowings from French. Though they are not morphologically analysable from an English point of view, their common ending suggests a quasi-morphological structure, and this impression was no doubt strengthened by the fact that, in contrast to the majority of accentual patterns, the final element here takes the stress.18 The possible models for suffragette are also conspicuous in meaning: covering a range of senses from the scandalous to the socially inferior and despicable, with a potential to arouse attraction as well as contempt, they offered quite a number of plausible incentives for an analogous formation. A prime example is coquette, an early 17th century loan, which receives a fairly extensive definition in the OED (s.v. 1.), composed with what seems an unusual amount of personal emotional involvement on the side of the editors: A woman (more or less young), who uses arts to gain the admiration and affection of men, merely for the gratification of vanity or from a desire of conquest, and without any intention of responding to the feelings aroused; a woman who habitually trifles with the affections of men; a flirt.

Soubrette (s.v. 1.), which is first attested in English in 1753, in its primary, i.e., theatrical, use denoted – and denotes – a similarly ‘unruly’ type of woman on the light side of life: A maid-servant or lady’s maid as a character in a play or opera, usually one of a pert, coquettish, or intriguing character; an actress or singer taking such a part. 19

sense of the female diminutive, which he ascribes to an implicit comparison of women to men in terms of size and social power, is covered by ‑let as in starlet (Jurafsky 1993: 426–427, 432). .  For this hypothesis see The American Heritage Book of English Usage, ch. 5: “Gender”, § 6 “-ette” <www.bartleby.com/64/C005/006.html>. .  See Bauer’s exemplary treatment of autostressed -ette in his chapter on “Derivatives and stress” (1983: 112–125, at 119–120). .  The second part of the definition, which follows the above quotation, is a 20th century addition: ‘In extended use, a woman playing a role or roles in light entertainment, e.g., on television or at a seaside variety show, with implications of pertness, coquetry, intrigue, etc.’ (OED s.v. soubrette 1.). Sense 2, ‘a lady’s maid, a maid-servant’, was not entirely free from such connotations, as the first quotation given there (dating from 1824) demonstrates: “She united the pleasant and amusing qualities of a French soubrette, with the solid excellence of an Englishwoman of the old school.”

 Lucia Kornexl

The ‘woman in public’ and the ‘public woman’ sense combined in cocodette, ‘a French prostitute of the fashionable world’ (first attested in the OED in 1867). The French ‘womanwords’ affixed by -ette that were accepted into English even brought forth an analogical formation which, according to its first occurrence recorded in the OED (1821), predates suffragette by 85 years, yet did not give rise to a productive series: dandizette, ‘a female dandy’,20 is there said to have been modelled “app[arently] after French words like grisette”,21 ‘a French girl or young woman of the working class, esp. one employed as a shop assistant or a seamstress’ (OED s.v. 2.).22 To this category of inferior occupations for women we may add the ‘real-world’ sense of soubrette, ‘a lady’s maid, a maid-servant’ (OED s.v. 2.), and midinette, an early 20th century loan (1904), denoting ‘a French, esp. a Parisian, shop girl; esp. a milliner’s assistant. In extended use: a fashionable but empty-headed young girl’.23 In the latter case, the editors of the OED (s.v. midinette, draft rev. Mar. 2002) have now admitted connotations that show up more or less clearly in the illustrative quotations into their definition.24 It seems, however, important to keep in mind that in practical use such connotations are also likely

.  According to the OED, dandy is of unknown origin; suggestions that the word may be derived from French are there rejected as being “without any apparent ground”. .  That grisette is a very likely candidate for a pseudo-morphological analysis of the suggested kind (i.e., with the final syllable being turned into a derivative suffix in the analogical formation), is supported by the fact that both grisette (
‑ette as a feminine marker 

to have accompanied female terms whose dictionary definitions depict them as neutral and unsuspicious.25 In sum, we may state that the female -ette words accepted into English – or, with respect to dandizette, formed there – before suffragette was coined had a decidedly ‘French ring’ not only due to their origin and phonological structure, but also in meaning. They could be imbued with a whole range of attitudes and feelings, from (more or less open) appreciation and admiration to (more or less sincere) moral indignation and contempt. This is especially true from a male chauvinist perspective, and it is from such a perspective that suffragette was formed. 4.  Tracing the development of female -ette formations: The data problem Like all empirical research into word-formation, an attempt to explore the further development of personal -ette forms is confronted with a number of data problems concerning, for example, the scope and validity of the available sources and their searchability with regard to selected strings.26 Despite its natural restrictions and well-known biases, the OED is still the most frequently exploited source in diachronic studies of formative elements, and it will also be used as a primary source here, as this paper aims to provide a qualitative rather than a quantitative analysis of the pattern under discussion. Nevertheless, a few remarks about some peculiarities regarding the documentation and evaluation of female -ette formations seem to be in order. Contrary to its usual lexicographical practices aiming for inclusiveness, the OED’s registration policy for -ette appears to have been rather restrictive from the start. Thus in contrast to the primary function of -ette (s.v. 1.: ‘Forming ­diminutive ns.’), the sex-denoting one is not explicitly described in terms of a regular and productive word-formation process, but as a more individual (if not to say sporadic) phenomenon: ‘2. Used to denote a female, as in majorette, suffragette, usherette’. It is also striking that quite a number of feminine -ette words that appear in the quotation paragraph of the entry for the suffix were not accepted as headwords into the dictionary.27 Whether this is due to reservations to the .  A case in point is brunette, an early 18th-century borrowing, defined as ‘a girl or woman of a dark complexion or with brown hair’ (OED s.v. A.a.). .  For a recent brief discussion of such problems see Bauer (2006: 177–178). .  Following the order of appearance in the quotation section (OED s.v. -ette), this applies to conductorette, huskerette, welcomette, sailorette, and copette, while the female team names listed in the last quotation dating from 1970 (Rockettes, Mercurettes, Atomettes) are outside the scope of the OED. Their influence, though, on the continued productivity of the pattern is not to be underestimated (cf. below).

 Lucia Kornexl

new marker on the side of the original editors cannot be said with any certainty, but there is clear proof that -ette in female designations met with considerable resistance from eminent language critics. Thus Henry Fowler in his Dictionary of Modern English Usage devoted a highly polemic article to suffragette (1926: 583), in which he branded the extension of -ette into the field of sex-marking as a semantic aberration and a violation of the proper, diminutive sense of the suffix.28 His reviser, Sir Ernest Gowers (1965: 603, s.v. suffragette), described the term as “a facetious formation, now of only historical interest”; nevertheless, he repeated Fowler’s argument of false use,29 and finished the article on ‘feminine designations’ (1965: 194–195) with an ironic note on the use of -ette – “sometimes, playfully and ignorantly” – for such purposes.30 The authors of more recent usage guides such as Burchfield (1996: 267) and Peters (2004: 191) no longer deny female -ette its right of existence, though they both voice their conviction that its days are numbered. There can be no doubt that the productivity of this sex-marker is relatively low and that only a minor part of relevant formations manage to make their way into the general lexicon and thus into modern English dictionaries. A search through some current learners’ dictionaries which claim to offer a representative and up-to-date selection of the present English word-stock (CALD, COD, LDCE, and OALD) yielded a ‘common core’ of five items: brunette, coquette, (drum) majorette, suffragette, and usherette. With the first two (loan)words defying a morpho-semantic analysis, usherette being old-fashioned, suffragette historical and, like (drum) majorette, strongly lexicalised, we do not even get the impression of a pattern, let alone a productive one. Specialist sources like dictionaries of neologisms offer some more material, but on the whole prove also disappointing. Ayto (1999) in his Twentieth Century Words records just seven female -ette formations for the whole century: suffragette (1906); munitionette (1915); farmerette (1918); undergraduette (1919), which is said to “have gone out of general use before it could be the target of late-20th-century political correctness”, usherette (1925); (drum)

.  Suffragette […] tends to vitiate the popular conception of the termination’s meaning. The word itself may now be expected to die, having lost its importance; may its influence on wordmaking die with it!” (Fowler 1926: 583). .  In contrast to Fowler (1926: 583), Gowers (1965: 603) tacitly (“by a not unreasonable extension”) “admitted the ‘imitation material’ sense of -ette into the range of proper” senses of the diminutive. .  “Conductorette had a short life, and few will wish a longer one to the more recent coinages announcerette (by a gossip columnist), drum-majorette (by the U.S. entertainment world), and stewardette (by a shipping line). Any capacity to amuse that undergraduette may once have had has now waned, though the word, wearing the label ‘joc’ or ‘slang’, has made its way into the dictionaries. In serious use usherette alone seems to have established itself ” (Gowers 1965: 195).

‑ette as a feminine marker 

majorette (1938); and bimbette (1982). Neither does the “Among the new words” section in American Speech prove a lavish source. A check of the issues for the last twenty-five years (1970–2005) yielded a total of a mere four formations: gomerette (1978), punkette (1986), Bubbette (1990) and stalkette (1999). What seems, however, most astonishing at first sight, is the minor role of this type of feminine designations in feminist linguistic working tools. In Mills’ inventory of Womanwords (1991: 5–54 and 231–232), for example, there are only two articles on -ette nouns (coquette and suffragette) as opposed to eight on -ess formations, and Miller & Swift (1995: 153–159) in their “Want to avoid?” list provide what they regard as non-sexist alternatives for four -ette formations (drum majorette, farmerette, usherette, and suffragette) as opposed to 39 -ess nouns.31 Female designations in -ette thus seem to be characterised not only by very low productivity but also by highly selective coverage in metalinguistic sources. 5.  The female -ette formations in the OED: An exemplary analysis Even a cursory look through the 22 personal -ette forms so far recorded in the OED reveals that these items do by no means form a homogeneous group. Two terms – tapette and nymphette – attest to the continued influence of French on English in this field. Most of the entries carry special labels that class them as outdated, rare or occasional, regionally restricted, or stylistically marked. Of those few terms that have escaped labelling so far, some at least are very likely candidates for notes of restriction in the revision stage.32 The following chronological list of entries provides the date for the first attestation and any special labels as given in the OED:33 .  As with the -ette nouns, in both -ess counts no distinction has been made between loans and genuine word-formations so that mistress (Mills 1991: 164–165), concertmistress, and post‑ mistress (Miller & Swift 1995: 154, 157) are included in the count, though the latter two compounds have only been counted as a single attestation of the determinatum. .  Suffragette, for example, is by now definitely historical and usherette old-fashioned. Burchfield (1998: 287) states that usherette, just like undergraduette, “for the most part passed out of use, except in historical contexts, somewhere about 1960”. Besides, quite a number of attestations in the citation sections are put in inverted commas as a sign of the authors’ distancing themselves from the respective usages. .  This information derives from the second edition (1989), except for poetette (draft rev. Sept. 2006), munitionette (draft rev. Mar. 2003), yeomanette (Additions Ser. 1993), majorette (draft rev. June 2000), patrolette (draft rev. June 2005), pedagoguette (draft rev. Sept. 2005), nym‑ phette (draft entry Mar. 2004), modette (draft entry Sept. 2002), punkette (Additions Ser. 1993), and ladette (draft entry June 2001).

 Lucia Kornexl

suffragette (1906); poetette (1913) ‘rare’; munitionette (1915) ‘Brit. colloq. Now hist.’; farmerette (1918) ‘orig. and chiefly U.S.’; yeomanette (1918) ‘U.S. colloq. (now Hist.)’; undergraduette (1919) ‘colloq. (now rare)’; usherette (1925); tapette (1930);34 bachelorette (1935) ‘orig. and chiefly Canad.’;35 drum-majorette (1938) ‘orig. U.S.’; majorette (1941) ‘orig. U.S.’; rhymsterette (1957) ‘nonce-wd.’; purserette (1959); patrolette (1960);36 pedagoguette (1960) ‘nonce wd.’; nymphette (1961);37 pro‑ ette (1968); jockette (1969) ‘Occas. used for: a female jockey’; hackette (1976) ‘slang’;38 modette (1980) ‘Brit.’;39 punkette (1984); ladette (1995) ‘Brit. colloq.’.

In an attempt to find a common denominator for -ette nouns over and above the common feature ‘female’, Schneider (2003: 96) classes them as ‘female professionalisms’ resulting from a formula “N ‘professionalism’ + {ette}”. There is indeed an early group of -ette nouns whose historical background particularly suits such a description: munitionette,40 farmerette, and yeomanette reflect shifted gender roles during the First World War. In general, however, occupational roles, then as now, were expressed by gender-neutral terms.41 It therefore comes as no surprise that for the majority of -ette formations Schneider’s classification seems insufficient – the more so as the assumed prototype itself does not fit into this scheme. The derisive side of suffragette predominates in another subgroup, in which the addition of -ette turns the base concept into a sex-specific and a deprecatory one. Early examples for such a pragmatic meaning expressing negative speaker

.  This French loan, denoting ‘a passive male homosexual; an effeminate man or “pansy”’ (OED s.v. tapette), is the only item in the list for whose referents the feature ‘female’ does not apply. The feminine suffix is semantically motivated, though. .  Besides bachelorette = bachelor girl, the OED records also a second, and younger, ‘small object’ sense in Canadian English: ‘a flat or apartment for a bachelor girl’ (1973). .  In the definition, the special sense ‘a female officer of the R.A.C. employed to give drivers directions, esp. at major events’ is said to be ‘now hist.’. .  The OED classifies nymphette as a variant form of 'nymphet resp. nym'phet (s.v. 2. ‘a sexually attractive or sexually mature young girl’), but in the etymology section also suggests borrowing from French. .  In the sense section, the term is additionally characterised as ‘a jocular or disparaging term for a female journalist’. .  The basis mod additionally carries the label ‘colloq.’. .  This term, though, is exceptional in that it does not derive from a personal basis but structurally parallels its male or sex-neutral occupational counterparts munitioner and munitioneer. .  This explains, for example, Fowler’s strongly antifeminist plea for increased efforts to form and use feminine derivations for “general convenience & the needs of the King’s English” (1926: 175).

‑ette as a feminine marker 

attitude are poetette, ‘a young and minor poetess’,42 and rhymsterette, ‘a female rhymer; an inferior poetess’. The latter example though warns against a merely additive semantic approach, because both rhymer and rhymster are already clearly disparaging (cf. OED s.vv.).43 The assertion that -ette is a “pejorative suffix” (Holmes 1993: 365) can, however, quite frequently be found in the literature with reference to a more recent stratum of relatively short-lived -ette formations, which Peters (2004: 191) describes as “satirical male-chauvinist creations such as bimbette, editorette, whizette”.44 Going by the definition, the OED offers only one such negatively connotated form, namely hackette (cf. above, n. 38), but, as the accompanying quotations show, proette and jockette are by no means free of such connotations. If the productivity of -ette in PDE was restricted to this type of disparaging, non-PC nonce words, Burchfield (1998: 267) and Peters (2004: 191) would probably be right in predicting the imminent end of the suffix as a personal marker, but the latest additions to the OED suggest that this versatile element has found a new field of application: modette, punkette, and ladette stand for an innovative type of “antagonistic terms”,45 which flourishes in colloquial registers and slang.46 Taking up the ‘defiant’ side of suffragette, they reflect the appropriation of non-conformist styles and attitudes in modern popular culture and subculture by highly self-assertive young women.47

.  In the recent draft revision (Sept. 2006) the entry has been linguistically updated (cf. the removal of the female -ess form from the defining language) and offers a questionable definition in which poetette is depicted as a primarily gender-neutral term: ‘a young or minor poet; (sometimes esp.) a young female poet’. .  An even more conspicuous case of semantic and pragmatic reinforcement rather than alteration is bimbette, “where in current usage the clearly derogatory base bimbo is itself virtually restricted to females” (Bauer & Huddleston 2002: 1681). .  For a more extensive list of such pejorative nonce-words, coined “especially in the 1980s”, see Burchfield (1998: 267). .  Burchfield (1998: 267) with reference to chauvinist formations of the editorette type. .  A rich source for such formations (e.g., chavette, chumpette, dudette, playerette, pimpette) is the Urban Dictionary, <www.urbandictionary.com> , which advertises itself as the “democratic guide to street slang”. .  A prototypical example is ladette, ‘a young woman characterised by her enjoyment of social drinking and other activities typically considered to be male-oriented, and often by attitudes or behaviour regarded as irresponsible or brash; (usually) one of a close-knit social group’ (OED s.v.; see also Knowles 1997: 212, s.v. New Lad).

 Lucia Kornexl

6.  “What’s in a name?” – A brief look at modern “dettes” For a first-hand insight into the interpretation of such formations we may turn to “The Daily Bastardette”, where blogger Marley Greiner from Columbus, Ohio, defends her nom de plume against male linguistic criticism: “Dette” implies a pop notion of irony and subversion. Dettes are cute. Dettes are transgressive. Our cultural birthmothers are not only suffragettes, but Rockettes, Ronettes, Chordettes, Velvetettes, Bobbettes, Starlets, Jaynettes, Marvelettes, Ikettes, Raylettes and Sham-lettes. (“What’s in a name?”, 25.03.2005, at )

Two important pieces of linguistic information may be extracted from this selfassured declaration: first, the heavily marked “dette”, or, morphologically speaking, -ette, is said to be charged with very specific evaluative connotations and is even depicted as a kind of profile determinant. Through carrying the main stress, the suffix has indeed phonetic prominence, but does this also imply conceptual saliency, i.e., can -ette be assigned the role of a semantic or pragmatic head? This seems a truly heretical idea in view of the fact that the respective formations do not even conform to the standard linguistic concept of morphological headedness, because both in its function as a diminutive and as a gender-marking suffix -ette does not change the syntactic category of the base. The semantic effects of this class-maintaining property are controversial, and their discussion poses general questions about the characteristics of evaluative morphology that cannot be further pursued here.48 Yet the second part of Bastardette’s claim and our own findings remind us that quite a number of female -ette nouns do not lend themselves to a morpho-semantic analysis along fully regular and transparent lines. Linking her “dettes” (including ‘morphologically transgressive’ forms like Starlets) to the archetypal suffragette and to a list of proper names – most of them denoting legendary forerunners of today’s ‘girl groups’ in the 1950s, 1960s and 1970s –, she refers to holistic concepts that still prove strong enough to function as cultural and linguistic models. 7.  Conclusion The above observations show that within the short history of female -ette two forces have been much in evidence which run counter to the regularity characteristic of

.  Cf., e.g., the detailed study by Bauer (1997). Here it may suffice to point out that approaches which consider diminutives instances of modification rather than of semantic change are usually based on languages in which diminution is a regular, productive word-formation pattern – a condition that neither applies to English in general nor to -ette in particular.

‑ette as a feminine marker 

word-formation: analogy and lexicalisation. Both were probably furthered by the fact that major impulses for the pattern came from a reanalysis of only partially transparent French loanwords, and that from the start other principles, e.g., that of symmetrically structured gender pairs, could override regular formative rules (cf. suffragist : suffragette, munitioner/‑eer : munitionette, undergraduate : undergraduette). More recently the suffix has entered into new types of usage-relevant morpho-semantic relationships: terms with short (ladette) or shortened bases (hackette, jockette, modette, proette)49 both bear the marks of colloquiality and pragmatic force.50 Though it may sound paradoxical, it is probably the combined operation of two seemingly contradictory factors that gave rise to this gender-specific pattern and have secured its survival: the word-formational status that suggests itself for female -ette words of whatever origin and structure on account of their emphatically stressed final element and their marked potential to adopt additional, evaluative meanings and fuse them into complex holistic concepts. It is part of the suffix’s modest success story that it has been appropriated by very different groups for conflicting purposes. Now, there is no longer any resistance against female -ette to be feared from linguistic quarters, but such resistance would be futile anyway, for, as blogger Marley Greiner (cf. above) tells us: “Bastardettes for the most part ignore English Departments.”

References Adams, Valerie. 2001. Complex Words in English. Harlow: Longman. The American Heritage Book of English Usage. A Practical and Authoritative Guide to Contempo‑ rary English. Boston 1996 American Speech 45 (1970) – 80 (2005), Among the new words. Ayto, John. 1999. Twentieth Century Words. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Bauer, Laurie. 1983. English Word-formation. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Bauer, Laurie. 1997. Evaluative morphology: In search of universals. Studies in Language 21. 533–575. Bauer, Laurie. 2002. What you can do with derivational morphology. Morphology 2000: Selected Papers from the 9th Morphology Meeting, Vienna, 24–28 February 2000 ed. by S. Bendjaballah, W.U. Dressler, O.E. Pfeiffer & M.D. Voeikova, 37–48. Amsterdam & Philadelphia: John Benjamins.

.  Short for hackney, jockey, modernist, and professional (cf. OED s.vv.) .  For the evaluative, usually pejorative nature of monosyllablic personal nouns of the ‘cheat-type’, see Kornexl (2002). The difficult distinction between ‘evaluative’ and ‘expressive’ morphology is discussed in Bauer (1997: 557–561). Further research will be needed to clarify the expressive effects of -ette nouns with specific regard to the ‘female/diminutive link’, a crucial point being the disputed scope and status of synthetic diminution in English.

 Lucia Kornexl Bauer, Laurie. 2003. Introducing Linguistic Morphology. 2nd ed. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press. Bauer, Laurie. 2006. Competition in English word formation. The Handbook of the History of English ed. by Ans van Kemenade & Bettelou Los, 177–198. Oxford: Blackwell. Bauer, Laurie & Rodney Huddleston. 2002. Lexical word-formation. The Cambridge Gram­mar of the English Language ed. by Rodney Huddleston & Geoffrey K. Pullum, 1621–1721. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Burchfield, R.W. 1996. The New Fowler’s Modern English Usage. 3rd ed. Oxford: Clarendon Press. CALD = Cambridge Advanced Learner’s Dictionary. 2005. 2nd ed. by Elizabeth Walter. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. COD = Concise Oxford Dictionary. 2006. 11th ed. by Catherine Soanes & Angus Stevenson. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Dressler, Wolfgang U. & Lavinia Merlini Barbaresi. 1994. Morphopragmatics: Diminutives and Intensifiers in Italian, German, and Other Languages. Berlin & New York: Mouton de Gruyter. Fowler, H.W. 1926. A Dictionary of Modern English Usage. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Fowler, H.W. 1965. A Dictionary of Modern English Usage. 2nd. ed. revised by Sir Ernest Gowers. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Görlach, Manfred. 1999. English in Nineteenth-Century England: An Introduction. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Holmes, Janet. 1993. Sex-marking suffixes in written New Zealand English. American Speech 68. 357–370. Jurafsky, Dan. 1993. Universals in the semantics of the diminutive. Proceedings of the Nineteenth Annual Meeting of the Berkeley Linguistics Society February 12–15, 1993: General Session and Parasession on Semantic Typology and Semantic Universals ed. by Joshua S. Guenter, Barbara A. Kaiser & Cheryl C. Zoll, 423–436. Berkeley: Berkeley Linguistics Society. Jurafsky, Dan. 1996. Universal tendencies in the semantics of the diminutive. Language 72. 533–578. Knowles, Elizabeth. 1997. The Oxford Dictionary of New Words. 2nd ed. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Kornexl, Lucia. 2002. From gold-gifa to chimney sweep? Morphological (un-)markedness of Modern English agent nouns in a diachronic perspective. English Historical Syntax and Morphology. Selected Papers from 11 ICEHL, Santiago de Compostela, 7–11 September 2000 ed. by Teresa Fanego, María José López-Couso & Javier Pérez-Guerra, 111–129. Amsterdam & Philadelphia: John Benjamins. Kryk-Kastovsky, Barbara. 2000. Diminutives: An interface of word formation, semantics and pragmatics. Words: Structure, Meaning, Function. A Festschrift for Dieter Kastovsky ed. by Christiane Dalton-Puffer & Nikolaus Ritt, 165–174. Berlin & New York: Mouton de Gruyter. LDCE = Longman Dictionary of Contemporary English. 2003. 4th ed. by Della Summers. Harlow: Longman. Lenker, Ursula. 1999. Gerles, girls, grrrlz – girl power! Cultural phenomena and the semantic changes of girl. Words, Lexemes, Concepts – Approaches to the Lexicon. Studies in Honour of Leonhard Lipka ed. by Wolfgang Falkner & Hans-Jörg Schmid, 7–21. Tübingen: Narr.

‑ette as a feminine marker  Marchand, Hans. 1969. The Categories and Types of Present-Day English Word-Form­ation: A Synchronic-Diachronic Approach. 2nd ed. München: Beck. Miller, Casey & Kate Swift. 1995. The Handbook of Non-Sexist Writing for Writers, Editors and Speakers. 3rd British Edition by Kate Mosse. London: The Women’s Press. Mills, Jane. 1991. Womanwords: A Vocabulary of Culture and Patriarchal Society. London: Virago Press. OALD = The Oxford Advanced Learner’s Dictionary of Current English. 2005. 7th ed. by Sally Wehmeier. Oxford: Oxford University Press. OED = The Oxford English Dictionary. 1989. 2nd ed. by John A. Simpson & Edmund S.C. Weiner. Oxford: Oxford University Press; OED online. [3rd ed., in progress] . Peters, Pam. 2004. The Cambridge Guide to English Usage. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Quirk, Randolph & Sidney Greenbaum. 1973. A University Grammar of English. London: Longman. Quirk, Randolph, Sidney Greenbaum, Geoffrey Leech & Jan Svartvik. 1985. A Comprehensive Grammar of the English Language. London & New York: Longman. Schneider, Klaus P. 2003. Diminutives in English. Tübingen: Niemeyer. Taylor, John R. 2003. Linguistic Categorization. 3rd ed. Oxford: Oxford University Press. The American Heritage Book of English Usage. A Practical and Authoritative Guide to Contempor­ ary English. Boston 1996. At <www.bartleby.com/64/>.

Index of subjects

A abstract vs non-abstract style, see science (genre) address forms nominal,  4, 5, 11, 13–15, 21–3, 48, 150 see also honorifics, titles of courtesy pronominal,  5, 8–13, 15 address terms see address forms adverbs of degree (degree modifiers),  31 and n, 42, 45, 54, 62 see also intensifiers of manner,  53, 67, 69n alliterative formulae see alliterative phrases alliterative phrases,  159, 168–75, 177–8, 180 see also rhyming phrases analogy and evolution of meaning,  58, 61 and word formation,  247–8, 255 Ancrene Riwle,  43, 160, 163, 166, 168, 171, 175, 182 Anglo-French,  204, 208, 209 see also Anglo-Norman Anglo-Norman,  215 Anglo-Normans,  218 antonyms,  168, 171, 172, 207, 214 see also synonyms apologies, see speech acts assonance,  168 attitudes words denoting attitudes,  139 attitudes as connotations,  249, 253, see also evaluation Ayenbite of Inwyt,  40, 41, 100, 100n, 163, 177, 182

B binomial phrases, see doublets bleaching, see desematicisation, semantic bleaching borrowing,  185–201, 203–15, 217–38, 247, 249n, 252n dual borrowings from Latin and French,  184–93, 199–200 see also dual etymologies from Anglo-French,  204, 208, 209, 215, 217–9 from French,  100, 117, 172, 185–201, 217–38, 243, 246–9, 251, 252n, 255 see also French calques, from French in fixed expressions,  159–61, 165, 166, 168, 175–80 from Latin,  183–201, 203–15 of the prefix dis-,  203–15 of the suffix -able,  185–201 see also calques, French influence on English, Latin influence on English, loanwords C calques,  39n, 168, 175, 179 see also borrowing causative subordination,  80–1, 85 causative verb,  98, 104, 112 CED, see Corpus of English Dialogues CEECS, see Corpus of Early English Correspondence censorship, see taboo word Chadwick-Healey Literature Online, see LION Chaucer,  40, 121, 123, 129, 162 pronouns of address in,  8–13 cognitive linguistics, see cognitive semantic

processes, cognitivepragmatic processes cognitive semantic processes,  53–73, 100–103, 107–12, 139–55 cognitive-pragmatic processes,  53–73 collocability range,  63n, 68, 72 collocates of bloody,  57, 62n, 63 of cruel,  62, 63 of drunk,  64–7 of do and make,  175, 176, 178, 179 of respect,  139, 140, 142, 143, 148, 149, 151–4 of right and most,  32, 38, 43–7, 49 of wurchen,  177–9 collocational distinctions,  149 collocational group,  175 see also collocations collocational preferences, collocational variants, collocational patterns, see collocates collocational usage, see collocations collocations,  44–7, 54–73, 149, 161, 162, 168, 170, 176–80 bloody drunk,  54–73 damnably drunk,  66, 67 horribly drunk,  64–8 see also complex verbs, doublets, fixed expressions, formulaic phrases, idioms, phraseological units, phrases, word bundles comedies,  16, 18, 71 comparison, standard of,  33–6, 39, 40 complex compositions, see collocations

  Index of subjects complex predicates, see complex verbs complex verbs (verb plus noun phrases),  160, 161, 175–80 compression (conceptual integration),  144 conceptual closeness,  141 conceptual domain,  66, 72, 141 see also semantic field conceptual integration, see compression conceptual metonymies and metaphors,  139 conceptualisation,  139, 140, 155 see also metaphor, metonomy corpus analysis, methodology of,  162–5 Corpus of Early English Correspondence (CEEC),  22–4, 39, 139, 150–4 see also Early English correspondence Corpus of English Dialogues (CED),  15, 54 and n, 58 correspondence,  3–5, 21–5, 38, 48 see also Corpus of Early English Correspondence, letters, salutations court records,  9 D desemanticisation,  102, 108, 109, 113 see also bleaching diminutive suffixes,  241, 243–7, 249, 250, 254, 255 directives, see speech acts doublets (twin formulas, binomials),  159, 165, 166–75, 180 see also alliterative phrases, synonymous: synonymous twin formulas dual etymologies, see borrowings: dual borrowings from Latin and French E Early English correspondence,  3, 5, 21–4 Early Middle English (EME),  159–71, 175–80, 203–15

Early Modern English (EModE),  3–25, 34, 35, 37–9, 47, 49, 73–91, 105, 106, 108, 113, 118, 120–36, 139–55, 185–201, 243 elaborate vs situationdependent reference, see science (genre): elaborate vs situation-dependent style EME, see Early Middle English EModE, see Early Modern English emotion word bundles,  139, 140, 142, 143, 148, 149, 152–4 emotion words,  139, 140, 142, 155 emotions and pronoun of address,  3, 9, 11, 14, 16 epistemic, see modality: epistemic modality etymologies,  55, 56, 155, 161, 172, 179, 186–93, 197, 199, 200, 248, 252 evaluation,  44, 65, 67, 68, 72, 249 evaluative adjectives,  43–5, 64–70, 72 evaluative morphology,  244, 249, 252–5 see also attitudes experiencer verb,  103, 104, 111, 112 F face,  5, 7 face-threatening acts,  5, 7–8, 18–20 face work,  7 negative face,  5, 7–8, 16, 20 positive face,  5, 7, 16, 19–20 face threat, see face: face-threatening acts feminine marker,  241, 243, 245, 252n see also gender marking fixed expressions,  159–61, 163, 165, 167, 168, 171, 172, 175, 180 see also collocations, formulaic phrases, idioms, phraseological units, phrases, word bundles focus marker,  54, 69, 72 Force Dynamics,  97, 100–103, 105–107, 112, 113

formulaic phrases,  38, 48, 168, 177 see also collocations, doublets, fixed expressions, idioms, phraseological units, phrases, word bundles French calques,  168, 179 French influence on English,  41, 159, 160, 165, 178, 184, 192–8, 200, 218, 219, 237, 251 see also borrowing from French, borrowing from French in fixed expressions French loans, see borrowing from French French loanwords, see borrowing from French French, see borrowing from French frequency,  15, 21, 37, 38, 43, 47, 49, 63, 65, 81–5, 87–90, 97, 99, 100, 107, 111, 112, 117, 120, 121, 123, 125, 127, 129–31, 133, 168, 186, 191, 199, 204, 220, 221, 243 functional shift,  56, 57, 62–7, 70 and n, 72 G gender marking,  241, 243–5, 250, 251–4 see also feminine marker genre change,  76, 79, 86, 91 German,  159, 160, 165–7, 175–6, 178–80, 237 pronouns of address in,  8, 9, 13 Germanic,  4, 159–62, 168, 172, 179, 180, 221, 228, 237 and n, 246n grammaticalisation,  53, 54, 67–9, 106, 108, 113, 118 grammaticalisation and loss of syntactic freedom (syntagmatic variabi­ lity),  53, 68, 69, 72 H HC, see Helsinki Corpus of English Texts

Index of subjects  Helsinki Corpus of English Texts (HC),  15, 20, 31, 32, 36–41, 44–7, 54, 76, 78, 99, 118–25, 127, 132, 139, 140, 143, 147, 149, 150 historical English phraseology,  159–80 homilies,  171, 180 honorifics,  22, 23, 31, 38, 39, 47–9 see also address forms: nominal, titles of courtesy I idiomatic,  143, 159, 161, 162, 165, 167–9, 171, 175, 176, 179 expression,  179 petrification,  167 phrases, see idioms idioms,  57, 159–62, 167, 168, 171, 172, 176, 179, 180 see also collocates, collocations, doublets, fixed expressions, phrases, word bundles illocutionary force,  25, 54 impersonal constructions,  103 see also experiencer verb Innsbruck Corpus of Middle English Prose, see Innsbruck Prose Corpus Innsbruck Prose Corpus,  159, 160, 162, 182 intensifiers,  31–74 absolutely,  45, 54, 67, 68, 72 bloody,  53–74 most,  31–38, 41–49 right,  31, 32, 38–49 terrible,  63–5 utterly,  53, 54, 67, 72 woundy,  55, 56 amplifiers,  53, 72, 79 minimisers,  53 grammaticalisation of,  67 interjection,  55, 56 interpersonal communication,  139, 155 involved vs informational style, see science (genre)

L Late Middle English (LME),  23, 25, 91, 159, 162, 172–5, 179, 187 Late Modern English (LModE),  120–36, 241–55 Latin calques,  39n Latin influence on English,  40–3, 43n, 125, 145, 154, 220, 228–30, 235, 236 see also borrowing from Latin Latin loans, see borrowing from Latin Latin texts,  10, 40, 203–15 Latin, see borrowing from Latin, Latin calques, Latin texts, Latin influence Latinism, see Latin influence letters,  9, 21–4, 38n, 48, 72, 121n, 131n, 147, 149–51, 153, 155, 163n, 198, 212 see also Corpus of Early English Correspondence, correspondence, salutations lexical bundles, see word bundles lexicalisation of rootplus-suffix forms,  231, 246, 250, 255 LION,  19, 54, 56–8, 63–7, 70 LME, see Late Middle English LModE, see Late Modern English loans, see loanwords loanwords,  118, 179, 185–201, 218, 220, 243, 247, 248, 250, 251n, 252n, 255 M ME, see Middle English meaning and context of use absolute binding,  66, 72 selective binding,  53, 66, 72 meaning evaluative meaning,  70, 255 figurative meaning,  141, 180 intensifying meaning,  54, 55, 58, 67, 71 metaphorical meaning,  58, 105

referential meaning,  66, 101, 102, 105, 108, 109, 113 MED, see Middle English Dictionary medical texts,  76, 91, 131n, 192n MEMEM, see Michigan Early Modern English Materials metaphor,  58, 101, 110, 139–45, 149, 159, 245 containment,  144 general mapping and specific relation,  142 of eyesight and respect,  139, 145, 155 of intellect and respect,  139, 146 of valuable commodity and respect,  140, 142 metaphor and modal meaning, see Force Dynamics metaphor-metonymy continuum,  140, 141 see also metonymy: metonymy and metaphor metaphorical pattern,  139, 142, 143 metaphoric transfer,  246 source and target domains of metaphors,  139, 142 metaphoric, see metaphorical metaphorical,  58, 101, 105, 109, 110, 113, 139–44, 146, 148, 154, 155, 246 metonymy,  139–55, 231 chains of metonymic meaning,  144, 155 metonymic shift,  231, 234, 248n metonymic transfer,  68, 248 metonymy and metaphor,  140–44, 149 see also metaphormetonymy continuum non-figurative metonymies,  141 types of metonymy,  141, 145, 155 Michigan Early Modern English Materials (MEMEM),  54, 67 Middle English (ME),  4, 5, 9, 20, 21, 31–4, 37, 39, 40, 47, 76, 97–114, 117–36, 158–83,

  Index of subjects 185–7, 192, 200, 203–15, 217, 219–28, 230, 235–8, 243 Middle English Compendium,  99 Middle English Dictionary (MED),  39, 98, 123, 160, 162, 163, 168, 176–9, 118, 183, 186, 204, 207–09, 213, 214, 219, 220, 222–5, 227, 230, 235 Middle English Medical Texts,  76 modal expressions,  77 modal meanings, evolution of see Force Dynamics modal verbs,  77, 80, 81, 83, 85, 87–9, 87n, 101, 102, 105, 111, 113, 114 emerging modal verbs,  119 pre-modal verbs,  100 semi-modal verbs, quasimodal verbs,  105, 247 may,  101, 113 need,  98–115 modality,  67, 72, 102, 106 epistemic modality,  101, 102, 105, 106, 108, 113 epistemic parenthetical phrases,  123 evolution of,  101–103, 105–14, 119 necessity,  82, 83, 85, 87–9, 97, 98, 101, 105–08, 112, 113 obligation,  98, 101, 105, 106, 108–12, 114 possibility,  80, 81, 85, 101, 107, 228 prohibition,  101, 105 root modality,  101, 102, 105–09 and the suffix -able,  228 and n, 231, 234, 235 see also Force Dynamics Modern German,  159, 165, 237 multidimensional analysis,  75–80

nonce-word,  245 normalisation,  162, 163n Norman Conquest,  204 ,205, 214, 218, 219 noun phrase,  68n, 77, 172

N narrative vs non-narrative style see science (genre) necessity, see modality: necessity negative politeness, see politeness: negative politeness

P passive passive in science texts,  77, 84, 85 passive meaning of -able,  220, 221, 225–26, 228–31, 233, 234, 236–8

O obligation, see modality: obligation ODEE, see Oxford Dictionary of English Etymology OE, see Old English OED, see Oxford English Dictionary Old English (OE),  34n, 97, 98–101, 104–08, 110, 112, 117, 118, 122, 126, 131, 133, 136, 161, 162, 167, 168, 171, 172, 175, 176, 179–81, 183, 219, 223–5, 227, 236 , 237 Old French,  117, 186, 188, 197, 217, 219, 221, 243 see also Anglo-French, Anglo-Norman Old Norse,  117, 118, 124, 136 OLD, see Oxford Latin Dictionary oral texts,  162 see also comedies, homilies, letters, sermons overt expression of persuasion, see science (genre): overtly persuasive style Oxford Dictionary of English Etymology (ODEE),  55, 56, 61 Oxford English Dictionary (OED),  23, 38, 42, 48, 54–7, 59, 62–4, 66, 68, 69, 71, 98, 118, 120–26, 139, 140, 143–49, 151, 152, 154, 159, 163, 165, 168, 176–80, 185, 186, 189–92, 199, 204, 206–10, 212–14, 220, 221, 227, 235, 241–4, 247–9, 251, 253 Oxford Latin Dictionary (OLD),  39n, 40, 204n

passive with need,  104–06, 110–12 PDE, see Present-Day English phrasal verbs,  161 phrase (element of structure),  77, 104 see also noun phrase, prepositional phrase; phraseological units,  161 see also phrases, collocations phraseology, see historical English phraseology phrases (collocations),  69, 139 in early ME prose,  159–61, 163, 165–81 with drunk,  56–8, 61, 63, 67, 68, 71, 72n with respect,  149, 150–2 see also collocations, doublets, fixed expressions, formulaic phrases, idioms, phraseological units, phrases, word bundles physical, metaphysical and metatextual attention, see respect polarity,  103, 105 politeness,  3–25, 146, 153 negative politeness,  3–5, 7–8, 15–18, 20, 21, 23–5 positive politeness,  3–5, 8, 14–18, 21–5 see also address forms, face, speech acts positive politeness, see politeness: positive politeness possibility, see modality: possibility pragmatic feature,  65, 68, 69, 72 [objectionable] and [sacrilegious] in the evolution of bloody,  61, 66–8, 71 pragmatic focus marker,  54 pragmatic force,  69, 255 pragmatic scope,  69, 72 pragmaticalisation,  69, 72 pragmatics contrastive pragmatics,  19 historical pragmatics,  3–25, 53 see also cognitive semantic processes

Index of subjects  prepositional complement,  104, 175 prepositional phrase,  68n, 159, 165, 180, 233 see also borrowing: from French in fixed expressions prepositions,  163–8 non-French prepositions in EME,  159, 165–8, 180 preceding respect,  149, 153 Present-Day English,  4–6, 18–21, 25, 32–4, 36, 42, 45, 48, 76, 79–80, 97, 104, 105, 110, 111, 114, 117, 118, 120–136, 142, 143, 155, 166, 167, 168, 175, 176, 178, 246n, 253 productivity of -able in EME,  220–2, 236–8 of basic-verb-plus-object collocations in ME,  175, 178 of -ette in LModE,  241, 243 and n, 246, 248–51, 253 pronouns of address, see address forms Q quasi modal verbs, see semi-modal verbs R reanalysis categorical reanalysis,  70 morphological reanalysis,  255 semantic reanalysis,  67, 68 syntactic reanalysis,  119 syntagmatic reanalysis,  73 Reformation,  53, 59–61, 71 register,  76, 118, 131n, 187, 199, 237, 253 see also letters, medical texts, religious treatises, science (genre), sermons religious treatises,  162 requests see speech acts respect,  139–55 physical, metaphysical and metatextual attention,  143–6, 149 as social emotion,  140, 153–4

rhyming phrases,  159, 168, 172, 180 see also alliterative phrases rivalry,  100, 117, 118, 136 among ‘need’ verbs,  100 among ‘want’ verbs,  116–36 root modality, see modality: root modality S salutations,  21, 22, 146 see also honorifics science (genre), see also science (text-types) changes in 17th century,  75–91 abstract vs non-abstract style,  75, 77, 84, 90 elaborate vs situationdependent style,  75, 76, 82, 83, 90 involved vs informational style,  75, 76, 80, 81, 90 narrative vs non-narrative style,  75, 76, 81, 82, 90 overtly persuasive style,  75, 77, 83, 84, 90 science (text-types),  85–90, 91 argumentative type,  75, 85–91 narrative type,  75, 76, 86–91 see also variation: variation within text-types semantic bleaching,  68, 72, 108 semantic change,  95, 101, 105, 110, 117, 125, 245 metonymic interaction between senses,  149 semantic confluence,  111, 112 semantic expansion and reduction,  117, 118 semantic retraction,  114 semantic specialisation of root-plus-suffix forms,  246 see also lexicalisation semantic weakening,  42, 49 semantico/pragmatic shift,  66 subjectification,  145 semantic closeness, see synonymity semantic evolution, see semantic change

semantic features,  62, 63, 68, 69, 99, 103, 105 of need,  99, 103, 105–112 [sacrilegious] in the evolution of bloody,  55, 61, 66–8, 72 semantic and syntactic features,  100 semantic feature copying,  62 and n semantic field,  118 see also conceptual domain sermons,  131, 162 sex marking, see gender marking Shakespeare, William,  120, 123 politeness strategies in,  4, 5, 16–18 nominal forms of address in,  13–15 pronouns of address in,  9, 13–16 speech acts and politeness,  19–21 apologies,  4, 5, 7, 8, 19, 20 directives,  5, 20, 21, 25 requests,  4, 11, 18–21, 25 suffixes -able,  217–38 -ess,  243, 245, 251 -ette,  241–55 see also diminutive suffixes, feminine marker, lexicalisation of root-plus-suffix forms superlative,  31–4, 36, 39n, 40–2, 45, 48, 49 swearing,  62, 71 synonymity,  118 and the evolution of intensifiers,  62, 63 and rivalry,  118, 119, 196 synonymous,  63, 147, 168, 171, 172, 196 synonymous twin formulas,  168, 171, 172, 178 synonymous item, see semantic feature: semantic feature copying, synonyms synonyms,  62–5, 118, 119, 172, 175 see also antonyms syntactic freedom, see grammaticalisation syntactic shift,  70

  Index of subjects syntactic-semantic features,  103 syntactic-semantic shift,  104 syntagmatic variability, see grammaticalisation T taboo word,  54, 59 and n, 66, 71 thou, see address forms: pronominal þurfan,  100, 105, 107, 108 titles of courtesy, see address forms: nominal, honorifics

twin formulas, see doublets text-types,  15, 49, 75–7, 79, 80, 85–91, 199, 204, 221 text type analysis,  75, 77, 85, 91 see also science (text-types) V variation (linguistic),  152, 171, 173, 178 dialectal variation,  162, 171 dimensions of variation in genre analysis,  76–7, 79, 80–5

variation within text-types,  76, 85–91 W West Germanic,  159, 171, 181 word bundles,  139, 140, 142, 143, 148, 149, 151–4 see also collocations, doublets, fixed expressions, formulaic phrases, idioms, phrases, phraseological units

CURRENT ISSUES IN LINGUISTIC THEORY

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Zentrum für Allgemeine Sprachwissenschaft, Typologie und Universalienforschung, Berlin [email protected] Current Issues in Linguistic Theory (CILT) is a theory-oriented series which welcomes contributions from scholars who have significant proposals to make towards the advancement of our understanding of language, its structure, functioning and development. CILT has been established in order to provide a forum for the presentation and discussion of linguistic opinions of scholars who do not necessarily accept the prevailing mode of thought in linguistic science. It offers an outlet for meaningful contributions to the current linguistic debate, and furnishes the diversity of opinion which a healthy discipline must have. A complete list of titles in this series can be found on the publishers’ website, www.benjamins.com 299 González-Díaz, Victorina: English Adjective Comparison. A historical perspective. xvii, 247 pp. + index. Expected August 2008 298 Bowern, Claire, Bethwyn Evans and Luisa Miceli (eds.): Morphology and Language History. In honour of Harold Koch. 2008. x, 364 pp. 297 Dossena, Marina, Richard Dury and Maurizio Gotti (eds.): English Historical Linguistics 2006. Volume III: Geo-Historical Variation in English. Selected papers from the fourteenth International Conference on English Historical Linguistics (ICEHL 14), Bergamo, 21–25 August 2006. 2008. xiii, 197 pp. 296 Dury, Richard, Maurizio Gotti and Marina Dossena (eds.): English Historical Linguistics 2006. Volume II: Lexical and Semantic Change. Selected papers from the fourteenth International Conference on English Historical Linguistics (ICEHL 14), Bergamo, 21–25 August 2006. 2008. xiii, 264 pp. 295 Gotti, Maurizio, Marina Dossena and Richard Dury (eds.): English Historical Linguistics 2006. Volume I: Syntax and Morphology. Selected papers from the fourteenth International Conference on English Historical Linguistics (ICEHL 14), Bergamo, 21–25 August 2006. 2008. xiv, 259 pp. 294 Frellesvig, Bjarke and John Whitman (eds.): Proto-Japanese. Issues and Prospects. 2008. vii, 229 pp. 293 Detges, Ulrich and Richard Waltereit (eds.): The Paradox of Grammatical Change. Perspectives from Romance. 2008. vi, 252 pp. 292 Nicolov, Nicolas, Kalina Bontcheva, Galia Angelova and Ruslan Mitkov (eds.): Recent Advances in Natural Language Processing IV. Selected papers from RANLP 2005. 2007. xii, 307 pp. 291 Baauw, Sergio, Frank Drijkoningen and Manuela Pinto (eds.): Romance Languages and Linguistic Theory 2005. Selected papers from ‘Going Romance’, Utrecht, 8–10 December 2005. 2007. viii, 338 pp. 290 Mughazy, Mustafa A. (ed.): Perspectives on Arabic Linguistics XX. Papers from the twentieth annual symposium on Arabic linguistics, Kalamazoo, Michigan, March 2006. 2007. xii, 247 pp. 289 Benmamoun, Elabbas (ed.): Perspectives on Arabic Linguistics XIX. Papers from the nineteenth annual symposium on Arabic Linguistics, Urbana, Illinois, April 2005. 2007. xiv, 304 pp. 288 Toivonen, Ida and Diane Nelson (eds.): Saami Linguistics. 2007. viii, 321 pp. 287 Camacho, José, Nydia Flores-Ferrán, Liliana Sánchez, Viviane Déprez and María José Cabrera (eds.): Romance Linguistics 2006. Selected papers from the 36th Linguistic Symposium on Romance Languages (LSRL), New Brunswick, March-April 2006. 2007. viii, 340 pp. 286 Weijer, Jeroen van de and Erik Jan van der Torre (eds.): Voicing in Dutch. (De)voicing – phonology, phonetics, and psycholinguistics. 2007. x, 186 pp. 285 Sackmann, Robin (ed.): Explorations in Integrational Linguistics. Four essays on German, French, and Guaraní. 2008. ix, 239 pp. 284 Salmons, Joseph C. and Shannon Dubenion-Smith (eds.): Historical Linguistics 2005. Selected papers from the 17th International Conference on Historical Linguistics, Madison, Wisconsin, 31 July - 5 August 2005. 2007. viii, 413 pp. 283 Lenker, Ursula and Anneli Meurman-Solin (eds.): Connectives in the History of English. 2007. viii, 318 pp. 282 Prieto, Pilar, Joan Mascaró and Maria-Josep Solé (eds.): Segmental and prosodic issues in Romance phonology. 2007. xvi, 262 pp. 281 Vermeerbergen, Myriam, Lorraine Leeson and Onno Crasborn (eds.): Simultaneity in Signed Languages. Form and function. 2007. viii, 360 pp. (incl. CD-Rom). 280 Hewson, John and Vit Bubenik: From Case to Adposition. The development of configurational syntax in Indo-European languages. 2006. xxx, 420 pp.

279 Nedergaard Thomsen, Ole (ed.): Competing Models of Linguistic Change. Evolution and beyond. 2006. vi, 344 pp. 278 Doetjes, Jenny and Paz González (eds.): Romance Languages and Linguistic Theory 2004. Selected papers from ‘Going Romance’, Leiden, 9–11 December 2004. 2006. viii, 320 pp. 277 Helasvuo, Marja-Liisa and Lyle Campbell (eds.): Grammar from the Human Perspective. Case, space and person in Finnish. 2006. x, 280 pp. 276 Montreuil, Jean-Pierre Y. (ed.): New Perspectives on Romance Linguistics. Vol. II: Phonetics, Phonology and Dialectology. Selected papers from the 35th Linguistic Symposium on Romance Languages (LSRL), Austin, Texas, February 2005. 2006. x, 213 pp. 275 Nishida, Chiyo and Jean-Pierre Y. Montreuil (eds.): New Perspectives on Romance Linguistics. Vol. I: Morphology, Syntax, Semantics, and Pragmatics. Selected papers from the 35th Linguistic Symposium on Romance Languages (LSRL), Austin, Texas, February 2005. 2006. xiv, 288 pp. 274 Gess, Randall S. and Deborah Arteaga (eds.): Historical Romance Linguistics. Retrospective and perspectives. 2006. viii, 393 pp. 273 Filppula, Markku, Juhani Klemola, Marjatta Palander and Esa Penttilä (eds.): Dialects Across Borders. Selected papers from the 11th International Conference on Methods in Dialectology (Methods XI), Joensuu, August 2002. 2005. xii, 291 pp. 272 Gess, Randall S. and Edward J. Rubin (eds.): Theoretical and Experimental Approaches to Romance Linguistics. Selected papers from the 34th Linguistic Symposium on Romance Languages (LSRL), Salt Lake City, March 2004. 2005. viii, 367 pp. 271 Branner, David Prager (ed.): The Chinese Rime Tables. Linguistic philosophy and historicalcomparative phonology. 2006. viii, 358 pp. 270 Geerts, Twan, Ivo van Ginneken and Haike Jacobs (eds.): Romance Languages and Linguistic Theory 2003. Selected papers from ‘Going Romance’ 2003, Nijmegen, 20–22 November. 2005. viii, 369 pp. 269 Hargus, Sharon and Keren Rice (eds.): Athabaskan Prosody. 2005. xii, 432 pp. 268 Cravens, Thomas D. (ed.): Variation and Reconstruction. 2006. viii, 223 pp. 267 Alhawary, Mohammad T. and Elabbas Benmamoun (eds.): Perspectives on Arabic Linguistics XVII–XVIII. Papers from the seventeenth and eighteenth annual symposia on Arabic linguistics. Volume XVII–XVIII: Alexandria, 2003 and Norman, Oklahoma 2004. 2005. xvi, 315 pp. 266 Boudelaa, Sami (ed.): Perspectives on Arabic Linguistics XVI. Papers from the sixteenth annual symposium on Arabic linguistics, Cambridge, March 2002. 2006. xii, 181 pp. 265 Cornips, Leonie and Karen P. Corrigan (eds.): Syntax and Variation. Reconciling the Biological and the Social. 2005. vi, 312 pp. 264 Dressler, Wolfgang U., Dieter Kastovsky, Oskar E. Pfeiffer and Franz Rainer (eds.): Morphology and its demarcations. Selected papers from the 11th Morphology meeting, Vienna, February 2004. With the assistance of Francesco Gardani and Markus A. Pöchtrager. 2005. xiv, 320 pp. 263 Branco, António, Tony McEnery and Ruslan Mitkov (eds.): Anaphora Processing. Linguistic, cognitive and computational modelling. 2005. x, 449 pp. 262 Vajda, Edward J. (ed.): Languages and Prehistory of Central Siberia. 2004. x, 275 pp. 261 Kay, Christian J. and Jeremy J. Smith (eds.): Categorization in the History of English. 2004. viii, 268 pp. 260 Nicolov, Nicolas, Kalina Bontcheva, Galia Angelova and Ruslan Mitkov (eds.): Recent Advances in Natural Language Processing III. Selected papers from RANLP 2003. 2004. xii, 402 pp. 259 Carr, Philip, Jacques Durand and Colin J. Ewen (eds.): Headhood, Elements, Specification and Contrastivity. Phonological papers in honour of John Anderson. 2005. xxviii, 405 pp. 258 Auger, Julie, J. Clancy Clements and Barbara Vance (eds.): Contemporary Approaches to Romance Linguistics. Selected Papers from the 33rd Linguistic Symposium on Romance Languages (LSRL), Bloomington, Indiana, April 2003. With the assistance of Rachel T. Anderson. 2004. viii, 404 pp. 257 Fortescue, Michael, Eva Skafte Jensen, Jens Erik Mogensen and Lene Schøsler (eds.): Historical Linguistics 2003. Selected papers from the 16th International Conference on Historical Linguistics, Copenhagen, 11–15 August 2003. 2005. x, 312 pp. 256 Bok-Bennema, Reineke, Bart Hollebrandse, Brigitte Kampers-Manhe and Petra Sleeman (eds.): Romance Languages and Linguistic Theory 2002. Selected papers from ‘Going Romance’, Groningen, 28–30 November 2002. 2004. viii, 273 pp. 255 Meulen, Alice ter and Werner Abraham (eds.): The Composition of Meaning. From lexeme to discourse. 2004. vi, 232 pp. 254 Baldi, Philip and Pietro U. Dini (eds.): Studies in Baltic and Indo-European Linguistics. In honor of William R. Schmalstieg. 2004. xlvi, 302 pp. 253 Caffarel, Alice, J.R. Martin and Christian M.I.M. Matthiessen (eds.): Language Typology. A functional perspective. 2004. xiv, 702 pp.

252 Kay, Christian J., Carole Hough and Irené Wotherspoon (eds.): New Perspectives on English Historical Linguistics. Selected papers from 12 ICEHL, Glasgow, 21–26 August 2002. Volume II: Lexis and Transmission. 2004. xii, 273 pp. 251 Kay, Christian J., Simon Horobin and Jeremy J. Smith (eds.): New Perspectives on English Historical Linguistics. Selected papers from 12 ICEHL, Glasgow, 21–26 August 2002. Volume I: Syntax and Morphology. 2004. x, 264 pp. 250 Jensen, John T.: Principles of Generative Phonology. An introduction. 2004. xii, 324 pp. 249 Bowern, Claire and Harold Koch (eds.): Australian Languages. Classification and the comparative method. 2004. xii, 377 pp. (incl. CD-Rom). 248 Weigand, Edda (ed.): Emotion in Dialogic Interaction. Advances in the complex. 2004. xii, 284 pp. 247 Parkinson, Dilworth B. and Samira Farwaneh (eds.): Perspectives on Arabic Linguistics XV. Papers from the Fifteenth Annual Symposium on Arabic Linguistics, Salt Lake City 2001. 2003. x, 214 pp. 246 Holisky, Dee Ann and Kevin Tuite (eds.): Current Trends in Caucasian, East European and Inner Asian Linguistics. Papers in honor of Howard I. Aronson. 2003. xxviii, 426 pp. 245 Quer, Josep, Jan Schroten, Mauro Scorretti, Petra Sleeman and Els Verheugd (eds.): Romance Languages and Linguistic Theory 2001. Selected papers from 'Going Romance', Amsterdam, 6–8 December 2001. 2003. viii, 355 pp. 244 Pérez-Leroux, Ana Teresa and Yves Roberge (eds.): Romance Linguistics. Theory and Acquisition. Selected papers from the 32nd Linguistic Symposium on Romance Languages (LSRL), Toronto, April 2002. 2003. viii, 388 pp. 243 Cuyckens, Hubert, Thomas Berg, René Dirven and Klaus-Uwe Panther (eds.): Motivation in Language. Studies in honor of Günter Radden. 2003. xxvi, 403 pp. 242 Seuren, Pieter A.M. and Gerard Kempen (eds.): Verb Constructions in German and Dutch. 2003. vi, 316 pp. 241 Lecarme, Jacqueline (ed.): Research in Afroasiatic Grammar II. Selected papers from the Fifth Conference on Afroasiatic Languages, Paris, 2000. 2003. viii, 550 pp. 240 Janse, Mark and Sijmen Tol (eds.): Language Death and Language Maintenance. Theoretical, practical and descriptive approaches. With the assistance of Vincent Hendriks. 2003. xviii, 244 pp. 239 Andersen, Henning (ed.): Language Contacts in Prehistory. Studies in Stratigraphy. Papers from the Workshop on Linguistic Stratigraphy and Prehistory at the Fifteenth International Conference on Historical Linguistics, Melbourne, 17 August 2001. 2003. viii, 292 pp. 238 Núñez-Cedeño, Rafael, Luis López and Richard Cameron (eds.): A Romance Perspective on Language Knowledge and Use. Selected papers from the 31st Linguistic Symposium on Romance Languages (LSRL), Chicago, 19–22 April 2001. 2003. xvi, 386 pp. 237 Blake, Barry J. and Kate Burridge (eds.): Historical Linguistics 2001. Selected papers from the 15th International Conference on Historical Linguistics, Melbourne, 13–17 August 2001. Editorial assistance Jo Taylor. 2003. x, 444 pp. 236 Simon-Vandenbergen, Anne-Marie, Miriam Taverniers and Louise J. Ravelli (eds.): Grammatical Metaphor. Views from systemic functional linguistics. 2003. vi, 453 pp. 235 Linn, Andrew R. and Nicola McLelland (eds.): Standardization. Studies from the Germanic languages. 2002. xii, 258 pp. 234 Weijer, Jeroen van de, Vincent J. van Heuven and Harry van der Hulst (eds.): The Phonological Spectrum. Volume II: Suprasegmental structure. 2003. x, 264 pp. 233 Weijer, Jeroen van de, Vincent J. van Heuven and Harry van der Hulst (eds.): The Phonological Spectrum. Volume I: Segmental structure. 2003. x, 308 pp. 232 Beyssade, Claire, Reineke Bok-Bennema, Frank Drijkoningen and Paola Monachesi (eds.): Romance Languages and Linguistic Theory 2000. Selected papers from ‘Going Romance’ 2000, Utrecht, 30 November–2 December. 2002. viii, 354 pp. 231 Cravens, Thomas D.: Comparative Historical Dialectology. Italo-Romance clues to Ibero-Romance sound change. 2002. xii, 163 pp. 230 Parkinson, Dilworth B. and Elabbas Benmamoun (eds.): Perspectives on Arabic Linguistics. Papers from the Annual Symposium on Arabic Linguistics. Volume XIII-XIV: Stanford, 1999 and Berkeley, California 2000. 2002. xiv, 250 pp. 229 Nevin, Bruce E. and Stephen B. Johnson (eds.): The Legacy of Zellig Harris. Language and information into the 21st century. Volume 2: Mathematics and computability of language. 2002. xx, 312 pp. 228 Nevin, Bruce E. (ed.): The Legacy of Zellig Harris. Language and information into the 21st century. Volume 1: Philosophy of science, syntax and semantics. 2002. xxxvi, 323 pp. 227 Fava, Elisabetta (ed.): Clinical Linguistics. Theory and applications in speech pathology and therapy. 2002. xxiv, 353 pp.

226 Levin, Saul: Semitic and Indo-European. Volume II: Comparative morphology, syntax and phonetics. 2002. xviii, 592 pp. 225 Shahin, Kimary N.: Postvelar Harmony. 2003. viii, 344 pp. 224 Fanego, Teresa, Belén Méndez-Naya and Elena Seoane (eds.): Sounds, Words, Texts and Change. Selected papers from 11 ICEHL, Santiago de Compostela, 7–11 September 2000. Volume 2. 2002. x, 310 pp. 223 Fanego, Teresa, Javier Pérez-Guerra and María José López-Couso (eds.): English Historical Syntax and Morphology. Selected papers from 11 ICEHL, Santiago de Compostela, 7–11 September 2000. Volume 1. 2002. x, 306 pp. 222 Herschensohn, Julia, Enrique Mallén and Karen Zagona (eds.): Features and Interfaces in Romance. Essays in honor of Heles Contreras. 2001. xiv, 302 pp. 221 D’hulst, Yves, Johan Rooryck and Jan Schroten (eds.): Romance Languages and Linguistic Theory 1999. Selected papers from ‘Going Romance’ 1999, Leiden, 9–11 December 1999. 2001. viii, 406 pp. 220 Satterfield, Teresa, Christina Tortora and Diana Cresti (eds.): Current Issues in Romance Languages. Selected papers from the 29th Linguistic Symposium on Romance Languages (LSRL), Ann Arbor, 8–11 April 1999. 2002. viii, 412  pp. 219 Andersen, Henning (ed.): Actualization. Linguistic Change in Progress. Papers from a workshop held at the 14th International Conference on Historical Linguistics, Vancouver, B.C., 14 August 1999. 2001. vii, 250 pp. 218 Bendjaballah, Sabrina, Wolfgang U. Dressler, Oskar E. Pfeiffer and Maria D. Voeikova (eds.): Morphology 2000. Selected papers from the 9th Morphology Meeting, Vienna, 24–28 February 2000. 2002. viii, 317 pp. 217 Wiltshire, Caroline R. and Joaquim Camps (eds.): Romance Phonology and Variation. Selected papers from the 30th Linguistic Symposium on Romance Languages, Gainesville, Florida, February 2000. 2002. xii, 238 pp. 216 Camps, Joaquim and Caroline R. Wiltshire (eds.): Romance Syntax, Semantics and L2 Acquisition. Selected papers from the 30th Linguistic Symposium on Romance Languages, Gainesville, Florida, February 2000. 2001. xii, 246 pp. 215 Brinton, Laurel J. (ed.): Historical Linguistics 1999. Selected papers from the 14th International Conference on Historical Linguistics, Vancouver, 9–13 August 1999. 2001. xii, 398 pp. 214 Weigand, Edda and Marcelo Dascal (eds.): Negotiation and Power in Dialogic Interaction. 2001. viii, 303 pp. 213 Sornicola, Rosanna, Erich Poppe and Ariel Shisha-Halevy (eds.): Stability, Variation and Change of Word-Order Patterns over Time. With the assistance of Paola Como. 2000. xxxii, 323 pp. 212 Repetti, Lori (ed.): Phonological Theory and the Dialects of Italy. 2000. x, 301 pp. 211 Elšík, Viktor and Yaron Matras (eds.): Grammatical Relations in Romani. The Noun Phrase. with a Foreword by Frans Plank (Universität Konstanz). 2000. x, 244 pp. 210 Dworkin, Steven N. and Dieter Wanner (eds.): New Approaches to Old Problems. Issues in Romance historical linguistics. 2000. xiv, 235 pp. 209 King, Ruth: The Lexical Basis of Grammatical Borrowing. A Prince Edward Island French case study. 2000. xvi, 241 pp. 208 Robinson, Orrin W.: Whose German? The ach/ich alternation and related phenomena in ‘standard’ and ‘colloquial’. 2001. xii, 178 pp. 207 Sanz, Montserrat: Events and Predication. A new approach to syntactic processing in English and Spanish. 2000. xiv, 219 pp. 206 Fawcett, Robin P.: A Theory of Syntax for Systemic Functional Linguistics. 2000. xxiv, 360 pp. 205 Dirven, René, Roslyn M. Frank and Cornelia Ilie (eds.): Language and Ideology. Volume 2: descriptive cognitive approaches. 2001. vi, 264 pp. 204 Dirven, René, Bruce Hawkins and Esra Sandikcioglu (eds.): Language and Ideology. Volume 1: theoretical cognitive approaches. 2001. vi, 301 pp. 203 Norrick, Neal R.: Conversational Narrative. Storytelling in everyday talk. 2000. xiv, 233 pp. 202 Lecarme, Jacqueline, Jean Lowenstamm and Ur Shlonsky (eds.): Research in Afroasiatic Grammar. Papers from the Third conference on Afroasiatic Languages, Sophia Antipolis, 1996. 2000. vi, 386 pp. 201 Dressler, Wolfgang U., Oskar E. Pfeiffer, Markus A. Pöchtrager and John R. Rennison (eds.): Morphological Analysis in Comparison. 2000. x, 261 pp. 200 Anttila, Raimo: Greek and Indo-European Etymology in Action. Proto-Indo-European *aǵ-. 2000. xii, 314 pp. 199 Pütz, Martin and Marjolijn H. Verspoor (eds.): Explorations in Linguistic Relativity. 2000. xvi, 369 pp.

198 Niemeier, Susanne and René Dirven (eds.): Evidence for Linguistic Relativity. 2000. xxii, 240 pp. 197 Coopmans, Peter, Martin Everaert and Jane Grimshaw (eds.): Lexical Specification and Insertion. 2000. xviii, 476 pp. 196 Hannahs, S.J. and Mike Davenport (eds.): Issues in Phonological Structure. Papers from an International Workshop. 1999. xii, 268 pp. 195 Herring, Susan C., Pieter van Reenen and Lene Schøsler (eds.): Textual Parameters in Older Languages. 2001. x, 448 pp. 194 Coleman, Julie and Christian J. Kay (eds.): Lexicology, Semantics and Lexicography. Selected papers from the Fourth G. L. Brook Symposium, Manchester, August 1998. 2000. xiv, 257 pp. 193 Klausenburger, Jurgen: Grammaticalization. Studies in Latin and Romance morphosyntax. 2000. xiv, 184 pp. 192 Alexandrova, Galina M. and Olga Arnaudova (eds.): The Minimalist Parameter. Selected papers from the Open Linguistics Forum, Ottawa, 21–23 March 1997. 2001. x, 360 pp. 191 Sihler, Andrew L.: Language History. An introduction. 2000. xvi, 298 pp. 190 Benmamoun, Elabbas (ed.): Perspectives on Arabic Linguistics. Papers from the Annual Symposium on Arabic Linguistics. Volume XII: Urbana-Champaign, Illinois, 1998. 1999. viii, 204 pp. 189 Nicolov, Nicolas and Ruslan Mitkov (eds.): Recent Advances in Natural Language Processing II. Selected papers from RANLP ’97. 2000. xi, 422 pp. 188 Simmons, Richard VanNess: Chinese Dialect Classification. A comparative approach to Harngjou, Old Jintarn, and Common Northern Wu. 1999. xviii, 317 pp. 187 Franco, Jon A., Alazne Landa and Juan Martín (eds.): Grammatical Analyses in Basque and Romance Linguistics. Papers in honor of Mario Saltarelli. 1999. viii, 306 pp. 186 Mišeska Tomić, Olga and Milorad Radovanović (eds.): History and Perspectives of Language Study. Papers in honor of Ranko Bugarski. 2000. xxii, 314 pp. 185 Authier, Jean-Marc, Barbara E. Bullock and Lisa A. Reed (eds.): Formal Perspectives on Romance Linguistics. Selected papers from the 28th Linguistic Symposium on Romance Languages (LSRL XXVIII), University Park, 16–19 April 1998. 1999. xii, 334 pp. 184 Sagart, Laurent: The Roots of Old Chinese. 1999. xii, 272 pp. 183 Contini-Morava, Ellen and Yishai Tobin (eds.): Between Grammar and Lexicon. 2000. xxxii, 365 pp. 182 Kenesei, István (ed.): Crossing Boundaries. Advances in the theory of Central and Eastern European languages. 1999. viii, 302 pp. 181 Mohammad, Mohammad A.: Word Order, Agreement and Pronominalization in Standard and Palestinian Arabic. 2000. xvi, 197 pp. 180 Mereu, Lunella (ed.): Boundaries of Morphology and Syntax. 1999. viii, 314 pp. 179 Rini, Joel: Exploring the Role of Morphology in the Evolution of Spanish. 1999. xvi, 187 pp. 178 Foolen, Ad and Frederike van der Leek (eds.): Constructions in Cognitive Linguistics. Selected papers from the Fifth International Cognitive Linguistics Conference, Amsterdam, 1997. 2000. xvi, 338 pp. 177 Cuyckens, Hubert and Britta E. Zawada (eds.): Polysemy in Cognitive Linguistics. Selected papers from the International Cognitive Linguistics Conference, Amsterdam, 1997. 2001. xxviii, 296 pp. 176 Van Hoek, Karen, Andrej A. Kibrik and Leo Noordman (eds.): Discourse Studies in Cognitive Linguistics. Selected papers from the 5th International Cognitive Linguistics Conference, Amsterdam, July 1997. 1999. vi, 187 pp. 175 Gibbs, Jr., Raymond W. and Gerard J. Steen (eds.): Metaphor in Cognitive Linguistics. Selected papers from the 5th International Cognitive Linguistics Conference, Amsterdam, 1997. 1999. viii, 226 pp. 174 Hall, T. Alan and Ursula Kleinhenz (eds.): Studies on the Phonological Word. 1999. viii, 298 pp. 173 Treviño, Esthela and José Lema (eds.): Semantic Issues in Romance Syntax. 1999. viii, 309 pp. 172 Dimitrova-Vulchanova, Mila and Lars Hellan (eds.): Topics in South Slavic Syntax and Semantics. 1999. xxviii, 263 pp. 171 Weigand, Edda (ed.): Contrastive Lexical Semantics. 1998. x, 270 pp. 170 Lamb, Sydney M.: Pathways of the Brain. The neurocognitive basis of language. 1999. xii, 418 pp. 169 Ghadessy, Mohsen (ed.): Text and Context in Functional Linguistics. 1999. xviii, 340 pp. 168 Ratcliffe, Robert R.: The “Broken” Plural Problem in Arabic and Comparative Semitic. Allomorphy and analogy in non-concatenative morphology. 1998. xii, 261 pp. 167 Benmamoun, Elabbas, Mushira Eid and Niloofar Haeri (eds.): Perspectives on Arabic Linguistics. Papers from the Annual Symposium on Arabic Linguistics. Volume XI: Atlanta, Georgia, 1997. 1998. viii, 231 pp. 166 Lemmens, Maarten: Lexical Perspectives on Transitivity and Ergativity. Causative constructions in English. 1998. xii, 268 pp.

165 Bubenik, Vit: A Historical Syntax of Late Middle Indo-Aryan (Apabhraṃśa). 1998. xxiv, 265 pp. 164 Schmid, Monika S., Jennifer R. Austin and Dieter Stein (eds.): Historical Linguistics 1997. Selected papers from the 13th International Conference on Historical Linguistics, Düsseldorf, 10–17 August 1997. 1998. x, 409 pp. 163 Lockwood, David G., Peter H. Fries and James E. Copeland (eds.): Functional Approaches to Language, Culture and Cognition. Papers in honor of Sydney M. Lamb. 2000. xxxiv, 656 pp. 162 Hogg, Richard M. and Linda van Bergen (eds.): Historical Linguistics 1995. Volume 2: Germanic linguistics.. Selected papers from the 12th International Conference on Historical Linguistics, Manchester, August 1995. 1998. x, 365 pp. 161 Smith, John Charles and Delia Bentley (eds.): Historical Linguistics 1995. Volume 1: General issues and non-Germanic Languages.. Selected papers from the 12th International Conference on Historical Linguistics, Manchester, August 1995. 2000. xii, 438 pp. 160 Schwegler, Armin, Bernard Tranel and Myriam Uribe-Etxebarria (eds.): Romance Linguistics: Theoretical Perspectives. Selected papers from the 27th Linguistic Symposium on Romance Languages (LSRL XXVII), Irvine, 20–22 February, 1997. 1998. vi, 349 pp. + index. 159 Joseph, Brian D., Geoffrey C. Horrocks and Irene Philippaki-Warburton (eds.): Themes in Greek Linguistics II. 1998. x, 335 pp. 158 Sánchez-Macarro, Antonia and Ronald Carter (eds.): Linguistic Choice across Genres. Variation in spoken and written English. 1998. viii, 338 pp. 157 Lema, José and Esthela Treviño (eds.): Theoretical Analyses on Romance Languages. Selected papers from the 26th Linguistic Symposium on Romance Languages (LSRL XXVI), Mexico City, 28–30 March, 1996. 1998. viii, 380 pp. 156 Matras, Yaron, Peter Bakker and Hristo Kyuchukov (eds.): The Typology and Dialectology of Romani. 1997. xxxii, 223 pp. 155 Forget, Danielle, Paul Hirschbühler, France Martineau and María Luisa Rivero (eds.): Negation and Polarity. Syntax and semantics. Selected papers from the colloquium Negation: Syntax and Semantics. Ottawa, 11–13 May 1995. 1997. viii, 367 pp. 154 Simon-Vandenbergen, Anne-Marie, Kristin Davidse and Dirk Noël (eds.): Reconnecting Language. Morphology and Syntax in Functional Perspectives. 1997. xiii, 339 pp. 153 Eid, Mushira and Robert R. Ratcliffe (eds.): Perspectives on Arabic Linguistics. Papers from the Annual Symposium on Arabic Linguistics. Volume X: Salt Lake City, 1996. 1997. vii, 296 pp. 152 Hiraga, Masako K., Chris Sinha and Sherman Wilcox (eds.): Cultural, Psychological and Typological Issues in Cognitive Linguistics. Selected papers of the bi-annual ICLA meeting in Albuquerque, July 1995. 1999. viii, 338 pp. 151 Liebert, Wolf-Andreas, Gisela Redeker and Linda R. Waugh (eds.): Discourse and Perspective in Cognitive Linguistics. 1997. xiv, 270 pp. 150 Verspoor, Marjolijn H., Kee Dong Lee and Eve Sweetser (eds.): Lexical and Syntactical Constructions and the Construction of Meaning. Proceedings of the Bi-annual ICLA meeting in Albuquerque, July 1995. 1997. xii, 454 pp. 149 Hall, T. Alan: The Phonology of Coronals. 1997. x, 176 pp. 148 Wolf, George and Nigel Love (eds.): Linguistics Inside Out. Roy Harris and his critics. 1997. xxviii, 344 pp. 147 Hewson, John: The Cognitive System of the French Verb. 1997. xii, 187 pp. 146 Hinskens, Frans, Roeland van Hout and W. Leo Wetzels (eds.): Variation, Change, and Phonological Theory. 1997. x, 314 pp. 145 Hewson, John and Vit Bubenik: Tense and Aspect in Indo-European Languages. Theory, typology, diachrony. 1997. xii, 403 pp. 144 Singh, Rajendra (ed.): Trubetzkoy's Orphan. Proceedings of the Montréal Roundtable on “Morphonology: contemporary responses” (Montréal, October 1994). In collaboration with Richard Desrochers. 1996. xiv, 363 pp. 143 Athanasiadou, Angeliki and René Dirven (eds.): On Conditionals Again. 1997. viii, 418 pp. 142 Salmons, Joseph C. and Brian D. Joseph (eds.): Nostratic. Sifting the Evidence. 1998. vi, 293 pp. 141 Eid, Mushira and Dilworth B. Parkinson (eds.): Perspectives on Arabic Linguistics. Papers from the Annual Symposium on Arabic Linguistics. Volume IX: Washington D.C., 1995. 1996. xiii, 249 pp. 140 Black, James R. and Virginia Motapanyane (eds.): Clitics, Pronouns and Movement. 1997. 375 pp. 139 Black, James R. and Virginia Motapanyane (eds.): Microparametric Syntax and Dialect Variation. 1996. xviii, 269 pp. 138 Sackmann, Robin and Monika Budde (eds.): Theoretical Linguistics and Grammatical Description. Papers in honour of Hans-Heinrich Lieb. 1996. x, 375 pp.

137 Lippi-Green, Rosina L. and Joseph C. Salmons (eds.): Germanic Linguistics. Syntactic and diachronic. 1996. viii, 192 pp. 136 Mitkov, Ruslan and Nicolas Nicolov (eds.): Recent Advances in Natural Language Processing. Selected Papers from RANLP ’95. 1997. xii, 472 pp. 135 Britton, Derek (ed.): English Historical Linguistics 1994. Papers from the 8th International Conference on English Historical Linguistics (8 ICEHL, Edinburgh, 19–23 September 1994). 1996. viii, 403 pp. 134 Eid, Mushira (ed.): Perspectives on Arabic Linguistics. Papers from the Annual Symposium on Arabic Linguistics. Volume VIII: Amherst, Massachusetts 1994. 1996. vii, 261 pp. 133 Zagona, Karen (ed.): Grammatical Theory and Romance Languages. Selected papers from the 25th Linguistic Symposium on Romance Languages (LSRL XXV) Seattle, 2–4 March 1995. 1996. vi, 330 pp. 132 Herschensohn, Julia: Case Suspension and Binary Complement Structure in French. 1996. xi, 200 pp. 131 Hualde, José Ignacio, Joseba A. Lakarra and R.L. Trask (eds.): Towards a History of the Basque Language. 1996. 365 pp. 130 Eid, Mushira (ed.): Perspectives on Arabic Linguistics. Papers from the Annual Symposium on Arabic Linguistics. Volume VII: Austin, Texas 1993. 1995. vii, 192 pp. 129 Levin, Saul: Semitic and Indo-European. Volume I: The Principal Etymologies. With observations on Afro-Asiatic. 1995. xxii, 514 pp. 128 Guy, Gregory R., Crawford Feagin, Deborah Schiffrin and John Baugh (eds.): Towards a Social Science of Language. Papers in honor of William Labov. Volume 2: Social interaction and discourse structures. 1997. xviii, 358 pp. 127 Guy, Gregory R., Crawford Feagin, Deborah Schiffrin and John Baugh (eds.): Towards a Social Science of Language. Papers in honor of William Labov. Volume 1: Variation and change in language and society. 1996. xviii, 436 pp. 126 Matras, Yaron (ed.): Romani in Contact. The history, structure and sociology of a language. 1995. xvii, 208 pp. 125 Singh, Rajendra (ed.): Towards a Critical Sociolinguistics. 1996. xiii, 342 pp. 124 Andersen, Henning (ed.): Historical Linguistics 1993. Selected papers from the 11th International Conference on Historical Linguistics, Los Angeles, 16–20 August 1993. 1995. x, 460 pp. 123 Amastae, Jon, Grant Goodall, M. Montalbetti and M. Phinney (eds.): Contemporary Research in Romance Linguistics. Papers from the XXII Linguistic Symposium on Romance Languages, El Paso/Juárez, February 22–24, 1992. 1995. viii, 381 pp. 122 Smith, John Charles and Martin Maiden (eds.): Linguistic Theory and the Romance Languages. 1995. xiii, 240 pp. 121 Hasan, Ruqaiya, Carmel Cloran and David G. Butt (eds.): Functional Descriptions. Theory in practice. 1996. xxxvi, 381 pp. 120 Stonham, John T.: Combinatorial Morphology. 1994. xii, 206 pp. 119 Lippi-Green, Rosina L.: Language Ideology and Language Change in Early Modern German. A sociolinguistic study of the consonantal system of Nuremberg. 1994. xiv, 150 pp. 118 Hasan, Ruqaiya and Peter H. Fries (eds.): On Subject and Theme. A discourse functional perspective. 1995. xii, 414 pp. 117 Philippaki-Warburton, Irene, Katerina Nicolaidis and Maria Sifianou (eds.): Themes in Greek Linguistics. Papers from the First International Conference on Greek Linguistics, Reading, September 1993. 1994. xviii, 534 pp. 116 Miller, D. Gary: Ancient Scripts and Phonological Knowledge. 1994. xvi, 139 pp. 115 Eid, Mushira, Vicente Cantarino and Keith Walters (eds.): Perspectives on Arabic Linguistics. Papers from the Annual Symposium on Arabic Linguistics. VolumeVI: Columbus, Ohio 1992. 1994. viii, 238 pp. 114 Egli, Urs, Peter E. Pause, Christoph Schwarze, Arnim von Stechow and Götz Wienold (eds.): Lexical Knowledge in the Organization of Language. 1995. xiv, 367 pp. 113 Moreno Fernández, Francisco, Miguel Fuster and Juan Jose Calvo (eds.): English Historical Linguistics 1992. Papers from the 7th International Conference on English Historical Linguistics, Valencia, 22–26 September 1992. 1994. viii, 388 pp. 112 Culioli, Antoine: Cognition and Representation in Linguistic Theory. Texts selected, edited and introduced by Michel Liddle. Translated with the assistance of John T. Stonham. 1995. x, 161 pp. 111 Tobin, Yishai: Invariance, Markedness and Distinctive Feature Analysis. A contrastive study of sign systems in English and Hebrew. 1994. xxii, 406 pp. 110 Simone, Raffaele (ed.): Iconicity in Language. 1995. xii, 315 pp. 109 Pagliuca, William (ed.): Perspectives on Grammaticalization. 1994. xx, 306 pp.

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76 Wickens, Mark A.: Grammatical Number in English Nouns. An empirical and theoretical account. 1992. xvi, 321 pp. 75 Droste, Flip G. and John E. Joseph (eds.): Linguistic Theory and Grammatical Description. Nine Current Approaches. 1991. viii, 354 pp. 74 Laeufer, Christiane and Terrell A. Morgan (eds.): Theoretical Analyses in Romance Linguistics. Selected papers from the Linguistic Symposium on Romance Languages XIX, Ohio State University, April 21–23, 1989. 1991. viii, 515 pp. 73 Stamenov, Maxim I. (ed.): Current Advances in Semantic Theory. 1991. xi, 565 pp. 72 Eid, Mushira and John McCarthy (eds.): Perspectives on Arabic Linguistics. Papers from the Annual Symposium on Arabic Linguistics. Volume II: Salt Lake City, Utah 1988. 1990. xiv, 332 pp. 71 O’Grady, William: Categories and Case. The sentence structure of Korean. 1991. vii, 294 pp. 70 Jensen, John T.: Morphology. Word structure in generative grammar. 1990. x, 210 pp. 69 Wanner, Dieter and Douglas A. Kibbee (eds.): New Analyses in Romance Linguistics. Selected papers from the Linguistic Symposium on Romance Languages XVIII, Urbana-Champaign, April 7–9, 1988. 1991. xviii, 385 pp. 68 Ball, Martin J., James Fife, Erich Poppe and Jenny Rowland (eds.): Celtic Linguistics/ Ieithyddiaeth Geltaidd. Readings in the Brythonic Languages. Festschrift for T. Arwyn Watkins. 1990. xxiv, 470 pp. 67 Lehmann, Winfred P. (ed.): Language Typology 1987. Systematic Balance in Language. Papers from the Linguistic Typology Symposium, Berkeley, 1–3 Dec 1987. 1990. x, 212 pp. 66 Andersen, Henning and E.F.K. Koerner (eds.): Historical Linguistics 1987. Papers from the 8th International Conference on Historical Linguistics, Lille, August 30-September 4, 1987. 1990. xii, 577 pp. 65 Adamson, Sylvia M., Vivien A. Law, Nigel Vincent and Susan Wright (eds.): Papers from the 5th International Conference on English Historical Linguistics. 1990. xxi, 583 pp. 64 Brogyanyi, Bela (ed.): Prehistory, History and Historiography of Language, Speech, and Linguistic Theory. Papers in honor of Oswald Szemerényi I. 1992. x, 414 pp. 63 Eid, Mushira (ed.): Perspectives on Arabic Linguistics. Papers from the Annual Symposium on Arabic Linguistics. Volume I: Salt Lake City, Utah 1987. 1990. xiii, 290 pp. 62 Frajzyngier, Zygmunt (ed.): Current Progress in Chadic Linguistics. Proceedings of the International Symposium on Chadic Linguistics, Boulder, Colorado, 1–2 May 1987. 1989. vi, 312 pp. 61 Corrigan, Roberta L., Fred R. Eckman and Michael Noonan (eds.): Linguistic Categorization. Proceedings of an International Symposium in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, April 10–11, 1987. 1989. viii, 348 pp. 60 Kirschner, Carl and Janet Ann DeCesaris (eds.): Studies in Romance Linguistics. Selected Proceedings from the XVII Linguistic Symposium on Romance Languages. 1989. xii, 496 pp. 59 Voorst, Jan van: Event Structure. 1988. x, 181 pp. 58 Arbeitman, Yoël L. (ed.): Fucus: A Semitic/Afrasian Gathering in Remembrance of Albert Ehrman. 1988. xvi, 530 pp. 57 Bubenik, Vit: Hellenistic and Roman Greece as a Sociolinguistic Area. 1989. xvi, 331 pp. 56 Hockett, Charles F.: Refurbishing our Foundations. Elementary linguistics from an advanced point of view. 1987. x, 181 pp. 55 Hall, Jr., Robert A.: Linguistics and Pseudo-Linguistics. 1987. vii, 147 pp. 54 Weidert, Alfons: Tibeto-Burman Tonology. A comparative analysis. 1987. xvii, 512 pp. 53 Sankoff, David: Diversity and Diachrony. 1986. xii, 430 pp. 52 Fasold, Ralph W. and Deborah Schiffrin (eds.): Language Change and Variation. 1989. viii, 450 pp. 51 Chatterjee, Ranjit: Aspect and Meaning in Slavic and Indic. With a foreword by Paul Friedrich. 1989. xxiii, 137 pp. 50 Rudzka-Ostyn, Brygida (ed.): Topics in Cognitive Linguistics. 1988. x, 704 pp. 49 Waugh, Linda R. and Stephen Rudy (eds.): New Vistas in Grammar: Invariance and Variation. Proceedings of the Second International Roman Jakobson Conference, New York University, Nov. 5–8, 1985. 1991. x, 540 pp. 48 Giacalone-Ramat, Anna, Onofrio Carruba and Giuliano Bernini (eds.): Papers from the 7th International Conference on Historical Linguistics. 1987. xvi, 672 pp. 47 Lehmann, Winfred P. (ed.): Language Typology 1985. Papers from the Linguistic Typology Symposium, Moscow, 9–13 Dec. 1985. 1986. viii, 200 pp. 46 Prideaux, Gary D. and William J. Baker: Strategies and Structures. The processing of relative clauses. 1987. ix, 197 pp. 45 Koopman, Willem F., Frederike van der Leek, Olga Fischer and Roger Eaton (eds.): Explanation and Linguistic Change. 1986. viii, 300 pp.

44 Jungraithmayr, Herrmann and Walter W. Mueller (eds.): Proceedings of the Fourth International Hamito-Semitic Congress. 1987. xiv, 609 pp. 43 Akamatsu, Tsutomu: The Theory of Neutralization and the Archiphoneme in Functional Phonology. 1988. xxi, 533 pp. 42 Makkai, Adam and Alan K. Melby (eds.): Linguistics and Philosophy. Festschrift for Rulon S. Wells. 1985. xviii, 472 pp. 41 Eaton, Roger, Olga Fischer, Willem F. Koopman and Frederike van der Leek (eds.): Papers from the 4th International Conference on English Historical Linguistics, Amsterdam, April 10–13, 1985. 1985. xvii, 341 pp. 40 Fries, Peter H. and Nancy M. Fries (eds.): Toward an Understanding of Language. Charles C. Fries in Perspective. 1985. xvi, 384 pp. 39 Benson, James D., Michael J. Cummings and William S. Greaves (eds.): Linguistics in a Systemic Perspective. 1988. x, 452 pp. 38 Brogyanyi, Bela and Thomas Krömmelbein (eds.): Germanic Dialects. Linguistic and Philological Investigations. 1986. ix, 693 pp. 37 Griffen, Toby D.: Aspects of Dynamic Phonology. 1985. ix, 302 pp. 36 King, Larry D. and Catherine A. Maley (eds.): Selected papers from the XIIIth Linguistic Symposium on Romance. Languages, Chapel Hill, N.C., 24–26 March 1983. 1985. x, 440 pp. 35 Collinge, N.E.: The Laws of Indo-European. 1985. xviii, 273 pp. 34 Fisiak, Jacek (ed.): Papers from the VIth International Conference on Historical Linguistics, Poznaön, 22–26 August 1983. 1985. xxiii, 622 pp. 33 Versteegh, Kees: Pidginization and Creolization. The Case of Arabic. 1984. xiii, 194 pp. 32 Copeland, James E. (ed.): New Directions in Linguistics and Semiotics. 1984. xi, 269 pp. 31 Guillaume, Gustave (1883–1960): Foundations for a Science of Language. Texts selected by Roch Valin. Translated and with an introduction by Walter Hirtle and John Hewson. 1984. xxiv, 175 pp. 30 Hall, Jr., Robert A.: Proto-Romance Morphology. Comparative Romance Grammar, vol. III. 1984. xii, 304 pp. 29 Paprotté, Wolf and René Dirven (eds.): The Ubiquity of Metaphor: Metaphor in language and thought. 1985. iii, 628 pp. 28 Bynon, James (ed.): Current Progress in Afro-Asiatic Linguistics. Papers of the Third International Hamito-Semitic Congress, London, 1978. 1984. xi, 505 pp. 27 Bomhard, Allan R.: Toward Proto-Nostratic. A New Approach to the Comparison of Proto-IndoEuropean and Proto-Afroasiatic. With a foreword by Paul J. Hopper. 1984. xi, 356 pp. 26 Baldi, Philip (ed.): Papers from the XIIth Linguistic Symposium on Romance Languages, University Park, April 1–3, 1982. 1984. xii, 611 pp. 25 Andersen, Paul Kent: Word Order Typology and Comparative Constructions. 1983. xvii, 245 pp. 24 Lehmann, Winfred P. and Yakov Malkiel (eds.): Perspectives on Historical Linguistics. Papers from a conference held at the meeting of the Language Theory Division, Modern Language Assn., San Francisco, 27–30 December 1979. 1982. xii, 379 pp. 23 Danielsen, Niels: Papers in Theoretical Linguistics. Edited by Per Baerentzen. 1992. xxii, 224 pp. 22 Untermann, Jürgen und Bela Brogyanyi (Hrsg.): Das Germanische und die Rekonstruktion der Indogermanischen Grundsprache. Akten des Freiburger Kolloquiums der Indogermanischen Gesellschaft, Freiburg, 26–27 Februar 1981.. Proceedings of the Colloquium of the Indogermanische Gesellschhaft, Freiburg, 26–27 February 1981. 1984. xvii, 237 pp. 21 Ahlqvist, Anders (ed.): Papers from the Fifth International Conference on Historical Linguistics, Galway, April 6–10 1981. 1982. xxix, 527 pp. 20 Norrick, Neal R.: Semiotic Principles in Semantic Theory. 1981. xiii, 252 pp. 19 Ramat, Paolo (ed.): Linguistic Reconstruction and Indo-European Syntax. Proceedings of the Colloquium of the 'Indogermanische Gesellschaft'. University of Pavia, 6–7 September 1979. 1980. viii, 263 pp. 18 Izzo, Herbert J. (ed.): Italic and Romance. Linguistic Studies in Honor of Ernst Pulgram. 1980. xxi, 338 pp. 17 Lieb, Hans-Heinrich: Integrational Linguistics I. 1984. xxiii, 527 pp. 16 Arbeitman, Yoël L. and Allan R. Bomhard (eds.): Bono Homini Donum. Essays in Historical Linguistics, in Memory of J. Alexander Kerns. (2 volumes). 1981. xvi, 557, viii, 581 pp. 15 Anderson, John A. (ed.): Language Form and Linguistic Variation. Papers dedicated to Angus McIntosh. 1982. viii, 496 pp. 14 Closs Traugott, Elizabeth, Rebecca Labrum and Susan C. Shepherd (eds.): Papers from the Fourth International Conference on Historical Linguistics, Stanford, March 26–30 1979. 1980. x, 437 pp.