CHAPTER XXXI.
COMPOSITION.
[§ 352]. In the following words, amongst many others, we have palpable and indubitable specimens of composition—day-star, vine-yard, sun-beam, apple-tree, ship-load, silver-smith, &c. The words palpable and indubitable have been used, because in many cases, as will be seen hereafter, it is difficult to determine whether a word be a true compound or not.
[§ 353]. Now, in each of the compounds quoted above, it may be seen that it is the second word which is qualified, or defined, by the first, and that it is not the first which is qualified, or defined, by the second. Of yards, beams, trees, loads, smiths, there may be many sorts, and, in order to determine what particular sort of yard, beam, tree, load, or smith, may be meant, the words vine, sun, apple, ship, and silver, are prefixed. In compound words it is the first term that defines or particularises the second.
[§ 354]. That the idea given by the word apple-tree is not referable to the words apple and tree, irrespective of the order in which they occur, may be seen by reversing the position of them. The word tree-apple, although not existing in the language, is as correct a word as thorn-apple. In tree-apple, the particular sort of apple meant is denoted by the word tree, and if there
were in our gardens various sorts of plants called apples, of which some grew along the ground and others upon trees, such a word as tree-apple would be required in order to be opposed to earth-apple, or ground-apple, or some word of the kind.
In the compound words tree-apple and apple-tree, we have the same elements differently arranged. However, as the word tree-apple is not current in the language, the class of compounds indicated by it may seem to be merely imaginary. Nothing is farther from being the case. A tree-rose is a rose of a particular sort. The generality of roses being on shrubs, this grows on a tree. Its peculiarity consists in this fact, and this particular character is expressed by the word tree prefixed. A rose-tree is a tree of a particular sort, distinguished from apple-trees, and trees in general (in other words, particularised or defined), by the word rose prefixed.
A ground-nut is a nut particularised by growing in the ground. A nut-ground is a ground particularised by producing nuts.
A finger-ring, as distinguished from an ear-ring, and from rings in general (and so particularised), is a ring for the finger. A ring-finger, as distinguished from fore-fingers, and from fingers in general (and so particularised), is a finger whereon rings are worn.
[§ 355]. At times this rule seems to be violated. The words spit-fire and dare-devil seem exceptions to it. At the first glance it seems, in the case of a spit-fire, that what he (or she) spits is fire; and that, in the case of a dare-devil, what he (or she) dares is the devil. In this case the initial words spit and dare are particularised by the final ones fire and devil. The true idea, however, confirms the original rule. A spit-fire
voids his fire by spitting. A dare-devil, in meeting the fiend, would not shrink from him, but would defy him. A spit-fire is not one who spits fire, but one whose fire is spit. A dare-devil is not one who dares even the devil, but one by whom the devil is even dared.
[§ 356]. Of the two elements of a compound word, which is the most important? In one sense the latter, in another sense the former. The latter word is the most essential; since the general idea of trees must exist before it can be defined or particularised; so becoming the idea which we have in apple-tree, rose-tree, &c. The former word, however, is the most influential. It is by this that the original idea is qualified. The latter word is the staple original element: the former is the superadded influencing element. Compared with each other, the former element is active, the latter passive. Etymologically speaking, the former element, in English compounds, is the most important.
[§ 357]. Most numerous are the observations that bear upon the detail of the composition of words; e.g., how nouns combine with nouns, as in sun-beam; nouns with verbs, as in dare-devil, &c. It is thought however, sufficient in the present work to be content with, 1. defining the meaning of the term composition; 2. explaining the nature of some obscure compounds.
Composition is the joining together, in language, of two different words, and treating the combination as a single term. Observe the words in italics.
In language.—A great number of our compounds, like the word merry-making, are divided by the sign -, or the hyphen. It is very plain that if all words spelt
with a hyphen were to be considered as compounds, the formation of them would be not a matter of speech, or language, but one of writing or spelling. This distinguishes compounds in language from mere printers' compounds.
Two.—For this, see § [369].
Different.—In Old High German we find the form sëlp-sëlpo. Here there is the junction of two words, but not the junction of two different ones. This distinguishes composition from gemination.
Words.—In father-s, clear-er, four-th, &c., there is the addition of a letter or a syllable, and it may be even of the part of a word. There is no addition, however, of a whole word. This distinguishes composition from derivation.
Treating the combination as a single term.—In determining between derived words and compound words, there is an occasional perplexity; the perplexity, however, is far greater in determining between a compound word and two words. In the eyes of one grammarian the term mountain height may be as truly a compound word as sun-beam. In the eyes of another grammarian it may be no compound word, but two words, just as Alpine height is two words; mountain being dealt with as an adjective. It is in the determination of this that the accent plays an important part.
[§ 358]. As a preliminary to a somewhat subtle distinction, the attention of the reader is drawn to the following line, slightly altered, from Churchill:—
"Then rést, my friénd, and spáre thy précious bréath."
On each of the syllables rést, friénd, spáre, préc-, bréath, there is an accent. Each of these syllables
must be compared with the one that precedes it; rest with then, friend with my, and so on throughout the line. Compared with the word and, the word spare is not only accented, but the accent is conspicuous and prominent. There is so little on and, so much on spare, that the disparity of accent is very manifest.
Now, if in the place of and, there were some other word, a word not so much accented as spare, but still more accented than and, this disparity would be diminished, and the accents of the two words might be said to be at par, or nearly so. As said before, the line was slightly altered from Churchill, the real reading being
"Then rést, my friénd, spare, spare thy précious bréath."
In the true reading we actually find what had previously only been supposed. In the words spare, spare, the accents are nearly at par. Such the difference between accent at par and disparity of accent.
Good illustrations of the parity and disparity of accent may be drawn from certain names of places. Let there be such a sentence as the following: the lime house near the bridge north of the new port. Compare the parity of accent on the pairs of words lime and house, bridge and north, new and port, with the disparity of accent in the compound words Límehouse, Brídgenorth, and Néwport. The separate words beef steak, where the accent is nearly at par, compared with the compound word sweépstakes, where there is a great disparity of accent, are further illustrations of the same difference.
The difference between a compound word and a pair of words is further illustrated by comparing such terms as the following:—bláck bírd, meaning a bird that
is black, with bláckbird = the Latin merula; blúe béll, meaning a bell that is blue, with blúebell, the flower. Expressions like a shárp edgéd instrument, meaning an instrument that is sharp and has edges, as opposed to a shárp-edged instrument, meaning an instrument with sharp edges, further exemplify this difference.
Subject to a few exceptions, it may be laid down, that, in the English language, there is no composition unless there is either a change of form or a change of accent.
[§ 359]. The reader is now informed, that unless he has taken an exception to either a statement or an inference, he has either seen beyond what has been already laid down by the author, or else has read him with insufficient attention. This may be shown by drawing a distinction between a compound form and a compound idea.
In the words a red house, each word preserves its natural and original meaning, and the statement suggested by the term is that a house is red. By a parity of reasoning a mad house should mean a house that is mad; and provided that each word retain its natural meaning and its natural accent, such is the fact. Let a house mean, as it often does, a family. Then the phrase, a mad house, means that the house, or family, is mad, just as a red house means that the house is red. Such, however, is not the current meaning of the word. Every one knows that a mad house means a house for mad men; in which case it is treated as a compound word, and has a marked accent on the first syllable, just as Límehouse has. Now, compared with the word red house, meaning a house of a red colour, and compared with the words mad house, meaning a deranged family, the word
mádhouse, in its common sense, expressed a compound idea; as opposed to two ideas, or a double idea. The word beef steak is evidently a compound idea; but as there is no disparity of accent, it is not a compound word. Its sense is compound. Its form is not compound but double. This indicates the objection anticipated, which is this: viz., that a definition, which would exclude such a word as beef steak from the list of compounds, is, for that very reason, exceptionable. I answer to this, that the term in question is a compound idea, and not a compound form; in other words, that it is a compound in logic, but not a compound in etymology. Now etymology, taking cognisance of forms only, has nothing to do with ideas, except so far as they influence forms.
Such is the commentary upon the words, treating the combination as a single term; in other words, such the difference between a compound word and two words. The rule, being repeated, stands (subject to exceptions indicated above) thus:—there is no true composition without either a change of form or a change of accent.
[§ 360]. As I wish to be clear upon this point, I shall illustrate the statement by its application.
The term trée-rose is often pronounced trée róse; that is, with the accent at par. It is compound in the one case; it is a pair of words in the other.
The terms mountain ash and mountain height are generally (perhaps always) pronounced with an equal accent on the syllables mount- and ash, mount- and height, respectively. In this case the word mountain must be dealt with as an adjective, and the words considered as two. The word moúntain wave is often pronounced with a visible diminution of accent on the
last syllable. In this case there is a disparity of accent, and the word is compound.
[§ 361]. The following quotation indicates a further cause of perplexity in determining between compound words and two words:—
1.
A wet sheet and a blowing gale,
A breeze that follows fast;
That fills the white and swelling sail,
And bends the gallant mast.—Allan Cunningham.
2.
Britannia needs no bulwarks,
No towers along the steep;
Her march is o'er the mountain-wave,
Her home is on the deep.—Thomas Campbell.
To speak first of the term gallant mast. If gallant mean brave, there are two words. If the words be two, there is a stronger accent on mast. If the accent on mast be stronger, the rhyme with fast is more complete; in other words, the metre favours the notion of the words being considered as two. Gallant-mast, however, is a compound word, with an especial nautical meaning. In this case the accent is stronger on gal- and weaker on -mast. This, however, is not the state of things that the metre favours. The same applies to mountain wave. The same person who in prose would throw a stronger accent on mount- and a weaker one on wave (so dealing with the word as a compound), might, in poetry, the words two, by giving to the last syllable a parity of accent.
The following quotation from Ben Jonson may be
read in two ways; and the accent may vary with the reading:
1.
Lay thy bow of pearl apart,
And thy silver shining quiver.
2.
Lay thy bow of pearl apart,
And thy silver-shining quiver.—Cynthia's Revels.
[§ 362]. On certain words wherein the fact of their being compound is obscured.—Composition is the addition of a word to a word, derivation is the addition of certain letters or syllables to a word. In a compound form each element has a separate and independent existence; in a derived form, only one of the elements has such. Now it is very possible that in an older stage of a language two words may exist, may be put together, and may so form a compound, each word having, then, a separate and independent existence. In a later stage of language, however, only one of these words may have a separate and independent existence, the other having become obsolete. In this case a compound word would take the appearance of a derived one, since but one of its elements could be exhibited as a separate and independent word. Such is the case with, amongst others, the word bishop-ric. In the present language the word ric has no separate and independent existence. For all this, the word is a true compound, since, in Anglo-Saxon, we have the noun ríce as a separate, independent word, signifying kingdom or domain.
Again, without becoming obsolete, a word may alter its form. This is the case with most of our adjectives
in -ly. At present they appear derivative; their termination -ly having no separate and independent existence. The older language, however, shows that they are compounds; since -ly is nothing else than -lic, Anglo-Saxon; -lih, Old High German; -leiks, Mœso-Gothic; = like, or similis, and equally with it an independent separate word.
[§ 363]. "Subject to a few exceptions, it may be laid down, that there is no true composition unless there is either a change of form or a change of accent."—Such is the statement made in § [358]. The first class of exceptions consists of those words where the natural tendency to disparity of accent is traversed by some rule of euphony. For example, let two words be put together, which at their point of contact form a combination of sounds foreign to our habits of pronunciation. The rarity of the combination will cause an effort in utterance. The effort in utterance will cause an accent to be laid on the latter half of the compound. This will equalize the accent, and abolish the disparity. The word monkshood, the name of a flower (aconitum napellus), where, to my ear at least, there is quite as much accent on the -hood as on the monks-, may serve in the way of illustration. Monks is one word, hood another. When joined together, the h- of the -hood is put in immediate apposition with the s of the monks-. Hence the combination monkshood. At the letters s and h is the point of contact. Now the sound of s followed immediately by the sound of h is a true aspirate. But true aspirates are rare in the English language. Being of rare occurrence, the pronunciation of them is a matter of attention and effort; and this attention and effort create an accent which otherwise would be absent.
Hence words like mónks-hóod, well-héad, and some others.
Real reduplications of consonants, as in hóp-póle, may have the same parity of accent with the true aspirates: and for the same reasons. They are rare combinations that require effort and attention.
[§ 364]. The second class of exceptions contains those words wherein between the first element and the second there is so great a disparity, either in the length of the vowel, or the length of the syllable en masse, as to counteract the natural tendency of the first element to become accented. One of the few specimens of this class (which after all may consist of double words) is the term upstánding. Here it should be remembered, that words like hapházard, foolhárdy, uphólder, and withhóld come under the first class of the exceptions.
[§ 365]. The third class of exceptions contains words like perchánce and perháps. In all respects but one these are double words, just as by chance is a double word. Per, however, differs from by in having no separate existence. This sort of words we owe to the multiplicity of elements (classical and Gothic) in the English language.
[§ 366]. Peacock, peahen.—If these words be rendered masculine or feminine by the addition of the elements -cock and -hen, the statements made in the beginning of the present chapter are invalidated. Since, if the word pea- be particularized, qualified, or defined by the words -cock and -hen, the second term defines or particularises the first, which is contrary to the rule of § [356]. The truth, however, is, that the words -cock and -hen are defined by the prefix pea-. Preparatory to the exhibition of this, let us remember that the word pea (although
now found in composition only) is a true and independent substantive, the name of a species of fowl, like pheasant, partridge, or any other appellation. It is the Latin pavo, German pfau. Now if the word peacock mean a pea (pfau or pavo) that is a male, then do wood-cock, black-cock, and bantam-cock, mean woods, blacks, and bantams that are male. Or if the word peahen mean a pea (pfau or pavo) that is female, then do moorhen and guineahen mean moors and guineas that are female. Again, if a peahen mean a pea (pfau or pavo) that is female, then does the compound pheasant-hen mean the same as hen-pheasant; which is not the case. The fact is that peacock means a cock that is a pea (pfau or pavo); peahen means a hen that is a pea (pfau or pavo); and, finally, peafowl means a fowl that is a pea (pfau or pavo). In the same way moorfowl means, not a moor that is connected with a fowl, but a fowl that is connected with a moor.
[§ 367]. It must be clear that in every compound word there are, at least, two parts; i.e., the whole or part of the original, and the whole or part of the superadded word. In the most perfect forms of inflection, however, there is a third element, viz., a vowel, consonant, or syllable that joins the first word with the second.
In the older forms of all the Gothic languages the presence of this third element was the rule rather than the exception. In the present English it exists in but few words.
a. The -a- in black-a-moor is possibly such a connecting element.
b. The -in- in night-in-gale is most probably such a connecting element. Compare the German form
nacht-i-gale, and remember the tendency of vowels to take the sound of -ng before g.
[§ 368]. Improper compounds.—The -s- in words like Thur-s-day, hunt-s-man, may be one of two things.
a. It may be the sign of the genitive case, so that Thursday = Thoris dies. In this case the word is an improper compound, since it is like the word pater-familias in Latin, in a common state of syntactical construction.
b. It may be a connecting sound, like the -i- in nacht-i-gale. Reasons for this view occur in the following fact:—
In the modern German languages the genitive case of feminine nouns ends otherwise than in -s. Nevertheless, the sound of -s- occurs in composition equally, whether the noun it follows be masculine or feminine. This fact, as far as it goes, makes it convenient to consider the sound in question as a connective rather than a case. Probably, it is neither one nor the other exactly, but the effect of a false analogy.
[§ 369]. Decomposites.—"Composition is the joining together of two words."—See § [357].
Words like mid-ship-man, gentle-man-like, &c., where the number of verbal elements seems to amount to three, are no exception to this rule; since compound radicals like midship and gentleman, are, for the purposes of composition, single words. Compounds wherein one element is compound are called decomposites.
[§ 370]. There are a number of words which are never found by themselves; or, if so found, have never the same sense that they have in combination. Mark the word combination. The terms in question are points of combination, not of composition: since they form not the
parts of words, but the parts of phrases. Such are the expressions time and tide—might and main—rede me my riddle—pay your shot—rhyme and reason, &c. These words are evidently of the same class, though not of the same species with bishopric, colewort, spillikin, gossip, mainswearer, &c.
These last-mentioned terms give us obsolete words preserved in composition. The former give us obsolete words preserved in combination.