Rustic Speech and Folk-Lore

by Elizabeth Mary Wright

The name of the irregularities in the standard speech is legion, and it is an enticing pursuit to hunt for the regular forms in the dialects and compare them with their literary cognates. Bread (Sc. Dur. Cum. Yks. Lan. Chs. Der. Not. Lin. Shr. Pem.), breadth, is the normal development of O.E. brǣdu; the form breadth has taken over a final -th from other abstract nouns such as length. Lin (Sc. Irel. and n. and w. counties), flax, linen, is the correct representative of the O.E. substantive līn, M.E. lin, as we have it in linseed; our linen is properly an adjective, meaning made of flax. Mirk (Sc. and n. counties), dark, gloomy, also sb. darkness, gloom, from M.E. mirk(e, may be used in modern poetry, but the ordinary form is mirky, murky, with the addition of -y from other adjectives where it was regular. Similarly, red(d (Sc. Irel.) for ready, and slipper (Som. Dev. Cor.) for slippery, cp. O.E. ge-rǣde, slipor. Sloum (Sc. Irel. and n. counties) for slumber is O.E. slūma, without the later additions of the frequentative suffix, and intrusive b. Peel (Glo. Wil. Som. Dev. Cor.) for pillow is from the O.E. nominative pylu, whereas from the oblique cases came M.E. pilwe, whence our pillow. Graff (Sc. Yks. Hrf.) for graft, and hoise (Sc. Irel. Cum. Yks. Lan.) for hoist, are both correct forms without the additional t, which is probably due to confusion with verbal forms in the Past tense, cp. ‘We’ll quickly hoise Duke Humphrey from his seat,’2 Hen. VI, I. i. 169. Hose (Rut. Som. Dev.) and haiss (Sc.) for hoarse from O.E. hās are correctly without the intrusive r. Hollin (n. and n. midl. counties) for holly, and miln (Sc. Yks. Lan. Der. Not. Lin.) for mill have not acquired a final n, but they retain one which has been lost in the standard forms. The O.E. originals were hole(g)n and myln. The latter remains intact in the surnames Milne and Milner. Ridless (Wor. Shr.) for riddle, a conundrum, from O.E. rǣdels, preserves the final s which has been discarded from the literary form, or rather, the s being taken as the sign of the plural, a new singular has been formed without it. The same process has given us our pea, burial, Sherry, and Bret Harte’s Chinee. With these literary examples before us we cannot find fault with the dialect form shimmy (in gen. dial. use in Sc. and Eng.), the supposed singular of chemise; or with apse (Som. Dev. Cor.), from a plural-sounding abscess.

Nearly all the dialects have lat for lath, regularly developed from O.E. lætt, and latta, the th in our lath being the irregular element. Lynse-pin (War. Sus. Wil. Som. Cor.), from M.E. linse, an axle, is correct, and our linch-pin is corrupt. Popple (Wor. Pem. Hmp. I.W. Wil. Dor. Som. Dev. Cor.) represents O.E. papol, and leaves our pebble to be explained. Penny-winkle (Nhb. Yks. Der. War. Brks. Suf. Dev.), the mollusc, from O.E. pinewincla is the correct form beside our corrupt periwinkle. The common dialect pronunciation kindom regularly represents O.E. cynedōm, M.E. kinedom, whereas in our kingdom popular etymology has substituted the well-known word king for the forgotten cyne, royal.

Standard English Words compared with Dialect Equivalents

Amongst these dialect words which differ in form and pronunciation from their equivalents in the standard language are many French words, borrowed several centuries ago either from Old French, or through the medium of Anglo-Norman French. Meanwhile, we of the standard speech have perhaps re-borrowed the word in a more modern shape, or re-modelled it after the pattern of its Latin cognate, or, where in older times the standard vocabulary included two forms side by side, we have since discarded one of them, and left it to drop into obscurity. Regarded thus, the dialect form can take its legitimate place as the second half of a doublet, with as good a title to name and fame as the half that remained in the ranks of the literary vocabulary. There are quantities of doublets of this nature still in everyday standard use, but because we are familiar with each half of the pair, we are not tempted to regard one of them as vulgar or corrupt because it differs from the other. Examples of these literary doublets are: caitiff and captive; mayor and major; parson and person; royal and regal; &c., &c. In all these cases a divergence of meaning has taken place, so that each member of the pair maintains a separate existence, but in the following examples from the dialects, I have for the most part selected those words where the meaning is the same as that of the literary form: Aunter (Cum. Wm. Yks. Lan.), an adventure, a story of adventure, an unlikely story, was the common form in M.E. for adventure, cp. M.E. antur, aunter, from Anglo-French aventure. The form aunters (Nhb. Cum. Wm. Yks.), with the addition of an adverbial s, means perhaps, lest, in case that, cp. ‘Aunters, peradventure,’ Coles, 1677. Callenge (Glo. I.W. Dor. Som.) for challenge is from A.Fr. calenge. Causey (in gen. dial. use in Sc. Irel. and Eng.) is from A.Fr. caucè, the standard form causeway is a compound of causey and way. Chat (Dor. Dev. Cor.), a kitten, is not a dialect pronunciation of cat, but from Fr. chat. Chieve (Nhb. Yks. Lan. Lin. Nhp.) is an aphetic form of achieve common in M.E. writings. Corrosy (Dev. Cor.), an annoyance, a grudge, is a popular form of the learned corrosive, something that corrodes or causes annoyance. It occurs as far back as Tusser, cp. ‘So lose ye your cost, to your corosie and smart,’ Husb., 1580. Descrive (Sc.) is from O.Fr. descrivre, whilst our describe is from the Latin form. Gilliver (Sc. Cum. Yks. Lan. Chs. Stf. Der. Not. Lin. Lei. War.) for gillyflower represents M.E. gilofre, for O.Fr. girofre, girofle, cp. ‘Then make your garden rich in gillyvors,’ Wint. Tale, IV. iv. 98. The form gillyflower is due to a confusion with flower. Hamel (n.Cy. Nhb. Lan. Chs. Sus.) for hamlet is from O.Fr. hamel, whilst the standard form goes back to the double diminutive O.Fr. hamelet. Inobedient (Sc. n.Cy. Som.) beside disobedient is from O.Fr. inobedient, cp. ‘Adam inobedyent,’ Cleanness, l. 237, c. 1360. Kiver (in gen. dial. use in Sc. Irel. and Eng.) for cover is from the stressed stem-form cuev- of O.Fr. covrir, cp. ‘If oure gospel is kyuerid, in these that perischen it is kyuerid,’ Wyclif, 2 Cor. iv. 3. Liver (Nhb. Dur. Cum. Wm. Yks. Lan. Der. Lin.) for deliver is from Fr. livrer beside délivrer, cp.:

Ful fast on god bigan þai call,

To liuere þe folk of þat onfall.

Curs. Mun. ll. 5942, 5943.

Marriable (Yks. Lan.) for marriageable is from O.Fr. mariable. Noy (Sc. n.Cy. Yks.) for annoy is an aphetic form common in M.E. literature. Paise (Sc. n. and sw. counties), to weigh, is from O.Fr. Norman dialect peiser beside O.Fr. poiser, M.E. peisen and poisen. The common dialect forms perfit, parfit are from O.Fr. parfit, through M.E. perfit, parfit, whilst our perfect has been remodelled to conform with Lat. perfectus. Parsil (Sc. n.Cy. Wm. Yks. Lan.) beside parsley is from Fr. persil, M.E. percel, beside perceli, which owes its ending to O.E. petersilie. Pearch (Cum. Yks. Lan. Lin.) for pierce is from O.Fr. Norman dialect percher beside O.Fr. percer. Perceivance (Yks. e.An.) for perception is used by Milton, cp. ‘The senses and common perceivance might carry this message to the soul within,’ Church Government, 1641, cp. O.Fr. percevance. Planch (Gmg. Suf. Dor. Som. Dev. Cor.) is from Fr. planche, whilst our plank is from O.N.Fr. planke. Plat (Shet. and Ork. I. n.Cy. also sw. counties) for flat is from O.Fr. plat, whilst our word is of Scandinavian origin. Portmantle (in gen. dial. use in Sc. and Eng.), compounded from O.Fr. mantel, is the old form common from the sixteenth to the eighteenth century; our portmanteau is a later borrowing, when the French form was manteau. Provand (Sc. Yks. Lan. Chs.) for provender is from O.Fr. provende beside provendre, cp. ‘Than camels in the war, who have their provand Only for bearing burdens,’ Coriol. II. i. 267, 268. Queer (Sc. n.Cy. Dur. Yks. Chs. Lin.) for choir represents the M.E. quer, quere, from O.Fr. cuer. The standard form should be spelt quire, as it is pronounced, but the orthography has been influenced by the word chorus. Ratten (Sc. Nhb. Dur. Cum. Wm. Yks. Lan. Chs. Der. Shr.) is from O.Fr. raton, cp. ‘Wiþ þat ran þere a route of ratones at ones,’ Piers Plow. B, Prol. l. 146. Our rat is probably from the O.E. ræt. Remeid (Sc. n.Cy. Nhb.) for remedy is from O.Fr. remede, M.E. remede, beside remedie from Anglo-Fr. remedie. Scry (Sc. Nhb. Cum. Yks. Lan. Cor.), to cry, proclaim, is from O.Fr. escrier beside crier. Skelet (Lin. Cor.) for skeleton is from Fr. scelete (Cotgrave), our form is from the Greek word. Vage (Sc. Nhb. Dur. Yks. Lin. w.Cy.) for voyage is from O.Fr. veiage, M.E. viage, veage, cp. ‘For he was late ycome from his viage,’ Chaucer, Prol. l. 77.

Apparent Irregularities due to Scandinavian Influence

Further, there are the dialect words in which the apparent irregularity is due to their Scandinavian origin. For example: boun (Sc. Irel. Nhb. Dur. Cum. Wm. Yks. Lan. Chs. Der. Lin.), e.g. Awm beawn to Stopport, I am bound for Stockport, is from O.N. būinn, prepared, the past part, of būa, to get ready, M.E. boun. Our bound has acquired an excrescent d, in common with sound sb., and other words. Dead (Sc. Irel. Nhb. Dur. Cum. Wm. Yks. Not. Lin. e.An.) for death is from the Norwegian dialect form død; the standard English death is native, O.E. dēað. Drucken (Sc. Nhb. Cum. Wm. Yks. Lan.) for drunken is from the O.N. adjective and past participle drukkin, drunk. Garn (Nhb. Dur. Cum. Wm. Lan. Stf.) beside yarn is again the O.N. form beside the English. Gavel (Sc. Irel. Nhb. Dur. Cum. Yks.) for gable is from O.N. gafl, Norwegian dialect gavl. Ice-shackle, ice-shockle (Cum. Wm. Yks. Lan. Chs. Nhp.) for icicle represent O.N. jökull, Norw. dialect isjøkul, whilst our word is from the O.E. compound īs-gicel. The simple word remains in the dialect ickle (n. and midl. counties), e.g. It’s bin a snirpin’ fros’ sence it lef’ off rainin’, theer’s iccles at the aisins [eaves] a yard lung. Loup, lope (n.Cy. n.midl. and e.An.) for leap is from O.N. hlaupa, Norw. dialect laupa and lope, to run, cognate with O.E. hlēapan, whence our form leap. Similarly the Sc. and northern forms rin and ren, both common in M.E., are Norse words, whilst our run is of native extraction. Sniggle (Lei. Nhp.) for snail is from O.N. snigill, beside the native snail from O.E. snægl. Stam (Rut. Nhp. Wor. Glo. Oxf. Bdf. s.Cy. Sur. Sus. Hmp.) for stem, stalk, is from Danish stamme. Stang (Sc. Nhb. Cum. Yks. Lan. Lin.), to sting, is from O.N. stanga, to prick. Starn (Sc. n.Cy. Nhb.) beside star is from O.N. stjarna, beside O.E. steorra, whence our star. Teind (Sc. n.Cy. Cum. Yks.), a tithe, a tenth part, is from O.N. tīund. War (Sc. Irel. n. and n. midl. counties) for worse is from O.N. verr adv., verri adj., worse; our form is native English. Nearly all these words, and numbers more of the same type, can be traced in early literary works written in those districts where the Norse influence was strong; and on the other hand, if evidence is wanted for localizing such writings, it is supplied by the existence of these old forms in the spoken dialects of to-day.