We have seen (p. [57]) that the letters l, n, r are particularly subject to dissimilation and metathesis. But we sometimes find them alternating without apparent reason. Thus banister is a modern form for the correct baluster.[44] This was not at first applied to the rail, but to the bulging colonnettes on which it rests. Fr. balustre comes, through Italian, from Greco-Lat. balaustium, a pomegranate flower, the shape of which resembles the supports of a balustrade. Cotgrave explains balustres as "ballisters; little, round and short pillars, ranked on the outside of cloisters, terraces, galleries, etc." Glamour is a doublet of grammar (see p. [145]), and flounce was formerly frounce, from Fr. froncer, now only used of "knitting" the brows—
"Till civil-suited morn appear,
Not trickt and frounc't as she was wont
With the Attic boy to hunt."
(Penseroso, l. 123.)
Fr. flibustier, whence our filibuster, was earlier fribustier, a corruption of Du. vrijbuiter, whence directly the Eng. freebooter.[45]
SHRINKAGE OF WORDS
All words tend in popular usage to undergo a certain amount of shrinkage. The reduction of Lat. digitale, from digitus, finger, to Fr. dé, thimble (little thumb) is a striking example. The strong tonic accent of English, which is usually on the first, or root, syllable, brings about a kind of telescoping which makes us very unintelligible to foreigners. This is seen in the pronunciation of names such as Cholmondeley and Marjoribanks. Bethlehem hospital, for lunatics, becomes bedlam; Mary Magdalene, taken as a type of tearful repentance, gives us maudlin, now generally used of the lachrymose stage of intoxication. Sacristan is contracted into sexton. Fr. paralysie becomes palsy, and hydropisie becomes dropsy. The fuller form of the word usually persists in the literary language, or is artificially introduced at a later period, so that we get such doublets as proctor and procurator.
In the case of French words which have a prefix, this prefix is very frequently dropped in English, e.g., raiment for arrayment; while suffixes, or final syllables, often disappear, e.g., treasure trove, for Old Fr. trové (trouvé), or become assimilated to some familiar English ending, e.g., parish, Fr. paroisse, skirmish, Fr. escarmouche; cartridge, Fr. cartouche, partridge, Fr. perdrix. A good example of such shrinkage is the word vamp, part of a shoe, Old Fr. avant-pie (pied), which became Mid. Eng. vampey, and then lost its final syllable. We may compare vambrace, armour for the forearm, Fr. avant-bras, vanguard, Fr. avant-garde, often reduced to van—
"Go, charge Agrippa
Plant those that have revolted in the van;
That Antony may seem to spend his fury
Upon himself."
(Antony and Cleopatra, iv. 6.)
and the obsolete vaunt-courier, forerunner—