A Book About Words

by G. F. Graham

Attraction.

Attraction is another principle which affects the forms of certain words. Sometimes a consonant is drawn away from the word to which it properly belongs, and becomes a part of its neighbour. The effect of this law is especially remarkable in the article ‘an.’ In certain cases the n (of an) does not really belong to the article, but is the initial letter of the noun following. This happens in the case of ‘an orange;’ the word ‘orange’ is, in Spanish, whence it is derived, ‘naranja,’ and we should therefore write ‘a norange’ rather than ‘an orange.’ But the article a has attracted to itself the initial n of the noun, and the result is—‘an orange.’ For the same reason ‘an adder’ should be written ‘a natter,’ or ‘a nadder.’ On the other hand, there are cases in which the n of the article is attracted into the following word. If the word ‘apron’ is from the French ‘naperon’ (from nappe, cloth), we should write ‘a napron,’ and not ‘an apron.’ Several of these cases may be pointed out. We say and write, ‘a neap tide,’ instead of ‘an ebb tide;’ ‘a newt,’ for ‘an ewt’ (or eft); and, on the other hand, ‘an auger,’ for ‘a nauger;’ ‘an awl,’ for ‘a nawl;’ and ‘an umpire’ for ‘a nompire.’ The same principle operates in certain French expressions. The province of Southern Italy formerly known as ‘Apulia,’ is in French written ‘La Pouille.’ Here the a initial of ‘Apulia’ is attracted into the article. The expression should be ‘L’Apouille,’ and not ‘La Pouille.’ In the same way, the French call ‘Anatolia’ (Asia Minor), ‘La Natolie;’ whereas it should be written ‘L’Anatolie.’ It is from the Greek ἀνατολή—the rising of the sun.

Accent.

The accent of an English word depends chiefly on its derivation. In words of Saxon origin, it is placed on the root. For example, ‘lóve’ is an accented monosyllable, and preserves its accent on the root, in all its derivations; as in ‘lóving,’ ‘lóveliness,’ ‘lóveable,’ &c. But in Romance words, the tendency is to put the accent on the branches, and not on the root. In French, the vocabulary is drawn mainly from Latin words without their inflections. The French words ‘natúre,’ ‘fatál,’ ‘aimáble,’ &c., have the accent on the second syllable, because they are formed from the Latin ‘natúra,’ ‘fatális,’ and ‘amábilis,’ without the endings. But in English all these and similar words are accented on the first syllable; and we pronounce them ‘náture,’ ‘fátal,’ ‘ámiable.’ In Chaucer’s poetry, many French words are accented on the second or third syllable, in accordance with the classical principle; thus, we there find ‘honóur,’ ‘natión,’ ‘companý,’ &c. All these, after Chaucer’s time, shifted the accent back to the first syllable, thus conforming themselves to the genius of the English language. There is, to this day, in English a conflict in the accent between the two principles, the Teutonic and the Romance; the former leaning to the root, and the latter to the branches of the word. But even in classical words, as regards accent, the Saxon genius clearly prevails. We accent the word ‘órdinary’ on the first syllable, which contains the pith of its meaning; whereas the French place the accent on the last—‘ordináire.’ It was probably the antagonism between these two principles—the Germanic tendency toward the beginning, and the Romance toward the end, of the word, which caused the accent in English to be so long unsettled. But the genius of the Saxon eventually triumphed over the French element, in accent as well as in grammatical forms, and the general rule in English pronunciation, is to put the accent on the root.

The spelling of certain English derivatives depends on the place of the accent in their roots. Now, when the last syllable of the root is accented, the final consonant must be doubled in the derivative. This accounts for the root ‘rób’ (with one b), making ‘robbed,’ and ‘robber,’ (with two b’s) admít (one t), making admitted (two t’s), &c.

But when the accent lies on any other syllable of the root, the final consonant must remain single in the derivative, as ‘límit,’ ‘límited;’ ‘díffer,’ ‘díffering;’ ‘bénefit,’ ‘bénefited;’ &c. This rule applies only to root-endings consisting of a single vowel followed by a single consonant; for if a diphthong precede, the consonant must remain single in the derivative. We must therefore write ‘joiner,’ ‘steaming,’ ‘toiling,’ ‘reader,’ &c., with single consonants.

But there are exceptions to this general rule. One especially regards roots ending in l. These always double the l in the derivative, whether the last syllable of the root be accented or not. The verb ‘to expél,’ will, by the above rule, naturally make its past tense, ‘expelled;’ but why should ‘trável’ give ‘traveller,’ or ‘équal,’ ‘equalled?’ These, though universally adopted, are clearly against the principle. Two other words are also exceptions, ‘worship,’ and ‘bias.’ These make ‘worshipped,’ and ‘biassed,’ with double consonants. The Americans refuse to admit these exceptions, and they write ‘traveler,’ ‘equaled,’ ‘worshiped,’ and ‘biased,’ with single consonants. It must be admitted that they are right in principle, but the general practice in English is in these cases decidedly in favour of the double consonant.

Inversion.

There appears in certain letters a peculiar tendency to get out of order—to slip into a wrong place—a restless desire for change. No letter of the alphabet is more subject to this affection than the liquid, r. Many French words ending in re, are found in English to end in er. The French ‘lettre’ is in English ‘letter.’ The final syllables of ‘Septembre,’ ‘Octobre,’ ‘Novembre’ and ‘Décembre,’ are inverted in English, and are written ‘September,’ &c. The Greek root ἑρπ (creep) gave in Latin ‘repĕre;’ whence we have ‘reptile,’ &c. ‘Brunt,’ is derived from ‘burn.’ The ‘brunt’ of a battle is where it ‘burns’ most fiercely. Again: a ‘purpose’ is what we ‘propose’ to do; and ‘to trundle’ a hoop is to ‘turn’ it repeatedly. The Saxon verb ‘urnan,’ is the source of the English ‘run.’ ‘Brimstone’ is an inversion of ‘burn-stone;’ and the verb to ‘ask,’ was in Anglo-Saxon, ‘axian.’ Chaucer has ‘drit’ for ‘dirt;’ ‘briddes,’ for ‘birds,’ &c.