Chapter X · ON ISOLATION AND THE REACTION AGAINST IT.

The process of forming our modal and material groupings of ideas, and of the terms which we use to express those ideas, is essentially a subjective one, and is, as such, productive of results which would seem at first sight to be incapable of scientific generalisation. Within the limits, however, of any given linguistic community, the elements of which such groups can be formed are identical, and—with all possible divergence of width and depth of intellectual development in the members of that community—there is a certain uniformity in the manner in which each individual member employs that part of the common stock of ideas and terms of which he is master. Hence it inevitably follows that the groups which are formed will, IF THE AVERAGE be taken, prove about equal, and we are thus justified in abstracting from the individual, and in generalising concerning such grouping at any given period, in exactly the same manner as we do in speaking of the language of a community or of the pronunciation of a given word by a community. In this process, we may for our purpose neglect individual peculiarities or deviations from that abstract and always somewhat arbitrary norm.

And just as the language of any two periods of time shows that differences arise which permeate the whole, so, if we compare the groupings of which we can prove the existence in former times by the influence they exerted on the preservation or destruction of different forms in the language with those we can observe at present in our own linguistic consciousness, or with those which were prevalent at any other period of time, we notice (1) that what formerly was naturally connected by every member of the linguistic community is no longer felt to belong together, and (2) that what once formed part of different and disconnected groups has been joined together.

It is the former of these two events which we have to discuss in this chapter:87 its chief causes are change in sound and change in, or development of, signification. The effects of the latter in isolating more or less completely some word or some particular use or combination of any word from the group with which, owing to parallelism in meaning, it was once connected, we have already illustrated in Chapter IV. Sound-change has or may have similar effects, and even the influence of analogy, which, as we have seen in Chapter V., is mainly effectual in restoring or maintaining the union between the members of a group, sometimes contributes to the opposite effect when any one particular member happens, from whatever cause it may be, to be excluded from its operation.

Thus, for instance, our present word day is found in Anglo-Saxon as— Nom. and Acc. Sing. dæg Plur. dagas Gen. ” dæges ” daga Dat. ” dæge ” dagum, where æ was pronounced as the a in man, hat, etc., and a as a in father: æ is therefore a ‘front-vowel,’ like the a in fate, ee in feet, etc., while a of dagas was a ‘back-vowel,’ as are o or u.

The phonetic development of final or medial g differs according to the vowel which preceded it. If this was a front-vowel the g became y (vowel),88 if it was a back-vowel the g became w. Thus, e.g., A.S. hnægan, E. neigh; A.S. wegan, E. weigh; A.S. hálig, E. holy: but A.S. búgan, E. (to) bow; A.S. boga, E. bow; A.S. ágan, E. to own. Accordingly dæg, etc., in the singular became day, whilst in the plural we find in M.E. dawes, etc. As soon, however, as analogy had established the ‘regular’ s plural to the sing. day, plur. days, the verb (to) dawn, A.S., dagian was thereby isolated completely, and no speaker who is not more or less a student of the history of English, connects the verb with the noun.

Another instance maybe found in the word forlorn.

To understand the history of this word we must know what is meant by Verner’s law.

Among the first illustrations of the regular correspondence of the several consonants in Latin and in the Teutonic languages are such pairs as mater, mother; pater, father; frater, brother; tres, three; tu, thou: in all of which a th is found in English where the Latin shows a t. This and other similar regular interchanges were generalised by Grimm and formulated by him as a law, part of which stated that if the same word was found in Latin, Greek, and Sanscrit, as well as in Teutonic, a k, t, p, in the first three languages appeared as h, th, f in Low German, of which family English is a representative.

All our sets of examples seem to illustrate and confirm this law. If, however, we trace the English words back to older forms, we see that this absolute regularity is disturbed. In Middle-English almost invariably, and in Anglo-Saxon invariably, we find fader, moder, brother, A.S. fæder, módor, bróðor, in perfect agreement with O.S. fadar, môdar, brothar, and Goth. fadar, brothar (cf. Mod. Ger. vater, mutter, but bruder). It was Karl Verner who explained this irregularity, and proved that it was connected with the place of the accent in the Teutonic languages, not as we find it now, but as it can be proved to have existed in those languages, where it corresponded generally with the Greek accents, or more closely still with the accent in Vedic Sanscrit. There we find that in the corresponding forms pitar, mâtar, and bhratar, the accent or stress lay on the FIRST syllable in bhratar, but on the LAST in pitar and mâtar. Verner proved by numerous examples that only where an ACCENTED vowel preceded the p, t, k, Teutonic showed the corresponding f, th, h; but that, on the other hand, where the preceding vowel was UNACCENTED, instead of f we found b, and d instead of th, g instead of h. And also, instead of s, which was elsewhere found both in Latin or Sanscrit as well as in Teutonic, z was found, which z further changed into r in Anglo-Saxon.

Thus—to give one more instance—the suffix ian, used to form causatives in Teutonic, once bore the accent, which afterwards was placed on the root-syllable. Accordingly, the causative of the verb rís-an (to rise) was once rás-ian,89 which, with z, and, later on, r, instead of s, changed into rǽr-an, Mod. Eng to rear.

The so-called Grammatical change in Anglo-Saxon (and other Teutonic languages) now becomes clear: The verb in past sing. plur. p. part. céosan (to choose) has caés curon coren sniðan (to cut; Scotch, sned) snáð snidon sniden téon (to drag) has téah tugon togen and all this series of regular sound-change depends upon the fact that in the past plural and in the past participle the accent fell ORIGINALLY on the termination. Similarly, (for) léosan,—léas,—luron,—loren, from which last form we have our word forlorn, meaning, therefore, ‘completely lost.’ Already, however, in Anglo-Saxon, in very many verbs all traces of this grammatical change have disappeared, and the history of the strong conjugation in Middle-English shows the gradual supersession of the consonants in the past plural and past participle by those found in the present and past singular. Hence those forms in which these older consonants remained were more and more isolated from the groups with which they are etymologically connected; and as little as in popular consciousness to rear is grouped with to rise, so little is the adjective forlorn thought of as a member of the group to lose, lost, etc.

We have had already more than one occasion to point out that not only words, but also syntactical combinations and phrases can and do form matter groups. Nay, even the various meanings of a syntactical relation are thus combined.

Such a relation, for instance, is that expressed by the genitive. Though we employ—and formerly employed more generally than now—this case with various meanings, all these meanings are more or less (rather less) consciously felt as one, or at least are closely related—and they continue to be so felt, i.e. the grouping remains a close one—as long as these various usages remain general and what we may call living. When, however, any one of these usages becomes obsolete, and the relation indicated finds another form of expression in some other syntactical arrangement, some few examples of the older mode of expression, strengthened as they are by, e.g., very frequent employment, remain, but cease to be felt as instances of that relation.

Thus, though the meaning of the genitives in This is my father’s house, and in God’s goodness is essentially different—the one expressing an ownership of one person with regard to a material external object, the other the relation between a being and an immaterial inherent quality,—both are felt as one kind of relation; nay, the superficial thinker has some difficulty in fully realising that they express really TWO meanings. More easily felt is the difference between the Latin and French ‘genitivus subjectivus’ and ‘genitivus objectivus:’ amor patriæ, l’amour de la patrie (the love for our fatherland, ob. gen.), and amor matris, l’amour de la mère (the love which our mother feels for us, sub. gen.). Yet, once more, even this difference is not always realised by every one who uses both constructions. Another use of the genitive once was to form adverbs. As long as any genitive could be thus employed, we may be sure that the ordinary speaker will have grouped, when thus using it, not only the particular form with other cases of the same noun, etc., but also the genitives, as such, with other genitives. When, however, other modes of forming the adverbs prevailed, the old genitival adverbs which remained were no longer felt as genitives, and became isolated and no longer productive as examples for other formations. A remnant of this genitive survives in needs, and perhaps in Shakespeare’s Come a little nearer this ways (Merry Wives, II. ii.; ed. Collier);90 in straightways, and certainly in M.E. his thankes, here unthankes (libenter, ingratis), or A.S. heora ágnes ðances (eorum voluntate). It further survives in adverbs derived from adjectives: else (from an adj. pron. el) unawares, inwards, upwards, etc.

Similarly the preposition of, which early began to serve as a substitute for the genitive, has been employed in some adverbial and other expressions. This usage, however, if it ever was really “alive,” is now completely dead. We find I must of force (Shakespeare, 1 Henry IV., II. ii.) and my custom always of the afternoon (Hamlet, I. v.); and still can say of an evening; all of a sudden; but not, e.g., of a moment. Nor should we now imitate Shakespeare’s not be seen to wink of all the day (Love’s Labour’s Lost, I. i. 43); Did you not of late days hear (Henry VIII., II. i. 147), though we still have of late, of old.

Many other prepositions offer in their constructions illustrations of isolation. Thus, e.g., the combination of any preposition with a noun without an article was exceedingly common in the older language, and we still possess a numerous collection of such combinations in almost daily use. Thus we find indeed, in fact, in truth, in reality, in jest, etc., a construction which perhaps may yet be considered a living one when the noun is an abstraction. Adverbs of place, however, such as in bed, in church, are no longer formed at will: no one would say in house, in room.

So, again, we have at home, at sea, at hand, but not at house,91 at water, at foot. We can throw something overboard, but not over wall or over river. We can stand on shore, on land, on foot, on board, but do not speak of standing on bank, on ship. We can sit at table, not at sideboard. One may come to grief, to ruin, but cannot omit his or her in come to ... death. We can say by night, by day, by this day week, but not by spring, by winter. Lastly: we travel by land, by sea, by water, by rail; we send a packet by parcel delivery; we communicate by letter, or by word of mouth, but should not ask for information by saying, Let me know by line (instead of by a line), will you?

In the isolation of the genitives, which we discussed above, and in all similar syntactical isolations, it would perhaps be correct to distinguish two phases of development, or—as they are not necessarily chronologically separated—two sides of the same process. For while in course of time, as we have seen, one of the SYNTACTICAL MEANINGS OF THE GENITIVE CASE became isolated from the other relationships expressed by that same case, we must, on the other hand, also remember that this involved an isolation of certain formal or modal groups (in this case, of —s forms) from their historical nominatives, which in most cases in its turn caused, or was accompanied by, a more or less clearly marked separation in development of meanings. When the genitive case was no longer generally employed to form adverbs from nouns and adjectives, words like needs, straightways, else, upwards, were no longer felt as genitives, and we now feel that the adverb needs is not in our consciousness grouped with the noun need, in the same way as, for instance, the nom. plur. needs with the sing. need; nay, if we carefully examine the meaning of the adverb, we find that its material meaning no longer completely coincides with that of the noun.

The various meanings of the NOUN need are urgent want, poverty, position of difficulty, distress, necessity, compulsion; the ADVERB answers only to the last two: He must needs go could not be used for He must go on account of urgent want, or as a consequence of poverty or distress, but only for He must go of necessity, indispensably, inevitably.

Such formal isolation, then, is almost always at the same time a material one. Thus, we may say that the noun tilth is not so intimately connected with the group I till, tilling, well tilled, etc., as, e.g., writing is connected with to write, etc.; and this because the suffix -ing is a living and productive one, i.e. one which still forms verbal nouns at our will, whenever the need arises, and from whatever verb; whilst the suffix th is no longer so used, being at the present day comparatively rare in English (health, wealth, strength, length, breath, width), and, indeed, more often occurring as an adjectival than as a verbal suffix.

The closest groups are naturally always those consisting of the different inflected forms of the same noun or verb, and the ties connecting the members of such a group are undoubtedly stronger than those between words of different functions, etymologically connected, but whose mode of formation or derivation is not so vividly realised by the ordinary speaker. This is so true, that the same form, when used as present participle, must be said to be more closely connected with the other parts of the verb than when used as an adjective; and this can be proved by the fact that often such an adjective has undergone changes in meaning in which the verb and even the present participle, as such, has not participated. Thus, e.g., the present part. living, in ‘he is living,’ whether we mean this for ‘he is alive’ or ‘he is dwelling in ...’ has the same usage as the verb he lives, and no more. This is, however, no longer true of the ADJECTIVE living, in a phrase like ‘I give you living water.’ To realise this we need but replace the adjective by a relative clause, ‘which lives,’ when we at once feel that we extend the use of the verb in an unusual way. Thus, again, the NOUN writing, in ‘These are the writings of ...’ for ‘These are his (perhaps printed) works,’ has an application which we could not give to the verb to write.

This illustrates the fact that a development in meaning of a derivative is not necessarily shared by or transferred to the primary word, whilst any extension of usage of such parent-word is likely to spread to its derivatives. The same is of course true of simple and compound words. Hence the process of isolation of derivative from primary, or compound from simple, generally originates in change of meaning in the former of each of these groups. Thus, the noun undertaker is isolated from the verb to undertake in consequence of a restriction of its meaning to the person who makes it his profession to undertake the management, etc., of funerals. So, again, though the noun keeper = guardian, watchman, protector, is applied to a certain gold ring, we could hardly say that such a ring keeps the others. A beggar, originally ‘one who begs,’ is now one who ‘habitually begs and obtains his living by doing so,’ while, if ever we do apply the term in the wider and older sense, we often indicate—in writing at least—the closer connection with the verb to beg by using the termination er, the characteristic termination of the nomen agentis begger. There is, in German, a very interesting word which illustrates this fact to an extent which it would be difficult to parallel completely in English. By the side of the verb reiten, ‘to ride,’ a noun ritter exists, of which the original meaning was merely a rider. Like our word ‘beggar,’ this ritter was specialised in meaning, and applied to one who rides habitually and as a profession, i.e. a warrior who fights on horseback. When these warriors began to form a privileged body (an order to which many were admitted who never, at least professionally, rode) the noun attained a meaning to which no verb could correspond.

Again, some adverbs, especially such as emphasise our expressions, have developed in meaning often much further than the primary adjective has followed them. Thus very, as adverb a mere emphatic word, has, as adjective, retained much more fully its original meaning of true: cf. this is very true, very false, with, a very giant. It is the same with the adverb awfully, now indeed common, but noted by Charles Lamb as a Scotticism, and with the adjective sore, and the adverb sorely.

It is, however, not always the derivative which, in its isolation, assumes the modified signification. The primitive may change, and the derivative remain stationary. Thus the English shop, as a place for retail trade, has been displaced in America by store, while shop comes to have the value of work-shop, machine-shop, etc. Yet the derivative shopping, a much-used word in America, retains a reminiscence of the older value of shop.

To return for a moment to the example which we gave from German: the verb reiten (pronounced with a vowel sound closely resembling that of i in to ride) and the noun ritter (i nearly like i in rid, or, more correctly, like ee of need, but shortened), show a gradation of vowel-sound, of the same nature and origin as that in such pairs as write, wrote; sing, sang; give, gave. This change in vowel-sound without doubt co-operated in effecting the isolation, and so facilitated the change in meaning in the one form; a change in which the other did not participate. Thus, speaking generally, phonetic development, by creating numerous meaningless distinctions, loosens the modal and material groups, and serves to forward isolation of meaning. Thus, again, the special meaning which we now attach to the verb to rear would have been more likely to transfer itself to the primary verb to rise, or—vice versâ—the meaning of the primary to rise would have almost certainly prevented the special development of to rear, if the etymological connection had not been obscured by the phonetic development which we formulate as Verner’s law, i.e. if the grouping had not been loosened.

It is, moreover, clear that if, from whatever cause, an interchange of certain sounds becomes less frequent in a language, those words which do preserve that interchange become ipso facto more strongly separated. Thus, e.g., the umlaut, i.e. the change of u (sounded as oo) to ü (sounded as u in French, the Devonshire u; more like English ee than like English u), or of a (a as in father) to ä (sound much like a in fate, but without the ee sound which in English follows it), etc., is in German so common that in no case is its presence or absence alone sufficient to effect the isolation of any form from its related group. In English, this interchange has almost completely disappeared, and the few traces of it which we preserve in the plural formation (foot, feet; tooth, teeth; mouse, mice; man, men, etc.) are only preserved as so-called ‘irregularities,’ and no longer form a model or pattern for other formations. Hence in English, where, besides umlaut, we have difference in function (e.g. adjective and noun), the isolation has often been complete. Thus, no ordinary speaker groups the adjective foul with the noun filth; and the connection, though still felt, between long and length, broad and breadth, is undoubtedly less clearly felt than between, e.g., long and longer, or broad and to broaden, high and height: similarly, the difference in vowel between weal and wealth, (to) heal and health, has facilitated isolation of these forms.

If phonetic development were the only agent in the history of language, we see that, shortly, an infinite variety of forms, absolutely unconnected, or at best but loosely connected, would be the result. But here, as always, we have action and counteraction.92 This counteracting influence is chiefly exerted by analogy, as we explained in Chapter V. It is, however, not always analogy which brings about the readjustment or unification.

We have already had occasion to point out that our word-division, though undoubtedly based on real and sufficient grounds, is not consistently or even commonly observed in SPEAKING. Our thoughts are, indeed, expressed not in words but in word-groups; and letters, even though they stand at the end or at the beginning of words, have often had a special phonetic development, in cases where these words occurred in very frequent or in very intimate connection with other words. The differences so created have very commonly, though not by any means universally, found expression in writing. As an instance of a differentiation of which the written language takes no cognisance, we may take the French indefinite article. Few are unaware that when un stands before a consonant the n is not pronounced, leaving in the spoken word only a trace of its existence in the fact that the vowel is nasalised. When un comes before a vowel, on the other hand, the vowel is much less strongly, if at all, nasalised, and the n is clearly pronounced. Thus (using the circumflex to indicate the nasal quality of the vowel and ö for the sound of u in un), un père = ö̂ père, but un ami = ön ami or ö̂n ami. The corresponding difference which exists in English is expressed in writing: a father, an aunt.

Just as the article is closely connected with the noun, so preposition and noun, or preposition and verb, are very intimately connected in pronunciation. Hence—though many, who have never carefully observed either their own pronunciation or that of others, may dispute or deny the assertion—in ORDINARY conversation, in the phrases, in town, in doors, we employ the n sound; but when the word in stands before Paris and Berlin, we use an m sound, just as we say impossible by the side of interest. Similarly, we pronounce generally ‘in coming’ with ng for n, just as we speak of a man’s ingcome. This differentiation of the pronunciation of the preposition in into three forms—in, im, ing—is not, however, consistently expressed by us in writing. The Greeks, on the other hand, who similarly differentiated the terminal consonants of the prepositions in their spoken language, but on a much larger scale (accustomed as they were to a far closer correspondence between their spoken and their written language than the Englishman observes), did actually, in many cases, write as they spoke: κάδ δὲ,—κὰκ κεφαλὴν, κὰγ γόνυ—κὰπ πεδιόν, etc., instead of employing the normal form of the preposition, κατά. So we find in inscriptions τὴμ πόλιν, τὴγ γυναῖκα, τὸλ λογόν, ἐμ πόλει, etc.

The first step on the road towards unification is frequently that the external reason which caused the difference in form, disappears or loses force, and one form is found in connections where, historically or phonetically speaking, the other is correct. We may instance this by the common mistake of children when they say, e.g., a apple instead of an apple. In this case, however, the correct form is so very frequently heard that the encroachment of a on the domains of an is not likely to lead to permanent confusion. Where, however, circumstances are less favourable to the preservation of the historically correct usage, it happens that either form encroaches on the domain of the other, or else it may result that the encroachment is reciprocal,—when, after a period of confusion in which both forms are used indifferently, one becomes obsolete and falls into oblivion, not without often leaving some striking form or phrase to testify to what once existed. Thus, for instance, our word here, Old High German hier, or hêr, was, in the period of transition from Old to Middle High German, differentiated in accordance with a phonetic law of that time, viz. that final r was dropped after a long vowel. If not final however, r remained untouched, and this whether it stood in the body of a word or within a group of intimately connected words. Of the two forms hie and hier, the former, as the form employed when the word was used independently, was in Middle High German often set before words beginning with a vowel; and we find hie inne (= here-in) or even, by contraction, hinne, for hier-inne. On the other hand, it is probably owing to the frequency of combinations similar and equivalent to our here-in, here-upon, etc., that the form hier encroached successfully upon the domain of hie, and finally supplanted it. Hie, however, remained, singularly enough, in the one expression hie und da (here and there), where the form without r is not and has never been, phonetically speaking, correct. An excellent example of this differentiation is furnished by one, an.

The best example of the process is furnished by the history of the working of Verner’s law, and of the gradual disappearance of its effects. We have before (pp. 172, 173) explained this law and quoted instances of forms created in agreement with it, which have now been replaced by others. To repeat this explanation here with other examples would be superfluous; to give a full history, even confining ourselves to an enumeration of all the various ways in which it has been operative and the areas of its influence, would transcend the scope of this work. To carefully note all instances of its occurrence and its neglect, and to closely investigate the possible courses of the latter, is a task which may most usefully challenge the attention of philologists. We will illustrate the truth of this by a single example: (though even this we cannot discuss exhaustively). The forms which we employ at present as the past tense of the verb to be—sing. was and plur. (with grammatical change according to the law) were, belong to a root which in old English and Anglo-Saxon furnished a complete verb: pres. wese, past. wæs, p. part. wesen. Now we should naturally expect that in a time when the grammatical change was still preserved in freóse, fréas, fruron, froren, (to freeze) etc. ceóse, céas, curon, coren, (to choose) seóðe, seáð, sudon, soden, (to seethe, to boil) we should also find that change here, and that accordingly the past participle should be *weren. That such a form once existed is proved by the past participle forweorone (cf. Sievers, Anglo-Saxon Grammar, § 391). Everywhere, however, in Anglo-Saxon, in the past participle of this verb and in that of all similarly conjugated, such as lesan, læs, lesen; genesan, genæs, genesen, etc., the s has once more been fully established. The fact that these past participles had already so far proceeded on the road to unification, while the others as yet remained isolated, may be explained in this way,—the latter, IN ADDITION to the differentiation in accordance with Verner’s law, showed a difference of vowel-sound, which in the case of others did not exist. Hence the forms differentiated in two distinct ways were able to resist the tendency towards unification long after those which differed only in one respect had succumbed. In fact, of the former we still have such remnants as forlorn, from to lose; sodden, from to seethe. We may formulate the result which we have illustrated, thus: The greater the phonetic distance of two differentiated forms, the greater is the power of resistance against unification and equalisation.

But the ORDER in which we see the traces of the working of Verner’s law disappear one after another, and the study of such few remnants as still exist, brings out two other general truths concerning unification. We may without hesitation affirm that, close as is the etymological connection between the various tenses of the same verb, or, to speak perhaps more correctly, that clearly as that connection is felt by the speech-making community, it is still more strongly felt as between the various forms of the same tense, or the various cases of the same noun. Now, it is against the differentiation between the members of these most intimate groups that unification first takes place. In the declension of the noun, where nothing but the operation of Verner’s law had separated the various cases, the re-assimilation first took place, and though we can prove that, in this case also, the differences actually once existed—in the historic periods of the Teutonic dialects almost all traces thereof have been obliterated. In the past tenses of the verbs they are still at first found, supported as the differentiation had been by that other force—the gradation of vowels (the ‘ablaut’).93 But again: unification between the singular and plural of the past tense took place first in cases where the vowels were alike in both, and next in those where the vowels differed—and again, this occurred before the unification of the past participle with the whole group. In agreement with this same rule, that very difference of vowel-sound has completely disappeared in all past singulars and plurals, even where—as, e.g., in German generally—the past participle still preserves the ‘ablaut.’

We can then lay it down as a second rule, that the closer the etymological connection is between differentiated forms, the sooner will unification be effected; whilst a consideration of such rare instances as the preservation of the interchange of s and r in I was, we were, which is clearly due to the very exceptional frequency with which these forms must always have been used, and the consequent firmness with which they are impressed on every speaker’s memory, exhibits a third law, viz. that the greater the intensity with which differentiated forms are impressed upon the minds of the community, the greater will prove their power of resistance against unification.

It is further evident that in cases where the differentiation of form had been accompanied by one in meaning, the tendency towards unification was counteracted, or rather can never have existed. Thus, the pair of words glass (etymologically = the shining substance) and glare (to shine) is separated once and for ever. We have seen the plur. dawes re-united to sing. day; the verb to dawn has not followed suit.

Though thus much is clear, and when once apprehended, almost self-evident, we must acknowledge that much is as yet obscure and unexplained. It is often already very difficult to find any reason why in one case unification has taken place and not in another, which apparently presented the same conditions: it is generally harder still to find an answer to the question why in any given case one form has prevailed over another, instead of the converse having happened. Omniscience alone could answer all such questions: but here, again, a few general observations may serve to explain some points, though, as we have said, much as yet remains inexplicable. Thus, for example, when unification replaces the confusion which followed differentiation, members of the same formal or modal group (that is to say, for instance, the same parts of speech) are likely to follow in the same direction. Thus, e.g., in the original Teutonic, when the suffix no was preceded by a vowel, that vowel varied in the different (strong and weak) cases of the declensions of nouns, adjectives, and participles, according to fixed rules, between u and e. This u developed into o or a, and e into i. Soon unification took place, in some cases in one, in others in another direction, so that we find, for instance, in Gothic a form like ðiudAns (king) by the side of maurgIns (morning), whilst now, the past participles (formed with this same suffix) all have ans throughout; such participles as became pure adjectives or nouns have often ins, e.g. gafulgins (adj. ‘secret’), past participle, of filhan, ‘to hide,’ with fulhans as past participle, = hidden; aigin (neuter, hence without s in nom.) = property, is past participle of aigan, ‘to have.’

Sometimes—as, for instance, in the singular and plural of past tense in strong verbs—a differentiation coincides with difference in function, though its origin was independent of any such functional divergence. This, of course, strengthens the phonetic differentiation, and, if such a coincidence affects simultaneously a formal group of large extent, and thus becomes a model for analogical formations (Chap. V.), the originally meaningless phonetic divergence may become indissolubly associated with difference of function, and so become expressive of the latter.

Thus, for instance, the words tooth, foot, and man form their plural teeth, feet, and men by umlaut, and by umlaut alone. This modification of the vowel is, then, here expressive of plurality. Originally, however, it was not so. In Anglo-Saxon the declension was— Singular Nom. and Acc. fót tóð mann Gen. fótes tóðes mannes Dat. fét téð menn Plur. Nom. and Acc. fét teð menn fóta tóða manna fótum tóðum mannum When once the combined force of nominative, accusative, and genitive had ousted the modified vowel from the dative singular, the whole singular exhibited ó (a) in contrast to the nominative and accusative plural with é (e). This caused the transference of the latter to the genitive and dative plural also, and thus invested the modification with a force originally quite foreign to it.

In English, no doubt owing to the mixed influence upon that language of two very different grammatical systems (the Teutonic of Anglo-Saxon, and the Romance of Norman-French), unification has proceeded to a far greater length than in most other Teutonic dialects. In German, e.g., the history of the umlaut and the origin of plurals in er—of which English has no trace but the provincialism childer, or the “correct” form children—furnish examples of what we have said; and students of German will find a careful investigation of that history both interesting and instructive.