The origin of a standard English

In an article on standardisation in Middle English, Michael Benskin discusses different aspects of the nature and spread of the standardisation of English in the Middle Ages. One claim is that the development of standard written English came about in the fifteenth century – in earlier years, a scribe’s homestead could be rather accurately determined by looking at their written language while in the sixteenth century local forms of writing were as good as gone.

   The dialectal grouping of Middle English dialects were largely based on the Old English ones – and thereby the realms and political boundaries of the Anglo-Saxons. A person’s way of speaking was also seldom associated with her written language, the variations of which were as a rule not recognised. A large-scale study of late medieval English dialects did not begin until the mid-20^th century, but resulted in A Linguistic Atlas of Late Mediaeval English in 1986. Benskin discusses sources – the importance of knowing the date and place of origin of a text and the possibility to compare texts without having to take deviations based on various literary themes into account. He points out that historical linguists have rarely looked much at administrative and legal writings and that the characteristics of “literary language” has been equalised to those of the language as a whole.

    Benskin moves on to the definition of a standard and says the claim whether a language form has become a standard can be defined in two ways: either by looking at the form’s internal consistency, or at to what extent the form has become “common property”. A more consistent language obviously has a higher likelihood of becoming a standard as more speakers will use the same forms. That Standard English was already fully developed when it started to spread outside London is a common assumption; it is necessary to look at the conditions of the time and how language moved. The leading view has also for a long time been that the standard did indeed originate in the capital, though whether it was in London or Westminster was disputed. Benskin brings up M.L. Samuels and his work on dialectology; Samuels’ research uncovered some new beliefs – first, that scribes actually translated between different English dialects when they copied texts and that these translations could prove valuable sources and tell us something about the dialect of the translator, and secondly a solely language-based method of determining the origin of a dialect.

   The discussion moves on to what is known as the “Chancery Standard” and what the Public Record Office can tell us about it now. Benskin cites B.M.H. Strang’s History of English, where it says that after 1430 the role of English as a written language changes and the Chancery Standard becomes the norm in which all official documents are written. Benskin calls this a “hopelessly mistaken” oversimplification. Samuels’ take is that English was only exceptionally used in administrative writing before 1430 and that it then due to an abrupt change almost entirely takes over from French and Latin writing. Benskin opposes this claim; the number of English documents admittedly increases, but the roles of English and Latin were not, as Samuels’ phrased it, “reversed”. Benskin calls “Chancery Standard” a misnomer; most of its documents were still written in Latin, and whatever English was written were often copies of other parties’ documentation. English started being used commonly by the government in 1417 already, when with Henry V’s second invasion of France the language of the royal missives changed to English.

   There is also the question of the standardisation process in the English provinces. Benskin refutes the idea that texts were written in a “solidly local dialect” before the arrival of a government standard. He emphasises that previous usage of non-local forms may have made people more accepting of a national standard, and brings in the term “colourless regional standard”. These variants were different from each other and not standard as such, but displaced more local options. Two examples of interference phenomena are brought up: one orthographical curiosity concerning the thorn and y and the effects of hypercorrection, and one morphological singularity – more specifically verb endings in different parts of England at the time. Finally, Benskin discusses that writers who were active in the provinces may not always have learnt the capital’s English from far away but might have educated quite many young men who later moved away and brought their writing and highly likely new southern speech with them.

   Benskin also points out that it has so far been assumed that a later medieval text will be assumed to be more standard and less dialectal than an earlier one, and that tendencies towards a weaker standard may be caused by a lack of enough sources. He returns to his earlier sentiment about how our idea of history is shaped only by existing sources – and that sometimes, surviving exceptions to a rule may give us the wrong ideas entirely.

When did English begin?

On the subject on the Norman Conquest, Angelika Lutz has written an interesting article on the transition from Old to Middle English. She argues that while Old French certainly made an impact on English lexically in the long run and the language as a whole is often strictly divided into Old and Middle English, its grammatical development had nothing to do with the invasion. Lutz emphasises that historical periods and linguistic periods rarely coincide – all aspects of English were not effectively “Normanised” right after the coronation of William I; a more Germanic English was in common use for centuries afterwards. 

   The English lexicon drastically changed after 1066 as a consequence of power shifting to foreigners. Examples from the Shorter Oxford English Dictionary and Advanced Learner’s Dictionary show that the number Germanic, French and Latin words is relatively even in Modern English, with other Romance languages, Celtic languages and Greek in the minority. Lutz believes that “ordinary borrowing” would not have affected a language so extensively; there is no doubt that the new rule and authorities eventually led to a push of Norman vocabulary into the “conquered” English. Many Old English terms pertaining to law and justice were successfully replaced, and those who survived (like áþ – oath, and þeóf – thief) may have done so because they existed as cognates in Old French. The Norman language acted as a superstratum for English and imposed many new words related to politics and warfare.

   Lutz goes on to compare vocabulary in William Tyndale’s and Martin Luther’s Bible translations, into English and German respectively. English and German in the 16^th century turn out to be very different – Luther used Germanic terms while Tyndale’s language has many loanwords and is quite obviously affected by a Romance lexicon. However, most terms seem to have French origin rather than Latin and entered English in the 13^th and 14^th century. Following the Conquest, England was a functional trilingual country for over two hundred years, until the 14^th century when the ruling classes switched to English but brought with them significant French vocabulary.

   However, the Old English grammar remained seemingly unaffected by lexical shift – Lutz suggests that the delay in Romance influence on English writing shows that for a long time England was governed by non-Englishmen. Anglo-Saxon is remembered in writing style and some vocabulary – an 1137 extract from the Peterborough Chronicle shows use of e.g. Germanic verbs that would have appeared as awkward to Tyndale and Chaucer as they do to a speaker of Modern English. The text can be considered Middle English based on lack of Old English inflection, but still Anglo-Saxon in that it preserves much Germanic vocabulary. The use of Germanic terms relating to law, rule and the military can also be found even later, in 1258 – a text relating to Henry III displays many “indigenous” English lexical items. Lutz considers these and other texts evidence that a more Germanic than Romance English was used for a long time after the Conquest.

   It seems therefore apparent that Henry Sweet’s division of the history of English into Old, Middle and Modern English does not relate to the development of its vocabulary. A lexicon timeline would rather separate the “Germanic” period from the “Romance” reign, with a ubiquitous transition around the 13^th-14^th century, and Lutz says that Modern English is rather a product of the High Middle Ages.

Whose lexicon is it, anyway?

An article by Rolf Berndt discusses the Norman Conquests’ linguistic effect on both the conquerors and the conquered. It's easy (and not uncommon) to blame Modern English entirely on the French (and I know I do from time to time, out of sheer spite), but such a claim does not hold up as part of any serious argument. Berndt's view is that there is no proof that French replaced or in any way succeeded English as the main language of England after 1066, or even in the following centuries. He arrives at the conclusion that there was never even a chance for this to happen, and that French speakers rather took up English, by necessity or for convenience, to successfully communicate with the massive indigenous population.

   You can start off by looking at the nonlinguistic effects of the Conquest to better understand the social situation in England. Berndt argues that the Conquest did not lead to mass immigration from France, and was nothing like the earlier conquests of the Anglo-Saxons and the Vikings. While many lords, clergymen and craftsmen of different kinds most likely came to settle in England after 1066, the Normans never outnumbered the English (certainly never constituting more than 10% of the population).

   The effects were maybe least noticeable among the peasants, where Norman settlers were most likely “absorbed” by English speech and custom within a few generations. There is also good cause to believe that many more urban areas remained English, while some were particularly favoured by the Normans and attracted more merchants and workers from the continent. The change was also apparent in the clergy; communities in English monasteries were soon joined by Norman and otherwise French monks, but Englishmen do not seem to have been excluded by the newcomers. Rather, in most monasteries, English and French co-existed peacefully.

   The Norman Conquest brought feudal lords, who were the largest group of the upper classes. These did not replace all Anglo-Saxon thanes – the lesser lords of England seem to have been “ethnically mixed”, making room for both Normans and English. This, however, does not seem to have held true for the aristocracy and higher clergy. Most greater English lords were killed or driven away from their lands, and the rulers seem to have been almost solely French. These individuals were comparatively few but very wealthy.

   But what about the linguistic aspect? After the Conquest, England was a bilingual realm (with Latin as an additional common language among scholars). Berndt refutes the claim that French was ever going to become a dominant language, or even that very many inhabitants of England became bilingual. The peasantry kept using Old English as their main language, and Norman immigrants would most likely eventually marry English people and leave little trace of continental origin in their descendants. In the cities, it also seems plausible that French artisans and merchants picked up English relatively quickly. Berndt concludes that almost all who lived in cities would speak English as their native tongue in the late 12^th century. No contemporary chronicler gives us reason to believe otherwise. The lower, secular clergy probably did not learn French, and may not even have been very proficient in Latin. In the monasteries, however, monks kept arriving from all over France and French was very likely preserved by many as a first language. There is proof that both English and French were spoken, and that neither was regarded inferior to the other, and it is also likely that many foreign clergymen would eventually learn the languages of the natives to be able to understand and preach to them. The upper clergy were probably predominantly French-speaking, but there are examples of individuals who were proficient in English, Latin and French.

   Originally, feudal lords seem to have spoken different languages. Without giving up their native language, they would soon embrace English speech and intermarry with the English. Even most English nobility seem eventually to have possessed knowledge of French; possibly, it was learnt as a mark of distinction.

   Finally, the rulers of the realm seem to have been almost entirely French-speaking. If they wished, they also seem to have been capable of moving exclusively in French-speaking circles. However, many of them must eventually have come into contact with non-speakers of French and it seems natural that they picked up some English after a long stay in England.

   Berndt concludes by reinforcing that there is no evidence French ever became a dominant language in England after 1066; immigrants of almost all social strata would eventually assimilate and acquaint themselves with English rather than trying to force French upon the population. In the end, the language of the conquered was the one that prevailed, and within a few centuries French was again a foreign language – though its lexicon was certainly leaving a mark on English.

Bilingualism in Viking Age England

I read an interesting article by Matthew Townend a while back, as part of a History of English module. Townend disputes that a bilingual society is necessarily made up of multilingual speakers, discusses the matter from a sociolinguistic viewpoint and explores the nature of the contact between the two languages. He argues that England’s bilingualism was largely based on monolingual Old English and Old Norse speakers all speaking their own language.

   Townend delves into Norse and English co-existing in the Danelaw. He brings up the lack of recognition of Old Norse in Old English texts, with a few exceptions including mention of Norse gods and a language called Denisc. He makes a point of there not being any evidence of the English using Norse habitually, but that Norse, according to Aethelweard, Aelfric and other evidence, was most certainly in use at Danish king Cnut’s court in England. He also emphasises that while both languages were frequently spoken, only Old English was written in the Roman alphabet, the Vikings favouring runes. The article does not mention the earlier Anglo-Saxon Futhorc and its relationship to the Futhark, which could have been useful to a reader with little knowledge of the historical background.

   Further discussion on division between the languages and their speakers leads to question of prestige – Townend suggests that if Norse were a status language in England during the Viking Age, there would be more non-needed Norse loans into English, whereas if English were more prestigious, Norse speakers would’ve taken it up to a greater extent. However, there is very little to support either of these patterns. Townend references J.D. Richards and D.M. Hadley when he suggests that Norse place-names seem to have entered the English onomasticon, and should not be regarded as evidence of abundant Norse presence in England. However, he refutes the idea that these Scandinavian loans as a rule spread to places with no Viking settlement; Norse place-names were most certainly only found in or near areas where Old Norse was actually spoken.

   A related point is “Scandinavianised” place-names, where English morphemes were replaced by Norse. Townend takes this as evidence for speakers of both languages living side by side; Vikings hear the Anglo-Saxon names and substitute the words with their Scandinavian counterparts. He quotes and disagrees with Gillian Fellows-Jensen, who believes that the Norse speakers did not always change the English names – Townend thinks it “apparent” that the invaders would adjust the names to fit their own speech. He goes on to say that surviving speakers of English are responsible for the preservation of original place-names. Scandinavians must also have coined new ones whenever the English cognates were too different.

   Townend finishes by quoting A. McIntosh concerning language contact – that the notion actually pertains to contact between speakers of languages. Languages are not separated from their peoples; the sociolinguistic dimension should not be ignored, and may indeed bring new perspective and new ways of looking at evidence to the study of historical linguistics.

On the nature of philology

It's been 3 busy months since my last post. A-level German is darn challenging when you have barely used the language for 18 months. Studying runes on top of that has been both fun and exhausting! As I am now allowed a moment's peace, I thought I might revisit the Aenglisc Blog and discuss something I recently read about in a linguistics group on Facebook: Philology. 

Someone in the group asked the others what philology really means - whether it is a branch of linguistics or a quite different science. Though having thought of myself as a semi-amateur philologist ever since starting to learn Old English, I haven't given the term much thought before; I've always assumed that philology is a mixture of, among other things, linguistics, history and literature. I don't have a very reliable encyclopedia available, but Wikipedia seems to agree: "Philology is the study of language in written historical sources; it is a combination of literary criticism, history, and linguistics."  

Philology is nowadays, perhaps, a slightly old-fashioned term - historical and comparative linguistics covers much of what it contains. "Philology" seems to translate as "love of words" (or possibly "reason") - well, that suits me. In this situation, I can't really help but to again refer to a man I extensively talked about in my last post; J.R.R. Tolkien is one of the most famous philologists of the 20th century. He studied "comparative philology" as an undergraduate, being particularly interested in Celtic and Germanic languages. A specialist in comparative philology would most likely have to be acquainted with several languages. My runology teacher said in class this term that "there are so many rumours flying around about Tolkien, I'm not sure which ones to believe". Well, neither do I; the number of languages that Tolkien knew seems to fluctuate depending on who you ask. We know that he was skilled in Old and Middle English, Old Norse (or Old Icelandic), Latin, Greek, German and Welsh, and that he most likely had a working knowledge in Finnish, Gothic, French (which several sources claim he did not like; might the Normans have had something to do with it?), Dutch and the Scandinavian tongues. Some sources claim he was also proficient in Spanish, Italian, Russian and Old Slavonic, among others. 

Am I envious? A little, maybe, but I've come to realise it's hard to measure up to such a devoted man. And let's not forget the languages he created himelf - though that would throw us off-track from the subject at hand. 

The Beowulf essay I discussed in my last post is, I think, a good example of a philological study. Tolkien was, as far as I know, the first one to study Beowulf from a literary perspective and not a historical one (or "an historical one", as he often put it himself - possibly since the h is not as aspirated without stress). He talks about the dragon and what it embodies to the listeners, and the words and symbols associated with dragons in Anglo-Saxon Britain. Tolkien, however, would never want to be classed as a literary critic; oh no, that would not do at all! C.S. Lewis was a critic; part of the "literary" circle at Oxford. Tolkien was in favour of "language", and vehemently opposed to students reading modern literature on their courses. And by "modern literature", Tolkien referred to anything newer than the works of Geoffrey Chaucer... 

Let's also mention philology in its "classical" sense - for "classical philology" is the study of Latin, Greek and Sanskrit, and has been studied since centuries before the birth of Christ. It is often quite simply described as the study of Greek and Roman literature. Again, I believe Tolkien studied what was known as Classics at Oxford before switching to Germanic and Norse studies. A good choice, if you ask me. Then again, I never had the fortune of being offered Greek or Latin at school. I have considered taking a beginner's Latin course while writing my Bachelor's essay - it certainly helps you understand the romance languages. One thing at a time! I need to fit Icelandic into this, somewhere...

The Monsters and the Linguist

Happy Valentine's Day - and may the odds be ever in your favour! 

... I probably messed that up.

To the matter at hand: I recently acquired a volume called "Beowulf: The Monsters and the Critics", including said lecture and other essays by professor Tolkien. As an (aspiring) fellow Anglo-Saxon enthusiast, I find his take on Beowulf very intriguing. Tolkien first gave this lecture in Oxford in 1936, just a year before The Hobbit was released. In his lecture, he opposes critics who claim that Beowulf should be used primarily as a source for Anglo-Saxon history and is not worth appreciation for its supernatural elements nor as a work of art. Tolkien says that "correct and sober taste may refuse to admit that there can be an interest for us - the proud we that includes all intelligent living people - in ogres and dragons; we then perceive its puzzlement in face of the odd fact that it has derived great pleasure from a poem that is actually about these unfashionable creatures." (Last emphasis is mine.) 

   I find it interesting that Tolkien, though himself a big admirer of dragons, admits that these creatures are indeed "unfashionable". I wasn't born until 57 years after this statement, but, for as long as I can remember, dragons have been very fashionable indeed. I think it's wrong to claim, as some do, that Tolkien did not "found modern Fantasy". He must certainly count as one of its greatest found fathers, as his impact on it has been so immense. With the release of The Hobbit in 1937, dragons and trolls were once again most fashionable. What I wonder is whether something happened in the time between the works of Carroll and Tolkien - what happened to the vorpal swords and Jabberwocks? Tolkien makes a reference to Carroll when speaking against critics (saying that "the jabberwocks of historical and antiquarian research burble in the tulgy wood of conjecture", and that "the range [of their eyes of flame] is short"), and in his essay On Faerie Stories, he states that for a story to be a genuine fairy-story it needs to be presented as "true". Being told within a "dream-frame", the Alice stories are, according to Tolkien, not genuine fairy-stories. 

Image source: http://www.google.se/url?sa=i&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=images&cd=&cad=rja&docid=ThHRYGe1G9riHM&tbnid=YbdaSZjcMIqSqM:&ved=0CAUQjRw&url=http%3A%2F%2Fhilobrow.com%2F2010%2F01%2F03%2Fhilo-hero-j-r-r-tolkien%2F&ei=PvD9UsaCPcaIzAPdhYGQDA&bvm=bv.61190604,d.bGE&psig=AFQjCNG89L1WioWhi7a2IuNUyFO4-7aZCw&ust=1392460150867072

So what was Tolkien trying to do? Bring fairies out of Carroll's dream-like settings and into our own world? Certainly not fairies as such, as he supposedly disliked both Shakespeare's and Spenser's take on the creatures and subsequent influence - his goal was to restore a dignified English mythology, and his elves have nothing in common with those in A Midsummer Night's Dream. He was not into allegory or romantic literature. He once said: "I much prefer history, true or feigned, with its varied applicability to the thought and experience of the readers". What he wanted was for supernatural elements to be respected, and it is not strange at all that he preferred Norse sagas and Arthurian legend to The Faerie Queen. I think one of the most important things he says in his Beowulf lecture is that "the significance of a myth is not easily to be pinned on paper by analytical reasoning". He once wrote to his friend CS Lewis that he (Tolkien) was not born a critic, and he certainly would not have attempted to "dissect" and analyse the monsters in Beowulf himself. It is not allegory that makes them important, but the power and fascination that they hold over us mortals. I know I have Tolkien to thank for making trolls and dragons part of my childhood. He definitely brought them back into fashion, and they have remained popular ever since. 

I need to stop now, because I could go on forever and make an English Literature Master's thesis out of this, and I have much to do today. There is a lot of interesting reasoning in just this first Beowulf text. If you are a Tolkien and/or Anglo-Saxon enthusiast, you can find "The Monsters and the Critics: and Other Essays" by Tolkien for a very reasonable price.