Читать книгу Introduction to the study of the history of language - Benjamin Ide Wheeler - Страница 8

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Sound-change is brought about by the repeated substitution of a sound or sounds almost imperceptibly differing from the original. The A.S. hláfmesse is now represented by the English Lammas: though the mm sound is clearly easier to pronounce than the combination represented by fm, generations passed away before the word as we have it in English became the recognised form. In the case of sound-change, we must notice that the rise of the new sound is simultaneous with the disappearance of the old one. In the case of change of signification, it is possible for the old meaning to be maintained by the side of the new one; as when we speak of ‘the House,’ meaning the House of Parliament, we do not exclude the original and proper meaning of the word, but we merely narrow and define its signification. Indeed, change in signification consists invariably in a widening or narrowing of the extent of the signification, corresponding to which we find an impoverishment or an enrichment of the contents. As we saw that the employment of ‘House’ to denote the House of Parliament implied a narrowing or specialising of the extent of the signification of the ordinary meaning of house, so we may take a word like moon, properly and originally applied only to the earth’s satellite, and apply it to a whole class, which we regard in some way as resembling it, as when we speak of Jupiter’s moons. In this case we widen the application of the word by narrowing its contents, but even when thus widened the meaning still includes its original denotation. Frequently such a widened application becomes once more narrowed, by the widening of the contents: an instance of this double process we have, e.g., in the word crane.6 Originally only meaning the bird of that name, it was, by a metaphor, applied to a class of objects similar in some respects to the bird. A process of narrowing this application led to the use of the word as a specific name for a certain machine. The word, in this sense, no longer includes its original meaning, and is transferred. It is only by such a succession of widening and narrowing that a word can assume a signification absolutely different from its original meaning. This transference may be more or less occasional, or become usual. Thus in the case of green for unripe (cf. blackberries are red when they are green) the meaning is in a certain sense an ‘occasional’ one, the real and original meaning being still clearly felt. This original meaning is, however, quite lost sight of when we use grain in to dye in the grain, for ‘to dye of a fast colour’ by means of cochineal, etc., grain here being the name given to fibre of wood, etc.7

Change in signification, however, has this in common with sound-change, that it is effected by individual usage which departs from the common usage; and that this departure passes only gradually into common usage. Change in signification is a law of language; it is a necessity: and change is rendered possible by the fact that the signification attaching to a word each time it is employed need not be identical with that which usage attaches to it. As we shall have to consider this discrepancy, we shall employ the expressions ‘usual’ and ‘occasional’ signification: and by the ‘usual’ we shall understand the ordinary or general signification; by the ‘occasional’ we shall understand that which the individual attaches to it at the particular moment when he uses the word. The ‘usual’ signification means, as we employ it, the entire contents of any word as it presents itself to a member of any linguistic community: the ‘occasional’ signification means the contents of the conception which the speaker, as he utters the word, connects therewith, and expects the listener to connect with it likewise. The word shade, used by itself and without any interpretation from the context or the situation, would suggest to a hearer its USUAL signification of ‘interruption of light;’ but the individual who employs the word may have in mind, as he may easily disclose, the shade of a tree or a lamp-shade.

The ‘occasional’ signification is commonly richer than the ‘usual’ one in content and narrower in extent. For instance, the word in its occasional sense may denote something concrete: while, in its usual sense, it denotes something abstract only; i.e. some general conception under which different concrete conceptions may be ranged. By a ‘concrete’ conception is here meant something presupposed as actually existing, subject to definite limits of time and space; by an ‘abstract’ one is here meant a general conception, the contents of a mere idea and nothing more, freed from all trammels of time and place. The House of Commons is concrete: a house is abstract. This division has nothing to do with the ordinary division of substantives into abstract and concrete. The substantives which in ordinary grammar we call ‘concrete’ often denote a conception as general as the so-called abstract nouns; as in England’s battles: and, conversely, the latter are occasionally used as what we here call ‘concretes’ when they are used to express a single quality or activity defined by limits of space and time; as, The days of thy youth. In the phrase ‘My horse has run well to-day,’ horse is concrete in the sense which we attach to the term: but in the phrase ‘A horse has four legs,’ it is what we call ‘abstract;’ because the statement does not refer to any one definite concrete horse, but to horses generally, and the predicate therefore is associated with the abstract idea of horse.

The greater number of words can be employed in occasional use in either abstract or concrete significations. There are some words, indeed, essentially concrete, such as thou, thine, he, there, to-day, yesterday;—which, however, need individual application to render them immediately and definitely concrete. Words like I, here, there, serve to define some one’s position in the concrete world; but it requires the aid of other words, or of the circumstances in which they are uttered, to render them thus definite. Even our demonstrative pronouns, and the word the, may be employed to denote abstract conceptions; as, The whale is a mammal; it has warm blood. Pity the widow and the orphan. Even proper names, which we might be inclined at first to take as the type of concrete words, as denoting a single object or person, may be used either ‘usually’ as concrete, or ‘occasionally’ as abstract, since the same name may be borne by various people and various localities, as Newton, Brighton: and, indeed, may be applied to objects named after localities; as Stilton, Champagne, etc. Then there is a small class of words which express an object conceived of as existing once and once only, such as God, devil, world, universe, earth, sun. These nouns are concrete both in their ‘usual’ and in almost all their ‘occasional’ meanings; but even they may be regarded as abstract if regarded from a definite point of view. Indeed, a proper name is essentially concrete; if it becomes abstract, this can only be because it has become a generic name, i.e. because it has become a common noun, a common noun being such in virtue of its standing as the name of each individual of a class or group of things. On the other hand, there are some words which from their very nature are abstract; such are the pronouns ever, any; the Latin quisquam, ullus, unquam, uspiam; but the abstract character even of words like these suffers certain limitations in occasional usage; cf. Did he ever (i.e. on any particular occasion) act so, and Should he ever really do it. In these cases ever is in the first instance limited to the past, and in the second to the future.

A more important and deeper-lying distinction between ‘usual’ and ‘occasional’ signification is that a word may have various ‘usual’ significations, but can only bear a single ‘occasional’ one; i.e. in each case of ‘occasional’ use the meaning is one and definite:8 except, indeed, when the word is of set purpose used ambiguously, either to deceive, or to point a witticism; as in ‘If you get the best of port, port will get the best of you.’ It happens in all languages that there occur words identically pronounced which may be understood in different significations: and, for practical purposes, we must regard these as the same word, since whoever hears the sounds of which the word is composed spoken cannot, without the aid of the connection, possibly tell which of the senses is intended by the speaker to be attached to the word. Under this head must be ranged, in the first place, words which accidentally happen to correspond in sound, though they differ in meaning. The English language is particularly full of such words, owing, in some degree, to the coincidence of many words coming from Norman French with words coming from a Teutonic source. Such are mean, intend; mean, common; mean, moyen: match, a contest; match, mèche: sound, son and ge-sund. We have, in these and similar cases, instances of words which usually receive several significations. But besides these we have numerous words in English, as in other languages, which are etymologically identical and which yet have several significations. Such is the word box in English: it means in the first and most common case, ‘a chest to put things in;’ then, ‘a tree,’ ‘a small seated compartment in the auditorium of a theatre,’ ‘the driver’s seat on a carriage,’ ‘a present given at Christmas’ in the combination ‘a Christmas box;’ besides the meaning of a ‘box on the ear,’ which comes from a different source. Such, too, are: post = (1) ‘A stake in the ground,’ (2) ‘a professional situation,’ (3) ‘the system of delivering the mails;’ broom, the shrub, and broom, ‘a besom;’ bull, ‘a papal edict’ and ‘a blunder in language;’ canon, ‘a rule’ and ‘a church dignitary;’ to bait a horse and to bait a hook; a coach in the sense of ‘a teacher’ and of ‘a carriage;’ board, ‘a plank’ or ‘food supplied at lodging-houses:’ so in French, un radical, ‘a root in language,’ ‘a root in algebra,’ ‘a radical in chemistry,’ or ‘a radical politician;’ plume, ‘a feather,’ and plume, ‘a pen;’ Lat. examen, ‘swarm,’ ‘tongue of a balance,’ and ‘examination.’ It is true that the derived meanings in these words spring from a primary one, but it is equally true that it is impossible, without some knowledge of the history of the word, to recognise the original connection between the various significations; and these bear the same relations to each other as if the identity in sound were purely accidental. This is especially true in cases where the primary meaning has entirely disappeared, as in the case of villain, used now only in the uncomplimentary sense which circumstances have affixed to the word, save, indeed, in historical treatises; though even in its early sense it is no longer ‘the man who lives and works on the villa.’ It is the same with pagan, and recreant. Another good illustration is afforded by the word impertinent, which signifies (1) not pertinent (obsolete); (2) having no special pertinency, trifling; (3) rude. Etymology, working by comparison, often serves to detect such disappearances: thus N.H.G. klein, small, has lost its original meaning, that still appears in Eng. clean.

But in many cases, too, where we can still recognise the relationship of the derived to the primary signification, we must nevertheless acknowledge the independence of the derived meaning; especially where, as in the case of ‘post,’ it has become the usual one. The test, in these cases, of the independence of the word is whether a word ‘occasionally’ used in the derivative sense can be understood without any necessity arising for the primary meaning to force itself on the consciousness of the speaker or hearer. There are, further, two negative tests whereby we may judge that a word has not a simple, but a complex signification. The first of these is if no simple definition can be framed, including the whole of its meaning, and neither more nor less; and the second, if the word cannot, if employed ‘occasionally,’ be used in the whole extent of its signification. It is easy to apply these tests to the examples cited above. No simple definition of the word post would be possible; a whole series would be necessary to explain the meaning of the word to a foreigner. Again, any definition of the word post used in the ‘occasional’ sense of ‘a situation’ would leave the other meanings quite unexplained.

Even in cases where the ‘usual’ signification may be regarded as simple, the individual meaning may vary from this and yet may not become concrete, as it may develop on the lines of one of the special meanings included in the general conception. Thus the simple word pin may, in single cases, be understood as lynch-pin, hair-pin, etc.; so bye-law is now always used as if it were a secondary law.9

All understanding between individuals depends upon the correspondence in their psychical attitude. In order that a word may be understood in its ‘usual’ meaning, no more perfect mental correspondence is imperative than such as naturally exists between the members of a single linguistic community who have mastered their own language; should, however, the signification of a word be specialised in ‘occasional’ use, as when we speak of ‘the House,’ and understand thereby ‘the House of Parliament,’ a closer understanding must be supposed to exist among the speakers. The same words may be intelligible or otherwise, or, again, may be misunderstood, according to the state of mind of the person who is addressed; or, again, according to the chance surroundings, whose presence or absence may act as an aid or a drawback to the enforcement of the signification. And it seems well in this place to emphasise the fact that the body of ideas which may at any time be called up by a word is never the same in the case of any two speakers. The ideas will resemble each other less as the speakers are members of social communities more widely separated from each other, or more in proportion as the persons using the words possess similar degrees of cultivation or life-experience. For instance, we may understand all the words of a philosophic discussion, and still it may remain a mere jargon to us. This truth holds good even for the simplest language in its simplest stage. Hence it is that no perfect translation of a literary masterpiece is possible; especially if such be written in the idiom of a civilisation far removed from that of the translator, alike in the circuit of ideas, and in the way in which these ideas present themselves. Every expression is in fact accompanied by a store of associative suggestion, which must suffer loss to a greater or less extent in the attempt to insert an equivalent expression from a stranger tongue. It thus results that the interpreter of the language of a past civilisation must undertake by laborious study to reconstruct and attach to each expression the body of associations which should be its native environment. The aids necessary for understanding words in their ‘occasional’ meaning do not require to be of a linguistic nature at all; although they may, on the other hand, be so. We have seen before that abstract words may be rendered concrete by connecting them with such words as essentially express the concrete, and that the article is one of the chief of these words. Horse is abstract, but the horse is generally, as we have seen, concrete. But even this rule is not absolute, and consequently this aid is not absolutely sufficient; for we have seen that in expressions like The horse is a quadruped, the article has come to express the general conception. Again, there are languages, like Latin and Russian, which have developed no article; and these employ abstract words, with no special mark of denotation, for the concrete.

In any case, whether the reference to the ‘concrete’ is expressly denoted or not, other methods may be adopted to define it more closely. The first of these depends upon the common environment of the speaker and hearer, and upon the perception common to both. The hearer cannot fail to understand the speaker if, in referring to a tree or tower, he means the definite single tree or tower which they both have before their eyes. The speaker may point to the object in question, or may indicate its position by his gaze. Nay, such signs may serve to indicate objects not directly cognisable by the senses, provided that the direction in which these objects lie is known.

Another method whereby the word is made to refer to something definite and concrete is found in the recalling by the hearer of the past utterances of the speaker, or, it may be, in a special explanation which the speaker has given. If the hearer understands that a word is once intended to bear a concrete sense, then this same sense may continue to attach to the word throughout the rest of the conversation. If ‘the Church’ have once been spoken of in the sense of ‘the body of adherents to the Church of England,’ it will be understood that this is the sense in which the word ‘Church’ is to be apprehended for the rest of the conversation. The recollection of the previous utterance will take the place of immediate perception. Again, this reference to the past can be emphasised by words like demonstrative pronouns and adverbs. If, after using ‘the Church’ in a definite sense, I employ a phrase like ‘that Church’ or ‘that Church of which I spoke,’ it is clear that this word ‘that,’ whose function was originally merely to express a perception, serves in its new function to call attention to the individualisation of the signification and to render it intelligible to the hearer.

In the third place, anything is capable of being represented and understood as concrete, when the speaker and the hearer are so similarly circumstanced that the same thoughts naturally rise into the consciousness of both at once. Such agreement or correspondence depends upon such circumstances as common residence, common age, common tastes, business, or surroundings of the speakers. An instance of this is seen in the rhetorical usage commonly known as κατ’ ἐξοχην. If two people live near together in the country in the neighbourhood of a large town, they would both certainly understand by ‘going to town’ the town nearest to where they happen to live. If, on the other hand, they both had their business in London, they would certainly both understand ‘London’ by ‘town.’ Again, words like the town-hall, the square, the market are understood by the inhabitants of a particular town to refer to the town-hall or market of that particular town. Again, such words as the kitchen, the larder, when spoken of by members of a family, refer to the rooms in their particular house, which they know by these names. Thus, again, in speaking of Sunday, we mean the nearest Sunday to the day on which we are speaking; and, in fact, the Sunday can be fixed with perfect precision by merely affixing to the word Sunday a word expressing past or future; as, next Sunday, last Sunday. Words expressing relationship between persons are naturally and without effort transferred to persons who bear such relationship to hearer and speaker alike: and what is more, no doubt can arise from the use of the singular, as long as there is only one person who could naturally bear the description. Thus, if the children of a family speak to each other of ‘father’ or ‘mother,’ this concrete reference is just as intelligible to them as that of ‘the Queen’ or ‘the President’ to the British or the Americans respectively. Nay, even though the relationship exists only upon one side, whether of the speaker or the hearer, the reference may still be equally unmistakable, assuming that circumstances aid in pointing to the person named. If one man says to another ‘The wife is better,’ the hearer would at once understand that the speaker’s own wife was referred to, assuming that her illness had been previously discussed between the two.

In the fourth place, a speaker may employ some more closely defining word, as an epithet, in order to render his meaning more definite and concrete. Thus he might say, That is the old king’s palace, That is the royal castle. But even such defining epithets as these fail to give a perfect definition unless some other aid, like the memory aid of which we have spoken, or the aid of the situation, supports the definition. If the speakers have been conversing about ‘the old king,’ both palace and castle would receive a concrete significance from what had been said before. Thus, the phrase ‘the king’s castle’ comes to mean a single object only, when it is known that the king has only one castle, or if the hearer be referred to a single place, where he must know the castle to lie.

Finally, a concrete word may affect other words connected with it, and may give them a concrete sense as well. In sentences like John never moved a finger; I never laid hand upon him; I took him by the arm; You hit me on the shoulder, the words finger and hand get their concrete meaning from the subject, and arm and shoulder from the object.10 In French, in the sentence, Il sauta dans l’eau, la tête la première, ‘la tête’ acquires its concrete sense from the subject.

Just as general names receive a definite concrete reference, so proper names applicable to different persons come to denote but a single one. It may be sufficient merely to speak of a man as ‘Charles’ in order to sufficiently identify him; and indeed such reference would suffice if he were before us, or had recently been mentioned. Again, even without this, the name ‘Charles’ would sufficiently identify any person within his own family, or within any other circle where no other ‘Charles’ was known. Under other circumstances, we must naturally define him more closely; as, ‘Charles the Sixth of France,’ ‘Charles the First of England.’ Just so, there are many places bearing the same name; but a single name is sufficient to define the place for the neighbourhood, and even for the world at large when the place happens to be the most important of the places called by the name: cf. Melbourne, Brisbane, London, Strassburg: otherwise a nearer definition has to be employed, as Stony Stratford, Newton-le-Willows.

Words are specialised in meaning in the same way as they are defined and rendered concrete, and by the same factors. When we hear a word, we naturally think of the most obvious and common of its various meanings, or else of its primary meaning. In the case of ‘train,’ we think of the means of locomotion: in the case of ‘crane’ we probably think of the bird. Sometimes the two tendencies work together. Should several meanings tolerably common stand side by side, the primary meaning will commonly present itself to the mind of the hearer before the others; as in the case of the word head used in so many metaphorical senses. But this general rule is liable again to be altered by the surroundings amid which the word is uttered. The situation awakens certain groups of ideas in the mind of the hearer before the word is uttered, and itself aids powerfully in fixing the meaning. We affix a different meaning to the word sheet according as we hear it in a haberdasher’s shop, or on a yacht, or at a book-binder’s: as we do to the words ‘to bind,’ according as we hear them in a book-binder’s or in a harvest field. Different trades and professions use the same word and affix their own meaning to it, and no ambiguity arises in their own circle: take such words as ‘a goose’ in the mouth of a tailor; ‘a form’ among hatters. Then, again, the connection in which a word occurs does much to fix its meaning. Observe how the meaning is affected by the connection in such utterances as a good point, a point of view, a point of honour; the bar of a river, the bar of a hotel, the bar of justice; the foot of a mountain, the foot of a table; the tongue of a woman, a tongue of land, the tongue of a balance; a crowded ball, a round ball; a gulf or bay, a bay and a roan; the cock crows, the cock is turned on; ere the king’s crown go down there are crowns to be broke; the train is starting, a train of thought; a bitter draught, a bitter reputation; clean linen, a clean heart; a donkey-engine, John is a donkey; the money goes, the mill goes; to stand still, to stand upon ceremony, to stand at ease.

Cases may, however, occur in which the ‘occasional’ meaning may not include all the elements of the ‘usual’ meaning, while it may contain something beyond and above this. Take, for instance, the words expressive of colour, such as blue, red, yellow, white, black. These words may be used to denote colours which, according to their simple meaning, they are inadequate to denote. Each colour may be mixed with another colour, and there must arise a succession of transition stages for which language has no name. For instance, the northern word blae varies in meaning from the purple colour of the blaeberry to the dull grey of unbleached cottons;11 while the same word in old Spanish takes the form blavo, and is found to mean yellowish grey. Three centuries ago, auburn meant ‘whitish,’ and drab meant ‘no colour at all’ (= Fr. drap, ‘undyed cloth’).

But the widest field for such inadequate application as that which we have been instancing is given by words whose signification consists of a complex assembly of ideas, as is the case, for instance, in metaphorical expressions. Metaphorical expressions are nothing else than comparisons instituted between groups of ideas with respect to what they possess in common. We compare in these only certain characteristics, and we leave the rest out of account. If we say of a man He is a fox, we mean merely that some of the qualities which go to make up the conception of a fox are found in the man as well. We may, indeed, express the point of comparison between the two, as by saying He is as crafty as a fox. On the other hand, we might say more simply He is foxy, in which case the adjective merely denotes such a selection of the qualities of a fox as may be necessary to characterise the man sufficiently: and, finally, we may say He is a fox, whereby we merely mean that he is in several respects like a fox. In this case, then, the words foxy and fox have passed beyond the limits of their proper signification. They have come to denote a single quality only, instead of a group of qualities, and this signification has come to be usual.

A word may, again, pass beyond the limits of its strict signification by the operation of what rhetoricians call synecdoche, or naming a thing by some prominent or characteristic part of it; as, ‘A fleet of twenty sail;’ ‘All hands to the pumps;’ ‘They sought his blood.’ In this case, something connected spatially, or temporally, or causally with the usual meaning is understood with the word when it is spoken.

When a word passes beyond the limits of its usual signification, it is liable to be misunderstood, unless, indeed, some impulse be present to serve as a sign-post to the sense in which it is intended to be used. We are naturally inclined to use a word in its ordinary meaning and in no other, unless, indeed, we are reminded by something that its ordinary sense is impossible. In simple cases, such as the proverb, Speech is silvern, but silence is golden, we think of the predicates as used metaphorically, simply because it is impossible to think of them as used in any other sense. But when Shakespeare talks about the majesty of buried Denmark, each principal word in the combination serves as a sign-post to the sense in which each other word is to be used, and we are enabled to guess the sense which we are to attach to each word.

Repeated departures from the usual meaning—in other words, the repeated employment of the occasional meanings of words—end in a true change of signification. The more regularly these departures occur, the more, of course, do individual peculiarities approximate to common use. The test of the transition from an ‘occasional’ to a ‘usual’ meaning is whether the employment of the ‘occasional’ meaning brings into the mind of the speaker or hearer a previous usage with which he was familiar, and in which he will naturally understand the word. When such recollection naturally presents itself to the mind, and when the word is employed, as well as understood, with no reference to the original signification of the word, then the word may fairly be deemed to have accomplished its transition of meaning. But it is clear that there may be many gradations between the two usages. If I speak of sweet memories or of a bright future, there may or may not be any recollection on the part of the speaker or hearer that these expressions are metaphors from the use of the word sweet and bright in a physical sense.

It must further be remarked that it is difficult for the occasional meaning of a word to pass into the usual by the aid of an individual, unless those to whom he speaks reciprocate the influence which he has exerted upon them. Milton, for instance, uses such words as expatiate and extravagant in their Latin sense, and hear in the sense of ‘to be called;’ thus, again, Chaucer and others use copy (copia) in the sense of plenty: but these words were not taken up by a sufficiently large number of persons to enable their ‘occasional’ use to become ‘usual,’ even though introduced by such authorities as these.12

Words have a strong tendency to change their meaning when they pass into the mouth of a new generation. A child fixes the meaning of a word by hasty and imperfect generalisations; and not by means of descriptive or exhaustive definitions. The simple and unreflecting mind of childhood identifies objects on very imperfect grounds, and stays not to consider whether there be any basis for such identification or not.13 And thus it is that, from the very first steps in the process of acquiring language, the child employs the same word to define several objects, and these not objects which really resemble each other, but which have the appearance in any degree of doing so. Of course this whole proceeding implies that no clear conception can exist of the contents and extent of the usual meaning. A child conceives of a word as covering an extent sometimes too narrow, sometimes too wide; more commonly, however, too wide than too narrow, and the more so as the extent of his words is the more limited. He will include a sofa under the name of a chair; an umbrella under that of a stick; a cap under that of a hat; and this repeatedly. Another cause of inexact appreciation of meaning is the fact that the speaker, when indicating to a child certain objects, connects them in his own mind with certain other objects; the child may fail to understand the limitations of meaning to be placed upon the word when it is parted from the idea as a whole. Take, for instance, such a word as congregation. In the mouth of a clergyman, this word might be used as an inseparable adjunct of a church, but he will still speak of the congregation as distinguished from the church, and as forming a distinct though necessary connection with the idea of ‘Church.’ The child, generalising faultily, may apply the word congregation to a collection of politicians, or of traders, or of animals; and it may be long before he is in a position to correct his wrong conception. The adult, again, constantly has to encounter the same difficulties as the child, when he meets with words of rare occurrence or denoting technical or complex ideas; and, supposing that he learns such words by their occasional application only, he is exposed to the same errors as the child. Thus the word insect has come to be so commonly used to mark the distinction between insects and other animals, that we read on labels, This powder is harmless to animal life, but kills all insects.

These inaccuracies in the case of the apprehension of the usual meaning are, taken singly, of little account, and are commonly corrected by the standard or ordinary usage which the speaker will naturally hear from the mouths of the greater part of the community. At the same time, in cases where a large number of individuals unite in a partial misapprehension or in investing simultaneously a word with an ‘occasional’ meaning, it will happen that this, though only partially corresponding with the meaning which was usual amongst an older generation, will be substituted.

Such, among others, are the significations attaching to certain terms, expressive of qualities ennobled by Christianity, such as humility, faith, spiritual, ghostly, etc.

Commonly speaking, the older generation gives the main impulse to change of meaning, controlling, as it does, the whole usage of language. But the younger generation has great power in aiding the process of change, from the fact that the very first time that a word has presented itself to one of its members, the word may have been used in an ‘occasional’ sense, which would by him have been taken to be its regular use. Thus, a child might often hear a horse spoken of as a bay, or a dolt as an ass. In such cases he understands the secondary meaning only; nor does he even mentally connect this meaning with any other.

The change in ‘usual’ signification, then, takes its rise from modification in the ‘occasional’ application of the word. The most common case of change in signification owing to such modification, is where the meaning of the word is specialised by the narrowing of its comprehension and the enrichment of its contents. In the English word stamp we have a good instance of the difference between ‘occasional’ and ‘usual’ specialisation. The word may be employed of any object used as a particular mark. It may be used for a receipt stamp or for a bill stamp, or, again, metaphorically, as the stamp of nobility. These are instances of ‘occasional’ specialisation. But, while it requires some definite situation to make us think of stamp in its other significations, it immediately occurs to us to think of it as a postage stamp, and we then think little, if at all, of the general idea of stamping, but rather of an object of definite shape and construction and used for the definite purpose of franking letters. We must thus admit that this meaning has parted from the more general meanings, and stands independently as a special meaning; in fact, that it is specialised and ‘usual.’ Other examples are the use of frumentum for ‘corn’ in Latin; fruit for the produce of certain trees as distinguished from ‘the fruits of the earth;’ pig, originally the young of animals;—in Danish, pige, a young girl. Corn, in English, is restricted to ‘wheat,’ and, in America, to maize, or Indian corn; while, in German, korn denotes any species of grain: fowl, in English, means specially ‘a barn-door fowl;’ a bird means, in the language of sportsmen, ‘a partridge;’ a fish, ‘a salmon:’ ὄρνις, in the conventional language of Athens, as disclosed by the Comic poets, means ‘a barn-door fowl:’14 and a special usage of this kind is seen in the names of materials themselves employed to denote the products of materials; as, glass, horn, gold, silver, paper, copper,—as when we talk of paper in the sense of paper money, etc.

Proper names owe their origin to the change of the ‘occasional’ concrete meanings of certain words into ‘usual’ meanings. All names of persons and places took their origin from names of species; and the usage κατ’ ἐξοχήν was the starting-point for this process. We are able to observe it distinctly in numerous instances of names both of persons and of places. Such ordinary names as the following are very instructive for our purpose: Field, Hill, Bridges, Townsend, Hedges, Church, Stone, Meadows, Newton, Villeneuve, Newcastle, Neuchâtel, Neuburg, Milltown, etc. Such names as these served in the first instance merely to indicate to neighbours a certain person or town: and they were sufficient to distinguish such person or town from others in the neighbourhood. They passed into regular proper names as soon as they were apprehended in this concrete sense by neighbours too far removed to judge of the reasons why they received their special name: cf. names like Pont newydd: and names like Bevan, Pritchard, from ab (son) Evan and ap Richard. There are, no doubt, beside these, many place-names which began by resembling real proper names, in so far as they are derived from names of persons: such are Kingston, St. Helens.

There is also one kind of specialising process which begins to operate as soon as ever a word comes into use. Instances of this may be seen in the case of words which may be derived at will, according to the ordinary laws of any language, from other words in common use, but which are not employed till a special need calls them into play. Such words as these are sometimes found, in the first stage of their descent from the root-word, to bear a more special meaning than the derivative, as such, would naturally bear. Thus the substantive formations in -er (A.S. -er, -e)15 denote properly a person who stands in some relation to the idea of the root-word—commonly speaking, expressing the agent: but in the case of single words thus terminated the most varied instances of specialisation are found.16 The ‘pauser’ reason (Macbeth, II. iii. 117) would naturally mean reason that pauses or halts; but Shakespeare uses it as the ‘reason that makes us pause;’—similarly, there is no reason why the word scholar (M.E. scolere), an imitation of Lat. scholaris, should not signify ‘he who schools or teaches;’ but, as a matter of fact, it always seems to have borne its present sense. In English, indeed, it bears the special sense of ‘a student enjoying the benefit of a foundation.’ A poulterer is one who vends poultry: a fisher is one who tries to catch fish; a burgher, one who dwells in a burgh; a falconer, one who trains falcons, or one who hawks for sport: while a pensioner is one who receives a pension. Take, again, the case of verbs derived from substantives, like to butter, to head, to top, to badger, to earwig, to dust, to water, to pickle, to bone (a fowl,) to skin, to clothe, to book (a debt). In many of these cases, the meaning of the verb is derived from a metaphorical sense of the substantive. In this case, too, the usage can only be formed gradually, and according to the general fundamental conditions of language.

When language demands the expression of a conception hitherto undenoted, one of the most obvious expedients is to choose a word expressive of the most prominent characteristics of the conception, as to name the horse ‘the swift animal’ (Sans. açvas), or the wolf the ‘grey animal’ or ‘the tearer.’ Many substantives have arisen in this way (cf. the old terms ‘a grey’ and ‘a brock’17 for a badger), but we must not therefore conclude that there was any general rule for such formation; such as, for instance, that all substantives proceeded from verbs.

The second principal kind of change in signification is the converse of the kind already spoken of. It is where the application of the term is limited to one part only of its original content, though such reduction on one side is commonly accompanied by amplification on another.

The great number of phenomena occurring under this head renders it hard to classify them: but certain ones of marked peculiarity may be mentioned. In some cases we name the object from its appearance to our sight: as in the case of the eye of a potato, the head or heart of a cabbage, the arm of a river, the cup of a flower, the bed of a river. A statue or a picture is named after what it represents; as, an Apollo, a Laocoon, the Adoration of the Magi: or, again, a work of art is named after its executor; as, a Phidias, a Praxiteles. In all such cases the original signification has been limited in one direction and amplified in another. For instance, in the case of ‘the bed of a river,’ we exclude from consideration other beds, such as beds for sleeping on; but, on the other hand, the word may be applied in its novel sense to as many rivers as flow and have beds. We call a part of one object after the part of another object which corresponds to it in position; we talk of the neck or belly of a bottle, of the shoulder of a mountain, the foot of a ladder, the tail of a kite. The different uses of caput are mostly reproduced in our own use of head; as, caput urbis; capitolium; caput fontis, fountain head; caput montis, κορυφή; caput conspirationis; Ital. capo; caput arboris; caput libri, chapter, κεφάλαιον; caput pecuniæ, capital; cape. We call a measure by the name of some object which in some way resembles it in dimensions; as, a cubit, an ell, a foot, a barley-corn. A pen or feather writes: and so ‘a pen’ and ‘une plume’ may mean a steel pen. We transfer words expressive of conceptions of time to conceptions of place, and vice versâ, as in long and short; before, after; behind, before: and thus in the case of many other adverbs and prepositions. We transfer the impressions made on one sense to those made on another, as in the cases of sweet; beautiful; loud (originally applicable to hearing alone), in the phrase ‘loud colours;’ and the Fr. voyant, in such a phrase as une couleur voyante, originally applicable to the sense of sight alone. Words which in their proper sense denote sensual and corporeal ideas only, are transferred to the denotation of ideas spiritual and intellectual: as in the cases of apprehension, comprehension, reflection, spirit, inclination, penchant, appetite, penser (lit. peser = to weigh, etc.). Consider, again, the various applications of such words as to feel, to see; bitter, lovely, fair, mean, dirty, great, small, lofty, low, warm; taste, fire, passion; to sting, to thrill, etc. Words which properly denote one species only are given a wider extension; as, cat, crab, apple, rose, moon (as in Jupiter’s moons), fishery (as in whale-fishery, lobster-fishery, after the analogy of the herring-fishery, etc.), le sanglier (l’animal solitaire, singularis), le fromage (lac formaticum, milk made into shape), le baudet (O.Fr. bald, baud, the spirited animal,—originally the male ass). We make proper names pass into class names, as when we speak of a Cicero, a Nelson, a Cato; an Academy, from Plato’s gymnasium near Athens, called Ἀκαδημία; Palace, from Palatium, the seat of Augustus’ Palace. Thus, again, we actually talk of a wooden house as being dilapidated. And we have such further development as a martinet; a cannibal; a vandal; Tom, Dick, and Harry; John Doe and Richard Roe. Such adjectives as romantic, Gothic, pre-adamite, may also serve as illustrations of the development, which is also manifest in the case of sehr, ‘very,’ formerly meaning ‘painful,’ of Eng. sore, with the like use in ‘sore afraid.’ So compare schlecht (schlechterdings, schlichten) with slight, primitive signification ‘plain;’ silly with selig, etc. The transference in the case of verbs is seen in such cases as ‘I was sorry to find you out when I called;’ ‘He enjoys poor health,’ etc. This development is similar to that illustrated above by apprehension, reflection, etc., to which we may add understand, verstehen, ἐπίστασθαι, transpire.

The third principal division of change in meaning is the transference of the idea to what is connected with the fundamental conception of the word by some relation of place, or time, or cause.

The simplest sub-division of this is when a part is substituted for the whole—the figure called by rhetoricians synecdoche, and referred to before on p. 58. The part is, in such cases, always a prominent characteristic; it suggests, as a rule, that aspect of the whole which it is desired to bring into prominence for rhetorical effect. Thus, ‘all hands to the pumps;’ ‘they sought his blood;’ ‘the blade,’ for ‘the sword;’ ‘a maid of twelve summers.’ The German word Bein (leg) = Eng. bone, has been thus used by synecdoche: it retains its older value in Gebeine, Elfenbein. Persons and animals are named after characteristic features in the body or the mind; as, grey-beard, curly-head, thick-head, red-breast, fire-tail; a good soul, a bright spirit: in French blanc-bec, grosse-tête, rouge-gorge, rouge-queue, pied-plat, gorge-blanche, mille-pieds: esprit fort, bel esprit. Names, again, are given to objects from some prominent feature with which they are commonly connected: such are those taken from garments; as, blue-stocking, green-domino, a red-coat, a blue-jacket; cf. the use of un cuirassier. Other names are transferred from one object to another included in it: such as the town, for ‘the talk of the town;’ the smiling year, for ‘the spring;’ the cabinet, the church, the court, etc. Conversely, we find the idea transferred from the object to its surroundings, as in the Round Table, the Porch, the Mountain, the Throne, the Altar, etc. Sometimes the name of a quality is transferred to the person or thing possessing the quality, as in the case of age, youth, plenty:— ‘The people’s prayer, the glad diviner’s theme, The young man’s vision and the old man’s dream,’ as Dryden calls the Duke of Monmouth:18 cf. also desert, bitters. Other examples of this are—his worship, the Godhead, your highness, his majesty, his excellence, his holiness, etc. It will thus be seen that collective names take their rise in this way as well as the names for single persons or things; we can speak of their worships, meaning the magistrates. But these words do not always form substantives.

Nouns of action suffer the same transference as names of qualities. By nouns of action we mean names denoting activities generally, and conditions which are derived from verbs, such as overflow, train, income, government, providence, gilding, warning, influence. In the instances given, the name of the action has been transferred to its subject: but it is equally capable of being transferred to its object, if ‘object’ be taken in the widest sense. Thus, it may be transferred to a consequence or result of the verbal activity: such as rift, spring, growth, a rise, assembly, union, education: or to an object affected by the activity, such as seed, speech, doings, lamentations, bewailings, resort, excuse, dwelling. Writings are denoted by the name of their author; as, ‘Have you read Shakespeare?’ A person is named after some favourite word of his own; as, Heinrich jasomir Gott: ‘Cedo alteram’ (Tacitus, Annals, book iii.):19 animals are named from their utterances, in nursery language, as a bow-wow; or from those used to appeal to them, as a gee-gee: besides these, we may add the names of such plants as puzzle-monkey, noli me tangere, forget-me-not, etc.

The different kinds of change in meaning may follow each other, and thus unite. Thus the word rosary has on one side gained in comprehension, since it is now used of a necklace composed of beads employed for a sacred purpose; but, on the other, it has lost all connection with roses. A horn is a wind instrument which may be, but is not commonly made of horn: the name may equally apply to an instrument made of other materials.

It frequently happens that some idea foreign to the essence of a word, and connected with it merely by accident, becomes absorbed into its signification as a mere accessory: and this is then thought of as the proper meaning, the primary meaning being forgotten: thus names of relations of time and place gradually pass into causal words; as, consequence, purpose, end (to the end that), means, way.

Seeing that the unit of language is the sentence, and not the word—in other words, that we think in sentences,—it is natural that the change in meaning should affect, not merely the separate words, but also entire sentences. These sentences may receive a meaning which is at the outset merely ‘occasional,’ but which by repetition may become ‘usual’—a meaning not implied by the combination of words as we hear it for the first time. Take, for instance, such phrases as A plot is on foot; The business has come to a head; He has come to the front; I have a man in my eye; and such combinations as the following, in which the word hand plays a great part: well in hand, off hand, hands off, at hand, etc. We cannot say that in these cases special meanings of the word hand have developed: rather, these meanings have become obscured by the attention which we have come to pay to the phrase as a whole. English is full of such terms of expression. In many of these the sense can only be derived from the meanings of the several words by the aid of an historical knowledge of the language in which such combinations occur. Take such cases as, to dine with Duke Humphrey; to tell a cock and bull story; all his geese are swans; to stuff one up; to give one the sack; to be half seas over: in French—il raisonne comme un tambour; sot comme un panier (for un panier percé); triste comme un bonnet de nuit; donner une savonnade; faire une jérémiade.

Language is incessantly engaged in an endeavour to express the entire stock of ideas in the human mind. But it is met by the difficulty, in the first place, that the ideas of each individual in any society differ widely from those of the other individuals in the society: in the next place, by the difficulty that the ideas of each individual are liable to a constant process of expansion or contraction. The consequence is that the ideas which language is constantly endeavouring to express are necessarily coloured by individual peculiarities; though it is equally true that these peculiarities are unimportant in ordinary definitions of the meanings of single words or groups of words. For instance, it is no doubt true that the word horse has the same meaning for everybody, in so far as everybody refers it to the same object: but, on the other hand, each man in his own particular line, a hunter, a coachman, a veterinary surgeon, or a zoologist will connect with the idea a larger quantity of conceptions than one who has nothing to do with horses. A father would be differently defined by a lawyer and a physiologist: but the points which in the thoughts of these make up the essence of paternity are absolutely wanting to the consciousness of the infant who uses the name of ‘father.’ The differences in the judgments applied to feelings and ethics are very great, and for obvious reasons. What different individuals understand by good and bad, virtue and vice, is impossible to bring under one definition, indisputable and undisputed.