English in her undergarments
- Ruth Johnson
- Apr 1, 2022
- 3 min read
Updated: May 6, 2022
G. K. Chesterton upon strolling through a forest in winter, and observing the trees bare and leafless, remarked;
"There was evidently a general feeling that I had caught the trees in a kind of disgraceful dishabille, and that they ought not to be seen until, like the first human sinners, they had covered themselves with leaves. [...] It does appear to be a deep and essential difficulty that men have an abiding terror of their own structure, or the structure of things they love. This is felt dimly in the skeleton of the tree: it is felt profoundly in the skeleton of the man. " [1]
I have found a similar phenomenon abroad in many English speaking minds. There is a fear of seeing English stripped of all that she now so proudly boasts. I believe that this fear is partly, as Chesterton puts it, mans natural aversion to seeing something he loves as a skeleton; Stripped of its finery and laid bare. This natural aversion is heightened by thinking too highly of, or attributing false compliments to something. The man that thinks that trees are always green, that they do not yield to the shifting seasons, will be the most adamant not to look at a bare tree; He will be the most embarrassed upon perchance taking a stroll in the winter. The man who takes himself very seriously, who contorts his face into all manner of grave contemplation, will be most mortified to remember that his inner workings are forever fixed in a grin.
There seems to be a strange conviction that English is an unchanging and universal language, that English was forever as she is now, clothed in all dignity. Perhaps it is usual that any first language speaker considers his first language in this light. The unhappy fact is, however, that; as all trees are subject to winter and all men to death, all language is subject to change. Love perhaps, is an 'ever fixed mark' [2] but language most certainly is not. This is true of any language, and it is most especially true of English. And yet, for reasons I cannot comprehend, this misleading sentiment seems most especially strong concerning English. Because of this unfortunate exultation, I can comprehend the embarrassed disregard of a time, not so long ago, in which it was acceptable to spell 'women' four different ways in the same paragraph, and the plural of 'sister' was 'sistren'.
It may surprise you, as it did me, to discover that English is in fact a particularly young language , and only legible to a modern English speaker from about the 15th century (and this only the London dialect, which was one of many English dialects spoken at the time). Furthermore, spelling was phonetic (dare I mention a certain playwright who might choose to go by “Shakesper” or “Shake-speare” as the mood struck him.). It wasn’t until the 18th century (merely 300 years ago), that the standardization of word forms, meaning, grammar, and usage were fully worked out and put into print.
So far from spelling being a universal law and the meaning of every word an ever fixed mark, so far from pronunciation being immovable and distinct, In the words of one worthy 15th century Man;
[I] toke an olde boke [book] and redde therin and certaynly [certainly] the englysshe [English] was so rude and brood that I coude not wele [well] understand it... We englysshe men ben borne vnder the domynacyon [dominion] of the mone [moon], whiche is neuer stedfaste but euer wexynge [waxing] one season and waneth [wanes] & dyscreaseth [decreases] another season And that comyn [common] englysshe that is spoken in one shyre [region] varyeth fron another. [3]
The man who loves English for being great, will shrink from a time when she was not. The man who loves English for being neat and well defined, will avert his eyes from a time in which she was the opposite. The man who loves English for being English, will savour and study English as she is, and as she was. The man who loves English for being English is the only one who loves English at all.
Brilliantly written, Ruth. We have a much worse situation in Afrikaans, with language and spelling variations ranging from the posh and pure, to the rebellious and rude, depending on whom you speak to, read or listen to.
After a lot of searching my holier than thou soul, my conclusion is that language is mostly a tool for communication. I, like everyone else, have my preferences, but what I say must always be more important than how I say it.
Thank you for making me think on a Friday afternoon.