the differentiation of continental and insular Saxon. Slight differences, however, will naturally occur, caused either by manifest differences in social or political conditions or by those subtler physical and psychical factors that produce changes in language, and these differences may even grow much beyond their present extent. Only those unfamiliar with the nature of language and the causes of linguistic change can be astonished or disappointed at the discovery that the English language on this side of the water has not done what could not possibly have been expected of it, namely, that it should have changed in the last hundred years precisely in the same way it has changed in England. On the other hand it would seem reasonable that just so far as the language of the two countries becomes differentiated, the English people are entitled to claim for their language the name of English, for in the case of a complete breaking up into two languages, there could be no doubt that the English people would have the best right to call theirs the English language. In so far, therefore, as the difference extends even now, it seems quite proper to insist that the language of this country is American, or United States, or whatever distinctive term may be preferred; but the fact that a mode of expression is not in use in England is not in itself a sufficient reason why it should not be used in America.

In determining the force of usage, therefore, we must not draw the lines too narrow, either chronologically, or geographically, or socially. All usage, whether archaic or contemporary, individual, local or general is a factor in language in two ways. In the first place, it is to some extent an indication of the inherent fitness of a mode of expression in regard to which we might otherwise be in doubt. The more generally a form of speech is used, the greater is, on the whole, the presumption in favor of its natural fitness, but natural fitness and general usage are by no means convertible terms, for the language of the masses is less perfect than that of the educated few. On the other hand the usage of an

individual author is not in itself conclusive proof of the fitness of a mode of expression, for even the most careful writer may from early habit or for other individual reasons often and even regularly employ the less preferable of two synonymous forms.

In the second place, all usage is of consequence in so far as it represents the conservative force in language and resists change. The use of any new or less familiar form of expression in place of an old or more familiar one always causes some disturbance among the psychical organisms that make up our speech-consciousness and therefore meets with mental resistance. These psychical organisms are the result of our whole linguistic experience in reading and hearing, writing and speaking. From this point of view, the usage of any author is of consequence only just in proportion as he is read.

Of these two ways in which usage affects the future course of language, the second is by far the more important one; and if we wish to determine the force of usage as a factor to be taken into account by the purist, we must ask in regard to every doubtful expression not who has used it in the past, but what hold has this word or idiom or construction on the language of the present generation. So far as the testimony of one or more authors can answer that question, such testimony is of consequence, otherwise not. It is also necessary to bear in mind that the hold that any particular usage has on the language depends not only on the frequency with which the mode of expression itself is used, but on the intimacy of its associations with other modes of expression with which it is grouped in our minds on its formal or material side. The associations between the various speech organisms are so complex that it is impossible to disturb one of the latter without more or less disturbing them all.

The second factor to be taken into account in all puristic efforts is the improvement that may come to the language from any proposed change or regulation. Here again we must not take too narrow ground. Language may be im

proved in many different directions, e. g., those of simplicity, regularity, accuracy, variety, euphony. To show how onesided the work of purists has often been, it is only necessary to recall their violent opposition to many new terms on the ground that there was no need of them, that they expressed nothing that could not be equally well expressed by the old speech-material. Entirely aside from the fact that absolutely synonymous terms are extremely rare, that one of a pair of synonyms nearly always soon assumes a different shade of meaning and thus tends to enrich the language and make it more precise, it must not be forgotten that such additions to the vocabulary give greater choice to the poet for the purposes of rime and metre, to the orator for accent and rhythm, to all of us greater possibilities of variation in writing and speaking. Further, if the new term really continues to be shunned in the better language, there is still a distinct advantage in having different terms for the higher diction and for the vulgar. Without disparaging the value of simplicity, we may for instance well ask what the charm of poetry and the effect of oratory would be if poets and orators were limited to the vocabulary of the shop, the street and the family. We need both house-coats and dress-suits.

Similarly the advantages and disadvantages of changes in meaning have to be carefully weighed against one another. To take one of the most extreme cases imaginable: it happens occasionally that an expression comes to be used in two diametrically opposite meanings, so that, to avoid ambiguity, we seem to be precluded from using the word at all and the language has apparently suffered a distinct loss. But there are many relations that partake of the nature of both likeness and oppositeness, and to express such relations words are very welcome. So the word counterpart, which can no longer be used without ambiguity either to denote that which is like something else, or that which is its opposite, may be used appropriately of the two halves of a symmetrical building, or of a seal and its impression, or in a higher sense, of

two human beings; and this use of the word is a distinct gain to the language.

However, any gain in one direction may be offset by a loss in another; and we have to weigh the relative advantages and disadvantages. What tends to regularity may also tend to destroy variety and euphony, what promotes simplicity may destroy accuracy. Any addition to the vocabulary may be followed by a subtraction, for experience shows that the average speaker cannot acquire the use of more than a certain amount of speech-material; but such subtraction will generally follow the lines of least resistance and need not directly affect anything connected in form or meaning with the new accession.

The work of the philologist-purist must therefore consist in balancing carefully in every case the force of the existing usage against the advantages to be gained for the language by a change or regulation, and he must make his decisions accordingly. Take, for instance, the so-called "cleft infinitive" in English, in regard to which there has been so much discussion. It is not sufficient to determine when and by whom the preposition to was first separated from the infinitive by an adverb, though that is of consequence for the explanation of this mode of expression; nor what particular writers have most indulged in this liberty; nor whether or not it offends our ears, for if it became general it would soon cease to offend, but we must rather determine the whole extent of this usage, the hold it has on the language in all its forms; and on the other hand what the language has to gain or lose in point of accuracy, regularity, variety; also to what extent existing analogies are strengthened or weakened by it; whether or not, for instance, the analogy of the use of a past participle or a finite verb with preceding adverb will not always tend to bring the cleft infinitive into use again, however often it may be suppressed; finally, whether, if we should for these various considerations decide in favor or against the construction, it is worth while to make a fight

either one way or the other, for in many cases the advantages and disadvantages may be so nearly balanced that the game would not be worth the candle. Or take, on the other hand, that bug-bear of the German purist, the inversion of subject and predicate after und, a construction that has often been represented as a characteristic of the style of newspapers and commercial letters. It has been shown that it antedates the first German newspaper by several centuries,' but that is not much to the point; the real questions are as to what hold it has on present usage, and what is to be gained or lost by its adoption or rejection. All such questions, however, can be answered more satisfactorily by the philologist than by anybody else, for he commands more facts and can take a broader view of the problem. Naturally each case must be decided on its merits, but certain leading principles applying to a number of similar cases may probably be agreed upon.2

2

1 Particularly striking is the frequency of this construction in MHG. prose. The first attempt, as far as I know, to lay down some such principles was made by Professor A. Noreen in his monograph Om språkriktighet, 2d ed. Upsala: 1881. Translated into German by A. Johannson in Indogermanische Forschungen, I, 95 ff. The translator in an article in the same volume (pp. 232 ff.) discusses Professor Noreen's views and expresses dissent on several points. It would lead too far on this occasion to discuss the questions involved. Most of the principles laid down by Professor Noreen commend themselves readily. The one that seems to me most objectionable is that of two synonymous terms the shorter one is always to be preferred. This principle, often asserted in rhetoric, seems to me to be in a line with a current explanation of the cause of phonetic change, viz., that phonetic change is generally (or always) due to a desire for ease of utterance. Both I believe to be wrong. There is no doubt that simpler means for the expression of thought could be devised than those now in use; we could form more words of not more than five letters each than we should have any use for, without exhausting all the possible combinations. But language depends for its effects to a certain extent on volume of sound and the reduction of all linguistic expression to the simplest possible forms would in the end greatly change the character of the language and lessen its usefulness. How far we may go in this direction is largely a matter of temper, in the individual as well as in the people. It is well known that some languages have, on the whole, shorter words, more concise forms of expression than others, and such differences reflect undoubtedly differences