The Contributors' Club

THE present discussions about ancient and modern languages in education are likely to revive a sort of assertion, which turns up now and then, as to the comparative advantages of one language over another, for purposes of conversation, oratory, science, etc. It was undoubtedly the fashion, within the memory of living men, to set down English as vastly inferior to the Continental languages in copiousness and in neatness ; and this verdict was meekly accepted by Englishmen and Americans. I suspect that it has long since been set aside as against evidence; and I believe that exceptions might be taken to the rulings of many of the older judges in the case. At all events, it is amusing that just about the time when the Germans began to revolt most against the intrusive French element ■ in their language, French began to open its doors to a quantity of English words. But I was struck, the other day, with a curious awkwardness in French expression, arising from grammatical forms, which may have its precise parallel in our own language, though I have not yet detected one. I find the labels of two esteemed French wine houses reading, respectively, “ Cruse et Fils Frères ” and “ Les Fils de Victor Jacqueminot,” which we translate, “ Cruse and Sons ” and “ Victor Jacqueminot’s Sons; ” the point being that “ Cruse et Fils ” and " Jacqueminot Fils ” might mean one son, as well as many, and, the plural being the same as the singular, what seem to us singularly roundabout phrases have to be adopted. I should like, however, to see “ Fromont Jeune et Risler Ainé" adequately translated into English, so as to look well on a signboard.

A superior French scholar called my attention to what appeared to be a novelty to him, that there is no proper French word for to stand. I explained it to him as resulting from the absorption of sto into sum; stabam in French becomes étais, and stare becomes être. But why should this be necessary in French, when Italian can still keep stare in its original sense, after making stato = “ been ” ?

In modern French froidement is an adverb in constant use to describe a certain manner in conversation. I was much perplexed by it as long as I translated it “ coldly,” for it evidently was used of people who were quite cordial to those they were answering. But is “ coolly ” much better ? Would “ composedly ” be right, in most cases, or " calmly ” ? Can the difficulty be that froidement expresses the ordinary unnoticed manner of our race, and that therefore we have no special phrase to describe it at all!

I say “ our race.” One is often put to it for a word to include English and Americans alike. “ Anglo-Saxon and “ English-speaking ” are both used, and both are unsatisfactory. But surely, no coinage ever exceeded in awkwardness the late Dr. Lieber’s “ Anglican tribe.”

—I was very much interested in Octave Thanet’s story, The Bishop’s Vagabond, in the January Atlantic, and still more in the reproduction of the “ Cracker ” dialect of South Carolina, which is on the whole very good; but I am sure that no Cracker would recognize some sounds as his own. I have just questioned several South Carolinians, one from near Aiken, with regard to the sounds to which I shall call attention, and not one recognized them as genuine reproductions. Nearly everybody about Aiken will of course say cyar, gyarden, etc.; but this breaking regularly occurs, I think, only when c and g come before ar. No person in South Carolina, Cracker or otherwise, will accept cyant, cyould, cyoffin, no ’cyount, cyoop, as reproductions of any native sounds, while wyould is impossible for anybody. The Cracker would say neither cyoop nor coop, but coob; nor would he say (for sure) either shoo’ or suah, but always sho’. Suah is a very good rendering of a sound common among classes above the Cracker. A Cracker would say, I think, “ I ’m gwine ter do it,” but never, " What hev you gwine and done ? ” that is, gwine for going, but not for gone. He would say, not real, but r’al; not yes’ day, but yistiddy; not mahnin’ (morning), but mawnin’ just as he is made to say, correctly, bawn (born) and Lawd (Lord). I do not believe that any amount of assumed dignity in the presence of guests of “ quality ” would bring from him “ alight, alight,” but “’light, ’light;” nor would he be likely to say, even on such an occasion, potatoes ; the most that could be expected of him would be pertaters, while ordinarily he would say ’taters. Certainly, not one Cracker in ten thousand would say arternoon, but always evenin’. Afternoon is little used by any class in South Carolina. The word chipper, in Deming’s mouth, is protected only by the admission of the writer that “ even his dialect is no longer pure South Carolinian ; it is corrupted by Northern slang ; ” but this remark will not apply to the other words to which I call attention, for they are not slang. Under no circumstances could a Cracker be expected to say Carolina, but always South C’lliny or South C’llina; and I believe that hev, hed., and thet are unknown in the Cracker dialect, as well as any other in South Carolina; for if there is any shibboleth for the South Carolinian of any degree, it is the a sound (as in fan). The negroes from the coast do say tek (take), or something very like it, but I do not think the Crackers ever do.

— I am sorry to find in the Contributors’ Club for October an article which was evidently written in haste, and which is obviously a mistake throughout.

The contributor proposes to “lighten the labor of reading by calling the attention of writers to some of the muchneglected notes of that ancient worthy, Goold Brown,” and quotes from memory the following: “ When the definitive words, the one, the other, are used, the former [one] must refer to the second of the antecedent terms, and the latter [other] to the antecedent term which was used first.”

I am somewhat familiar with Goold Brown, and with other leading authorities on the structure of the English language, but I know of no such rule as the one above. Undoubtedly the contributor had in mind the following, which I quote from Brown’s Grammar of English Grammars : “ When the pronominal adjectives this and that, or these and those, are contrasted, this or these should represent the latter of the antecedent terms, and that or those the former.”

To prove his “ a simple rule and a reasonable,” the contributor says, “ We point with the mental index-finger to that thing lying nearest us, which is the one last named, and motion with a broader sweep of gesture to that which lies farther from us, the thing first mentioned, the other.”

This reasoning is good when applied to this and that; but other, when used in correlation with one, means the second of two. One and other, referring to things previously mentioned, simply mean first (one) and second (other).

This interpretation of these terms, I believe, accords with the teaching of the professional grammarians and with the usage of the best writers. I am not surprised that the contributor has no difficulty in quoting, in violation of his rule, such authorities as The Atlantic, Sterling, and Emerson.

— There seems to be a popular belief in the law of the attraction of opposites as applying in the matter of love and friendship,— a law supposed to be based on induction, according to the true method of science. But is it not simply one of those formulæ which is true when it is true, and no oftener ? Does the appeal to experience prove any more here than it does when made use of by believers in what are called “ special providences,” who have a way of calling to witness this or that special fact, which is held to confirm their theory, while they persistently disregard the more general facts, which lie right beside the particular one, and contradict the inference it is desired to draw from it ? Opposite natures do attract each other, there is no doubt: a man of phlegmatic temper sometimes finds an irresistible fascination in a woman whose gay vivacity cheers and stimulates him like sunshine and the birds’ song ; or, again, it is the sanguine, buoyant-natured man who is mated happily with a wife whose serious and discreet mind is the balance-wheel insuring the safe running of the household machine. Indisputably, there is an attraction, sometimes difficult to account for, between persons of contrasted natures; nevertheless, a nice observation will often show, I think, that dissimilarities between husbands and wives or between intimate friends are superficial, while the strength of the mutual attraction resides in an underlying likeness. A marriage which is truly such, or a serious friendship, involves a very close intercourse, which to be sustained must rest on certain deep moral affinities, — if there be also intellectual affinities, the union or communion will be stronger still ; but such are not necessary, as the former are. Circumstances may play their part, and an important one, in the formation of our friendships or the selection of our life-mates; but among persons of any depth of character, choice as well as chance has to do with the matter, although the choice be often rather instinctive than deliberate. My opinions may agree or disagree with those of my friend ; my sentiments may or may not correspond always and exactly with his; but that he should not be destitute of ideas and sentiments seems indispensable, if we are to find lasting satisfaction in companionship. The closer the bond, the more it becomes a spiritual or emotional one ; the older we grow, the more we find that the stable affection our friend cherishes for us is precious above any mere similarity of tastes, pursuits, etc., there may be between us, while at the same time we may perhaps remember that it was the delight of sharing these that drew us together in the beginning. The ready sympathy which springs up between high and noble minds, and draws them into lifelong union has its counterpart, I believe, in the mutual attraction of shallower natures. There is a tacit comprehension between such ; and whatever their external, superficial contrast, their mere negativity of character becomes the tie, which is as real, in its way, as that uniting characters of positive weight and worth. A further evidence of the truth of this view of the matter seems to be the fact that each of us finds it possible to maintain an intimate friendship with persons who differ greatly from each other in many respects. My friend A may be of an emotional nature, while B is reserved and chary of expressions of regard: the former is intellectually quick and fine, the latter of a slow and solid order of mind. Superficially, the two are most unlike, and yet I, who stand between, the friend of both, am aware of that in each of them which is the source of my deepest feeling for them, and which, should opportunity for acquaintance offer, would bind them together, as they are now separately bound to me.

— I wish to describe a beautiful form of aquatic life lately seen upon one of our Western rivers. To my eye, it was the most conspicuous object in sight ; with its presence it honored and idealized the stream, and made the moment in which it was seen seem worthy of remembrance. A figure all curves and grace, as befits whatever lives in the suave communion of waters ; pure white, like a drift of new-fallen snow kept by enchantment from melting, it moved without starting a ripple or leaving the slightest wake, while itself and its mirrored image “ floated double.” I may have wished it would rise from the water, that I might see the spread of its wings and the manner of its flight, but in this I was not to be gratified. It had the appearance of sleep ; and as neither head nor neck could be seen, these were, doubtless, folded under its wing. If it had come as a migrant from distant regions, it was now resting oblivious of its long voyage. Fancy suggested that the poetry of its motion be set to the music of a swan-song. To what island of rushes, or to what bare sandy margin, would it at last come to die, — to dissolve in the sun and the wind, leaving only a pinch of yellow-white dust, which the least breath might scatter away ? Was I perhaps mistaken as to the species of this water-fowl ? I looked again, and saw that it was one of the brood fledged in storm at the foot of the milldam. Air and water were its parents, and its whole substance but a drift of foam. A wild, white swan it was (such as no fowler ever snared or shot), sailing solitary and beautiful down the amber-colored river.