OUR MOTHER TONGUE

Otago Daily Times, Issue 23707, 14 January 1939, Page 7

OUR MOTHER TONGUE

RANDOM NOTES Written for the Otago Daily. Times By Professor Arnold Wall ■When a Thames bargee was hurt in an accident - and .feared that his leg was broken, being reluctant to ‘spend money on a- doctor, he called • in as an expert his friend whose cousin had once been in hospital ■with typhoid fever. I am reminded of this incident by a request frsft a correspondent to supply the solution to the old, old problem: “ that man s father is my father’s soni” Now what has that to do with our mother tongue? The speaker-is, .of: coprse,, looking at the noftrait Of: his. own son. but I say so, only to. oblige and hope that no more such conundrums will be offered^as.material for these notes. THE CALIFORNIAN POPPY l am asked why Eschscholtzia. the Californian porpv. is pronounced “ Eskolsher ” and why it is so called. To deal with the easier question first, the-name was given in honour of the Russian biologist and traveller Eschscholz (1793-1831) whose name, ■‘.though lie was a Russian, is a German" orie. I cannot say what that name .means for the first eleme , n^ esch ” is the German word for the •ash tree; while the second, “scholz” fxieans ;a .magistrate or Mayor, and the combination does not seem to make sense. If the spelling had been “Eschholz” the name would mean “ ash-wood ” and that would be easy. A very large number of plant-names have been manufactured in this way from the names of their discoverers; familiar examples are Lobelia, Dahlia, and Fuchsia, often mis-spelt “Fuschia.” formed- from the names of the botanists de Lobel, Dahl and Fuchs. . As for the pronunciation, this is extremely regrettable, for the sen should be our sh, not sk. The spelling is of course very puzzling: “ schsch ” .is an impossible sort of combination which tends to muddle the mind of an Englishman. Appar-

ently the popular pronunciation, which -has become standardised, is (suggested by the words “ scholar ” and; “ school ” in which sch is hard before o, but these are not. of course, derived, from German., The same inquirer wants to know ;the origin and pronunciation cif Vauxhall. The name takes its origin from the lord of the manor. Falkes de Breaute. “ Vaux ” in: place—and hence in many :-personal -.,names of French origin, means “ a valley,” but in this case “ Vaux stands for “Falkes,” the nominative form of “Falcon’- which also survives as “Fawkes,” 'The, usual pronunciation us “ Voxhall,” stressed about equally on both; syllables, -but is more 'familiarly “Voxal.” London names provide the inquirer with a rich historical: deposit and their pronunciation is almost as fine a field for the student' of Our Mother Tongue on ‘the-phonetic side: St. Mary Axe; Marylebone; Pall Mall; Holborn, what pitfalls they offer to the casual visitor to London! My father visited London for the first time about 1840 and when he asked the way to “hole-born” was told by a native with some contempt that he meant “ Obun.” \ ECHOES OF THE WAR . A correspondent who served in the Great War submits- two very familiar terms for comment, offering in each case an explanation of .sorts, “Digger,” he says, derives from the Spanish word “ diga which is used much as the American “Say” or our “I say” to preface a sentence. This was used by a particular sergeant-major named Leake, and from his habit it became general. No, this will not do at all. The fact is that “ digger ” was used in both Australia and New Zealand from about 1855 for, “a man, originating on the gold diggings According to Partridge it was probably as a revival of this that it became common in 1915 on Gallipoli and in the postwar period became the usual term for a returned soldier. Then we have “ Gerry ” or “ Jerry for a German. My informant says that the German soldier was at first “ Fritz,” then ‘ Fitz,” then “ Fitzgerald,” and reaches the terminus as “Gerry.” Here again I appeal to Partridge who says that Gerry

is simply formed from the word “ German ” which seems to me most probable. It is, however, notoriously difficult to unearth the genesis of slang terms in general and of War Slang in particular. Men were otherwise occupied than in philological observation during the war, and when asked about a particular usage have to rely on memory, and the .memories of different men liver very different accounts in too many cases. My friend admits that his “ explanations ” very far fetched, and so I think too. I am asked about the correct pronunciation of the name Antony, also spelt Anthony, the inquirer having heard it pronounced by “ well-edu-, cated speakers” with the sound of th as in “ thin,” It is a great pity that the name was ever spelt with th, for it is in Latin “Antonius,” and the proper pronunciation is with t, not th. The spelling with th misleads many speakers. In Latin the combination th was used to transliterate the Greek letter “ theta,” which was like our th in words of English origin. During the Middle Ages there was much confusion between this Latin th and the native. English th. Latin words containing this th were properly pronounced with t, but in many cases the English sound ' crept • in. We still pronounce the th as t in “Thomas,” “ Thyme,” “ Thames,” but not in "theme,” “anthem,” or “throne,” which were all spelt alternatively with t in older English. A different sort of confusion results when t and h happen to come together in a word of English origin compounded of two words one of which ends with t and the other begins with h, as in the names “ Bentham ” and “ Trentham,” and I have even heard th in “ Chatham.” CUNNING-HAM _____ Speaking of “Chatham.” I sometimes hear the h very clearly pronounced in certain English names ending in “-ham,” such as “Buckingham,” “ Nottingham,” and “Cunningham.” tfobody now

pronounces “Chatham” otherwise than as “ Chattum,” but in the longer, names the. h is often heard, especially, I notice, over the air, in “Buckingham Palace.” American speakers, who have many pedantic pronunciations in spite of their supposed (“ free-and-easy ” ways, say Mr “ Cunning-ham ” as it might be “Wily Bacon," but that is their own affair. I cannot often spare space for dissertations upon the origin of surr names, but make an exception in favour of the name “Farr,” about which I am asked. More than one origin is possible, but I have no. doubt that in most cases the name stands for the Anglo-Saxon word “ fearr,” which meant “ a bull ” or “ bullock.” It is one of those numerous ,names of animals which men acquired at first probably as nicknames. Both “Bull” and “Bullock ” are common as' surnames, and we have an example of “Bull” as a nickname in the case of Lord Allenby, the conqueror of Palestine.