or very nearly the same sound in English and Ger man, may produce a similar convergence between two words in one and the same language. Nay, the chances are, if we take into account the peculiarities of pronunciation and grammar in each dialect, that perfect identity of sound between two words, differing in origin, will occur more frequently in one and the same than in different dialects. It would seem to follow, also, that these cases of verbal convergence are more frequent in modern than in ancient languages; for it is only by a constant process of phonetic corruption, by a constant wearing off of the sharp edges of words, that this verbal assimilation can be explained. Many words in Latin differ by their terminations only; these terminations were generally omitted in the modern Romance dialects, and the result is, that these words are no longer distinguishable in sound. Thus novus in Latin means new; novem, nine; the terminations being dropped, both become in French neuf. Suum, his, is pronounced in French son; sonum, sound, is reduced to the same form. In the same manner tuum, thine, and tonus, tone, become ton. The French feu, fire, is the Latin focus; feu, in the sense of late, is not exactly Latin, at least, it is derived from Latin in the most barbarous way. In the same manner as we find in Spanish somos, sois, son, where sois stands ungrammatically for Latin estis; as in the same language a gerund siendo is formed which would seem to point to a barbarous Latin form, essendo, so a past participle fuitus may have been derived from the Latin perfect fui, I was; and this may have given rise to the French feu, late. Hence we find both feu la reine and la feue reine. It sometimes happens that three Latin words are absorbed into one French sound. The sound of mer conveys in French three distinct meanings; it means sea, mother, and mayor. Suppose that French had never been written down, and had to be reduced to writing for the first time by missionaries sent to Paris from New Zealand, would not mer, in their dictionary of the French language, be put down with three distinct meanings, meanings having no more in common than the explanations given in some of our old Greek and Latin dictionaries? It is no doubt one of the advantages of the historical system of spelling that the French are able to distinguish between la mer, mare, le maire, major, la mère, mater; yet if these words produce no confusion in the course of a rapid conversation, they would hardly be more perplexing in reading, even though written phonetically. There are instances where four and five words, all of Latin origin, have dwindled away into one French term. Ver, the worm, is Latin vermis; vers, a verse, is Latin versus; verre, a glass, is Latin vitrum; vert, green, is Latin viridis; vair, fur, is Latin varius. Nor is there any difference in pronunciation between the French mai, the month of May, the Latin majus ; mais, but, the Latin magis; mes, the plural of my, Latin mei; and la maie, a trough, perhaps the Latin mactra; or between sang, blood, sanguis; cent, a hundred, centum; sans, without, sine; sent, he feels, sentit; s'en, in il s'en va, inde. Where the spelling is the same, as it is, for instance, in louer, to praise, and louer, to let, attempts have not been wanting to show that the second meaning was derived from the first; that louer, for instance, was used in the sense of letting, because you have to praise your lodgings before you can let them. Thus fin, fine, was connected with fin, the end, because the end occasionally expresses the smallest point of an object. Now, in the first instance, both louer, to let, and louer, to praise, are derived from Latin; the one is laudare, the other locare. In the other instance we have to mark a second cause of verbal confusion in French. Two words, the one derived from a Latin, the other from a German source, met on the neutral soil of France, and, after being divested of their national dress, ceased to be distinguishable from each other. The same applies to the French causer. In one sense it is the Latin causare, to cause; in another, the Old German chôsón, the Modern German kosen. As French borrows not only from German, but also from Greek, we need not be surprised if in le page, page, we meet with the Greek paídion, a small boy, whereas la page is the Latin página, a page or leaf. There are cases, however, where French, Italian, and Spanish words, though apparently invested with two quite heterogeneous meanings, must nevertheless be referred to one and the same original. Voler, to fly, is clearly the Latin volare; but voler, to steal, would seem at first sight to require a different etymology. There is, however, no simple word, whether in Latin, or Celtic, or Greek, or German, from which voler, to steal, could be derived. Now, as we observed that the same Latin word branched off into two distinct French words by a gradual change of pronunciation, we must here admit a similar bifurcation, brought on by a gradual change of meaning. It would not, of course, be satisfactory to have recourse to a mere gratuitous assumption, and to say that a thief was called volator, a flyer, because he flew away like a bird from his pursuers. But Professor Diez has shown that in Old French, to steal is embler, which is the medieval Latin imbulare, used, for instance, in the "Lex Salica." This imbulare is the genuine Latin involare, which is used in Latin of birds flying down,1 of men and women flying at each other in a rage, of soldiers dashing upon an enemy, and of thieves pouncing upon a thing not their own. The same involare is used in Italian in the sense of stealing, and in the Florentine dialect it is pronounced imbolare, like the French embler. It was this involare, with the sense of seizing, which was abbreviated to the French voler. Voler, therefore, meant originally, not to fly away, but to fly upon, just as the Latin impetus, assault, is derived from the root pat, to fly, in Sanskrit, from which we derived penna and feather. A complete dictionary of words of this kind in French has been published by M. E. Zlatagorskoi, under the title, "Essai d'un Dictionnaire des Homonymes de la Langue Française" (Leipzig, 1862), and a similar dictionary might be composed in English. For here, too, we 1 "Neque enim debent (aves) ipsis nidis involare; ne, dum adsiliunt, pedibus ova confringant." - Col. 8, 3, 5. 2 "Vix me contineo, quin involem in capillum, monstrum.' 5, 2, 20. 8 - Tac. H. 4, 33. Ter. Eun. Adeoque improvisi castra involavere." 4 "Remitte pallium mihi meum quod involasti." - Cat. 25, 6. These passages are taken from White and Riddle's Latin-English Dictionary, a work which deserves the highest credit for the careful and thoughtful manner in which the meanings of each word are arrange and built up architecturally, story on story. find not only Romance words differing in origin and becoming identical in form, but Saxon words likewise; nay, not unfrequently we meet with words of Saxon origin which have become outwardly identical with words of Romance origin. For instance: A. S. biawan, the wind blows A. S. blowian, the flower blows A. S. clífian, to stick A. S. clúfan, to sunder A. S. hafuc, a bird; German Habicht A. S. latost, latest A. S. hlæst, burden A. S. lást, mould for making shoes A. S. licgan, to repose A. S. leogan, to speak untruth A. S. eare, the ear; Lat. auris A. S. eár, the ear of corn; Gothic ahs; Ger man Ähre Latin comes Latin computare to repair Latin reparare |