Colin Gorrie posts thus at Dead Language Society:
A man takes a train from London to the coast. He’s visiting a town called Wulfleet. It’s small and old, the kind of place with a pub that’s been pouring pints since the Battle of Bosworth Field. He’s going to write about it for his blog. He’s excited.
He arrives, he checks in. He walks to the cute B&B he’d picked out online. And he writes it all up like any good travel blogger would: in that breezy LiveJournal style from 25 years ago, perhaps, in his case, trying a little too hard.
But as his post goes on, his language gets older. A hundred years older with each jump. The spelling changes. The grammar changes. Words you know are replaced by unfamiliar words, and his attitude gets older too, as the blogger’s voice is replaced by that of a Georgian diarist, an Elizabethan pamphleteer, a medieval chronicler.
By the middle of his post, he’s writing in what might as well be a foreign language.
But it’s not a foreign language. It’s all English.
A good idea, well executed. I admit I suspected a typo in the 1300 passage when I got to “His vois was as þe crying of rauenes, scharpe and schille” — should that last word be “schrille”? — but no, it turns out shrill didn’t enter English for another century or so: c1400 (?c1380) “Wyth a schrylle scharp schout þay schewe þyse worde.” The older word was in fact the OED’s shill ‘Sonorous, resonant, shrill.’ (That entry is from 1914, but the shrill one was revised in 2024, and its etymology section says “Probably an alteration of shill adj., with insertion of ‑r‑, perhaps as a result of association with shrike v. or shream v.”) In the same passage, “Swie!” is the good old Germanic verb ‘to be silent’ (German schweigen). At the end Gorrie explains what’s happened in the later (earlier) bits for those whose linguistic intuition failed them sometime around the fourteenth century. Thanks, Bathrobe!
Speak Your Mind