English English

What if the Norman Conquest hadn’t happened? How would people on this island be speaking now? What would’ve happened to the nation of England?

Although English is technically a Germanic language, it can sometimes be very hard to detect that aspect of it. This is less true of Scots. Thisses causes are ultimately the influence of Norman French and the Great Vowel Shift. The first created a precedent for the adoption of other words into English and also eroded some of the inflections. The other took the pronunciation of long vowels, later diphthongs, far, far away from its origins compared to most other European languages with the possible exceptions of French and Portuguese. I previously dashed over the five or six centuries of history between the departure of the Latin speakers and the arrival of the new Latin speakers, and an early discernible cause of the Norman invasion was that Edward the Confessor was raised in Normandy, because his mother Emma of Normandy fled England and Sweyn Forkbeard, and the reason she’d married into the Saxon royal family in the first place was to pacify Normandy, and so it goes back and back as usual, and the real problem with proposing these scenarios is whether anything other than the current state of affairs is feasible. Of course it is, but maybe a lot of what we imagine to be real counterfactual timelines only seem to be so because we don’t know enough, maybe even can’t know enough, about the ultimate causes of events. When truly acausal events have a major influence on history, the situation is different, so for example it’s possible, though amazingly improbable (and that measures the distance that universe is from this one) that Rutherford’s photographic plate didn’t become clouded by radioactivity from pitchblende, and consequently there are timelines where radioactivity wasn’t discovered until much later or at all, along with ones where Chernobyl didn’t happen, Hiroshima didn’t happen and so on, all independently of Rutherford’s discovery, but in fact all these events are practically certain. This raises the question of what improbable event of this nature has occurred in our timeline, and that may be the existence of the nuclear reactor in Gabon two thousand million years ago, or perhaps that’s failure to become a runaway nuclear explosion.

Nonetheless, I shall imagine a scenario resulting from some nebulous tenth century event in the English monarchy, or perhaps something else such as conflict between the Danes and their brethren the Normans, which prevented the Norman Conquest or any other successful invasion of this island by Romance-speaking nations. What would English be like today?

It’s sometimes claimed that English is the richer for the Normans. Whereas I think it’s true that it has led to greater flexibility which allowed the language to acquire loan words more easily during the imperial era, and also gave it a particular character, this is to malign other Germanic languages unfairly. Old Norse in its modern form as Icelandic has a fine literary tradition, as has German, and they certainly didn’t need to be propped up by another language. Hamlet’s “To be or not to be? That is the question. . .” was recast as “To be or not to be? That is what is mooted. . .” by someone like David Starkey, and seen as clumsy and impoverished, but this assumes that no other changes would’ve taken place in English as a result of the absence of Norman French influence and is therefore quite artificial. English sans French is not English with one arm tied behind its back, because a language is unlikely to remain restricted in this way but will develop into the space left by the non-existent French influence. For instance, the Germans call a printing press a Druckpresse and the Icelandic name is Prentvél, so they did adopt a Latinate term but we could’ve ended up calling it something like a “throngtram”, and we’d be fine. Nobody would be disadvantaged by that and we wouldn’t know the difference. Hamlet’s speech, and of course there would’ve been no Shakespeare but let’s ignore that for now because there would’ve been someone else, could’ve started as something like “To be or not to be, that is the fray”, from the Old English “frignan” – to ask, or perhaps “. . . that is the asking”. Something would’ve come along to fill the gap.

Henceforth I shall rid this writing of words from other tongues, although I know some will slip through. However, although this may well show that English can get along without those other words, it shouldn’t be taken as the way it would’ve been without Norman French on the grounds I went into above. In truth, I have been writing and speaking like this, on and off, for years since I hated French so at school that I sought to take out all of the words that stemmed from French in my speech, and also Latin. Nowadays it comes straightforwardly to me and has done for years, although the hatred I once felt is now gone as I’m now aware that it’s widely spoken in the Third World, such as Afrika. Though I know some French words will leak through, even Icelandic and German, while unkeen on words thence, do have some, as can be seen in the above “Druckpresse” and “Prentvél”.

Anoðer þing French did to English was to write it in its own spelling and ðis meant þrowing out some of þe alphabet. Þorn, eð, æsc and ƿynn all went, and sundry methods, often with H, arose instead. Moreover, French spelling was also foisted upon the vowels (ðere goes an un-English word!) as wið “OU” for “U”. So, from now on I scal be writing Englisc wið þe older spelling too, at þe risk of becoming hard to follow. Ðis also means getting back to my small “i” for “I”, since Englisc did ðat once too, before þe Normans.

Ðen ðere’s þe vowel scift. Ðis cannot be seen in writing on þe whole, but it means ðat the way words are said is no longer hu we have been saying ðem in þe last few hundred years. Yu can also take it as read ðat spellings like “know” and “ðoght” will have everything spoken raðer ðan just being a series of scapes which are most unlike þe way ðey are spoken. I am beginning to find it hard to write ðis nu wið ðese new meþods and I þink I will be making some mistakes.

Alðoh only Englisc underwent þe Great Vowel Scift, two oðer tongues had þe same þings happen to ðeir vowels in oðer ways. Englisc spelling was once marked by making boþ Y and I do þe same work. Þis arises from ðem having been unlike each oðer at first but becoming more alike later. Þe same happened in Icelandic. Both nu make what we wuld call a short I. In Englisc ðis has gone furðer owing to our vowel scift, so we nu have an “eye” for it too. Ðerefore we can believe ðat ðis melding, which happened for us about nine hundred years after Christ, would have happened anyway. Moreover, German has had þe same þings happen to its long U and I as we have to ours, and nu spells ðem “AU” and “EI”. Hence anoðer set of spellings comes to liht: Y is only written in words from oðer tongues such as Greek, and þe long I and U are spelt “AI” and “AU”, which i scal do here fortþwiþ.

Our speech was overshadowed for hundreds of years by French, and in ðat time it became somewhat rotten. Ðere was no highflown kind of Englisc – it was spoken by þews and þe loest of þe lo. Ðerefore its grammar was not given heed, and it grew downfallen. Once it was raised again into þe liht, it had taken on a niu scape. No more did it have “she”, “it” and “he” for words which named things, and no more did words betokening þe marks of a named þing end in vauels scowing which of þese holes þey belonged in. Had þat not happened, we wuld in all laiklihood stil have such þings to þink abaut when we spoke.

It has become hard to go on writing þis owing to what i have taken on board and i still feel þat þere is a bit to go into, so instead of grinding awai at it, i scal scow iu where we mai have ended up wið a sketch of our speech as it wuld be spoken todai. Bi þe wai, þe awkwardness of the wording here is not laike hau þe true speech wuld come over.

It sculd bee born in mind ðat ðee French swai upon Englisc writing no wuld haaven happened. In his stead weere ðer ongoinde spellings from ðee Olde Englisce taimes. On ðee whole, ðee tunge weere laik unto Middle Englisc mid oone oðer two oddnesses. Ic no can undertaaken ðat ic write ðis wel.

Ic scal beginnen aniu:

Ðat alphabet is sumhwat laik unto aur oȝen but for twein stafs ðat sinden offwesend: ðer sinden no Q oðer Y. Hwen one wuld wraiten ðo laudes, moate one “KW” and “I” forwenden, and one mote eek munen, ðat ðer be no laud “Y” auttaaken “I”. Ðer sinen eek sume more stafs not faunden in todais Englisc:

A, B, C, D, Ð, E, F, G, Ȝ, H, I, J, K, L, M, N, O, P, R, S, T, Þ, U, V, W, X, Z.

“Д, hwilc as an smale staf is “ð”, is laik unto aur unwhisperede “TH”. “Þ” oðer “þ” is ðat ilk whisperede oan. So firn so ic woat, “Ȝ” is onli in Englisch founden, hwer it is nau “GH” writen, and her it haþ þree lauds: als “CH” in “loch”, “H” in “humour” oðer ðee unwhisperede aforesaide “CH”. R is als in Italian oðer Scots. Ðer is no “Q” forðai most of ðee words mid “QU” in hem sinden fro French oðer Latin and ðee Olde Englisce words ðermid weren mid “CW” spelt. Forðai C is onli said als “CH” als in “curc” nauadais, ðis is nau spelt “KW”. “WH” is spelt “HW” als it was in Olde Englisc.

Ðee vowels worken ðus:

A – als in Norðern “man”

E – hwen laudli spooken, als in “when”. Hwen not, als in “mother”.

EA – als above but lenger.

I – als in “this”.

O – als in Scots “pot”.

OA – als above but lenger.

U – als in “put”.

AA – als in “barn”.

EE – als in Norðern “they”.

II – als in “machine”.

OO – als in Norðern “gnome”.

UU – als in “soon”.

Nouns

Ðis is hwer ðis Englisc straieþ fro true Englisc moste. Amung ðee Teutonike tunges spooken in Europe , Anglik aloan haþ but grammatical kin akin to ðee sexes of ðee þing oðer folk at hand. Of ðee oaðer, German, Aislandisc and Norn aloan haaven þree kin. Ðee oather al haaven twein: neuter and amainscap. Ðerfor we cunen taaken it ðat Englisc doo laikwaise. Herfor haave ic taken Englisc twein kin to haaven. Ðee formere waiflie and mannlie kin sinden becumen oan amainscap kin and neuter is jet neuter. Ðus alðoȝ a waif bi name klept scal “hee” klept be, ðat word “waif” itself is “it” klept. Ðer sinden but two þride pronomia personale. Laikwaise, “stoan” is amain – “ðee stoan”, not “ðat stoan”. “Stoan” is “hee”, not “it”.

Ðee ofteste kind of noun by fere is ðat hwilch has “-(e)s” for ðat manikind. Ðo eek forwenden ðat ilk for ðee genitivum. Ðer sinden ðoȝ sume nouns ðat haaven zero manikinds, swic als folk, þing, jear, swain, hors, sceep, deer, neat, weapen, faul and fisc. Sum herof sinden eek ðus in aur oȝene Englisc. Ðer sinden eek “-en” kinds, bilaiend oxen, eyen, breðren, cildern, lambren, kain, koalen, treen, meaten, steaden, sunen. Ðen ðer sinden sundrie nouns ðat haaven manikinds hwer ðee vowel is unlaik unto ðe oankind: foot – feet, man – men, goos – gees, maus – mais, laus – lais, kau – kain. Oaðere zero manikinds sinden “freend”, “feend”, “niȝt”, “faðer” and “breec”. Words borroȝed from Latin and Greek haaven ðee Latine nominative ending but not ðee Greek.

Adjektiva

Jee mauen haaven merked ðat sumhwat befalleþ ðee adjektivs in sume settings, hwer ðai oan “-E” after ðee ende of sume words but not al. Ðis is laik unto ðee oaðere Teutonik speeces, ðat maaken hem unalaik jif ðai twix ðeir word for “ðee” oðer “dat” and a noun sinden, oðer oaðere tookens of bestimmedness swich als “main” oðer “ðain”, and eke befor ðe manikind, swich als “an hiȝ cild”, “ðat hiȝe cild” and “sume hiȝe cildren”. Als in tru Englisch, ðer sinden sume adjektiva ðat haaven autlandisce “-er” and “-est” kinds, laik unto aure “better” and “best”, hwilc ðai eek haaven, but ðai haaven also “laite” – “lesse” – “least” and “far” – “fore” – “first” so wel so “long” – “lenger” – “lengest” and “strong” – “strenger” – “strengest”, and “elder and “eldest” sinden spoken midaut sister and breðren. So was it hwilom in true Englisc.

Of ðee tallis, “oan” and “two” haaven kinds beyond ðee nominativa. Oan haþ “oans” for ðat genitivum and “two” “twein” for ðat objektivum and “tweir” for ðat genitivum. Hens ðee tallis for reckoning sinden:

oan, two, þree, fower, faiv, six, seven, eȝt, nain, teen, enleven, twelf (becumeþ “twelve” jif bestimmed oðer manikind), þriteen, fowerteen, fifteen, sixteen, seveteen, eȝteen, ninteen, twenti, oan and twenti . . . hundred . . . þausend. Ðen we haaven eek ðee words: first, oaðer, þrid, ferþ, fift, sixt, seveþ, eȝteþ, niȝende, tenþe.

Artikula

Ðisse sinden liȝt. “An” and “a” sinden forwent als in tru Englisc. “The” overseteþ als “ðat” for oankind neutrum and “ðee” for al els. Oaðerwaise ðer is no token of kin oaðer ðan ðe pronomina. Ic am aware ðat ic overloade ðat word “kin” bai ðe wei.

Pronomina

Ðee firste persona pronomina sinden “ic” and “wee”. Ic kan maaken a grid herabaut:

Nominativum	ic	wee	ðau	jee
Genitivum	main	aur	ðain	juur
Objektivum	mee	us	ðee	ju

Ðee þridde personae sinden:

	Amain	Neutrum	Manikind
Nominativum	hee	it	ðei
Genitivum	his	his	ðeir
Akkusativum	hin	it	hem, ðem
Dativum	him	him	hem, ðem

Ðis scoweþ ðee startlinde þing abaut ðat pronominum “he” als in Middle Englisc. In West Saxon, ðer weren þree þridde personale pronomina: “heo”, “hit” and “he”. In Middle Englisc, ðee laud “EO” bekam “E”, and ðerfor boþe ðee waiflie and manlie pronomina weren ðat ilk. Ðis led to ðe so-callede “generic he” but ðee need was felt for a niu waifli pronomen, hens “she”. Ðis meaneþ ðat menisce sinden “he” klept, even jif ðei waifs sinden. Ðee pronomina sinden also aloan in havind ðeir oȝene akkusative and dative kinds, mid “hin” and “him”, and ðis is moreover tru of ðee pronomina for askings forwent:

	Aloan	Mani
Nominativum	hwoo	hwat
Genitivum	hwos	hwos
Akkusativum	hwon	hwat
Dativum	hwom	hwom

Ðat dativum his oȝene kind havind is kind of weak forþai non-livinde þing sinden seldom þing “given”, and ðat is tru of ale pronomina. Hawever, ðat dativum in Englisc foldeþ ðat instrumentale in, and ðerfor more waideli forwent is.

Ðer sinden eek bits of ðe twofolde kin left, swic als “hweðer” hwer wee “hwilc” sayen jif ðer sinden but two þing.

Verba

It haþ oȝenscip ðat ðee stronge verba sinden waidspreader ðan in tru Englisc, and even sume words ðat weren in Olde Englisc weak sinden strong bekumen. But befor ic doo ðo, mote one þinke of þee greatere kind of verbe:

walken, to walken:

ic walke

ðau walkest

hee walkeþ

wee, jee, ðei walken.

ic walkede

ðau walkedst

hee walkedeþ

wee, jee, ðei walkeden

walkind

walked

Ðe stronge verba sinden in seven bits cloven, and mor ðerof sinden in al ðan in tru Englisc. Also, ðei haven al of ðo kinds in Middle Englisc faunden, and niu stronge verba haven arisen hwen ðat stem raimeþ.

Ic feele nau ðat ic haave ȝenuȝ said, and ðee speec made is most akin to Middle Englisc. Ðer sinden but fiwe wendings from ðee tru Middle Englisc speec herin. Oan hardness is makind niwe words for þing ðat weren not back in ðee oldene dais. Ic haave curen to forwenden words from Latin itself for ðee grammaticale words, forþai ðee laiks of ðee Germans and Aislanders haven alaik doon.

If you’ve been patient enough to get this far, thank you for indulging me. This has proven quite a struggle to write and I suspect there are many inconsistencies in this post, which in fact replaces a different post on the idea of a generic Germanic language. However, now it’s seen the light of day I hope it’s not too boring.