1
The Social History of Language
In the last few years a relatively new area of historical research has developed, which might be described as a social history of language, a social history of speaking, or a social history of communication. Consciousness of the importance of language in everyday life has become widespread in the last generation or so. As the rise of feminist and regionalist movements shows, dominated groups have become more sharply aware of the power of language as well as the involvement of language with other forms of power. Again, the philosophers, critics and others associated with the movements commonly labelled structuralism and deconstruction, despite their many disagreements, share a strong concern with language and its place in culture.
Whether they are involved with one or more of these movements, or with oral history, another recent development, a number of historians have also come to recognize the need for the study of language for two reasons in particular. In the first place, as an end in itself, as a social institution, as a part of culture and everyday life. In the second place, as a means to the better understanding of oral and written sources via awareness of their linguistic conventions.1 All the same, there still remains a gap between the disciplines of history, linguistics, and sociology (including social anthropology). The gap can and should be filled by a social history of language.
It is no new idea that language has a history. Ancient Romans, such as Varro, and Renaissance humanists, such as Leonardo Bruni and Flavio Biondo, were interested in the history of Latin.2 Discussions of the origin of French, Italian, Spanish, and other languages were published in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, forming part of the debates about the relative merits of Latin and the vernaculars and the correct ways of speaking and writing the latter.3
In the nineteenth century, the dominant school of linguists, the so-called âneogrammariansâ, was much concerned with the reconstruction of early forms of particular languages, such as âprotoromanceâ and âprotogermanicâ, and with the formulation of laws of linguist evolution.4 This was the approach against which the linguistic Ferdinand de Saussure, now seen as the father of structuralism, reacted, on the grounds that the historical school of linguists was too little concerned with the relation between the different parts of the language system.5 In Saussureâs day, however, the historical approach remained dominant. The Oxford English Dictionary, planned, as its title-page declared, on âhistorical principlesâ, began publication in 1884, while its French equivalent, edited by Emile LittrĂ©, began in 1863.6 Histories of English, French and German which have since achieved the status of classics date originally from the years around 1900.7
All the same, this approach to the history of language lacked a full social dimension. Children of their time, these nineteenth-century scholars thought of language as an organism which âgrowsâ or âevolvesâ through definite stages and expresses the values or âspiritâ of the nation which speaks it. Their concerns were national â or even nationalist â rather than social. They studied the internal history of languages, the history of their structure, but neglected what has been called their âexternal historyâ, in other words the history of their use.8 They showed little interest in the different varieties of the âsameâ language spoken by different social groups. On the other hand, this concern is central to contemporary sociolinguistics, which crystallized into a discipline in the late 1950s in the United States and elsewhere.
Of course, awareness of the social significance of varieties of speech is far from new. It has been argued with some plausibility that in Italy the sixteenth century was âthe time in which language first came to be regarded as a primarily social phenomenonâ.9 One Italian writer published a book in 1547 âOn Speech and Silenceâ, organizing the study according to the modern-sounding categories âwhoâ, âto whomâ, âwhyâ, âhowâ, and âwhenâ, 10 thus reminding us of the debt which sociolinguistics owes to the tradition of classical rhetoric.
Other writers also made acute sociolinguistic observations at this time. Vincenzo Borghini, for example, noted and tried to explain the archaism of the speech of Tuscan peasants, arguing that âthey converse less with foreigners than townspeople do, and for this reason change less.â In his famous dialogue on âcivil conversationâ, Stefano Guazzo described the harsh accent of the Piedmontese, the Genoese propensity to swallow their words, the Florentines with their mouths âfull of aspirationsâ, and so on.11
A similar sociolinguistic awareness can be found in the plays of Shakespeare. In a famous scene in Henry IV, for example, Hotspur criticizes his Kate for saying âin good soothâ because this turn of phrase was not aristocratic. âYou swear like a comfit-makerâs wife, â he tells her. What Hotspur wanted to hear was âa good mouth-filling oathâ. In the seventeenth century, MoliĂšre, as we shall see below, had his ear particularly well tuned to the social nuances expressed by different varieties of language. One might say the same of Goldoni in the following century.
Nineteenth-century novels, from Jane Austen and George Eliot to Leo Tolstoy and Theodor Fontane, are a still richer source of observations on the social meaning of differences in speech. Think, for example, of Rosamond Vincy in Middlemarch, objecting to her motherâs phrase âthe pick of themâ as ârather a vulgar expressionâ, while her carefree brother Fred counters with the assertion â which has its parallel among linguists today â that so-called âcorrectâ English is nothing but âthe slang of prigsâ. When the old lawyer Standish, in the same novel, swears âBy God!â, the author intervens to explain that he was using that oath as âa sort of armorial bearings, stamping the speech of a man who held a good positionâ. He used it, as we might say, as a status symbol.12
The perceptiveness and articulateness of these writers was out of the ordinary. All the same, there would be little need for a social history of language if ordinary speakers were not more or less aware of the social meaning of styles of speech, while social climbers have always been hyperconscious of such matters.
Again, it is no new idea that language is a potential instrument in the hands of the ruling class, an instrument which they may employ as much to mystify or to control as to communicate. The use of Latin in early modern Europe is an obvious example, and it will be discussed in detail below (p. 37). The use of another foreign language, âlaw Frenchâ, in English courts was criticized on similar grounds by men as diverse as Archbishop Thomas Cranmer, King James I, and the seventeenth-century radicals John Lilburne and John Warr.13 Again, in the middle of the nineteenth century, the British sociologist Herbert Spencer was already recommending historical research on what he called âthe control exercised by class over class, as displayed in social observances â in titles, salutations and forms of addressâ.14
All the same, as the philosopher Alfred Whitehead once remarked, âEverything of importance has been said before by someone who did not discover it.â In other words, there is an enormous difference between the vague awareness of a problem and systematic research into it. In the case of the relation between language, thought and society, pioneering explorations were made from the end of the nineteenth century onwards, notably by the sociologist Thorstein Veblen, the literary critic Mikhail Bakhtin, and the linguists Fritz Mauthner, Benjamin Whorf and Antoine Meillet.
Veblen, for example, paid serious attention to linguistic phenomena when formulating his famous âtheory of the leisure classâ.15 Bakhtin criticized the structural linguist Saussure for his lack of interest in change over time and developed the theory of âheteroglossiaâ (raznorechie) according to which a language, Russian for instance, is the result of the interplay or struggle between different dialects, jargons and so on, different forms of language which are associated with different social groups and their diverse points of view, so that each user of language has to appropriate it from the mouths of others and adapt it to his or her own needs.16
Fritz Mauthner by contrast was a linguistic determinist. Developing Nietzscheâs idea of language as a âprisonâ (GefĂ€ngnis), Mauthner once declared that âif Aristotle had spoken Chinese or Dakotan, he would have produced a totally different system of logical categoriesâ (âHĂ€tte Aristoteles Chinesisch oder Dakotaisch gesprochen, er hĂ€tte zu einer qanz andern Logik gelangen mĂŒssenâ).17 Whorfâs controversial but influential essays made essentially the same point, arguing that the fundamental ideas of a people, such as the Hopi Indians â their conceptions of time, space, and so on â are shaped by the structure of their language, its genders, tenses, and other grammatical and syntactical forms.18
In France, Antoine Meillet, a former pupil of Saussureâs but committed to a historical approach, described language in Durkheimian terms as âeminently a social fact (âĂ©minĂ©mment un fait socialâ). He was a semi-determinist who argued that âLanguages serve to express the mentality of the speaking subjects, but each one constitutes a highly organized system which imposes itself on them, which gives their thought its form and only submits to the action of this mentality in a slow and partial manner.â19
The French historian Lucien Febvre, a former pupil of Meillet, illustrated his theory of the relation between language and mentality in a study of François Rabelais and the problem of unbelief. In this study, Febvre argued that atheism was impossible in the sixteenth century, among other reasons because of the lack of abstract concepts in French which might sustain such a worldview.20 Earlier in his career, between 1906 and 1924, Febvre had written a number of review articles on the history of language in the Revue de SynthÚse Historique, praising the work of Meillet and telling historians that they needed to follow what the linguists were doing, for example the study of the introduction of French into the south of France in the centuries before the French Revolution.21
The subject was also of great interest to Febvreâs friend and colleague Marc Bloch. Indeed, it has been suggested that Bloch learned the comparative method of which he set such store from the linguists, from Meillet in particular.22 Historians in other countries and other fields â the church his...