The Economist - USA (2020-02-15)

The EconomistFebruary 15th 2020 Books & arts 73

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Johnson Original sins

Mistakes made by the first grammarians of English still plague the rulebooks

W

here do the rules of grammar

come from? Even those who care

about the subject rarely, if ever, ask that

question. The rules are simply the rules,

passed down in good grammar books.

But who wrote the first one, and how?

If field linguists study an isolated

group to write the first grammar of their

language, it will be purely descriptive.

They will find out what the natives say,

what patterns they use (and avoid), and

describe them. But most English-speak-

ers have a notion that grammar cannot be

just a description of the habits of ordin-

ary people. Many think of proper gram-

mar as a lofty goal that they may never

quite reach. Much of that has to do with

the way the first grammars of English

were written.

In the mid-18th century there were

few studies of English grammar, and

none was comprehensive or author-

itative. Furthermore, the first major

grammarians of English were working

before modern linguistic methods—

based on evidence and comparison—had

evolved. They used a combination of

logic, Latin analogies and their own

instincts. Unfortunately, some of the

missteps they made as a result still hold

sway. The now obscure but once feted

contribution of Robert Lowth (1710-87) is

a case in point.

Lowth’s importance to grammar can

be compared to Samuel Johnson’s to

lexicography. The two men were contem-

poraries; Johnson’s dictionary appeared

in 1755, Lowth’s “Short Introduction to

English Grammar” in 1762. Both would go

on to be widely imitated, even copied.

Today, Johnson is a household name,

whereas Lowth’s is confined to nerdish

circles. But his role in the development

of English grammar rules means that he

should be better known.

All these “incorrect” usages were in

rude health among fine English authors

in the centuries before Lowth. But he

thought even the best authors were often

wrong; he copiously cites mistakes (and

“mistakes”) that he identified in the King

James Bible, Swift, Addison, Dryden,

Milton, Pope and Shakespeare.

For all that, the charges against him

are overdone. Lowth did not say sen-

tences should never end in a preposition;

he said it was more elegant if they didn’t.

(Dryden said as much before him.) As for

the double negative, he acknowledged it

had once been respectable. Ms Tieken-

Boon van Ostade says it was already on

its way out of standard English earlier in

the 18th century, so Lowth’s role was

probably not decisive. He is sometimes

blamed for the (completely baseless)

prohibition of the split infinitive—but he

said nothing about it. And though he did

make analogies with Latin, he also wrote

that English “has little concern” with

“the rules of a foreign language”.

In the 19th century philologists made

great discoveries about the nature of

language, mainly by studying systemic,

historical change in European tongues.

But the popular market went in a differ-

ent direction—towards rigid dictums

rather than open-minded empiricism.

The ambitious middle classes demanded

books that told them what to do, memor-

isable strictures with no exceptions. And

the market provided them: Lowth’s

followers took his often subtle sugges-

tions and turned them into rigid rules,

often with added disdain for those who

were not familiar with them. Today, the

gulf between professional linguistics

and practical advice is wide, as if biolo-

gists understood the germ theory of

disease but bedside doctors still believed

in the four humours.

His grammar was cannily marketed,

says Ingrid Tieken-Boon van Ostade, a

Dutch linguist. Its print-run was unprece-

dented. One reader, William Cobbett, is

said to have learned its text by heart, and

would himself go on to write a popular

grammar in 1818. Another follower, Lindley

Murray, plagiarised it shamelessly; his

own grammar was a runaway bestseller in

both Britain and America. These disciples

greatly magnified Lowth’s legacy.

Today academic linguists condemn

him twice over: for being a scold, and for

getting his scolding wrong. Lowth is con-

sidered responsible for some of the hoari-

est non-rules of the English language—

proscriptions that were invalid even when

he wrote them, but which have nonethe-

less been imposed on schoolchildren

since. The most famous is the injunction

not to end a sentence with a preposition.

Another is the notion that two negatives

equal a positive, so that “He didn’t say

nothing” means “He said something.” A

third is that “whose” cannot be used with

reference to an inanimate noun, as in “an

idea whose time has come”.

er”, faced a different problem in America:

Harvey Weinstein’s distribution firm re-

stricted its release when Mr Bong refused

to make the cuts Mr Weinstein wanted.) In

the end, the cultural McCarthyism did not

help its enforcers. A newspaper revealed

the existence of the blacklist in 2016; the re-

sulting outrage contributed to Ms Park’s

impeachment and eventual imprisonment

for corruption and abuse of power, and the

election of Mr Moon.

Some conservatives are still wary of Mr

Bong, whose work criticises capitalism and

social hierarchies. But despite its themes of

inequality and class resentment, South Ko-

reans’ jubilation over “Parasite” transcend-

ed politics. The many who had been

breathlessly following the Oscars cere-

mony erupted in pride when the best-pic-

ture envelope was opened. Cinemas swiftly

added new screenings for the few laggards

who had not yet seen the film (more than

10m tickets were sold when it was shown in

South Korea last summer). A pizza joint

and supermarket that feature in the story

were overrun by reporters. The municipal

government promoted tours of the film’s

locations, including a grimy underpass.

Little good the enthusiasm will do the

city’s strugglers—at least, if “Parasite” itself

is any guide. Nothing avails the Kims, nei-

ther crime nor (when they try it) going

straight. Still, for all its fatalism, part of the

appeal of Mr Bong’s zany movie is that it is

never simplistic. The Kims aren’t saints,

and the Parks are more blithe than villain-

ous; they just cannot help noticing the

odour that seems to emanate from the ser-

vants. If audiences stop to think about it,

the grisly denouement is only a slight in-

flection of a reality in which, sometimes,

the poorest are left to feed on scraps. 7