tinentalists we must not expect too much. Our consonants must be left as they are (only ti mus not be made into shi) the vowels being sounded as in Italian or German; a (father), e (labour] i (needle), u (poodle). The u not to be sounded as in French.
Latin is a foreign language, and should be treated as such. No one would think of teaching French in any other way. If, in addition, an attempt were made to rescue the letter r, which seems to be steadily fading out of our language, a still further improvement might be attained. I do not allude to the droll sound that sometimes shocks us when we are told that Bawabbas was a wobber. I know a canon who always so reads it. I mean the slurring over the letter and calling a carriage a ca-a-ge an orange an awnge, a moral a mol, and so on. The way in which r is slurred over or altogether omitted by the average Englishman gives him a marked peculiarity when he speaks any foreign language. If he has had a teacher whose ear is quick to detect this infirmity, the cure is possible except in those cases I have mentioned, where r is distinctly turned into w; they, I fear, are hopeless. J. Dixon.
Mr Ward's advocacy of my contention was well worth earning by double the pains it took to start the discussion. I am entirely at one with him in his assertion that "the beauty of Virgil read this way [with the Italian pronunciation], instead of as now, is enhanced a hundredfold," and I hope his suggestion as to placing an Italian professor at Oxford, and another at Cambridge, may not be strangled at its birth. A sojourn of several years on the Continent amongst Latin-speaking students of various nationalities, and a deep attachment to the noble language of old Rome, have made me an enthusiast in this matter.
Mr Warren's heat-rays amuses me far more than even my high trees. The joke loses its intended piquancy by over-reaching itself, for neither old Romans nor modern Continentals would thus pronounce hi tres, simply because the t in tres is never joined to the hi in articulation, and the e is short. Of a truth, "too much sense of the ludicrous is, all things considered, a worse misfortune than too little."
Sherborne must surely be poking fun at the readers of 'N. & Q.' in suggesting to them that the modern Italian pronunciation of Rieti must have been the old Roman one of Reate. The explanation is ingenuous, but ultra crepidam, and therefore is no proof that Latium was graced with Britain's effeminate manner of mouthing her virile old tongue. Rather, as I take it, the wear and tear of time are responsible for the change of vowels in Reate. As to the alleged identity of pronunciation of y between the Roman and English methods, does Sherbourne forget that the Latins had, strictly speaking, no such letter in their alphabet? It was coined in imitation of Υ, was used only in words of Greek origin (like z=ζ), and was uttered like the rest of the language to which it belonged, and Greek had no more an English pronunciation than Latin. J. B. S.
- Manchester.
Baccarat (7th S. xi. 488; xii. 75).—In reference to the genial communication of Miss Busk, I should like to say that neither the 'New English Dictionary' nor its editor has ever called upon any one "to bow before its authority." No one that knows the work could fancy anything so grotesquely alien to its character and purpose. The 'Dictionary' merely aims at being an historical repertory, containing such facts as careful and systematic research by "amateurs" and "professionals" alike (for the work of both is greatly needed) can amass, and drawing from them such inferences as trained scholars consider fairly and fully warranted, care being taken in every case to distinguish inference from fact. Unless the facts are impugned, I presume one must "bow before them," however unpleasant they may be to the fanciful. The inferences may always be contested. The facts registered in the 'Dictionary' about baccarat are very few, because many hours of investigation and much collaboration of specialists and professionals showed that no more were known. As a dictionary is not a cyclopaedia, and does not describe things, it certainly does not give instructions how to play the game; besides, it was not foreseen in 1885 that this would come to be a princely accomplishment: things change so! But we show that; he word has been in English use at least since 1866, usually written baccarat, though occasionally, under French influence, baccara, and that the latter is the only recognized French form. Of the origin of the French word nothing is said, because nothing was known then, as nothing is known now. It had already been investigated without result by Littré; it was investigated afresh for the 'New English Dictionary' by the most eminent philologists of the Institute of France; it has since been re-investigated by the lamented author of 'La Vie des Mots,' Arsène Darmesteter, and his colleagues, MM. Hatzfeld and Thomas, and all that they can say in the fascicule of their splendid new 'Dictionnaire,' issued a few months ago, is—
"Baccara [origine inconnue. Néologisme]."
When such are the facts, what more can be said? The avid student of words may indeed be disappointed because no more is known; but to be angry or scornful because the 'Dictionary' gives the simple facts, and does not resort to fabrication to fill up the void, is as if one were to lose
