If you don’t mind me reviving an old topic, in a conversation about the inanities of the English language, I made a contribution in which I said that English had two seemingly contradictory characteristics: an extraordinarily large number of words drawn from a variety of other languages and an ability to express most things with an extremely small number of words. I don’t think that I made my point as clearly as I would have wished. However, I recently ran across a better statement of the same thought in a book I bought in a used-book sale. This is from The Treasure of Our Tongue, by Lincoln Barnett (Alfred A. Knopf; New York; 1964), pp. 29-32.
“…. In the vast lexicon of English, thousands of precise, highly specialized, and often elegant words flower side by side with small, easy-to-learn, highly flexible “parts of speech.” It is one of the marvelous endowments of English that these two species of words – the specialized and the general – complement, augment, define, and analyze each other. Thus one may put out a fire or extinguish a fire; dismount or get off; ascend or go up. Among linguists, English is commonly known as an “analytic” language, which is to say that the relationships of words in a sentence are indicated by the order in which they appear (rather than by case endings or other mutations of form) and by an extensive use of prepositions and auxiliary verbs.
“The special formula of little verb-plus-preposition is the key to a quick grasp of English speech, if not necessarily to a gracious literary style. In 1920 two Cambridge scholars, Dr. I. A. Richards, now of Harvard, and the late C. K. Ogden, discovered while collaborating on The Meaning of Meaning, a book about English semantics, that certain small, persistent words tended to turn up again and again in their analyses of other words and idioms. They became convinced that with a limited set of these indispensible, analytical words, any other word could be defined and any reasonably simple concept clearly and adequately expressed. After ten years of lexicological labor, Ogden evolved what is known as Basic English – an elixir, distilled from the ancient wine of our language, of 850 volatile, versatile words that can say just about anything that needs to be said in ordinary, non-technical talk. Basic English proved invaluable in World War II, when speed of instruction was crucial. Today language courses can afford to be a little more leisurely and vocabularies a little more generous.
“The critical discovery made by Richards and Ogden was that their stripped-down lexicon required only eighteen verbs – as against four to ten thousand that may be available in the vocabulary of a college-educated man. The eighteen vital verbs are: be, come, do, get, give, go, have, keep, let, make, may, put say, see, seem, send, take, and will. The ability of these words to do the work of all the others stems from their gift of being able to enter into an astonishing number of mergers with prepositions. Thus a combination like give out can fulfill the essential purposes of announce, award, bequeath, bestow, dispense, distribute, emit, expend, exude, grant, proclaim. And even more spectacularly, give up can cover the pivotal meanings of abandon, abdicate, abjure, cease, cede, desert, desist, discontinue, forgo, forsake, relinquish, renounce, resign, sacrifice, stop, succumb, surrender, vacate, withdraw, and yield.
“It is evident that the little words of English constitute a kind of inner voice – a language within a language – capable of understudying most of the flashier ornaments of The Oxford English Dictionary and Webster’s New International Dictionary, Unabridged. They can be of enormous value to the English novitiate because they cover so much ground; each one pitch-hits for hundreds of bigger, if subtler, words; and they are simple to spell and pronounce. But their simplicity is deceptive. They can be used in so many ways that their very versatility sometimes creates confusion in the mind of the learner. This is the “masked complexity” which the foreign student may discover when he looks more closely at the apparently innocuous alliance of the little verbs and little prepositions.
“Contemplate, for example, the little word up. What is it? Most of the time it behaves like a preposition, indicating direction (He lives up the street). But it can also masquerade as an adverb (It’s time to get up); a noun (Every life has its ups and downs); a verb (I’ll up you five dollars); or an adjective (The sun is up). In addition to its multiple function in the combination give up, it plays an ubiquitous and sometimes superfluous role in a variety of other expressions, such as add up, clean up, do up, drink up, hurry up, join up, line up, lock up, look up (as in a dictionary), mix up, offer up, pay up, play up, ring up, set up, stop up, tie up, tidy up, wake up, wash up, work up, wrap up, up to now, and up to you. To the foreign student it seems paradoxical that the same meaning is conveyed by His house burned up and His house burned down; My wife isn’t up yet and My wife isn’t down yet; The train slowed up and The train slowed down. Even more bewildering are those situations where utterly unrelated concepts are evoked by one and the same phrase – e.g. make up, whose transient meaning depends on whether the context is cosmetics (She takes an hour to make up her face); indecision (I just can’t make up my mind); domesticity (Let’s make up the bed); forgiveness (Kiss and make up); fiction (I’ll make up some kind of a story); or atonement (Some day I’ll make up for this mistake).”