The Elements of Victorian Style

Part of the fun of digging around in old language books is seeing how much writing styles have changed over time. Kevork Gulian's Elementary Modern Armenian Grammar has been reprinted by various publishers over the last century but it was apparently first published in London in 1902 (which I suppose makes it technically Edwardian). It's full of glimpses into life a century ago rendered in the very formal style of the times.

Here's the English translation of a dialog on the subject of employment (p. 132):

What are you thinking of?
I am thinking of my future.
What makes you think of your future?
I must choose a profession.
Who desires you to do so?
My father does.
Are you now decided?
No, I have not yet decided.
If you ask my advice, I should advise you to be a merchant; for the whole world is open to commerce.
I thank you for your advice.

(Fans of Steven Brust's Khaavren Romances are probably expecting someone to say, "How, you pretend I am choosing a profession?" at this point.)

Here's a little reminder about life expectancies in those days (p. 131):

Did you hear that my neighbor has died?
No, I have not heard of it; when did he die?
He died last night.
Of what illness did he die?
He died of the typhoid fever.
How long was he ill?
He was ill for six weeks.
Was he your friend?
Yes, he was my best friend.
Where did you make his acquaintance?
I made his acquaintance at Adana.
Have you many acquaintances at Adana?
I have a few; most are dead.

This is already sad enough, but it's also a bit eerie if you know what happened in Adana a few years later.

Finally, here's my favorite: the mindset of the times summed up in two example sentences (p. 103):

In simple sentences, the subject comes first, secondly the object, and thirdly the verb, as:

        Ասաուած սէր է, God is Love.
        Ֆուլթօն շոգենաւը հնարեց, Fulton invented the steamboat.

The world in a nutshell: God and Steam! Church and Industry! (At this point, you should be involuntarily humming "Rule Britannia!").

[Any errors in the Armenian above are mine, by the way―I'm still not very skilled with the alphabet, and Gulian presumably knew what he was doing.]

Comments

[language hat]

Adana is a very creepy town -- it's the only place I felt uncomfortable on my visit to Turkey a dozen years ago. A policeman followed me for a while, occasionally making conversation in a suggestive way: I wasn't sure whether he wanted to arrest me or have sex with me (or perhaps both); I was very glad to get back to my hotel. The caretaker at the mosque I visited was suspicious and quasi-hostile (though he let me into the courtyard after I took off my shoes and socks and washed my feet, as he insisted), again unlike anywhere else. I'd forgotten about the massacre, but I'm not surprised to be reminded.