Kiss Me Goodnight, Sergeants Major

Exceptional English

Jean-Léon Gérome L’Éminence Grise (1873)

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Most of the time, we who speak the language of Shakespeare make plurals by appending an “s” to the end of a noun. Indeed, we are so fond of this custom that we use in cases where the resulting construction offends our senses. Thus, for example, I recently ran across a reference to the “Bill Cosbys of this world.” (Alas, the author was not discussing the comedic talents of the persons in question.)

As all children know, especially when counting sheep, speakers of English will sometimes keep this rule in the breach. In some cases, these exceptions date from days when Friðeswiðe greeted her kith and kin with a cheery whæt. In others, they come from French, and, in particular, the French of the age of the Three Musketeers.

Consider, if you will, the expression éminence grise. Coined to describe the humble, but indispensable, lieutenant of Cardinal Richelieu, it refers to a person who, while seemingly insignificant, wields a great deal of influence. (The Cardinal, whom you will remember as the antagonist of d’Artagnan and his pals, was properly addressed as “eminence.” Thus, his right-hand man, who wore the drab habit of the Dominicans, became known as “the grey eminence.”)

Marvelous to say, mention of more than one éminence grise requires the placement of an “s” at the end of each element. (The phrasing of the last sentence preserved me from writing, and you from reading, such minor monstrosities as “s’s” and “esses.”) Thus, Father François Leclerc du Tremblay was one (and, indeed, the original) éminence grise. When, however, he worked in concert with his evil twin, Skippy Leclerc du Tremblay, his master enjoyed the services of two éminences grises.)

The double essing of éminences grises reflects the French custom of aligning both the gender and the number of an adjective with that of the noun it modifies. (Happily, when the phrase is spoken, both esses keep mum.) The curious form of this plural, moreover, reminds us that éminence grise has yet to achieve full membership in the lexicon of standard English. Thus, when it appears in Anglophone publications, it usually wears Italic type.

The two-part formerly-French expressions that have been fully naturalized follow a somewhat different rule. These, which range from '“court martial” to “vicar general,” place an “s” at the end of the first element (the noun), but leave the second (the adjective) in its original form. Thus, the plural of “sergeant major” is not, as many think, “sergeant majors.” Neither is it, as the French would have it, sergents-majors. Rather, it is “sergeants major.”

As you have, no doubt, figured out, many of the double-barrelled expressions of this sort deal with matters of organizational administration. Thus, soldiers who fail to heed the instructions of sergeants major often find themselves in front of courts martial. (Such cases-at-law, however, rarely require the attention of attorneys general, let alone surgeons general, vicars general, or residents general.)

Over time, the number of bipartite expressions of this sort has diminished. Thus, relatively junior naval officers who have been given command of a ship, who once were styled “lieutenants commander,” are now known, at least in the US Navy, as “lieutenant commanders.”

Note: The title of this post renders homage to a classic English music-hall song that my late father liked to sing.