How fares your Grace? / How do you do, sir? / Why, how now, ho! / How does thy Honor? / How fares my gracious Sir? / How now, Sirrah? / How do you, man?
Those greetings are but a few examples of phatic language from Early Modern English (1500 to 1699). They’re all from Shakespeare. Only one is conceivable in today’s speech: How do you do, sir? It’s formal but still natural-sounding.
So what is phatic language? It’s the everyday talk that begins and ends our conversations. Hello and goodbye are archetypal examples. Phatic language is used for the general purpose of social interaction, not for literal meaning. It smooths the way in interpersonal dealings. Most people understand that it’s not literal: Only the bore complains that people say How are you? without really wanting to hear the true answer.
Some phrases can be either phatic or substantive: Let’s do lunch soon! Perhaps only a certain type of person uses that as phatic language — meant nonliterally and therefore insincerely. But then the interlocutor responds, Yes, let’s set a date! Do you have your calendar handy? And now they’re planning — one more enthusiastically than the other.
Phatic language changes from one generation to the next. It can be almost as ephemeral as slang. Sometimes it gets transformed. How do you do? was changed to Howdy! — a word now associated with the American South and West. In fact, though, the phrase Howdy, neighbor, according to the Oxford English Dictionary, was recorded in Cornwall way back in 1600.
For those greeted with How do you do? the proper answer, according to the incomparable Judith Martin (a.k.a. Miss Manners), is the same question in response. In her book Miss Manners’ Basic Training: The Right Thing to Say, she calls it “the original answer-a-question-with-a-question.”
It was long considered gauche to say, upon being introduced, Glad to meet you! or Nice meeting you! or even Pleased to make your acquaintance! Martin says that it’s “impossible to know in advance if there will be pleasure in the association.”
Phatic language often proclaims social status and self-identification. In Middle America in the 1970s, this type of exchange was typical among college-educated speakers:
“How’s it going?”
“Great. How’s it going with you?”
“Fine. Thank you.”
Or:
“How are you?”
“Fine. Thank you. And you?”
“I’m doing well, thank you.”
Things have changed. People now use utterances that college-educated folks of the 1970s would find objectionable on grammatical grounds. People have started using good in place of well — adverbially. Hence today this kind of exchange is common in some circles:
“How are you doing?”
“I’m doing good. And you?”
“I’m doing good, too. Thanks for asking.”
It used to be that doing good in the world meant promoting the common good: voluntarism, public service, and philanthropy. Old-timers wouldn’t say they were doing good (an immodest claim, in their view); they’d prefer to have it said about them. But they saw good in the phrase do good as a noun, certainly not as an adverb.
The other notable aspect of that exchange is Thanks for asking, usually uttered with great earnestness. It suggests that this isn’t a phatic exchange at all but one meant to be taken literally. Your interlocutor is so kind to want to know how you’re doing!
Many other phatic exchanges are current today. More shocking in the old-timers’ view would be this natter, commonplace in 2021:
“How are you doing?”
“I’m good. You?”
“I’m good.”
Here, from a traditionalist’s viewpoint, the speaker is claiming to be “good.” Quite a claim. Good as in virtuous? Living the good life?
Isn’t it funny, though, that traditionalists object to I’m good but consider I’m fine to be entirely appropriate — as well as I’m doing fine? That’s just the way language works: It’s a socially stipulated set of norms, and the social stipulations can vary from group to group.
Some people answer the question How are you? by responding I’m well. That leads to another set of problems. Well can be both the adverb corresponding to good (a good golfer plays well) and also an adjective that is the antonym of unwell. To be well is to be healthy — not sick. So to the traditionalist, to say I’m well is to say you’re not sick.
As with a good conversation, we need to bring this column to a close. Here again we can examine phatic expressions. How did Shakespeare’s characters say goodbye? Consider these sweet and not-so-sweet partings:
Madam and mistress, a thousand good morrows. / Farewell, good Pompey. / Adieu, good master. / Good day and happiness, dear Rosalind. / Good morrow, coz. / Fare you well, dear mistress. / A good digestion to you all. / Away, away! / Goodnight. I’ll be your fool no more.
Shakespeare seems not to have used Have a good day! In the 1980s, this phrase suddenly spread through the nation, often accompanied by a yellow smiley face. Edwin Newman, the author and broadcaster, satirized its ubiquity. But today in America, it’s a stock example of well-accepted phatic language.
What may surprise you is that Have a good day! appeared often in Middle English (1100–1499) — without, of course, the smiley face. It’s not so very different from variations used through the centuries, such as Good day to you! How gratifying, in a way, to know that we continue a linguistic tradition dating back so many centuries. But change good to nice and suddenly you have an Americanism traceable only to the 1950s: Have a nice day! Americans do like the nondescript adjective nice.
I’ll sign off with a statement attested from 1565 in the Oxford English Dictionary: Farewell now and have good day. I must forth wend on my journey.
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