develop very differently in different families of speech. The conception
of the genitival relation, when fully realized, has worn a varying aspect
to Aryans and Semites, to Accadians and Kafirs. The same grammatical
relation admits of being looked at from many points of view, and of being
expressed in many ways. Let us now turn to another adjunct of grammar
which has assumed more than one form within the same family of speech
itself. A definite article is by no means a universal possession of
language; on the contrary, the majority of languages want it altogether,
and wherever it makes its appearance we can trace it back to the
demonstrative pronoun, with which it is still identical in German. “That
man” and “the man” are in fact one and the same, the only difference
between them being that the demonstrative draws emphatic attention to
a particular individual, while the article acts like a classificatory
suffix by narrowing the boundaries of a genus and reducing it to the
condition of a species. The article has thus the same ultimate function
as the adjective or the genitive, and we should therefore expect to find
it following the lead of the latter and occupying the same position in
the sentence. This, however, is not the case. It is true that in English
and German the article precedes the noun, but it does the same in Hebrew
and Arabic, as also in Old Egyptian, where the adjective follows its
substantive; while, on the other hand, in Scandinavian, as in Wallach,
Bulgarian, and Albanian, the place of the article is after its noun.
The cause of this irregularity is the fact that the article is a very
late product in any speech; it does not grow out of the demonstrative
until an age which has lost all recollection of the early contrivances
of language and found other means than mere position for indicating the
attribute of the noun. How late this is may be judged from the absence of
the definite article in dialects cognate to those which possess one. Thus
in the Semitic languages there is none in either Ethiopic or Assyrian,
except in the very latest period of the latter tongue; among the Aryan
dialects, Russian and the other Slavonic idioms (Bulgarian excepted) have
no article, the Greek article being very inadequately represented by the
relative pronoun _ije_ in Old Slavonic, while Sanskrit also may be said
to be without one, though the demonstrative _sa_ sometimes takes its
place, as in _sa purusha_ like _ille vir_ in Latin. Neither the Finnic
nor the Turkish-Tatar languages have an article, Osmanli Turkish alone
occasionally having recourse to the Persian mode of expressing it by a
_kezra_ (_i_) or _hemza_ (ʾ) as in _nawale-y-ushk_, “the lamentations of
love;” Hungarian, however, has been so far influenced by the neighbouring
German dialects as to turn the demonstrative _az_ or _a_ into a genuine
article, as in _az atya_, “the father,” _a leány_, “the daughter.” On the
other hand, the objective case, or “casus definitus,” as Böhtlingk terms
it, seems formed by a demonstrative affix not only in Turkish-Tatar, but
also in Mongol and even Tibetan; in Mongol, for instance, it is marked
by a suffix which is commonly pronounced -_yighi_.[276] This definite
case very often answers exactly to the use of a definite article with
the noun, and has arisen through a similar desire to give definiteness
and precision to the expression. So, too, Castrén tells us that an affix
-_et_ or -_t_, which he believes to be the pronoun of the third person,
is sometimes attached to the Ostiak accusative, and in Hindustani, where
there is no definite article, its place is taken before the accusative
by a dative with the suffix -_ko_, and in Persian by the suffix -_ra_,
a suffix, by the way, which Schott considers to have been borrowed from
the Tatar or Mongol tongues. We may judge how attributive and defining is
the nature of the objective case from the Chinese, where the same empty
word _tchi_, which, according to Dr. Edkins, was originally _ti_, is the
affix of both the objective and the possessive cases. Passing to the
New World, we find the Algonkins alone among the North American Indians
prefixing the article _mo_ or _m’_, originally a contracted form of the
demonstrative _monko_, “that,” while the monosyllabic Othomis use _na_
and _ya_ in the same sense.
But now the question arises—granting the late growth of the definite
article and its appearance only here and there in a group of allied
languages—Why do some of these use it as a prefix and others as an
affix? As in Greek, or Keltic, or Teutonic, the Romanic article which
has been developed out of the Latin _ille_ always precedes its noun,
except in Wallachian, where “the master” must be rendered by _domnul_,
that is, _dominus ille_. Professor Max Müller thinks that this position
of the article was borrowed from Wallachian by the Bulgarians and
Albanians;[277] M. Benlöw, on the contrary, holds that Albanian set the
example both to Wallach and to Bulgarian.[278] Assuming that Albanian
belongs to the Indo-European family of speech—a point, however, which
has yet to be satisfactorily determined—we should still have an Aryan
language reversing the usual order of Aryan speech. Thus ἔμερ is
“name,” but ἔμερι, “the name;” δέ is “earth,” but δέου, “the earth;”
δέῤῥε, “door,” but δέῤῥα, “the door;” νιερὶ, “man,” in the accusative,
but νιερί-νε, “the man;” νιέρεζ, “men,” but νιέρεζι-τ(ε), “the men.”
Whatever may be thought of Albanian, however, we have a clear case of
the postposition of the Aryan article in the Scandinavian tongues, where
the Swedish _werld-en_, for instance, signifies “the world,” _luft-en_,
“the air,” and it is, perhaps, curious that the Scandinavians, like the
Albanians, are natives of a comparatively cold and mountainous country.
Mountaineers are famous for the use of their lungs, and a postfixed
article is necessarily more emphatic than a prefixed one. More effort is
required in laying stress on the last syllable of a word than in slurring
it over and throwing the accent back.
Now M. Bergaigne has shown[279] that in the primitive Aryan sentence
the qualifying word, whether adjective or genitive or adverb, came before
the subject and governing word, and this agrees with what we have seen
was the early conception formed by the Aryan mind of the attributive
relation in contrast to that formed by the Semitic. We should therefore
expect to find the article following the rule of other qualifying words,
and standing before its noun in the Aryan tongues, and after its noun in
the Semitic tongues. So far as the Aryan tongues are concerned, this is
its general position. The German dialects which have maintained so firmly
the place of the adjective and the genitive have been equally firm in
maintaining the place of the definite article.[280] If Wallach influenced
Bulgarian and Albanian in affixing the article, an explanation may be
found in the forgetfulness shown by the Romanic idioms of the early
rule of Aryan speech, as evidenced by their putting the adjective after
the substantive; if, as seems more probable, Wallach and Bulgarian were
influenced by Albanian, we must bear in mind that the latter language
may not be Aryan at all. As for Swedish and the other Scandinavian
dialects, the inverted position of the article may be ascribed to what
we may call the disorganization of their syntax. While Gothic observed
the old rule which made the dependent and defining word precede, it is
very noticeable that already in the Icelandic Snorra Edda the genitive
without a preposition occurs not only before, but also after its noun.
The syntactical instinct of the language was thus disturbed, and there
was therefore little to prevent a new defining word like the article from
occupying an anomalous place. In the Semitic languages Aramaic alone
assigns a natural position to the article, which is represented by the
so-called _emphatic aleph_ attached to a noun when not otherwise defined
by being in the construct state. Now there are many reasons which would
lead us to believe that Aramaic was the first of the Semitic dialects in
which the article developed itself, and that this happened shortly after
its separation from the dialect which subsequently branched off into
Hebrew, Phœnician, and Assyrian. The article did not make its appearance
in Hebrew or Arabic until the old order of the sentence had been thrown
into confusion by rhetorical inversions and the periphrastic genitive
formed by the demonstrative pronoun. How it came to be prefixed to its
noun is illustrated by the Assyrian. Here a kind of article makes its
appearance in the Persian period, which, when placed after its noun,
has the force of the demonstrative “this” or “that.” Now and then,
however, we find it in conjunction with another demonstrative before
the noun, a construction which can easily be explained if we regard the
demonstrative and the noun as having been first in apposition, and then
brought so closely together that the demonstrative became an article. In
Arabic, too, the demonstrative can be prefixed to a noun which is already
furnished with the article, and the pronoun and noun are thus regarded
as being in apposition to one another. The same is the case in Hebrew,
where we occasionally meet with a construction like _zeh hâ’âm_, “this
people,” literally “this the people,” as well as _zeh Mosheh_, “this
Moses.”[281] The last example shows us that a proper name was considered
definite enough to be put in apposition to the pronoun, even when without
the article, and it is not difficult to assume that an usage which first
grew up in the case of proper names, should in time have extended itself
to all nouns which were considered definite. Even the adjective _rabbim_,
“many,” is found preceding its noun.[282] The preservation of the
case-endings in Hebrew and Arabic may have had something to do with the
position chosen by the article; it was easy enough for a demonstrative
to pass into an affixed article in Aramaic, where the case-endings seem
to have perished early, but it was only possible for it to do so in
languages where they were preserved by its standing before the noun. Old
Egyptian agrees with Hebrew and Arabic in the general rule of placing the
determining word after the word it determines; it also agrees with them
in prefixing the article. But this, again, may be explained by the use of
the demonstrative as an article having originated in its apposition to
the substantive; while the use of _ua_, “one,” as an indefinite article
probably assisted in the process. Of course, when a definite article had
once come into existence, a difference of position served to distinguish
it from the demonstrative pronouns to which it had formerly belonged.
This long inquiry into the causes which have made the article sometimes
an affix and sometimes a prefix has introduced us to the last department
of the morphology of speech—that which is known as syntax, or the
arrangement of words in a sentence. Professor Earle has remarked that
syntax varies inversely as accidence; wherever we have an elaborate
formal grammar, there we have a corresponding poverty of syntax; wherever
we have little formal grammar, as in Chinese or English, there syntax
comes prominently into view. This is only another way of stating the
fact that in default of such contrivances as inflections, language
has recourse to rules of position in order to denote the grammatical
relations of words; and though Greek shows us that a highly developed
accidence may exist along with an equally developed syntax, yet it is
quite true that a language which makes such large use of composition
as Sanskrit, must be very poor in the matter of syntax. Composition
and syntax are antagonistic to each other. The study of comparative
accidence, or, as it is rather loosely called, comparative grammar, is
much in advance of that of comparative syntax; indeed, it is but lately
that comparative syntax has attracted the attention of philologists
to any extent, Jolly, Delbrück, Bergaigne, and others being among the
pioneers of this branch of linguistic science. Here, too, we must work
back to that inner form which underlies the choice of the position of
words in a sentence; we must find out by the comparative method what
were the primary syntactical rules observed by a group of cognate
tongues, what were the grammatical conceptions they indicated, and how
they were modified by the several languages in the course of their
subsequent history. The germs of syntax are capable of infinitely various
development, although each family of speech starts with its own special
point of view, its own particular principle. The Aryan began by placing
the defining word before the word defined; the Semite by placing it
after; just as in Burman the defining word precedes, while in Siamese
or Tai it follows. Languages, which have never attained to the idea of
a verb, like the Polynesian, must necessarily differ materially from
those in which the verbal conjugation plays a principal part; while in
the polysynthetic languages of America, syntax in the proper sense of
the term can hardly be said to exist at all. Unlike formal grammar,
however, syntax is comparatively changeable; Coptic has become a prefix
language, whereas its parent, Old Egyptian, was an affix one, and the
growth of rhetoric as well as the development of grammatical forms tend
to obliterate the old landmarks and principles of syntactical arrangement.
The history of the accusative with the infinitive in Latin is a good
example of this. Prof. Max Müller describes his utter amazement when he
was first taught to say, _Miror te ad me nihil scribere_, “I am surprised
that you write nothing to me,”[283] and there was plenty of reason for
it. He has clearly shown that most of the Greek and Latin infinitives
were originally dative cases of abstract nouns, and not locatives, as
has often been maintained; the Greek δοῦναι or δοϝέναι, for instance,
answering to the Vedic _dâváne_, “to give,” τετυπέναι to _vibhráne_,
“to conquer” or “effect,” _amare_, _monere_, _audire_, to _jîv-áse_,
“to live.” The Greek middle infinitive in -θαι is a relic of the Vedic
dative of an abstract infinitive from the root _dhâ_, “to do” or “place,”
ψευδέσ-θαι, “to do lying,” exactly answering to the Vedic _vayodhai_
(for _váyas-dhai_), “to do living,” or “to live,” on the model of which
analogy has created the false forms τύψεσθαι, τύψασθαι and τυψθήσεσθαι.
The true character of the Latin infinitive may be discovered from the
verb _fieri_, which goes back to an earlier _fiesei_, the dative of a
stem in -_s_. Bearing in mind, then, what the infinitive originally was,
we have little difficulty in understanding how it came to be used with
an accusative, which was really the object after the principal verb. The
sentence quoted above simply meant at first: “I am surprised at you for
the writing of nothing to me,” just as _te volo vivere_ was “I choose you
for living,” or _tempus est videndi lunæ_, “it is the time of the moon,
of seeing (it);” and the extension of the use of the accusative with the
infinitive to sentences in which we can no longer trace any reflection of
its original force, is only another example of the power of analogy in
spreading a particular habit, the proper sense and meaning of which have
been forgotten.
Let us remember, however, that at the time when an Aryan syntax was
first forming itself, there was as yet no distinction between noun
and verb. The accusative and genitive relations of after days did not
yet exist; they were still merged together in a common attributive or
defining relation, and the growth of the verb was necessary before a
genitive could be set apart to define the substantive, and an accusative
or object to define the verb. Reminiscences of this primitive state
of things have survived into the later forms of speech. When Plautus
says, “Quid tibi hanc tactio est,” he is using _tactio_ as he would
_tango_, and while in the Rig-Veda nouns in -_tar_ govern an accusative
like transitive verbs, we actually find a verb undergoing comparison in
_bhavatitarâm_, “he is more so.” In fact, genitive and accusative alike
are what Mr. Sweet calls “attribute-words,” the one being the attribute
of the noun, the other of the verb, and before there was any distinction
between verb and noun there could be no distinction between them also.
The modern Englishman may well ask whether there is any difference
between “the performing this,” and “the performing of this;” or between
“doing a thing,” and “doing badly.” The Latin supines and gerunds, which
are petrified cases of nouns, are followed by what are termed “the
cases of their verbs,” and the so-called indeclinable participles of
Sanskrit, which are really instrumentals of nouns in -_tu_, equally take
the accusative after them. In Greek εὐτυχώς ἔχειν has the same meaning
as εὐτυχίαν ἔχειν, and the Greek and Sanskrit use of an accusative with
the verb “to be,” shows us how artificial are our distinctions between
transitive and intransitive verbs. The adverbial sense of the accusative
comes out plainly in the Homeric ἀκήν ἔσαν, and is one more proof of the
fact that the accusative, like the genitive, must be classed along with
the adjective and the adverb as a qualifying word that defines and limits
the words to which it is attached. Custom and grammatical development
have alone determined how such qualifying words should be severally used.
The languages of our family of speech are in fair agreement as to
the employment of the accusative and the genitive; there are other
syntactical contrivances, however, where such an agreement is not to be
found. The “ablative absolute” of Latin, for instance, is replaced by a
genitive absolute in Greek, by a dative in Lithuanian, by a locative,
sometimes also a genitive, and very rarely an ablative, in Sanskrit.
In old English we have apparently a dative (as in Anglo-Saxon), as
when Wycliffe writes, “they have stolen him, us sleping,” whereas, as
Mr. Peile observes,[284] we should now say, “we sleeping,” using the
nominative as occasionally in Greek. As a matter of fact, this so-called
“casus absolutus,” this case “freed” from all government, and standing
outside the sentence to the perpetual astonishment of the grammarians, is
really a qualificatory word, dependent like the adverb upon the verb, and
denoting the circumstances, or instrument, or mode of an action. Instead
of the construction used by Wycliffe, we might just as well have had,
“they have stolen him during our sleep.”
Perhaps the first thing that strikes us when we first learn the
classical languages, and more especially Latin, is the freedom with which
words are dropped _pêle-mêle_, as it were, into a sentence. This power
of transposing words stands in marked contrast with the comparatively
fixed order of words in a modern European language. When Tennyson says,
“Thee nor carketh care nor slander,” we feel that he has gone to the
extreme length of what is possible even in poetry, and the arrangement
of a German sentence, in spite of its inflections, is determined by
somewhat severe rules. We must remember, however, that the apparent
freedom of the classical languages is due in great measure to the
artificial style of literary men who took advantage of the inflectional
character of the dialects they spoke to invert the position of words
for rhetorical purposes, and that such inversions were not usual in the
language of everyday life. We cannot judge a language properly from
the works of its literary men, and this is particularly the case with
Latin, where the language of literature was divided by a great gulf
from the language of the streets. But even in Latin we find the verb
gravitating towards the end of the sentence; this is its predominant
position, for instance, throughout the second book of the “Gallic War”
of Cæsar, who represents the spoken language of his time much more
closely than most of the other authors of Rome. Now, M. Bergaigne, in
the very able series of articles already referred to,[285] has lately
tried to show that this was not always the position of the Aryan verb.
He begins by distinguishing between _phænomena_, or qualities and acts,
and _objects_ which are recognized either as bearing these qualities,
or as the ends and instruments of the acts. His phænomena, therefore,
will answer to our qualificatory words, and a sentence in which they
occupy the principal place will be a predicative one, just as sentences
in which an object is brought into prominence will be “sentences of
dependence.” The substantive verb is but a late creation; even in Latin
a sentence like “majorum benefacta perlecta” is perfectly intelligible
though “sunt” is omitted; and such a phrase as _Deus est sanctus_ meant
at first “God exists as a holy being,” the adjective being a predicative
attribute or “phænomenon” in apposition to _Deus_. It was only by degrees
that the sense of “existence” disappeared from the verb, and it became
a simple copula. More than once we have referred to the primary rule of
Aryan syntax, according to which the qualifying word is placed before
the word qualified; this is a rule which is borne witness to by almost
every compound, by the verb which affixes the personal pronouns to its
stem; nay, even by our own English, which still makes the adjective
precede its noun. Where the rule seems to be violated, an explanation
is generally forthcoming. Latin and Greek compounds like _versipellis_
or φιλάδελφος, really signify “who has the skin changed,” “one who has
a brother beloved,” the first part of the German _tauge-nichts_, our
_dare-devil_, is an imperative, and the second element in the Sanskrit
_dṛishṭa-pûrvva_, “seen before,” is a pronoun. Whether Bergaigne is
right in following Grimm’s explanation of compounds like φερέ-ϝοικος,
παυσί-νοσος, as containing imperatives, is an open question, though in
the Rig-Veda the imperative and conjunctive are certainly inverted and
set before their case; it is more probable that we are here dealing with
instances of false analogy, δαμάσιππος, “she who tames horses,” having
been made equivalent to ἱππόδαμος “horse-tamer,” and so made the model
of a new formation. As for the _hippopotamus_, or “river-horse,” the
animal came from Egypt, and so, too, did the manner of compounding its
name. Proper names like Ἀγαθός δαίμων, or _Neapolis_, are scarcely in
point; in them, moreover, the attribute and subject are in apposition.
The curious use of the article in Greek with two nouns, one of which is
a genitive, is based upon a different reason. When the article had once
established itself in speech, ὁ τοῦ χοροῦ διδάσκαλος exactly answered
to ὁ χοροδιδάσκαλος, “the choir-master,” and the second noun being
drawn back to the place of its article, we get ὁ διδάσκαλος τοῦ χοροῦ
and ὁ διδάσκαλος ὁ τοῦ χοροῦ, an order which is observed in modern
Albanian. Turning to Latin, we find that the adjective when placed after
the substantive implies a sentence of predication, _res militaris_
being “a thing which is military,” _navis longa_, “a ship which is
long.” It is only proper names compounded with _Forum_ and _Portus_,
like _Forum Julii_, which reverse the order of words as we have it in
_juris-consultor_, and in these proper names the stress is on the second
part of the compound. The altered position of the adjective in the
Romance languages is probably due to the influence of the periphrastic
genitive with the preposition _de_; at all events the older constructions
place the adjective before its noun.
The rule followed by genitives and adjectives must have been followed
by verbs, which are merely attributes of their subjects, and the
formation of the verb by affixing the personal pronouns to the attribute
or verbal stem confirms this conclusion. In the primitive sentence the
object would have come first, then the attribute or verb, and lastly the
subject; and the Latin _credo_, which has the same origin as the Sanskrit
_śrad-dadhâmi_, “heart-placing-I,” is a good illustration of it. But a
want came to be felt of distinguishing between the attribute as a mere
qualificative and the attribute as a predicate, and so while the old
order remained the type of a qualificative sentence, it was reversed in
predicative sentences; the subject was put at the beginning and the verb
at the end. This process was assisted by the division of the sentence
into two halves, one-half consisting of the subject with its dependent
words, and the other half of the verb and object; and if we suppose that
each half was represented by a single compound, we can easily see how
ready to hand the process would have been. Indeed, the verb seems to fix
itself at the end of the sentence almost naturally, since the deaf-mute
when taught to communicate with others, invariably sets the verb in
this position, the subject and object to which his thought is chiefly
directed being the first to occur to his mind. It is this position of the
verbal attribute which has established itself in Sanskrit, Greek, Latin,
Gothic, and Anglo-Saxon; which still is the rule in German in dependent
sentences, and has only been changed in English and the Scandinavian and
Romanic dialects through the analogy of the substantive verb and the
extended use of prepositions. A preparation for the new arrangement of
the sentence, however, which places the object last, was already made
by the infinitive. On the one hand, the infinitive could govern a case,
and so was correctly preceded by the governed word; on the other hand,
it was itself a case dependent on the principal verb. But its nominal
character was more and more obliterated by its employment with verbs like
_posse_ or _velle_, _can_ or _will_; “he has the ability for doing,”
gradually came to be “he can do.” Hence in Homer, as in Old Latin and
Old German, the infinitive is mostly found at the end of the sentence,
originally, it is true, accompanied by its cases, but afterwards standing
alone to qualify the verb, and separated by the latter from the cases
with which it was construed. But with all this confusion of the old
order, such cases as the ablative or instrumental still maintained their
proper position before the word they qualified, and when crystallized
into adverbs continued to stand preferably immediately before the verb.
Many of these adverbs afterwards became prepositions, the government of
the noun passing from the verb to the adverb that accompanied it; other
prepositions, like the Latin _gratiâ_ or the Greek χάριν, originated in
substantives construed with genitives; and hence the preposition was
first of all a postposition, following and not preceding its case. Even
now _nach_ stands after its case in German, and we speak of _thereon_ and
_thereof_, _homeward_ and _leeward_, to say nothing of _God-wards_ and
_you-wards_, or of what is told us of Chaucer’s Shipman,[286] that “fful
manye a drauȝt of wyne hadde he i-drawe ffrom Burdeaux ward,” while the
Latin _mecum_, _nobiscum_, and the like, survived to the last days of the
language. So, too, in Anglo-Saxon the preposition sometimes runs counter
to its name by coming after its case, as _hî wyrcað þone cyle hine on_,
“they produce cold him on,”[287] but this construction is fully explained
when we find the preposition occupying the same place in an adverbial
sense, as in the Saxon Chronicle (1016): _se here him fleâh beforan_,
“the army him fled before.”
So long as sentences remained simple and unconnected, there was but
little reason for serious changes to occur in the order of their words.
But it was quite different when an attempt began to be made to connect
them together, to compose sentences that were dependent or subordinate.
When a sentence became an object or attribute of another, the arrangement
that had hitherto held good was necessarily thrown into confusion. Not
only might an idea be an attribute of an attribute, but that again
might be the attribute of another attribute. This intimate connection
and fusion of sentences seems peculiarly suited to the genius of Aryan
speech; where a whole sentence could be expressed by a single long
compound, it was easy enough to make it dependent on something else.
The Semitic tongues, which held composition in abhorrence, were equally
averse to an intimate connection of sentences; neither process was very
compatible with the habit of thought which placed the qualifying word
second instead of first, and we are left to gather the relation of a
subordinate sentence to a principal one merely from their juxtaposition,
or the monotonous repetition of the simple conjunction “and.” Indeed,
the Semitic languages have not risen far above the condition of the
deaf-mute or the Polynesian, who have no dependent sentences, each
sentence standing complete and entire by itself.[288] If the Dayak wishes
to express even so simple a notion as “I thought that he was rich,”
he is obliged to say, _iṅgärä-ku iä tatau_, “my thought; he rich.”
What a contrast to the Greek language with its manifold particles, its
subtle analysis of thought, its delicate expression of every shade
of connection between ideas! Such, however, had not always been the
condition even of the Greek language, or at all events of the language
from which it had sprung. If, for instance, we examine the history of
the relative sentence, we shall find it growing by slow degrees out of
simple subordination. First of all it was merely set side by side with
the principal clause, as in Hebrew and Assyrian poetry, or such English
phrases as “This is the man I saw.” Next, the object of the antecedent
clause was represented in the consequent by a demonstrative pronoun for
the sake of clearness and emphasis; and so we may say: “This is the man,
that (man) I saw.” Then in time the demonstrative came to be used in all
cases alike, and not only where peculiar stress had to be laid; it ceased
to be any longer a pure demonstrative, and became a relative applied by
analogy to instances in which the demonstrative could hardly have been
employed.[289]
We have now passed in review all that is included under the
morphology of speech. The morphology of speech is the reverse side of
its physiology, dealing with the spirit and inner life of the sentence
just as the physiology of speech deals with the outward frame. If
words are posterior to the sentence, if they are in fact but so many
crystallized and abbreviated sentences, that part of the science of
language which treats of their meanings ought strictly to follow a
chapter on morphology. That which is most scientific, however, is not
always the most practically convenient, and such is the case with our
present subject. But we must not forget that the signification of a word
is really determined by its relation to the other words with which it
is combined, and if this does not seem to be the case with the isolated
words we find in the dictionary, it is only because these isolated words
are petrified sentences whose meaning has long ago been established,
partly by reference to other sentences, partly by a determination of
the relations between the parts of which they are composed. The mutual
relations of the elements of a sentence, as well as of fully formed
sentences, constitute grammar in its widest sense; they constitute also
the morphology of language. A fact of grammar is a compound of two
things—the conception of a relation between one idea and another, and
the embodiment of this conception in phonetic utterance. Both parts of
the compound are continually developing, and becoming at once simpler
and clearer, and the duty of the linguistic morphologist is to trace the
history of this development, and follow it back to its earliest source.
We have to discover the different mental points of view from which the
structure of the sentence was regarded by the different races of mankind,
to investigate and compare the various contrivances and processes through
which these points of view eventually found their fullest expression,
to classify the modes of denoting the relations of grammar at the
disposal of language, to examine the nature of composition and of stems
in the groups of speech of which they are characteristic, to analyze
the conceptions of grammar and determine the elements and germs out of
which they have sprung, and finally, to ascertain the true origin and
meaning of the so-called rules of syntax, and keep record of the changes
that take place in the arrangement of words. The mind of man has indeed
been cast everywhere in the same mould, but the scenes amid which its
infancy was cradled, the conditions under which it grew up, have differed
materially and produced a corresponding difference in the expression of
its thoughts in language. Two rivers may start from the same spring, but
one may flow, clear and limpid through granite mountain ranges and silent
forests into a tropical sea—the other may run a turbid and discoloured
course through low marsh-lands, by steaming mills and crowded wharves
into a northern ocean. It is only when we have thoroughly explored the
morphology of each group of kindred tongues, have seen how their inner
form has gradually expanded like the flower out of the seed, that we can
venture to bring our results together, to compare the morphology of one
group of languages with that of another, and learn wherein they differ
and wherein they agree.
FOOTNOTES
[1] “Lectures on the Origin and Growth of Religion,” p. 65.
[2] See Jolly (translation of Whitney), “Die Sprachwissenschaft,” p.
640.
[3] 660-690.
[4] See the quotations in Steinthal: “Geschichte der Sprachwissenschaft
bei den Griechen und Römern” (1863), pp. 181 _sq._
[5] Proclus, p. 9.
[6] Anomalist as he was, moreover, Krates was not blind to the defects
of language as it was commonly used, and it would appear that the ninth
book of his Satires was devoted to the reform of orthography.
[7] He introduced the practice of writing _r_ between two vowels
instead of _s_, and banished the use of _z_ “because its pronunciation
resembles the sound that passes through the teeth of a dying man”
(Pomp. Dig. i. 2, 2, 36, Mart. Cap. i. 3, § 261, ed. Kopp). Panætius
had read his poetical “Maxims,” or “Sententiæ,” which Cicero calls
“Pythagorean” (Tusc. iv. 2, 4).
[8] Max Müller: “Lectures on the Science of Language” (eighth edition,
1875), p. 111.
[9] It is given in Bekker’s “Anecdota,” pp. 629-643. Its authenticity
is satisfactorily defended by Lersch, “Sprachphilosophie der Alten,”
ii. pp. 64-103.
[10] Γραμματική ἔστιν ἐμπειρία τῶν παρὰ ποιηταῖς τε καὶ συγγραφεῦσιν
ὡς ἐπὶ τὸ πολὺ λεγομένων. Μέρη δὲ αὐτῆς εἰσὶν ἕξ· πρῶτον ἀνάγνωσις
ἐντριβὴς κατὰ προσῳδίαν, δεύτερον ἐξήγησις κατὰ τοὺς ἐνυπάρχοντας
ποιητικούς τρόπους, τρίτον γλωσσῶν τε καὶ ἱστοριῶν πρόχειρος ἀπόδοσις,
τέταρτον ἐτυμολογίας εὕρεσις, πέμπτον ἀναλογίας ἐκλογισμός, ἕκτον
κρίσις ποιημάτων, ὅ δὴ καλλιστόν ἐστι πάντων τῶν ἐν τῇ τέχνῃ.
[11] A good idea of the character of his etymologizing may be gathered
from the following quotation:—“_Vestis_ nomen factum est per syncopen
ex composito _perestis_, et mutato _r_ in _s_ (ut sæpe factum est),
_pesestis_ sive _pesestas_, a verbo _per-edo_, _per-es_, _per-est_;
quo significatur, quidquid _peredit_ et plane consumit et _perdit_
materiam quamque, unde facta est, ut lues illa epidemica pestis
appellationem obtinuerat.” Elsewhere he asserts that _sin_ is derived
from σίνειν, while _so_ is merely ὥς reversed. But Junius is quite
equalled by Scaliger, Voss, Wachter, and other philologists of the
same school. Thus Scaliger says (“De Caus.” c. 35):—“_Ordinis_ nomen
Græcum est. Dicebant militibus tribuni—‘Hactenus tibi licet; hic
consistes: eò progrediere, huc revertere; ὅρον δῶ,’ inde _ordo_;” and
again (“De Caus.” c. 28) that _quatuor_ is κατερα, _i.e._ και ετερα
(the aspirate being dropped as among the Æolians), because when the
Latins had counted “unum, alterum, tria; pro _quarto_ dixere _et
alterum_.” Scaliger, again, agrees with Voss in deriving “_opacus_
ex _Ope_, hoc est, _terrâ_; nam umbræ et frigoris captandi causa in
subterraneos se specus abdebant,” and _pomum_ from πῶμα, because most
fruits quench the thirst. Voss identifies the Latin _rus_ with the
Greek ἄρουρα, “præciso _a_,” and declares: “ab ἔπω, qua notat _operor_,
venit Latinum _opus_.” Perhaps the various etymologies proposed for the
word _cause_ by Perottus will give the best illustration of what once
passed for “a true account of the origin of words.” It is either (1)
from _chaos_, as being the first cause of things, or (2) from καῦσις,
because heat “kindles and inflames us” to action, or (3) “a cavendo,”
because a cause forewarns (“cavet”) us that something should or should
not be done, or, finally (4), “a casu, quia causa accidit.” To these
Voss adds a fresh possibility, that _causa_ comes from “_caiso_,”
that is, “quærere seu petere.” Perottus, again, derives “_locusta_ ex
_locus_ et _ustus_, quod tactu multa urat, morsu vero omnia erodat.” We
cannot but be struck by the ingenuity of these old scholars. Wachter,
however, offers us equally absurd etymologies in the field of modern
High German. Thus he brings _kämpfen_ (from _campus_) from _kam_, “the
fist,” _cat_ from _ge-wachten_, the French _guêter_ (!), and agrees
with Clauberg in making _neigen_ the source of _nacht_.
[12] Where there is so much to choose from it is difficult to select;
but perhaps the richest morsels of the book are the reference of
the Latin suffix -_or_ in words like _sonorous_, as well as the
final syllable of Hebrew words like _tabor_, to the “Celtic” _mhor_,
“great,” and the derivation of the Egyptian Rameses from the “Celtic”
_raromeireas_, “gasconading.” The author, however, cannot claim to
be _facile princeps_ of the year in the matter of bad etymologizing.
A certain Mr. Boult has printed two papers, read before the Literary
and Philosophical Society of Liverpool, in which, among other novel
statements, he informs us that _city_ is derived from the “Celtic”
_sigh-tigh_ or “peace-house;” _count_ from _co-meas_, “united
assessment,” _alderman_ from _all-dor-meann_, “chief of the great
door,” and _custom_ from _cur-do-meas_, “rent of assessment.” It is
needless to observe that “Celtic” with both writers means the decayed
forms of an Irish dictionary.
[13] “Whitney’s Sprachwissenschaft,” p. 660.
[14] “De Vulg. El.” I. xii. p. 46, cxvi. (ed. Fraticelli, 1833).
[15] Ed. Jebb (1733), pp. 44-56. We may notice that Bacon in this part
of his book (p. 44) draws attention to the existence of the French
(“Gallicorum”), Picard, Norman, and Burgundian dialects in France,
which differ from one another in many idioms and uses of words.
[16] Edited by Graesse (1850).
[17] See Thurot: “Extraits de divers Manuscrits latins pour servir à
l’histoire des Doctrines grammaticales au Moyen Age” (1869).
[18] “Histoire des Langues sémitiques,” p. 272.
[19] Thus Voss derives νεός from the Hebrew particle _nâ_, “now.”
[20] See second edition of first collection of “Fragmente zur deutschen
Literatur” (1768).
[21] See Pott: “W. von Humboldt’s Verschiedenheit des menschlichen
Sprachbaues” (1876), I. p. cciv.
[22] On this book of Bernhardi’s was founded Reinbeck’s “Handbuch der
Sprachwissenschaft, mit besonderer Hinsicht auf die Deutsche Sprache”
(1815)—intended for school use.
[23] “Lettere,” p. 415 _sq._ (Florence, 1855.)
[24] Max Müller: “Lectures,” p. 155.
[25] “Works, with Life,” by Lord Teignmouth (1807), iii. p. 34.
[26] The second edition of his work on Language, in six vols., “with
large additions and corrections,” was published in 1774.
[27] Quoted by Max Müller: “Lectures,” i. p. 150.
[28] “Ueber die Verwandtschaft der malayisch-polynesischen Sprachen mit
den indisch-europäischen” (1841).
[29] “Die kaukasischen Glieder des indo-europäischen Sprachstammes,”
1847.
[30] See the Edition of Pott, published in two volumes in 1876.
[31] Beginning in 1859.
[32] A new edition has just been brought out (1878), with a valuable
appendix, by Scheler.
[33] “Observations sur la langue et la littérature provençales,” p. 14.
[34] “Charakteristik der hauptsächlichsten Typen des Sprachbaues,”
pp. 20-75. Steinthal’s criticism is criticized in turn by Pott in
his edition of Humboldt’s essay, “Ueber die Verschiedenheiten des
menschlichen Sprachbaues” (1876).
[35] Edited by Steinthal (1856).
[36] Translated into French by F. de Wegmann (1859).
[37] “Die Darwinische Theorie und die Sprachwissenschaft,” 1863
(translated into French in the first part of the “Collection
Philologique,” 1868, and into English by Bikkers, 1869); “Ueber die
Bedeutung der Sprache für die Naturgeschichte des Menschen” (1865), and
“Die Deutsche Sprache” (second edition, 1869).
[38] Translated into English by Keane for the “Library of Contemporary
Science” (1877).
[39] “Essai sur la Langue Poul” in the “Revue de Linguistique” (Jan. et
Avr. 1875).
[40] “Ursprung der Sprache,” with a preface by Häckel. Translated by T.
Davidson (1869).
[41] “Ursprung und Entwickelung der menschlichen Sprache und Vernunft”
(1869).
[42] See also Benfey’s article, “Einige Worte über den Ursprung der
Sprache,” in the “Nachrichten von der k. Gesellschaft der Wissensch.
zu Göttingen,” Jan. 30, 1878. Benfey here points out that just as we
share a capacity of walking with the lower animals, so also do we share
with them a capacity for communicating with one another by the help of
a language of some sort. And he remarks pertinently that it was not
harder for the first men to understand the meaning of what was said to
them than it is for domestic animals nowadays to learn the meaning of
the words and phrases we use in speaking to them or giving them orders.
[43] “Der Ursprung der Sprache” (1877).
[44] See his “Vergleichende Grammatik der indo-germanischen Sprachen”
(1873), I. Appendix, pp. 56-98.
[45] “Agglutination oder Adaptation” (1873).
[46] “Mémoires de la Société de Linguistique de Paris,” ii. 5.
[47] “Anthropologie der Naturvölker,” i. p. 272.
[48] “Grundriss der Sprachwissenschaft,” I. i. p. 49 (1876).
[49] “City of the Saints,” p. 151.
[50] “Trans. Eth. Soc.” (1869), i. p. 283.
[51] “Expedition to the Rocky Mountains,” iii. p. 52.
[52] Sayce: “Principles of Comparative Philology” (second edition), p.
26.
[53] “De l’Esprit,” i. p. 2. Aristotle attacks Anaxagoras for holding
διὰ τὸ χεῖρας ἔχειν, φρονιμώτατον εἶναι τῶν ζώων τὸν ἄνθρωπον (“De
Part. Animal.,” iv. 10).
[54] “Festus,” p. 28.
[55] II. 405, ed. Burm.
[56] Max Müller: “Lectures,” ii. p. 179 (8th edition).
[57] Whitney: “Life and Growth of Language,” p. 120.
[58] See I. Disraeli: “Curiosities of Literature,” vol. iii. pp. 79, 80.
[59] Milligan: “Vocabulary of the Dialects of some of the Aboriginal
Tribes of Tasmania,” p. 34.
[60] See Mr. Hartshorne’s Paper read before the British Association
(1875).
[61] “Tropical South Africa,” p. 132.
[62] “Journal of the Anthropological Institute,” vi. 2 (Oct, 1876), p.
119.
[63] A “pig” is called _poro-poro_, and the act of “eating” _nam-nam_.
We must remember, however, that just as a nurse will speak to a child
in nursery-language, so a savage on being asked the name of an object
may have recourse to onomatopœia, instead of giving the real native
word.
[64] Plato termed it ἀπείκασμα (“Krat.,” 402 D, 420 C.).
[65] On the whole subject of the onomatopœic origin of words, see (but
with caution) Wedgwood’s introduction to his “Dictionary of English
Etymology” (first edition, 1859), and Farrar: “Chapters on Language,”
and “Origin of Language” (1860), ch. iv. Compare Buschmann in the
“Abhandlungen der k. Akademie der Wissenschaft zu Berlin” (1852).
[66] See page 82.
[67] Latin _et_, Greek ἔτι, Zend _aiti_, Sanskrit _ati_, are referred
by Weber (“Indische Studien,” ii. p. 406) to the root _at_, “to go.”
[68] As in Chaucer: “Knight’s Tale,” 2488:—“But by the cause that they
sholde ryse.”
[69] See “A Comparative Vocabulary of the Barma, Malayu, and T’hai
Languages,” published at Serampore in 1810. A Siamese compound like
_lúk-mai_, “fruit,” literally, “son of wood,” is an exact equivalent
of the Hebrew “son of Belial” for “sinner,” or “master of hair” for
“hairy.”
[70] Steinthal: “Charakteristik der hauptsächlichsten Typen des
Sprachbaues,” pp. 165, 171, 173.
[71] See Du Ponceau: “Langues d’Amérique,” pp. 120, 200, 234, 236, 237.
[72] Pickering: “Indian Languages,” p. 26.
[73] Part iii. (1853), pp. 420-445.
[74] See Latham in the “Proceedings of the Philological Society,” vol.
vi. (1852-3), p. 85; and in the “Transactions of the Philological
Society” for 1856, pp. 40, 41.
[75] “Charakteristik,” &c., p. 113.
[76] This order of the pronouns was a later innovation in the language,
and seems due to Semitic influence. In the older period of the speech
the form was _rû-n-mu_ or _rû-mu-n_.
[77] Suetonius: “De illustr. Gramm.,” 22. “M. Pomponius Marcellus ...
quum ex oratione Tiberium reprehendisset, affirmante Ateio Capitone,
‘et esse illud Latinum, et, si non esset, futurum certe jam inde;’
‘Mentitur,’ inquit, ‘Capito. Tu enim, Cæsar, civitatem dare potes
hominibus, verbo non potes.’”
[78] Sir John Stoddart: “Universal Grammar, or the Pure Science of
Language,” 2nd edition, 1852.
[79] By French writers.
[80] As by Schleicher.
[81] As by Ascoli.
[82] In A. J. Ellis: “Early English Pronunciation,” pp. 1293-1307,
1352-1357.
[83] Humboldt’s “Travels,” Engl. Tr., i. p. 322.
[84] Compare A. Erman: “Journey round the Earth through North Asia,”
iii. § 1, p. 191.
[85] P. 159.
[86] v. p. 774.
[87] “Travels,” Engl. Tr., i. p. 310.
[88] So in Japan the learned class has introduced the Chinese
characters under the name of Koyé or Won, and with them the Chinese
pronunciation and order of words. In Koyé (that is to say in Chinese)
the particles come first, then the verb, and, lastly, the case. The
reverse is the case in Japanese, or when the characters are read as
Yomi, that is, as ideographs standing for Japanese words. Thus, the
Koyé “sed non videbo hodie illum” would have to be read in Yomi, “illum
videbo hodie non sed.”
[89] Sayce: “Journal R. A. S.” x. 2 (1878).
[90] “Arische Studien,” i. 2, pp. 45-61.
[91] De Charencey in the “Revue de Linguistique” (1873), i. 1, p. 57.
[92] “Ein Problem der Homerischen Textkritik” (1876), p. 95. Pott
(“Wilhelm v. Humboldt ueber die Verschiedenheit des menschlichen
Sprachbaues,” i. p. 15) suggests that the change of the Latin
demonstrative into the article of the Romance languages was due to
Teutonic influences.
[93] Sayce: “Lectures upon the Assyrian Grammar and Syllabary,” pp. 61,
62, “Journal R. A. S.,” x. 2, pp. 251, 252 (1878).
[94] _E.g._ θῠω in Od. 260, Theok. iv. 21; Aristophanes and the Attic
poets preserve the long vowel.
[95] Hackländer: “Ein Winter in Spanien” (Werke xxii.), ii. 78.
[96] N. H., iii. 20, 24.
[97] Schott: “Abh. der Berlin. Akad.” (1865), p. 440.
[98] Deffner: “Neogræca” in Curtius’ “Studien,” iv. 2, p. 307.
[99] Burton: “Etruscan Bologna,” p. 246.
[100] Karl Verner in Kuhn’s “Zeitschrift,” xxiii. (New Series, iii. 2.)
[101] For Greek synonyms, see Trench: “Synonyms of the New Testament”
(1865).
[102] Apud Priscian. vii. 345.
[103] “Mémoires de la Société de Linguistique de Paris,” ii. 5.
[104] V. _a_ 24, _sve mestru karu fratru_ = “si major pars fratrum.”
[105] On the other hand, the Asiatic members of the family have
certainly lost the distinction that existed in the parent speech
between the vowels represented in the European members by _ă_, _ĕ_, and
_ŏ_, so that the differentiation of the root _ar_ may have been earlier
than the period of Aryan separation. In the Finnic group roots are
similarly differentiated by a modification of the vowel, _kah-isen_,
_koh-isen_, and _kuh-isen_, for instance, being “to hit” or “stamp,”
_käh-isen_ and _köh-isen_, “to roar,” _keh-isen_ and _kih-isen_, “to
boil.”
[106] This happy term was the invention of Professor Max Müller.
[107] Mill: “System of Logic,” ii. p. 240.
[108] Grimm’s “Law: a Study” (1876).
[109] Böhtlingk: “Ueber die Sprache der Jakuten,” p. 168.
[110] “Introduction to the Study of the Chinese Characters” (1876).
[111] “De Div.” ii. 40, 84.
[112] Gallatin: “Synopsis of the Indian Tribes of North America,” in
the “Archæologia Americana,” ii.
[113] “Die Melanesischen Sprachen” (1873), p. 4. According to Meyer
(“Sitzungsberichte d. Oesterr. Akademie,” 1874, p. 301), “Riedel has
made us acquainted with twenty-three dialects in some parts only of
North Celebes, and the number of dialects in the whole island can only
be estimated at hundreds.... But in New Guinea this dialectical variety
is very much greater and more thorough-going, since there the very
foundations of a state have not yet begun to be laid.”
[114] “Travels” (English translation), i. 298.
[115] Gibbon: “Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire” (ed. Milman and
Smith), vii. p. 387. Dr. Deffner, however, asserts that there never was
a tithe of that number of dialects in the country.
[116] Prince Lucien Bonaparte reckons that there are 660,000 Basques in
Spain and 140,000 in France.
[117] Sayce: “Principles of Comparative Philology” (2nd edition), p. 87.
[118] The progress of cuneiform research has shown that a similar
woman’s dialect existed among the Accadians, and “a woman’s language”
is also said to exist in Bengal.
[119] “United States Exploring Expedition,” vii. 290.
[120] “Natal Colonist,” Sept. 3rd, 1875. Mr. Theal says (“The Cape
Monthly Magazine,” June, 1877, p. 349): “A woman, who sang the song of
‘Tangalimlibo’ for me, used the word _angoca_, instead of _amanzi_,
for ‘water,’ because this last contained the syllable _nzi_, which she
would not on any account pronounce. She had, therefore, manufactured
another word, the meaning of which had to be judged by the context, as,
standing alone, it is meaningless.” This is a good instance of the way
in which a savage dialect may grow up.
[121] Waitz, iii. 477.
[122] _Mi_ took the place of _o_ in old Japanese, hence the title of
the _Mi-kado_, or “high Gate” (Grande Porte).
[123] See Hoffmann: “Japanese Grammar,” pp. 72 _sq._ and § 111-120.
[124] Endlicher: “Chinesische Grammatik,” pp. 258 _sq._
[125] Pott: Humboldt’s “Verschiedenheit des menschlichen Sprachbaues,”
i. p. 395.
[126] Max Müller: “Lectures,” i. p. 56.
[127] “On the best Method of Studying the American Languages,” p. 11.
[128] P. 152 (4th edition).
[129] Andree: “Wendische Wanderstudien” (1874).
[130] Appendix to Mielcke’s edition of Ruhig’s “Wörterbuch.”
[131] “Pasigraphical Dictionary and Grammar” (1871). Galliani’s
“Dictionnaire télégraphique, économique, et secret” contains 15,576
groups of only three letters, each of which expresses a word or a whole
sentence.
[132] “Lectures on the Science of Religion,” pp. 161, 154.
[133] Bréal: “La Langue Indo-Européenne,” in his “Mélanges de
Philologie Comparée” (1878).
[134] “History of the European Languages,” pp. 31, 32. The following
are the significations assigned to these nine rudiments of speech:—
“I. To strike or move with swift, equable, penetrating or sharp
effect was AG! AG!
If the motion was less sudden, but of the same species, WAG.
If made with force and a great effort, HWAG.
These are varieties of one word, originally used to mark the motion
of fire, water, wind, darts.
“II. To strike with a quick, vigorous, impelling force, BAG or BWAG, of
which FAG and PAG are softer varieties.
“III. To strike with a harsh, violent, strong blow, DWAG, of which
THWAG and TWAG are varieties.
“IV. To move or strike with a quick, tottering, unequal impulse,
GWAG or CWAG.
“V. To strike with a pliant slap, LAG and HLAG.
“VI. To press by strong force or impulse so as to condense, bruise, or
compel, MAG.
“VII. To strike with a crushing, destroying power, NAG and
HNAG.
“VIII. To strike with a strong, rude, sharp, penetrating power,
RAG or HRAG.
“IX. To move with a weighty strong impulse, SWAG.”
[135] _Cfer._ Wullschlaegel: “Kurzgefasste Neger-Englische Grammatik”
(1854), and “Deutsch-Neger-Englisches Wörterbuch, nebst einem Anhang
Neger-Englische Sprüchwörter enthaltend” (1856).
[136] Helmholtz: “Die Lehre von den Tonempfindungen,” 3rd edition
(1870).
[137] Speaking accurately a musical note is a tone only in so far as
its quality or timbre is taken account of.
[138] The fact can easily be tested by Captain Galton’s whistle.
According to some authorities, however, it requires less than eight and
more than 24,000 vibrations per second, to produce no effect upon the
auditory nerve.
[139] “Lectures,” ii. 8th edition (1875), p. 111.
[140] Helmholtz: “Die Lehre,” &c., p. 143.
[141] Serpents have no voice in the proper sense of the word, as they
have no vocal chords; the hissing sounds they produce being caused by a
mere forcible breathing through a soft glottis.
[142] That is, “U-shaped bone.”
[143] Of course, if an opening is made in the trachea, voice is
impossible unless it is closed, and division or injury of the laryngeal
nerves will equally destroy voice by paralyzing the muscles of the
vocal chords.
[144] In men the average length is about eleven lines.
[145] Faidherbe: “Essai sur la Langue Poul,” in the “Revue de
Linguistique,” January and April, 1875.
[146] Bleek: “A brief Account of Bushman Folklore, and other Texts,”
p. 6. “A most curious feature in Bushman folklore is formed by the
speeches of various animals, recited in modes of pronouncing Bushman,
said to be peculiar to the animals in whose mouths they are placed. It
is a remarkable attempt to imitate the shape or position of the mouth
of the kind of animal to be represented. Among the Bushman sounds which
are hereby affected, and often entirely commuted, are principally
the clicks. These are either converted into other consonants, as
into labials (in the language of the Tortoise), or into palatals and
compound dentals and sibilants (as in the language of the Ichneumon),
or into clicks otherwise unknown in Bushman (as far as our present
experience goes), as in the language of the Jackal, who is introduced
as making use of a strange labial click, which bears to the ordinary
labial click a relation in sound similar to that which the palatal
click bears to the cerebral click. Again, the Moon—and it seems also
the Hare and the Anteater—substitute a most unpronounceable click in
place of all others, excepting the lip click. Another animal, the Blue
Crane, differs in its speech from the ordinary Bushman, mainly by the
insertion of a _tt_ at the end of the first syllable of almost every
word.”
[147] “Lectures,” ii. p. 141 (8th edition).
[148] Max Müller: “A Sanskrit Grammar for Beginners,” 2nd edition, p.
23, _note_. See Mr. Ellis’s examination of the “Rules of the Indian
Phonologists,” as given by Whitney (“Atharva-Vêda Prâtiçâkhya”), in
“Early English Pronunciation,” pt. 4, pp. 1336-1338.
[149] See Sievers: “Grundzüge d. Lautphysiologie” (1876), p. 19. This
explanation of the causes of this difference between the two kinds
of voice (true and falsetto) is due to the observations of Garcia.
Various theories had previously been put forward to account for it.
J. Müller thought that in producing chest notes, the whole breadth of
the vocal chords vibrated, only their thin inner margins in producing
falsetto notes. Mayo and Magendie held that the falsetto notes are
produced by the vibrations of only one-half the length of the vocal
chords, when the glottis is partially closed; G. Weber that they are
due to the vibration of the chords in segments, separated by nodal
points, so that harmonics of the fundamental note are formed. Pétrequin
and Diday maintained that they are produced by the vibration of the
air itself in the glottis, without any movement on the part of the
vocal chords, while Wheatstone thought that they are formed by the
division of the air in the trachea into harmonic lengths, the tone
produced by the vocal chords being thus reciprocated, since, besides
vibrating by reciprocation with a sonorous body, the vibrations of
which are isochronous with its own, a column of air may also vibrate
by reciprocation in its several lengths, the number of its vibrations
being in this case a multiple of those of the sonorous body.
[150] “Lectures,” ii. p. 128 (8th edition).
[151] Bindseil: “Abhandlungen zur allgemeinen vergleichenden
Sprachlehre,” p. 212 (1838), quoted by Max Müller: “Lectures,” ii. p.
136.
[152] For the difference between these two sounds, see Sweet: “Handbook
of Phonetics,” § 14, p. 9.
[153] “Grundzüge d. Lautphysiologie,” p. 46 (1876).
[154] “Lectures,” ii. p. 133.
[155] “Grundzüge d. Physiologie u. Systematik d. Sprachlaute,” p. 16
(1856).
[156] “Wiener Sitzungsberichte,” lii. 2, pp. 623 sq.
[157] “Grundzüge der Lautphysiologie,” p. 88 (1876).
[158] Sievers, _loc. cit._ p. 50.
[159] Haldeman in the “Proceedings of the American Oriental Society,”
1874, p. xlv. According to Professor Rhys the Welsh _ll_ has resulted
from the meeting of two _l_’s, each sounded independently up to the
ninth century. Like the Welsh pronunciation of _dd_, the pronunciation
of _ll_ may have been originally borrowed from English.
[160] Mr. Sweet has proved that the pronunciation of these two
Anglo-Saxon letters was originally the same, but it would be convenient
to use them to distinguish the different sounds of the modern English
_th_.
[161] Hübschmann: “Z. d. D. M. G.” xxx. pp. 53, 57.
[162] That is, the guttural sonant in question.
[163] As in _nach_.
[164] This is the guttural sonant in question.
[165] “Die Kerenzer Mundart,” p. 5.
[166] Bleek: “Comparative Grammar of South African Languages,” pp.
12-15. The lateral click is sounded by the Kafirs, as by Europeans,
by placing the tongue against the side-teeth, and then withdrawing
it, whereas the Nama Hottentots produce it as far back as possible,
covering the whole of the palate with the tongue. The palatal click
of the Hottentots, which is very difficult to imitate, seems to be
found in one or two Kafir words. The clicks, it must be noted, only
occur in the Kafir dialects adjoining the Hottentots, and the Kafir
clicks “are only found in the place of other consonants, and are used
like consonants at the beginning of syllables, whilst in Hottentot a
guttural explosive consonant (_k_, _kh_, or _g_), the faucal spirant
_h_ and the nasal _n_, can be immediately preceded by a click, and form
together with it the initial element of the syllables.”
[167] See above, p. 243. The compound dental click is produced,
according to Wuras, by pressing the air through the upper and lower
teeth, which stand slightly apart. Dr. Bleek says that “the Bushman
word for ‘to sleep’ seems to be _ǀphkoĩnyé_, beginning with a
combination of dental click, aspirated labial and guttural tenuis in
which three letters are sounded together.”
[168] Ellis: “Early Engl. Pron.” p. 1349.
[169] Professor Mahaffy notices that “old women among us express pity
by a regular palatal click.”
[170] Sievers holds that our _th_ (as in _the_) is sometimes “reduced”
to a glide (“Grundzüge,” p. 91).
[171] “The Japanese _ṛ_,” says Mr. Sweet, “seems to be formed by
first bringing the tip of the tongue against the gums without any
emission of breath, and then passing on to an untrilled _r_, allowing
voiced breath to pass at the moment of removing the tongue.” The sound
has been mistaken for _r_, _l_, or even _d_, and as it is substituted
for all foreign _l_’s and _r_’s, the Japanese tendency to change _l_
into _r_ has been contrasted with the Chinese tendency to change _r_
into _l_. It is possible that the Old Egyptian possessed the same
curious sound.
[172] The compound tone in Swedish, according to Mr. Sweet, “only
occurs in words of more than one syllable,” and “consists of a falling
tone on the first (the accented syllable), followed by a high tone on
the next. The high tone seems to be reached by a jump rather than by a
glide. The compound is, therefore, a compound rise distributed over two
syllables.” The other Swedish accent, the simple tone, is the negative
of the compound one, and answers to the “glottal catch” or _stöd tone_
of Danish.
[173] See Wackernagel in Kuhn’s “Zeitschrift,” 23 (1877).
[174] See Sayce in “Journal of Royal Asiatic Society,” x. 2 (1878), pp.
251, 252.
[175] Sweet: “Handbook,” p. 35.
[176] “Kerenzer Mundart,” pp. 142 sq.
[177] Sweet: “Handbook,” pp. 59, 60.
[178] In many instances, however, _guṇa_ and _vṛiddhi_ seem to be due
to the presence of the vowel _a_ in the following syllable, which has
been anticipated, as in the case of the German _umlaut_ or the Greek
epenthesis (as in λόγοις for the locative λόγο-σι, and then, by false
analogy, λόγοισι).
[179] The existence of these velar gutturals was first pointed out by
Ascoli, and since by Fick and Havet.
[180] Diez: “Grammatik d. romanisch. Spr.” (2nd edition), i. 248, 254.
[181] “Comparative Grammar of the Anglo-Saxon Language” (1870), p. 28.
[182] See Robin and Verdeil: “Chimie anatomique,” ii. p. 44.
[183] Appendix to Greenwell’s “British Barrows” (1877), p. 645.
[184] Daa: “On the Languages of the Northern Tribes of the Old and New
Continents,” in the “Transactions of the Philological Society” (1856),
p. 256.
[185] “Sir George Grey’s Library,” i. p. 167; and A. Kaufmann: “Das
Gebiet des weissen Flusses und dessen Bewohner” (1861), quoted by Max
Müller: “Lectures,” 8th edition, ii. p. 178.
[186] See, however, Ascoli’s ingenious attempt to remove the
phonological difficulties in his “Studj Critici,” ii. (1877), pp.
386-396.
[187] For a recent English examination of the subject see Douse:
“Grimm’s Law: a Study” (1876), and Rhŷs’s review in the “Academy,” Jan.
12, 1878; also Murray and Nicol in the “Academy,” Feb. 23, March 2 and
16, 1878.
[188] The table of consonants is taken from Rhŷs: “Lectures on Welsh
Philology,” p. 17.
[189] Before υ.
[190] In the middle of a word, _e.g._ _ruber_ (ἐρυθρός).
[191] _P_ did not exist in the early Keltic languages; hence proper
names like _Menapia_ must be treated as non-Aryan, or at all events as
non-Keltic.
[192] Pratt: “Grammar and Dictionary of the Samoan Language” (edited by
Whitmee), p. 1, 1878.
[193] To Brugman belongs the credit of first demonstrating the
existence of these three distinct vowel-sounds in the Parent-Aryan
(Kuhn’s “Zeitschrift,” 1877). Brugman has been criticized by Collitz
in Bezzenberger’s “Beiträge zur Kunde der indogermanischen Sprachen,”
ii. 4 (1878), who maintains that the three primitive sounds were really
_ĕ_, _ŏ_, _ă_, and not the indeterminate _a_¹, _a_², _a_³. On the other
hand, an able article by De Saussure in the “Mémoires de la Société de
Linguistique de Paris,” iii. 5 (1878), accepts Brugman’s nomenclature,
while criticizing and modifying some of his conclusions. His _a_,
Brugman’s _a_¹, became _e_ in West Aryan, and is never weakened into
_i_ or _u_ in Sanskrit. His _a_² (also Brugman’s) is the West Aryan
_o_², and in Sanskrit is lengthened in an open syllable (_e.g._ _jajâna_
= γέγονε). In Latin _ŏ_ often became _ĕ_, as in _genu_ (Greek γόνυ,
Sansk. _jânu_). Different from this _o_² is another _o_¹, standing in
the same relation to a that _o_² does in Latin to _e_, and answering
to a Sanskrit _i_ or _î_. Besides this short _o_¹ is also a long _ō_,
which appears also as _ā_, and corresponds with Sansk. _â_. De Saussure
further points out that velar _k_ in Sanskrit is palatalized (becomes
_ch_) when followed by _a_ (= _ĕ_) and _a_² (= _ŏ_).
[194] “Lectures,” ii. pp. 184 _sq._ (8th edition).
[195] “The Polynesian,” October, 1862.
[196] Agnel: “Observations sur la Prononciation et le Langage rustique
des environs de Paris,” pp. 11, 28; Terrien Poncel: “Du Langage,” p. 49.
[197] “Sir George Grey’s Library,” i. p. 135. Professor Mahaffy informs
us of a child of three years of age who invariably substitutes _n_ for
_l_, and cannot be made to feel the difference between them.
[198] Sievers: “Lautphysiologie,” p. 127.
[199] Kuhn’s “Zeitschrift,” xxiii. pp. 97-130 (1877).
[200] The termination of the participles of German weak verbs, such
as the Goth. _tami-da_ (“domitus”), answers to the Vedic _dami-tás_
(like the Greek κλυτός) where the accent is oxytone. Verner sums up his
conclusions as follows: (1) The original accentuation was preserved
in Teutonic even after the introduction of those changes of sound
characteristic of the Teutonic branch of the Aryan family; (2) the
accent, however, was no longer purely tonic, it had become also an
accent of stress; (3) the exceptional representation of an Aryan _k_,
_t_, and _p_ at the beginning of a syllable by a Teutonic _g_, _d_, _b_
is due to the original accentuation of the words in which it occurs;
and (4) this is also the case with _z_ or _r_ in the place of _s_.
[201] Sanskrit _jîv_, Latin _vivo_ (_vixi_), English _quick_,
presupposing an original reduplicated _qwi-gwi_.
[202] “Lautphysiologie,” p. 137.
[203] “Jenaer Literaturzeitung” (1874), p. 767; quoted by Sievers.
[204] “Zur Geschichte des indogermanischen Vocalismus,” ii.
[205] According to the current theory the sonant or vocalic _n_,
_l_, and _r_ develop out of a consonantal _n_, _l_, _r_. Fick
(Bezzenberger’s “Beiträge,” iv., 1878) has shown that Greek aorists
like ἔδρακε or παθών owe their α-vowel to this cause. The
accentuation of the last syllable occasioned the loss of the vowel of
the present-stem (which Fick proves to represent the oldest form of the
verb), and out of the resulting ἔδρκε or πθών grew ἔδρακε and παθών.
The corresponding Swarabhakti vowel in Teutonic is _u_ (cfer. ἑκατόν,
_i.e._ ἑκαντόν for ἑκντόν, and Gothic _hund_ (our _hundred_), ἄρκτος,
and Gothic _vulfs_, -ματός and Gothic participial -_munds_). According
to the Indian grammarians the Sanskrit _ṛi_ = ¼ _a_ + ½ _r_ +
¼ _a_ (Greek ᾰρᾰ).
[206] “Beiträge zur Kenntniss der Sicilianischen Mundart,” p. 154.
[207] See Joh. Schmidt: “Ueber Metathesis von Nasalen,” in Kuhn’s
“Zeitschrift,” xxiii. pp. 266-302 (1877).
[208] “Grundzüge” (2nd edition), p. 650.
[209] Brugman in Kuhn’s “Zeitschrift,” xxiv. p. 81 (1878).
[210] Recent researches seem to have shown that the parent-Semitic
possessed two dentals, which may be written _ṭ_ and _ḍ_, and are
represented in Arabic by _th_ and _dh_ (ذ), and in Assyrian, Hebrew,
and Ethiopic by _s_ (_sh_) and _z_. Consequently the table of
sound-shiftings will be—
Parent-Semitic. Arabic. Assyrian. Hebrew. Ethiopic. Aramaic.
_ṭ_ _th_ _s_ _sh_ _s_ _th_
_ḍ_ _dh_ _z_ _z_ _z_ _d_
_t_ _t_ _t_ _t_ _t_ _t_ (_th_)
_d_ _d_ _d_ _d_ _d_ _d_
_sh_ _s_ _s_ _sh_ _s_ _s_
_s_ _sh_ _s_ _s_ _sh_ _sh_
_´s_ _s_ _´s_ _´s_ _s_ _sh_
[211] Logan: “Indian Archipelago,” iii. p. 665.
[212] “Magyarische Grammatik” (1858).
[213] De Ujfálvy, in the “Revue de Philologie et d’Ethnographie,” i. 1,
pp. 20-50.
[214] Reprinted by I. Pitman in 1850.
[215] The “Grammatica Linguæ Anglicanæ,” to which is prefixed a
treatise “De Sonorum omnium loquelarium formatione: Tractatus
Grammatico-physicus.”
[216] Swift’s “Works,” ix. pp. 137-139 (edit. Sir W. Scott).
[217] The monthly journal of these reformers, published at Bremen, is
entitled: “Reform. Zeitšrift des algemeinen fereins zur einfürung einer
fereinfahten deutšen rehtšreibung.”
[218] “Etymologische Forschungen,” v. p. xxii.
[219] “Language and the Study of Language,” p. 106.
[220] See his “Etymologische Forschungen,” v. i., Introd. (2nd edition).
[221] Donner: “Z. D. M. G,” xxvii. 4 (1873).
[222] “Lectures,” ii. pp. 268 _sq._ (8th edition).
[223] That is, hard-explosive.
[224] These characters represent the palæotype symbols employed by Mr.
Ellis.
[225] Soft-explosive.
[226] Nasal-explosive.
[227] Hard-continuous.
[228] Soft-continuous.
[229] Hard-trill.
[230] Soft-trill.
[231] Nasal-continuous.
[232] Soft-liquid.
[233] Hard-liquid.
[234] For Mr. Ellis’s own Palæotype Alphabet, see “Early English
Pronunciation,” part i. pp. 3-12, where also a list of signs denoting
clicks, pitch, whisper, glide, &c., is given.
[235] In “A Handbook of Phonetics,” pp. xv-xvii.
[236]
Old Old Middle Hakka South
Chinese. Mandarin. Dialect. Dialect. Fukien. Canton.
g c’h, k’ (h) g (dj) k’ k’, k k’
d t’(l) d t’ t’, t t’
b p’ (f) b (v) p’ p’, p (h) p’
This table applies only to words which have the fifth tone (Edkins:
“Introduction to the Study of the Chinese Characters,” p. 185).
[237] Sayce: “Principles of Comparative Philology,” Preface to 2nd
edition, p. ix.
[238] See “Contemporary Review,” April, 1876.
[239] Fr. Müller: “Grundriss der Sprachwissenschaft,” i. 2, p. 2.
[240] Sayce: “Principles of Comparative Philology” (2nd edition), p.
229.
[241] “Transactions of the Philological Society” (1856), pp. 40, 41.
[242] “La Philosophie de la Science du Langage étudiée dans la
formation des mots” (1875), p. 83.
[243] Tylor: “Primitive Culture,” i. pp. 199-201.
[244] See Sayce: “Principles of Comparative Philology,” 2nd edition, p.
253.
[245] Wilson: “Grammar,” p. 32.
[246] Schiefner: “Tibetische Studien” (1851), p. 30.
[247] Platzmann: “Brasilianische Grammatik,” chap. xv.
[248] In Curtius’ “Studien,” vii. pp. 185 _sq._
[249] Buschmann: “Abhandlungen d. Berlin. Akad.,” 1869, i. p. 122.
[250] The whole subject of reduplication has been exhaustively treated
by Professor Pott, to whose work reference should be made: “Doppelung
als eines der wichtigsten Bildungsmittel der Sprache.”
[251] “On the Origin of Civilization,” pp. 403-405.
[252] “Ethnography and Philology of the Hidatsa Indians,” p. 77.
[253] See Pott: “Humboldt’s Verschiedenheit des menschlichen
Sprachbaues” (1876), i. pp. 305, 306.
[254] Aristoph. “Eccl.” 1169.
[255] See Sayce: “The Tenses of the Assyrian Verb,” in “J. R. A. S.,”
Jan. 1877.
[256] Not _dhâ_, “to place,” like the perfect in the Teutonic
languages, since Old Irish has _b_ (_e.g._ _caru-b_ = “amabo”), and in
Keltic _b_ cannot come from _dh_.
[257] Earle: “Philology of the English Tongue” (2nd edition), p. 305.
[258] The only difficulty here is that the base of the feminine in
Sanskrit is _tiśar_.
[259] Brachet, however, holds that _justice_ and _justesse_ are
collateral forms, both from the Latin -_itia_.
[260] “Archæologia Americana,” ii. pp. 25, 166, 169.
[261] Bleek: “Comparative Grammar of the South African Languages,” pp.
97, 98.
[262] Matthews: “Ethnography and Philology of the Hidatsa Indians”
(1877), p. 95.
[263] Buschmann: “Abhand. d. Berliner Akademie” (1869), i. p. 103.
[264] The Sanskrit equivalent of _humus_, however, has had to submit
to the prevailing analogy, and in the form of _bhûmi_ assume what has
become the feminine suffix.
[265] “Ethnography and Philology of the Hidatsa Indians,” p. 96.
[266] “Abhandlungen d. Berlin. Akad.” (1869), i. p. 122.
[267] “Eléments de la Grammaire Othomi,” in the “Revue Orientale et
Américaine,” p. 21.
[268] Friedrich Müller: “Grundriss der Sprachwissenschaft,” i. 2, p. 27.
[269] “Trans. of the Ethnological Society,” i. p. 304.
[270] Latham in the “Proceedings of the Philological Society” (1852),
p. 59.
[271] “Du Rôle de la Dérivation dans la Déclinaison indo-européenne,”
in the “Mémoires de la Société de Linguistique de Paris,” ii. 5.
[272] “Grundriss der Sprachwissenschaft,” i. 2, p. 2.
[273] See Sayce: “The Tenses of the Assyrian Verb,” in the “J. R. A.
S.,” Jan. 1877.
[274] Max Müller: “Lectures,” i. p. 106.
[275] See, for instance, Wiedemann: “Grammatik der Wotjakischen
Sprache” (1851), pp. 268-271.
[276] Böhtlingk: “Jakutische Grammatik,” p. 160.
[277] In Bunsen’s “Philosophy of Universal History,” i. p. 265.
[278] “La Grèce avant les Grecs,” p. 45. According, however, to M.
Dozon (“Grammaire albanaise,” 1878), the postfixed Albanian article is
really a termination like that of the German adjective, and not a relic
of the demonstrative pronoun.
[279] “De la Construction Grammaticale,” in the “Mémoires de la Société
de Linguistique de Paris,” iii. 1, 2, 3.
[280] It is possible that the position of the article in the greater
number of the Romanic languages may have been influenced by Teutonic
usage.
[281] Exod. xxxii. 1, Josh. ix. 12 _sq._, Is. xxiii. 13.
[282] Jer. xvi. 16, Ps. xxxii. 10, lxxxix. 51.
[283] “Chips,” iv. p. 39.
[284] “Primer of Philology” (1877), p. 112.
[285] “De la Construction Grammaticale,” in the “Mémoires de la Société
de Linguistique,” iii. 1, 2, 3.
[286] Prologue, 396.
[287] Orosius, i. 1, 23.
[288] Gaussin: “Du dialecte de Tahiti” (1853).
[289] See Jolly: “Ueber die einfachste Form der Hypotaxis im
Indo-germanischen,” and Windisch: “Untersuchungen über den Ursprung des
Relativpronomens,” in Curtius’s “Studien,” vi. 1 and ii. 2.
END OF VOL. I.
CHISWICK PRESS:—CHARLES WHITTINGHAM, TOOKS COURT,
CHANCERY LANE.