CATEGORIES: PSYCHOLOGICAL AND GRAMMATICAL.
The divisions into which grammarians have distributed words, such as
gender, number, and, in the case of verbs, voice and tense, are based
upon the function which each word discharges in the sentence. Now, these
functional differences rest ultimately upon psychological categories:
that is to say, upon differences which depend upon the view taken by our
mind of the natural grouping and classification of ideas. In other
words, the divisions formed by grammarians depend ultimately upon the
classification of the relations in which the ideas suggested by words
stand to each other, as it appears to our imagination. Grammatical
classification was, in fact, originally nothing but an attempt to
express and group the order and connection of ideas as they were
conceived of by the human mind. Immediately that this influence of
imagination has made itself felt in the usage of language, it becomes a
grammatical factor: and the groups which it forms become grammatical
categories. But the action of the psychological category does not cease
when it has thus produced the grammatical; and the difference between
the two kinds is that, whereas the grammatical categories become, so to
speak, stereotyped and fixed, those created by the imagination are ever
changing; just as the human mind itself is ever changing its ideas.
Besides this, changes in sound-groups are always occurring, and are
constantly operating to prevent the grammatical categories coinciding
with the psychological. Then, as a tendency makes itself felt to bring
about a coincidence of the two categories, the grammatical category
suffers a displacement, whence arise what we are accustomed to call
grammatical irregularities. A consideration of the way in which these
irregularities arise may help us to understand the origin of the
grammatical categories, to which we now proceed.
GENDER.
The foundation of grammatical gender is the natural distinction between
the sexes in mankind and animals. Fancy may endow other objects or
qualities with sex; but sex, whether fanciful or real, has no proper
connection with grammar. The truth of this may be well seen from the
English language, in which we have in most cases discarded the use of
grammatical gender. In order, therefore, to study the conditions of
gender, we have to turn to languages more highly inflected than English.
The test whereby we now recognise the grammatical gender of a
substantive is the _concord_ existing between the substantive and its
attribute and predicate, or between it and a pronoun representing
it--_Domus nigra est_, ‘The house is black;’ _Domus quam vidi_, ‘The
house which I saw;’ _It is the moon; I ken her horn_ (Burns); etc. The
rise, therefore, of grammatical gender is closely connected with the
appearance of a variable adjective and pronoun. One theory to explain
this is, that the difference in form, before it yet marked the gender,
had become attached to a particular stem-ending: as if, _e.g._, all
stems ending in _n-_ admitted the ending _-us_--as _bonus_, ‘good,’--and
all those in _g-_ the ending _-ra_--as _nigra_, ‘black;’--and that the
ending may have been an independent word which, while yet independent,
had acquired a reference to a male or female.[144] Gender appears in
English, in the first place, as an artificial and often arbitrary
personification, as when the sun and moon are spoken of as _he_ and
_she_ respectively, under the influence of the ideas attaching to Sol
and Luna: Phœbus and Diana, etc.: and, again, as an expression of
interest in objects or animals, it frequently occurs in the language of
the people and of children; though it sometimes enters into the language
of common life, as when a dog is referred to as _he_ and a cat as _she_,
in cases where sex is not spoken of. (See Storm, die lebende Sprache, p.
418.)
In the pronoun, as in the adjective, the distinction of gender may
appear in the stem-ending: as ‘un_e_’ (‘one,’ ‘a’); ‘qu_æ_,’ (‘which’).
It may, however, also be expressed by distinct roots, such as _er_,
_sie_; _he_ and _she_. It is, indeed, probably in substantive pronouns
that grammatical gender was first developed, as in fact it has longest
maintained itself; as in English, where, in adjectives and nouns, it has
almost entirely disappeared.
Grammatical gender probably corresponded originally to natural sex.
Exceptions to this rule must gradually have come about, partly through
changes of meaning setting in,--as where a word is used metaphorically,
like _love_ (neuter, abstract), _love_ (masc. or fem.--‘the beloved
object’); or where it has ‘occasionally’ modified its meaning, like Fr.
_le guide_, strictly ‘the guidance,’ and so used in Old French; _your
fatherhoods_ (Ben Jonson). Consequently we find natural sex again
influencing the genders as fixed by grammar. Thus, in German, _Die
hässlichste meiner kammermädchen_ = ‘the ugliest of my chambermaids’
(Wieland), where the article _die_ is of the feminine gender, though the
word _kammermädchen_, being a diminutive in _chen_ is, like all others
of that class, neuter. In French, we have UNE (fem.) _brave enfant_, ‘a
brave girl.’ The word _gens_, again, is, properly speaking, feminine,
like the word _la gent_, which still survives in the restricted sense of
‘a race:’ but in combinations like ‘_tous_ les braves gens’ (‘all worthy
people’) the grammatical gender is neglected; and this neglect is
fostered by the use of such a word as _braves_, which in form might
apply to either sex. On the other hand, in combinations like ‘les
_bonnes_ gens,’ (‘good people’), where an adjective with a specifically
feminine termination is joined to the substantive, the grammatical
gender maintains itself. Cf., also, instances like ‘_un_ enseigne’ (‘an
ensign’), ‘_un_ trompette’ (‘a trumpeter’); and, in Provençal, ‘_lo_
poestat,’ for ‘the magistrate’ (‘_il_ podestà’). In Latin and Greek,
these so-called violations of the concord in gender are very common; we
are familiar with them as constructions πρός σύνεσιν, i.e. _according to
the sense_; cf. _Thracum auxilia_ (neuter) ... _cæsi_ (masc.) (Tac.,
Ann., iv. 48), ‘The Thracian auxiliaries were killed;’ _Capita_ (neut.)
_conjurationis virgis cæsi_ (masc.) _ac securi percussi_ (masc.) (Livy,
x. 1), ‘The heads of the conspiracy were slain and their heads cut off;’
_Septem millia_ (neut.) _hominum in naves impositos_ (masc.) (Livy, xl.
41), ‘Seven thousand men put on board ships;’ _Hi_ (masc.) _summo in
fluctu pendent ... tres Notus abreptas_ (i.e. _naves_--fem.) _in saxa
latentia torquet_ (Vergil, Æn., i. 106-8), ‘Some (of the ships) hang on
the crest of the waves ...; three, swept away, the South wind whirls
upon hidden rocks.’ In Greek, ὦ φίλτατ’, ὦ περισσὰ τιμηθεὶς (masc.)
τεκνον (neut.) (Eur., Tro. 735), ‘O dearest, O much honoured child;’ τὰ
τέλη (neut.) καταβάντας (masc.) (Thuc., IV. xv. 1), ‘The magistrates
having descended:’ and similar instances frequently in Thucydides.
We next find cases where the grammatical gender has completely changed.
Thus, in Greek, masculine designations of persons and animals are turned
into feminines by simply referring them to female objects: thus, we have
either ὁ or ἡ ἄγγελος (‘messenger’), διδάσκαλος (‘teacher’), ἰατρός,
(‘healer’), τύραννος (‘ruler’), ἔλαφος (‘deer’), ἵππος (‘horse’ or
‘mare’), etc. In Christian times, a form ὁ παρθένος (‘an unmarried man’)
was constructed (Apocal., xiv. 4), translated into Italian by _Vergine_.
Neuter diminutives in German readily become masculine or feminine when
the diminutive meaning has been obscured: as, _e.g._, the occasional
construction _die Fräulein_, ‘the young lady;’ cf., also, in Latin,
_Glycerium mea_, _Philematium mea_ (Plaut., Most., I. iii. 96), _mea
Gymnasium_ (Plaut., Cist., I. i. 2). In English, there are a great
number of words which would, in the first instance, be thought of as
masculines, as containing a suffix commonly associated with masculine
words. These are, however, very frequently used as feminines; and, in
some cases, even when a feminine termination exists side by side with
the masculine one--as, _She is heir of Naples_ (Shakespeare, Tempest,
II. i.): others are _enemy_, _rival_, _novice_, _astronomer_, _beggar_,
_teacher_, _botanist_, etc. Cf. _she is a peasant_ (Longfellow); _The
slave loves her master_ (Lord Byron); _His only heir a princess_ (Temp.,
I. 2); _She is his only heir_ (Much Ado, I. i.); _The daughter and heir
of Leonato_ (ibid., I. iii.); _She alone is heir to both of us_ (ibid.,
V. i.); etc.
If collectives or descriptions of qualities become descriptions of
persons, the result may be a change of gender. The Fr. _le garde_ (‘the
watchman’) was once identical with _la garde_ (‘the watch,’ _vigiliæ_);
cf. further, in Spanish, _el cura_ (‘the priest’), _el justicia_ (‘the
magistrate’): the Old Bulgarian _junota_ (‘youth’), as a masculine,
means ‘a youth.’ The Russian _Golova_ means ‘a head,’ and, in the
masculine, ‘a conductor.’ Portuguese furnishes numerous instances of
this; as, _a bolsa_ (fem.), ‘the purse,’ ‘exchange;’ _o bolsa_ (masc.),
‘the treasurer:’ _a corneta_, ‘the cornet;’ _o corneta_, ‘the
trumpeter:’ _a lingua_, ‘the tongue;’ _o lingua_, ‘the interpreter:’
etc.[145] In Italian, _podestà_ (‘magistrate’) is an instance of this.
Feminine surnames, again, are frequently added to masculine personal
names: cf. Latin _Alauda_, _Capella_, _Stella_; Ital. _Colonna_, _Rosa_,
_Barbarossa_, _Malespina_, etc. So, in French, we find names like _Jean
Marie_.
A word often takes a particular gender from the fact that it belongs to
a particular category. The gender of the type of the species, in fact,
fixes the gender for other members classed with it. Thus, in English,
the word for _beast_ comes from the O.Fr. _beste_ (bête), which is
feminine: but this word, and the names of beasts generally, are treated
in poetry as masculines, because the Teutonic usage is to treat beasts
generally as masculine. Cf. _The beast is laid down in his lair_
(Cowper); _And when a beste is deed he ne hath no peyne_ (Chaucer, Cant.
Tales, 1321); _The forest’s leaping panther shall hide his spotted hide_
(Bryant). Numerous other instances are given by Mätzner.[146] It is
probable that personification aids in fixing the gender in these cases.
Similarly, in French, _été_ (‘summer’), from _æstatem_, has become
masculine because the other seasons of the year were masculine. _Minuit_
(‘midnight’) has followed _midi_ (‘midday’); _val_ (‘valley’) has
followed _mont_ (‘mountain’), _font_ (‘fount’) _fontaine_ (‘fountain’);
_aigle_ (‘eagle’) is masculine because _oiseau_ (‘bird’) is masculine;
_brebis_ (‘wether’) is feminine because _ovis_ (‘sheep’) is feminine;
_sort_ (‘lot’) is masculine because _bonheur_ (‘happiness’) is
masculine; _art_ (‘art’) is masculine because _métier_ (‘profession’) is
masculine: _mer_ (‘sea’) is feminine because _terra_ (‘land’) is
feminine. In German, again, the names of _Tiber_ and _Rhone_ have
followed the model of most German river names, and appear as feminine.
In Greek, many names of plants and trees have become feminine, following
the model of δρῦς (‘tree’) and βοτάνη (‘grass’); cf. ὁ κύανος (‘steel’),
ἡ κύανος (‘the corn-flower’), so called from a fancied resemblance
between the plant and the metal. Towns, again, in Greek, show an
inclination to follow the gender of πόλις, ‘a city:’ cf. ἡ Κέραμος, from
ὁ κέραμος, ‘clay;’ ἡ Κισσός, from ὁ κισσός, ‘ivy;’ ἡ Μάραθος, from ὁ
μόραθος, ‘fennel.’
In other cases _formal_ reasons have brought about a change in gender.
We have a striking example of this in the feminine gender assumed by
abstract nouns in _-or_ in the Romance languages, to which _flos_
(‘flower’) has also added itself. The fact was felt that most abstract
substantives were feminine, _e.g._ those terminating in _-tas_, _-tus_,
_-tudo_, _-tio_, _-itia_, _-ia_; and, especially, the feminine
termination _-ura_ sometimes was employed as an alternative to _-or_;
cf. _pavor_ (‘fear’), Ital. _paura_. Again, in Latin, words in _-a_,
when these were not, like _poeta_, the names of males, were commonly
feminine. Consequently, we find that Greek neuters in -μα appear in
popular Latin as feminines, a gender which they have in many cases
preserved in the Romance languages. Examples of this are seen in
_schème_, _dogme_, _diademe_, _anagramme_, _énigme_, _épigramme_, etc.
In the same way, in Modern Greek, the old Greek feminines in ος have in
many cases became masculine, as ὁ πλάτανος, ὁ κυπάρισσος, ‘the plain,’
‘the cypress.’
Sometimes the termination appears altered to suit the gender; thus the
Lat. _socrus_ (‘a father-in-law’) produces the Spanish word _suegra_ (‘a
mother-in-law’): and, again, sometimes the traditional was the natural
gender; and this was an additional reason why the word should alter its
termination, instead of being modified by the gender,--thus, in Greek,
the α stems which have become masculine, like νεανίας
(‘a youth’), have adopted the characteristic _s_ of the masculine
nominative.
The way in which natural gender, as viewed by imagination, has affected
grammatical gender may be well seen in English. The personal pronouns
give the only real traces of grammatical gender left in English, _he_,
_she_, _it_; _his_, _her_, _its_, etc. On the other hand, substantives
are very commonly referred to one sex or another by writers, and to some
extent personified. In these cases sometimes a faint tradition of their
Anglo-Saxon gender seems to have lingered, as when, for instance,
mammals and reptiles are in poetry spoken of as masculine; e.g., _Like
the roe_ (A.S. _rá_, fem.) _when he hears_ (Longfellow); _I have seen
the hyena’s_ (Lat. and Fr. fem.) _eyes of flame, and heard at my side
his stealthy tread_ (Bryant). Birds, on the other hand, are treated very
often as feminines, irrespective of the grammatical gender possessed by
their Anglo-Saxon or French original; cf. _But the sea-fowl has gone to
her nest_ (Cowper); _A bird betrays her nest by striving to conceal it_
(Byron); _Jealous as the eagle of her high aiery_ (ibid.); _The raven
flaps her wing_ (ibid.); _A hawk hits her prey_ (Halliwell, s.v. ruff);
_The swan rows her state_ (Milton).
We must mention one more point which ought not to be overlooked, though,
owing to the scanty survival of grammatical gender in modern English, it
cannot easily be illustrated by English examples. We have indicated some
of the causes which have been active in producing a change of gender;
but, besides these, there is a negative one, viz., the absence of
impediment to such change, which, in a certain sense, may be said to
have contributed to the same effect. The distinction in gender which is
even yet marked in French and German by the different forms of the
singular article (_le_, _der_, masc.; _la_, _die_, fem.; _das_, neut.)
has long since disappeared in the plural. We find _les_, _die_ for all
genders. And hence it is clear that such words as were most frequently
used in the plural were least closely associated with a particular
gender, and were therefore more especially amenable to the influence of
any force tending to group them with words of a gender different from
their own. For instance, most feminine nouns in German form their plural
by adding _-en_ to the singular, while few masculine and only six or
seven neuter nouns do the like; as a result of which many nouns,
formerly masculine, are now feminine, and this especially applies to
cases where the plural was in frequent use.
The neuter, the sexless, owes its origin as a grammatical category
merely to the development and differentiation of the two other genders.
NUMBER.
As in the case of gender, so, before number passed into a grammatical
category, concord must have been developed. Even in languages which,
like English, would naturally express the plural by some plural
termination, we find words denoting a plurality, and, indeed, a definite
number, conceived and spoken of as a unity. Such are _a pair_, _a
leash_, _a brace_, _a triplet_, _a trio_, _a quartette_, _a dozen_, _a
score_.
We find similar cases in the most varied languages: cf. the Fr. _une
dizaine_ (‘a collection of ten’), _une douzaine_ (‘a dozen’), _centaine_
(‘a collection of a hundred’), etc.; Ital. _una diecina_, _dozzina_,
etc.; _trave_, in Danish, means ‘a _score_ of corn sheaves;’ _schock_,
in German, means ‘sixty;’ _tchetvero_, in Russian, means ‘a set of
four.’ We may add, the curious Latin word _quimatus_, ‘the age of five
years.’
Thus, in like manner, so-called collective nouns are simply
comprehensive singular designations of plurality. Now, the speaker or
writer may choose to think of the collective of which he is speaking as
a unity or as a plurality, and the way in which he chooses to regard it
may affect the concord; nay, it may even affect the gender.
The most common case is where a plural verb follows a singular
collective noun: as, ‘The whole nation _seem_ to be running out of their
wits’ (Smollett, Humphrey Clinker); ‘The army of the Queen _mean_ to
besiege us’ (Shakespeare, 3 Hen. VI., I. ii.);[147] cf. ‘Even until King
Arthur’s _table_, man by man, had fallen in Lyonness about _their_ Lord’
(Tennyson, Idylls of the King); ‘_Pars perexigua_, duce amisso, Romam
_inermes delati sunt_’ (Livy, ii. 14) = ‘A very small part, their
leader lost, _were brought unarmed_ to Rome;’ ‘_Cetera classis_,
prætoria nave amissa, _fugerunt_’ (Livy, xxxv. 26) = ‘The rest of the
fleet, with the loss of the prætorian ship, fled (plur.).’ Sometimes
there is a mixture of singular and plural, e.g. ‘_Fremit improba plebes_
(sing.) Sontibus _accensæ_ (plur.) stimulis’ (Stat., Theb., v. 488) =
‘The _impatient people murmur_ (sing.), _inflamed_ (plur. part.) etc.:’
cf. the following examples from the Greek--Μέρος τι (sing.) ανθρώπων οὐκ
ἡγοῦνται (plur.) θεούς (Plato., Leg., 948) = ‘A portion of mankind do
not believe in gods;’ Τό στράτευμα ἐπορίζετο (sing.) σῖτον, κόπτοντες
(plur.) τοὺς βοῦς καὶ ονους (Xen., Anab., II. i. 6) = ‘The army provided
itself with food (by) cutting up (plur. part.) the oxen and asses.’
In A.S., when _ðæt_ or _ðis_ is connected with a plural predicate by
means of the verb ‘to be,’ the verb is put in the plural: ‘Eall _ðæt
sindon_ micle and egeslice dæda’ (‘All _that_ are great and terrible
deeds.’) Conversely, where we should say ‘each of those who _hear_,’ the
idiom in Anglo-Saxon was to say ‘each of those who _hears_:’ as, ‘Ælc
ðára ðe ðás míne word _gehyrð_’ (= ‘Each of those who _hears_ these my
words’, where the verb is made to agree, not with _ðara ðe_, but with
_ælc_. Cf. Sweet, Anglo-Saxon Reader, p. xci.).
We find many words so commonly combined with the plural, that we more
naturally apprehend them as plural than as singular; such a word is the
English ‘people,’ which we instinctively connect with a plural verb. In
such cases, we sometimes even find that the grammatical form actually
assimilates itself to the psychological number, as when we speak of
_folks_; cf. also _sheeps_ in Shakespeare (Love’s Labour’s lost, II.
i.); while from the French word _gent_, which was used in Old French
with the plural, we find formed, in the same way, the word _gens_: in
Italian we find _genti_ beside _gente_. In Anglo-Saxon, _-waru_ denotes
‘a nation,’ ‘a defence:’ the plural _-ware_, ‘citizens;’ as _Rómware_,
‘the men of Rome;’ _Cantwáre_, ‘the men of Kent,’ etc. In Gothic, there
is a collective neuter _fadrein_, which we may illustrate or parallel,
though not exactly translate, by the word ‘fathership.’ In the singular
(genitive) it is used in the meaning of ‘race’ or ‘family’ (Eph. iii.
15), thus showing its original abstract and then collective sense; and
again it is found (Luke viii. 56) still singular but with a plural verb:
_jah usgeisnodedun fadrein izos_ = _and were-astonished fathership_
(i.e. PARENTS) _her_ = _and her parents were astonished_. We even find
the singular noun with the _article_ (_i.e._ demonstrative pronoun) _in
the plural_: _Andhofun ðan im ðai fadrein is jah qeðun_ = _Answered then
to him those fathership his and said_ = _Then answered his parents and
said_ (John ix. 20). It is, thus, this _plural meaning_ which caused the
word to be used in the _plural form_, exactly as we use _folks_ quoted
above, while the etymological meaning as abstract collective was
overlooked. For example: _Ni auk skulun barna_ FADREINAM _huzdjan, ak_
FADREINA _barnam_ = _not eke shall bairns for_ FATHERSHIPS _hoard, but_
FATHERSHIPS _for bairns_, i.e. _For the children shall not hoard for the
parents, but the parents for the children_ (2 Cor. xii. 14).[148]
The converse of this also happens. A plural expression receives the
function of a singular when the parts thus indicated are thought of as
a whole. Thus we can talk of _another sixpence_, _another hundred
yards_; or even use phrases like _There’s not another two such women_
(Warren); _this seven year_ (Shakes., Much Ado, III. 3.); _What is six
winters?_ (Rich. II., I. iii.). _Amends_, _gallows_, _sessions_,
_shambles_ are plurals, but are generally treated as singulars; e.g., _a
shrewd unhappy gallows_ (Love’s Labour’s lost, V. ii. 12). So, too,
_works_, _scales_, etc.: e.g., _that crystal scales_ (Rom. and Jul., I.
ii. 101); _Stoppage of a large steelworks_ (Weekly Times and Echo,
August 19, 1888); _Fire in a Liverpool chemical works_ (Liverpool Daily
Post, June 30, 1884, p. 7); _This is good news_; etc. Finally, such
plurals become singular, not only in sense, but even in form, and are
treated and declined as such. Thus, in English, we talk of _an invoice_
(Fr. envois, plur.). In Latin, _castra_ (plur.) sometimes formed a
genitive of singular form, _castræ_:[149] the plural _litteræ_, in sense
of ‘an epistle,’ has passed into the French _lettre_ as singular, with a
new plural, _lettres_; the Latin plural _vela_, ‘sails,’ into French
_une voile_: _minaciæ_ has become the French _menace_, ‘threat,’ and the
Italian _minaccia_: _nuptiæ_, ‘nuptials,’ has become, in French, _noce_,
‘a wedding,’ as well as _noces_: _tenebræ_, ‘darkness’ has become, in
Spanish, _tiniebla_, as well as _tinieblas_; _deliciæ_, ‘delights,’ in
French, _délice_, as well as _délices_. _Pâques_, ‘Easter,’ _Athènes_,
‘Athens,’ are used as singulars.
Pronouns referring to abstract expressions stand sometimes in the
plural; as, _Nobody knows what it is to lose a friend till_ THEY _have
lost him_ (Fielding). Again, the predicate may stand in the plural;[150]
as, _Quisque suos_ PATIMUR _manes_ (Verg., Æn., 743)--‘We each suffer
our own ghostly punishment,’ where _quisque_ ‘each’ in singular, but
the verb _patimur_ is plural. Similar are _uterque educunt_ (Cæs., C.,
iii. 30); _uter_ ERATIS (Plaut., Men., 1119); _neuter ad me_ IRETIS;
_Every one of these letters_ ARE _in my name_ (Shakespeare, Twelfth
Night, II. v.); _Neither of them_ ARE _remarkable_ (Blair); _Every one
to rest_ THEMSELVES BETAKE (Rape of Lucrece, 125); _when neither_ ARE
_alive_ (Cymb., IV. ii. 252). Most Indo-European languages possess pairs
of pronouns, in each of which sets one properly denotes the singular,
the other plurality; as in English _all_, _every_; or _each_, and _any_:
and these are readily interchanged; e.g., _without all doubt_ (Shakes.,
Hen. VIII., IV. i. 113), _less attemptable than any the rarest of our
ladies_ (Cymb., I. iv. 65). Thus, even in Latin, the singular _omnis_ is
used where we should have expected _omnes_; as, _militat omnis amans_
(Ovid, Amor., I. ix. 1). _Tu pulses omne quod obstat_ (Hor., Sat. II.,
vi. 30). Thus _totus_ has passed into the French _tout_, ‘all.’ We find
_both_ in Shakespeare, connected with the singular; _Both our remedies
within thy help and holy physic lies_, i.e. _the remedy for us both_
(Rom. and Jul., II. iii. 51). Thus, also, _autrui_, ‘others,’ in French,
really the oblique case of _autre_, is in fact a singular, but is looked
upon as a plural; as, _la rigueur envers autrui_ (Massillon).
Number, in the sense of singular or plural, cannot, again, be properly
predicated of the simple names of materials. We do not think of them as
individuals, except in connection with form as well as matter,--in fact,
till we think of substances as divided as well as divisible. Hence it is
that the names of materials occur mostly in the singular number; the
fact being that if there were a _neuter number_, i.e. a grammatical form
expressive of neither plural nor singular, we should naturally employ
it.
But the name of a material is readily used as that of an individual
object, and, on the other hand, the name of an individual object may
easily come to be the designation of a material. The imagination
supplies or withdraws, as it may be, the form and definite shape which,
as we have seen, is essential to number. Take such instances as _hair_,
_grass_, _bloom_, _fruit_, _weed_, _grain_, _cloth_, _stone_, _wood_,
_field_, _meadow_, _marsh_, _heath_, _earth_, _land_, _bread_, _cake_,
etc. Similarly, when we talk of _fowl_ as a viand, we individualise and
give form to a general conception; as, in French, when we talk about _du
porc_, _du mouton_. In the same way, we have in Latin such expressions
as _leporem et gallinam et anserem_ for ‘_the flesh of_ the hare, the
fowl, and the goose;’ and _fagum atque abietem_ for ‘the beech tree and
the fir-tree’ (Cæsar, Bell. Gall., v. 12). In the same way, we must
explain the singular in cases like _The enemy is approaching_; _The
Russian is within hail_. Similarly, Livy uses the singular, as _Romanus_
for ‘the Romans,’ _Poenus_ for ‘the Carthaginians,’ _eques_ for ‘the
cavalry,’ _pedes_ for ‘the infantry,’ etc.; nay, he even goes as far as
to combine _Hispani milites et funditor Balearis_ (xxvii. 2).
Thus, too, Horace ventures on the combination _miles nautæque_ (Sat. I.,
i.). Vergil has _plurima mortis imago_, ‘many an image of death’ (Æn.,
ii. 369); in Seneca, we even find _multo hoste_, ‘many an enemy.’
In German, the singular of many words stands constantly after numerals;
as, _tausend mann_, ‘a thousand men,’ _zehn stück Pferde_, ‘ten head
(lit. pieces) of horses.’ Similarly it was usual to write in English
such expressions as _many score thousand_: _twenty score paces_.[151]
The fact is, that there is no need for any special designation of
plurality to follow a number; the plurality is already sufficiently
denoted by the number itself.[152] We thus see that the form taken by
such a word would naturally be _numberless_, or _absolute_, in fact,
would be treated in the same way as it would have been treated before
the rise of grammatical number.
TENSE.
It is the function of the various ‘tenses’ to express the temporal
relation of an event, when considered with regard to a certain moment.
At the outset, however, we must observe that the tenses actually
existing in any given language do not by any means perfectly correspond
to the varieties possible and logically distinguishable in these
relations. We will first consider what would be indispensable to a
logically complete system.
Any event whatever must necessarily be anterior, contemporary, or
posterior, to the moment with respect to which it is considered; and
this moment must itself be past, present, or future. Hence, according as
the moment of comparison is varied, we get the following sets:--
I. _Moment of comparison_ PRESENT.
The event is stated as--
(_a__{1}) NOW _past_.
(_b__{1}) NOW _present_.
(_c__{1}) NOW _still to come_.
II. _Moment of comparison_ PAST.
The event is stated to have been--
(_a__{2}) THEN _already past_.
(_b__{2}) THEN _present_.
(_c__{2}) THEN _still to come_.
III. _Moment of comparison_ FUTURE.
It is stated that the event--
(_a__{3}) _will_ THEN _be past_.
(_b__{3}) _will_ THEN _be present_.
(_c__{3}) _will_ THEN _be still to come_.
The above nine subdivisions exhaust all possibilities as long as we
employ but a single ‘moment of comparison’ in each case; and it is so
important that this point should be fully realised, that, simple as it
appears, we proceed to illustrate each division as follows:--
(_a__{1}) Cæsar once _said_, ‘Veni, vidi, vici.’
(_b__{1}) I now _believe_ that this is true.
(_c__{1}) I expect that he _will come_.
(_a__{2}) When I entered, he _had gone_.
(_b__{2}) When I entered, he _was speaking_.
(_c__{2}) When I entered, he _was going to speak_.
(_a__{3}) On New Year’s day I _shall have completed_ my fiftieth year.
(_b__{3}) I _shall_ then _receive_ a letter.
(_c__{3}) I _shall_ then _be going to write_.
It is at once apparent here that in some of these cases we are forced to
have recourse to periphrasis, and that in some we use tenses which might
also serve in other divisions. This, for instance, may be seen by
comparing _b__{2} and _a__{1}, or, at any rate, _c__{1} and _c__{3}. But
before discussing these points we must pay a little more attention to
the above scheme, not, indeed, as it actually exists, but as it might
conceivably exist.
It is by no means inconceivable, and quite in accordance with logic,
that we should wish to employ _two_ moments of comparison instead of
_one_, especially in some of the cases falling under II. and III. In
_c__{2}, for instance, the event might be _then_ still to come, but
_now_ (α) past, (β) present, (γ) even yet to
come.
This at first seems fanciful; but while the example we employed to
illustrate _c__{2} does not necessarily convey as much, still most
hearers would naturally interpret it as follows: “When I entered, his
speaking was still in the future, but now (unless some hindrance, as yet
unstated, has intervened) it belongs to the past.” Again, if, on the
other hand, we take a sentence like _He has promised to do so_; in the
first place, it is found to STATE that the promise was given in the
past, when as yet the action of fulfilment belonged to the future; and,
secondly, to IMPLY that this action of fulfilment belongs to the future
_still_.
Further, it is logically possible, and often necessary, to make a
statement about some event without any reference to time; when, for
instance, a statement is true at any time, or at no time at all. The
form employed in such cases ought, in strict agreement with our
definition of ‘tense,’ to be called ‘tenseless’ or ‘absolute;’ but it is
well known that, in English and all Indo-European languages, the
‘present’ is the tense employed. In _Man is mortal_ the copula _is_
cannot justly be called ‘present’ tense, for the statement is wholly
abstract, and applies equally to past, present, and future; yet it is
customary and convenient to apply the term ‘present’ even to the word
_is_ as thus used.
This use of the present sometimes gives rise to a certain ambiguity. If,
in speaking of a child, we say _He is very troublesome_, the statement
may mean _He is at this moment very troublesome_, in which case the verb
_is_ is _present_ tense proper; or it may mean _He is a troublesome
child_, whence the sentence becomes _abstract-concrete_[153] and the
verb _is_ tense _absolute_.
If, as in the case of grammatical gender and number, these distinctions
of form are to be regarded as later developments in the case of the
grammatical tenses of the verb, we must assume (i.) that the same form
must once have served indifferently for all tense relations, and (ii.)
expect that the tenses actually differentiated will (_a_) correspond
only incompletely with the scheme of logical distinctions, (_b_) will in
various languages show various deviations from the ideal scheme, and
(_c_) will, in the same language at different periods of its history,
show similar variations in those deviations.
i. Though the conclusion under head i. is actually inevitable, it seems,
at first sight, improbable and doubtful; but, in addition to the use of
the present tense discussed and exemplified above, there is much in
modern English which may help to illustrate and enable us to realise it,
while older languages afford much more material for the same purpose. A
usage closely akin to that of the _present_ tense for tense _absolute_
occurs when the _present_ is used for the _future_, and more especially
when some other word in the sentence definitely refers the event to the
future. Thus, in _I am going to London to-morrow_, we actually employ
that specially English periphrasis which is never used in the _absolute_
sense, but, as a rule, emphatically expresses that the action belongs to
the present time.[154] Nay, where circumstances are sufficiently
unequivocal to absolutely preclude the meaning of the present tense, the
addition of such words as _to-morrow_, etc., is not even needed. If two
friends, for instance, were speaking about some coming holidays, and the
one had said, _I think I will go to Wales_, the other might answer, _I
don’t care for Wales, I am going to London_; or, again, without such
explanatory circumstances, or any special words, the _present_ in a
subordinate clause can stand for a _future_ event, provided that the
main clause grammatically expresses the future; e.g., _I will call you
when he comes_.
We also sometimes use the PRESENT TENSE FOR THE PAST. This we do (_a_)
where the event is equally true of the past as of the present; e.g., _I
know that_ = _I know it, and knew it some time ago_--a case in which the
present tense expresses past AND present together: or (_b_) where the
event belongs, indeed, entirely to the _past_, but the result is
represented as actually _present_. Of (_b_) these are instances: ‘Master
_sends_ me to tell you,’ ‘He _tells_ me that he is going away,’ ‘I
_hear_ he is better now.’ This usage approaches closely to a third
(_c_), the so-called _Historic present_, which, however, we should
probably not consider as a present tense expressing the past, but as a
simple present, whose use is due to the vivid imagination of the
speaker, when it leads him to regard the past as actually present.
We have said that the consciousness of the result of an action sometimes
causes the use of a present tense for a past event. The same cause may
also lead to an exactly opposite usage, viz., that of a past tense for
an event in the present. Thus, as the result of _seeing_ is _knowing_,
it came to pass that a form originally signifying _I have seen_ acquired
the meaning _I know_; the Ger. _Ich weisz_ means ‘I know,’ but is
derived from the same root as the Lat. _Video_, ‘I see.’ Thus, again,
the root which we find in Lat. _gno-sco_ (= _I begin to learn_, _I get
to know_) appears in the English _I can_, which, exactly as the Lat.
_novi_ (for *_gnovi_, cf. _agnovi_ for _ad-gnovi_), meant _I have got to
know_ (= _I know_), has developed its present meaning, I am able, from
one expressive of something like _I have become able_, or _I have
learned_. It is thus that arose the so-called ‘præterito-presentia,’
_can_, _must_, _will_, _shall_, etc., which still betray, one and all,
their origin from a former grammatical past tense, by absence of _s_ as
a characteristic termination of the third person singular--a termination
which we add to the stem in the case of all other present tenses.
Logically, the relation between some tenses of the same verb, as,
_e.g._, the present TENSE _cognosco_ (‘I get to know’) and the perfect
TENSE _novi_ (‘I have got to know’), which is used as a present tense to
express the result, is identical with that between many sets of verbs.
In fact we might translate _cognosco_ by I LEARN, and _novi_ by I KNOW.
Similar sets are _to step_, _to stand_; _to fall_, _to lie_; etc. But
here, again, this distinction need not to be expressed, or, at least, is
not always expressed; the same form may serve for both. Not to refer to
dead languages or obsolete forms, it is sufficient to quote the
well-known schoolboy’s expression, _He stood him on the form_, for _He
made him stand on the form_. So, also, _He stood the candle on the
floor_ (Dickens).[155]
Now, all this confusion of past for present, present for past, effect
for cause, cause for effect, present for future, present for every
relation, causes in practice, as we have already seen, little or no
ambiguity. If we remember this, it becomes easy for us to realize how
conversation and intelligible statement may once have been quite
possible without further aid than that afforded by what we call the
tense _absolute_, i.e. a form of the verb expressive of the action only,
without any indication of its time. A glance at a tense system _very_
different from our own, will enable us to do this even more fully, and
at the same time will to some extent illustrate our statement that, in
different languages, the actually existing tenses correspond variously
with the logical scheme. In Hebrew, the verb has three different forms,
called respectively (_a_) imperative, (_b_) perfect, (_c_) imperfect;
which terms, however, might be replaced for the occasion by (_a_)
_command_ tense, (_b_) _finished_ tense, (_c_) _unfinished_ tense, lest
they should mislead readers who have not studied Hebrew. Instead of
‘tense,’ we might as correctly call them ‘moods.’
The context is the sole guide as to whether the event spoken of belongs
to past, present, or future. In narrative, the perfect and imperfect
serve very much the same purposes as the tenses similarly named in
Latin; but the _imperfect_, as tense or mood of _unfinished_ action,
serves also for our present and future, while a future which is to
represent something as _certainly_ expected, is supplied by the
_perfect_ or _finished_ tense. Again, the imperfect serves for the
optative (_wish_ mood), and also sometimes replaces the imperative,
since the latter is essentially a mood of action as yet unperformed. In
this latter use of the imperfect there is sometimes a slight
differentiation of form.
ii. _a._ The fact that the grammatical tenses correspond very
incompletely with the logical distinctions, has already been very fully
illustrated by all we have said in this chapter, and it only remains to
add a few words on what are termed in our grammars ‘the compound
tenses.’ Strictly speaking, these are not tenses at all of the verbs to
which they are said to belong: of tenses, _i.e._ forms derived from the
verb itself, and expressive of definite relations of time, there are but
two in English--the present, and the past or imperfect. The enumeration
of the so-called compound tenses amongst the tenses proper is due to a
confusion between logic and grammar, only slightly removed from the
fiction which gave us the still lingering potential mood (_I can
write_), or which might with equal correctness have given us an
obligatory mood (_I must write_), a desiderative mood (_I like to
write_), an obstinate mood (_I am determined to write_), etc., etc. In
English we now employ various periphrases for all relations but the
present and that indicated by the imperfect; and the line which
separates a ‘future tense’ _I will write_, from a phrase like _I have
the intention of writing_, is a perfectly arbitrary one.
ii. _b._ Our short and necessarily very incomplete discussion of the
Hebrew tenses furnished an instance of what we stated under ii. _b_, p.
256; and there is no need to further illustrate this, especially as any
reader acquainted with a foreign language knows how much care is
requisite in translating the various English tenses in their different
applications. Any student of, say, French or German will recognise this;
while, in the case of those who know English alone, no amount of
illustration of the point in question could raise their knowledge above
mere acceptance on authority, or belief at second hand.
To illustrate ii. _c_, we shall only give a few instances of (α) the use
in English (Modern English and Anglo-Saxon) of a present tense where we
should now employ a future (which latter was then, as now, non-existent
as a tense, the only difference being that the present periphrasis had
not then yet become customary), and of (β) the use of a simple past
tense where we should now employ the plu-perfect:--
α. _Æfter ðrím dagon ic áríse_ = ‘After three days I _arise_’ (Matt.
xxvii. 63); _Gá gé on mínne wíngeard, and ic sylle eow ðæt riht bið_ =
‘Go ye into my vineyard and I _give_ (= _shall give_) you what right
is’ (Matt. xx. 4).
β. _Hé mid ðám léohte his gást ágeaf ðam Drihtne ðe hine to his ríce
gelaðode_ = ‘He with the light his spirit gave-up to the Lord who him to
his Kingdom _invited_ (i.e., _had invited_)’ (Ælfric; cf. Skeat,
Anglo-Saxon Reader, i., p. 86): _Hé ne grétte hi oð ðæt héo cende hyre
sunu_ = ‘He not knew her until that she _brought forth_ (= _had brought
forth_) her son.’
In our preceding remarks, we have had occasion to mention that, in
Hebrew, the categories of tense and mood are scarcely differentiated.
Similarly--to some extent--in Sanscrit, the distinction between what we
call tenses and moods is less clearly defined than in, _e.g._, Latin or
Greek. Of this confusion, or rather absence of distinction, we preserve
some traces in modern usage. Thus, as the imperative is essentially
significant of something still to come, we can understand how a future
TENSE can come to be employed instead of an imperative MOOD. Such a
phrase as _You will do that at once_, especially when aided by accent or
emphasis, can be used for ‘You _shall_, etc.’ Nay, the future is
occasionally used as OPTATIVE; e.g. _Sic me di amabunt_, = _So the gods
will love me_, for _May the gods love me_: and even as DUBITATIVE, as in
the Scottish _Ye’ll no be o’ this country, freend?_ (Scott, Mannering,
ch. i.) = ‘You will not be of this country,’ _i.e._ ‘I suppose you are
not, etc.’
VOICE.
We have seen that what in formal grammar appears as the ‘object’ of a
verb is often, from a psychological point of view, the subject of a
sentence (cf. Chap. VI.). The use of the passive voice enables us to do
away with this incongruence: the object of the action becomes the
subject of our sentence, and the grammatical construction is thus made
to harmonise with the psychological instinct. For instance, if, in
answer to the question _Whom does he prefer as companion?_ we say _John
he would prefer_, we overcome, by a construction somewhat alien to the
genius of the English language, the difficulty of expressing that John,
the object of the verb to prefer, is in our mind the subject of a
statement: _John is the person whom he would prefer_.
But such an inversion as _John he would prefer_ is not always possible;
while such an extension as _John is the person whom he would prefer_,
though, indeed, always a possible construction, would be felt as very
awkward and needlessly lengthy. This difficulty is evaded by the use of
the passive voice: and the use of this voice serves to give clearness
and elegance to style.
It is, however, perhaps not superfluous to point out that, whether we
employ the active or the passive voice, the ACTUAL relation existing
between the subject and object of our sentence remains the same. Whether
we say _John loves Mary_, or _Mary is loved by John_, the person _John_
is in either case described as the agent; the person _Mary_ is the
object of the feeling expressed by the verb. It is the _form_ only of
the two sentences which differs; it is the _syntactical_, and not the
_real_ relation of subject and object which varies. Hence we may say
that the distinction of voice in the verb is to some extent purely
syntactical in its nature. It is, moreover, clear that the distinction
implied in voice could not arise before the distinction between the
grammatical subject and object had been established. Until such was the
case, mere juxtaposition of substantive and verb must have served
equally as the expression of the active and of the passive relation
between subject and predicate.
A somewhat similar phenomenon, possibly a survival of this prehistoric
stage, is observable in the nominal forms of the verb, which, though
indeed already specialised in the earliest stages of those languages
with which we are acquainted, contain nothing in their actual formation
which can assign them to either voice. And, again, if we consider fully
the Latin genitives known in grammar as _objective_ and _subjective_, we
find a similar indefiniteness of expression prevalent as to relationship
active or passive. _Amor patris_ (‘love, father’s’) can, according to
the context, signify either the love which the father feels, or that
which is felt for the father by some one else.
The present participle, now always called _active_, is even yet
sometimes used in a passive meaning, and this use was formerly much more
common. We hear, even at the present day, such phrases as _Do you want
the tea making? I want my coat brushing_, etc.[156] Again, we have
expressions like _One thing is wanting_, common now as in Shakespeare’s
time;[157] _so much is owing_, etc. Other instances not less striking
have become obsolete: as, _his unrecalling crime_ (Rape of Lucrece, l.
993) for _unrecalled_ = ‘not to be recalled;’ and _his all-obeying
breath_ (Ant. and Cleop., III. xiii. 77) = his breath obeyed by all. We
find, also, _Relish your nimble notes to pleasing ears_ (= pleased ears)
in Rape of Lucrece, l. 1126.
In Gothic there is a remarkable and indeed unique instance of this use
(Mark xv. 15): _Atgaf Jesu usbliggvands_, i.e. _(Pilate) gave Jesus
scourging_ = _gave up Jesus to be scourged_, or _for being scourged_.
The so-called gerundives in Latin have commonly a passive meaning; thus,
_amandus_ usually means ‘fit to be loved.’ But here, again, we meet with
exceptional uses which prove that what is now regarded as the ‘regular’
meaning is in reality but accidental and adventitious. _Oriundus_ means
‘arising’ and, in somewhat older Latin, we find forms like _pereundus_,
‘perishing,’ _placendus_, ‘pleasing,’ etc.
Little as the distinction of voice is expressed in the _nomen actionis_,
it is equally little inherent in the infinite. In such a sentence as _I
gave him a good beating_, the meaning of _beating_ is active; in the
sentence _He got a good beating_, it is decidedly passive. Similarly, in
such a sentence as _I can read_, the infinitive is active, but this is
owing to the context: for instance, in such a sentence as _This is not
easy to read_, it is clearly passive. Yet no one would call these
phrases ambiguous. We can therefore easily imagine that infinitives may
have existed long before they were differentiated into separate forms to
mark the two voices. We still employ many infinitives which might be
called neuter, neither active nor passive: such as, for instance, ‘Is it
better _to say_ yes or _to say_ no?’ ‘fair _to see_;’ ‘a marvel _to
tell_.’
In Gothic, however, we find many instances of infinitives which, being
commonly employed as actives, are conveniently considered as belonging
to that particular voice; but which, in special sentences, have a very
clearly defined passive sense. Thus, _qêmun ðan môtarjôs daupjan_ =
_Came then publicans (to) baptise_ = _to be baptised_ (Luke iii. 12);
_Untê sunus mans skulds ist atgiban in handuns mannê_ = _For (the) son
(of) man due is (= must) deliver into hands (of) men_ = _shall be
delivered into_. (Luke ix. 44); _Varð ðan gasviltan ðamma unlêdin jah
briggan fram aggilum in barma Abrahamis_ = _(It) happened then (to) die
(to) the beggar and (to) bring from (= by) angels into (the) bosom (of)
Abraham_ = _It came to pass that the beggar died and was carried, etc._
(Luke xvi. 22); _du saihvan_ = _to see_ = _for being seen_ (Matt. vi.
1), etc.
Though, then, in these and similar cases we find infinitive forms with
unquestionably passive meanings, it would not be quite correct to assign
them in formal grammar to the passive voice.
A grammatical passive is only acknowledged in cases where that passive
has been formed from the same stem as the active, and has been marked
off from it by a special method of formation, as in such cases as _amo_,
‘I love,’ _amor_, ‘I am loved.’ The relation of an intransitive verb to
its corresponding causative, resembles that of a passive to its active,
as in such cases as _to fall_, _to fell_; _to drink_, _to drench_; _to
sit_, _to set_: and the pairs from roots etymologically unrelated, _to
make_, _to become_; _to kill_, _to die_. In the case of the intransitive
verbs, however, as compared with that of the grammatical passive, we do
not dwell so much in thought upon an operating cause as constituting the
difference between active and passive. But this distinction is so
slight, that we actually find intransitive verbs used with a sequence
such as we should expect after a passive, as in _He died by the hand of
the public executioner_; _He fell by his own ambition_. On the other
hand, we can see the transition from the passive to the active in the
case of the Russian--where the active form is employed to express a
passive sense,--and of the so-called deponent verbs. We have to
translate a form like the Latin _verti_ by ‘to turn,’ employing the
middle voice. A case like _Jam homo in mercaturâ vortitur_, ‘The man is
now busy with merchandise’ (Plautus, Mostellaria, III. i. 109) may serve
to show how nearly allied is the middle or passive voice to the deponent
proper. No doubt a true deponent differs from a verb used in the middle
voice, by the fact that the deponent takes an accusative after it; but
how nearly the two touch one another, may be gathered from such
instances as that given above, by the side of _adversari regem_ (Tac.,
Hist., iv. 84,), ‘to oppose, or to oppose one’s-self to, the king.’
One of the most common ways, in which the passive takes its origin, is
from the middle voice, which is sometimes seen to be formed from the
composition of the active with the reflective pronoun. We have in
English two examples of this method of formation, in the words _(to)
bask and (to) busk_: _to bask_ means ‘to bathe one’s-self;’ _to busk_,
‘to prepare one’s-self,’ or ‘get ready.’[158] The _sk_ stands for _sik_,
as it appears in Icelandic, the accusative case of a reflective pronoun
of the third person. The Russian often, in like manner, employs a
reflective form in _-sya_ instead of the passive, just as does the
French; thus, _Tavárni prodáutsya, les hardes se vendent_, ‘The goods
are sold,’ lit. ‘sell themselves:’ cf. _Rien ne s’y voyait plus, pas
même des débris_ (De Vigny).[159] ‘Nothing more was to be seen, not even
the ruined remains.’
In these cases, one element of the signification of the middle voice is
discarded. The middle voice denotes that an action starts from a person,
and returns to him. In _I strike myself_ the action ‘_strikes_’ starts
from the speaker, but visits him again with its effects; in _I am
struck_ the action is visited upon the subject, but does not originate
therewith. There are some reflective combinations, even in English,
where the consciousness of the activity of the subject has practically
disappeared: as in _How do you find yourself? I bethought me; He found
himself in an awkward position_: but these, it will be seen, approach
more to the use of the simple intransitive, by means of the relationship
which this bears to the passive; cf. _s’exciter_ with _être excité_; ‘to
be excited:’ _moveri_, with _se movere_, ‘to move.’ There are certain
uses of the verb, in French and German, in which the operation of the
subject is almost effaced: as, _sich befinden_, in _Wie befinden sie
sich_ (‘How are you?’); _cela se laisse dire_ (‘that may be said’).