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MODERN INDIA AND THE INDIANS, BEING A SERIES OF IMPRESSIONS, NOTES, AND ESSAYS. BY MONIER WILLIAMS, D.C.L., Hon. LL.D. of the University of Calcutta, Hon. Member of the Bombay Asiatic Society, Boden Professor of Sanskrit in the University of Oxford. Third Edition, revised and augmented by considerable Additions, with Illustrations and a Map. This edition will be found a great improvement on those that preceded it. The author has taken care to avail himself of all such criticisms on particular passages in the previous editions as appeared to him to be just, and he has enlarged the work by more than a hundred pages of additional matter. “In this volume we have the thoughtful impressions of a thoughtful man on Some of the most important questions connected with our Indian Empire. . . . 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BIGANDET, Dishop of Ramatha, Vicar-Apostolic of Ava and Pegu. “The work is furnished with copious notes, which not only illustrate the subject- matter, but form a perfect encyclopædia of Buddhist lore.”—Times. “A work which will furnish European students of Buddhism with a most valuable help in the prosecution of their investigations.”—Edinbwrgh Daily Review. “IBishop Bigandet's invaluable work, . . . and no work founded—rather trans- lated—from original sources presents to the Western student a more faithful picture than that of Bishop Bigandet.”—Indian Antiquary. “Viewed in this light, its importance is sufficient to place students of the subject under a deep obligation to its author.”—Calcutta Review. “This work is one of the greatest authorities upon Buddhism.”—Dublin Review. “. . . A performance the great value of which is well known to all students of Buddhism.”—Tablet. Post 8vo, pp. xxiv.–420, cloth, price I8s. CHINESE BUDDHISMI. A VOLUME OF SKETCHES, HISTORICAL AND CRITICAL. 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Second Edition, post 8vo, pp. xxvi.-244, cloth, price Ios. 6d. T H E G U L I S T A N ; OR, ROSE GARDEN OF SHEKH MUSHLIU'D-DIN SADI OF SHIRAZ. Translated for the First Time into Prose and Verse, with an Introductory Preface, and a Life of the Author, from the Atish Kadah, By EDWARD B. EASTWICK, C.B., M.A., F.R.S., M.R.A.S., Of Merton College, Oxford, &c. It is a very fair rendering of the original.”—Times. “The new edition has long been desired, and will be welcomed by all who take any interest in Oriental poetry. . The Gulistan is a typical Persian verse-book of the highest order. Mr. Eastwick's rhymed translation . . . has long established itself in a secure position as the best version of Sadi's finest work.”—Academy, . “It is both faithfully and gracefully executed.”—Tablet. TR & BNER'S ORIENTAL SERIES. Post 8vo, pp. 496, cloth, price 18s. LING UISTIC AND ORIENTAL ESSAYS. WRITTEN FROM THE YEAR 1846 To 1878. By ROBERT NEEDHAM CUST, Late Member of Her Majesty's Indian Civil Service; Hon. Secretary to the Royal Asiatic Society; and Author of “The Modern Languages of the East Indies.” “We know none who has described Indian life, especially the life of the natives, with so much learning, sympathy, and literary talent.”—Academy. “It is impossible to do justice to any of these essays in the space at our command. . . . But they seem to us to be full of suggestive and original remarks.”—St. James's Gazette. “His book contains a vast amount of information, ..... of much interest to every intelligent reader. 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They are probably the nearest representatives of the original Aryan stories from which sprang the folk-lore of Europe as well as India, and from which the Semitic mations also borrowed much. The introduction contains a most interesting disquisition on the migrations of these fables, tracing their reappearance in the various groups of folk-lore legends respectively known as “AEsop's Fables,’ the ‘Hitopadesa,’ the Calilag and Damnag series, and even ‘The Arabian Nights.” Among other old friends, we meet with a version of the Judgment of Solomon, which proves, after all, to be an Aryan, and not a Semitic tale.”—Times. “It is now some years since Mr. Rhys Davids asserted his right to be heard on this subject by his able article on Buddhism in the new edition of the “Encyclopædia IBritannica.’”—Leeds Mercwry. “All who are interested in Buddhist literature ought to feel deeply indebted to Mr. Rhys Davids. 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Post 8vo, pp. lxvi.-368, cloth, price 14s. TIBETAN TALES DERIVED FROM INDIAN SOURCES. Translated from the Tibetan of the Kah-Ghur into Germa by F. ANTON VON SCHIEFNER, - of the Imperial Academy of St. Petersburg. Done into English from the German, with an Introduction, by W. R. S. RALSTON, M.A. Post 8vo, pp. viii.—266, cloth, price 7s. 6d. LINGUISTIC ESSAYS. IBY CARL ABEL. CONTENTS. Language as the Expression of National The Connection between Dictionary and Modes of Thought. Grammar. The Conception of Love in some Ancient The Possibility of a Common Literary and Modern Languages. Language for all Slavs. . The English Verbs of Command. The Order and Position of Words in the Semariology. Latin Sentence. Philological Methods. The Coptic Language. The Origin of Language. Proving the signification of words and forms to reflect a nation’s general view of the universe, the Author advocates a psychological study of language, to supplement the prevailing formalism of ordinary grammar. 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LONDON : TRüBNER & Co., 37 and 59 LUDGATE HILL. 750 - 12/5/82. T R (j B N E R'S O RIENTAL SERIES. 25aſſamtone ſpregg BALLANTYNE, HANSON AND CO. EDINBURGH AND LONDON LINGUISTIC Essays. BY C A R L A BE L, PH. D.R. L O N ID O N : TRijB N E R & CO., LUD GATE H II, L. I 882. *- [All rights reserved.] PREF A 0 E. LANGUAGE, as the embodiment of a nation's general views of men and things, is the theme of the first six essays. While grammar turns upon the form of words, the present method aims at appreciating the meaning con- veyed in the substance as well as in the form. A systematic attempt is made to realise the psychological significance of the Dictionary, and to connect Dictionary and Grammar by conceptual ties. To this end the mean- ing of words is explained in groups, each conveying a complete view of some notion or other; the Ordinary mode of discussing grammatical topics according to parts of speech, is supplemented by an arrangement, classifying inflections and their syntactical combinations according to what they express; and a connection is established between the two forms of linguistic expression in the case of those more general and abstract ideas, which admit of being communicated in an abbreviated inflec- tional form by grammar, and in the shape of independent words by the Dictionary. To contribute towards render- ing philology a comparative conceptology of nations is the ultimate object aimed at. ~& 24 ºf ºs- º ºf -É $3 { • **a-ºº: * vi PREFA CE. In the seventh essay, conclusions drawn in preceding treatises are applied to the discussion of an important political and linguistic question. The eighth and ninth essays approach the origin of human speech and the significance of words and sounds. Oft mooted, the mysterious subject is lighted up at last historically by Egyptian philology. * In the tenth essay, the sensitive intellectualism of language is shown to extend from grammar and dictionary to the arrangement and position of words. LONDON, March 20, 1882. II. III. IV. VI. VII. VIII. () () N T E N T S. . LANGUAGE AS THE EXPRESSION OF NATIONAL MODES . PHILOLOGICAL METHODS . ſº g * IX. OF THOUGHT º te tº tº º THE CONCEPTION OF LOVE IN SOME ANCIENT AND MODERN LANGUAGES . e g * tº THE ENGLISH VIERBS OF COMMAND . {_* ſº º e $3 THE DISCRIMINATION OF SYNONYMS º e tº THE CONNECTION BETWEEN DICTIONARY AND GRAMMAR THE POSSIBILITY OF A COMMON LITERARY LANGUAGE FOR THE SLAV NATIONS tº s tº * tº COPTIC INTENSIFICATION . g e tº THE ORIGIN OF LANGUAGE º tº ſº THE ORDER AND POSITION OF WORDS IN THE LATIN SENTENCE . ſº & & * PAGE 23 79 I35 I57 I69 I8I 2O3 223 243 I. JAAWGUAGE AS THE EXA RAESSION OF AVA TVOAVAZ MO/DA2S OF THOUGA/T. [READ AT THE ROYAL SOCIETY OF LITERATURE, MAY 26, 1880.] LET us for a moment go back to our childhood and revive the memory of those early years when, among many other useful but unpleasant occupations, we were plodding away at French exercises. Suppose we had to make a transla- tion from the German in which the word “Freund' occurred; suppose we were still at such a primitive stage of French learning that we had to consult a dictionary for rendering so common a word. There we should find ‘Ami, der Freund.’ And we should be quite right in using the French equivalent in our exercise, and our teacher could but praise us for discovering and applying the correct expression. No Frenchman could have given a better translation, or have suggested a more adequate term. And yet it is exceedingly doubtful whether any Frenchman, ever honouring our translation with his perusal, would think of exactly the same thing that we had thought of in reading the German original. ‘Ami’ is certainly ‘Freund; but friendship in France is a different thing from what it is in Germany, and therefore the words denoting it must carry a different meaning in the two countries. In Germany there is an ideal ring about the idea, and consequently about the word. In certain in- stances “Freund,’ to be sure, may be only the expression of affable condescension, implying by no means either acquaintance or intimacy; but this application of the 4. LANGUAGE AS THE EXPRESSION OF word is rare, and, as all conversant with the language will admit, has been powerless to weaken its nobler sense. Upon recalling the ordinary use and import of the term, we find that “Freundschaft’ pre-eminently expresses a relation pure and noble as love itself, and atoning for any want of passion by a more complete absence of all selfish motive. The German friend, to come up to the national conception, must enter into a covenant with him whom he has chosen as his friend. He must feel himself drawn towards him by sympathy of thought and action. IHe must let himself be attracted but very gradually, in- quiring earnestly whether his friend be worthy of his attachment, and struggling with the reserve that every man with a proper amount of self-esteem feels at linking himself with another. This done, he must be true to him through all time. All this is felt instinctively when pro- nouncing “Freund.' Does not this make it intelligible why the Germans are sparing of the word 2 why in Ger- many scarcely any friendships are formed except in youth ? why in riper years, when they have grown colder and narrower, men lose the capacity for so close a tie 2 In Germany, friendship, like love, belongs to the morning of life, over which it diffuses its glowing light. Both may last, should last. Once blighted, or not budding at the right time, it is hard to bring them later to blossom. They are genuine roses, the attribute of genial June; no mere monthly flowers of variable fragrance. With the French ‘ami’ it is otherwise. Though the word contains both meanings of the German ‘Freund,’ the two ingredients in it appear blended in different propor- tions. In ‘ami’ the sense of acquaintance overpowers that of friendship. The French ‘ami’ may be all that the German ‘Freund' should be; but he by no means needs to be this to fulfil the idea usually associated by Trenchmen with the term. “Ami’ as a rule only means an acquaintance who is kindly disposed toward one; OT even less than that : a man to whom we have rendered NATIONAL MODES OF THOUGHT. 5 occasional services, or who has rendered such services to us; who likes a chat with us, and will say nothing unkind of us behind our backs. In France people in this common- place relation call each other ‘amis.’ They not only refer to an absent acquaintance by this familiar name, but habitually address each other by the same comprehensive designation in the trivial intercourse of everyday life: so slight is the pathos bound up with their idea of the word and the thing it denotes. The German scarcely ever says to his friend, “Mein Freund.’ The word denotes too sacred a bond to be lightly used. Only in earnest or excited moments are Germans moved by this lofty name to confess, confirm, or appeal to their intimate relation to each other. The French, on the contrary, ‘ami’ one another the whole day long. People who meet in the café over their petit verre greet each other with a ‘Comment gava- t-il, mon ami?' And if we saunter to and fro on the Boulevards with the lazy and elegant crowd, we find the same hackneyed appellation perpetually flying about. It is the greeting of spendthrift student-lads and of keen, painstaking tradesmen; the mutual appellation of the young and sprightly as well as of the old and dull. With the students it tells of the easy feeling of comradeship, which has sprung up in their drinking and dancing bouts, and which is pretty sure to fade away and die out as soon as they go back to their respective homes and see each other no more; with the grocers it perpetuates the memory of the long years in which they were not indeed attached, but have gossiped off and on with one another, and taken snuff and smoked together. An old gentleman throws a ‘mon ami’ to a boy in all too careless friendship. Half speaking in condescension and half putting himself on a level with the child, he lands in the promiscuous use of a title pretty universally allowed in pleasant moods. The husband in all earnestness says it to his wife; the dandy jokingly accords it to the barmaid; and the dog's master caressingly throws it to his fourfooted companion. In 6 LANGUAGE AS THE EXPRESSION OF imitating the latter application, the Germans, significantly enough, confine themselves to the use of the French term, which they certainly need no more hesitate to employ in that anthropomorphical sense than those who coined and stamped it. From what has been said, it is plain ‘ami’ only indi- cates that people know one another and are outwardly on good terms. The whole scale of relationship coming under this loose definition is fitted into the comprehensive frame of the word “ami.’ The moral to be drawn from this is obvious. If we knew nothing more of French social intercourse than what the dictionary teaches us respecting the use of this one word “ami, we should be justified in coming to the conclusion that, where one and the same vocable is employed to indicate the deepest and the lightest relation, and where it is generally applied to denote the lightest, so much stress cannot be laid upon the deepest as is in Germany. Friendship with the French cannot be so warm nor acquaintance so cold as with the Germans. People will rarely be so dear or else so indif- ferent to one another as in Fatherland. They will more quickly find each other pleasant company, but more rarely form, acknowledge, and maintain ties of a graver nature. They will take sudden fancies, but will not so often allow them to ripen into prized and enduring associations.” After this let us assume now that the studious child, whose formidable task formed the starting-point of our observations, just when we were watching him, had to translate that well-known verse of Schiller's ‘Bürgschaft,' ‘dass der Freund dem Freunde gebrochen die Pflicht' (that the friend neglected his duty towards his friend). The judicious little scholar must have put something like ‘que l'amia abandonné l'ami.' But what a gulf between this and the passionate utterance of the poet ! Like the solemn glow of the evening sun, the deep and beautiful * French, on the other hand, greatly excels German in the expressive kindness of the words relating to social intercourse. NATIONAL MODES OF THOUGHT. 7 thought of the troth of noble men illumines the German phrase. In the French ‘ami, the lower and higher mean- ings of which the word is capable are so disposed that the former seem to have covered the latter with a cold and colourless crust hardened to the temperature of every- day life. A spark of generous sympathy still glows, indeed, within ; but over it, heaped mountain-high, is superim- posed the lava of commonplace. The friend who was surety for Moros, whilst Moros, to redeem his pledge, fought the robbers, plunged into the rivers, and offered himself to the headsman, was more than a mere “ami.’ An ‘ami’ comes to be every one who has frequently con- versed with us, and who has had no reason to be rude; a ‘Freund' seeks part of his own welfare in that of his friend. If we had to turn into German the famous pas- sage in Corneille's tragedy, “Soyons amis, Cinna, we would rather translate freely, ‘Machen wir Friede, Cinna’ (Let us be reconciled, Cinna), than verbally, ‘Seien wir Ereunde, Cinna’ (Let us be friends, Cinna). Thus the meaning that the German attaches to “Freund' is not covered by what the Frenchman conveys in uttering the term ‘ami. Like as are the two words, in one pre- vails the warmth of a vital impulse, in the other the accent of conventional intercourse. And were he ever So diligent and clever, our little translator might look through all the dictionaries that have ever been compiled, from the ancient Meidinger and Thibaut down to the most recent editions of Mozin and Sachs, without finding a IFrench expression which might accurately take the place of the strong-sounding German term, and produce exactly the same impression on the Frenchman as his ‘Freund' does on the German. That words, which in different languages apparently mean the same thing, generally have a slightly different signification when looked at more closely, is a fact which repeats itself throughout the dic- tionary. And this is only what was to be expected; for, since nations are unlike in their thoughts, the signs by 8 LANGUAGE AS THE EXPRESSION OF which they express these thoughts—i.e. their words—must have unlike meanings. A French ‘ami’ being quite another entity from a German “Freund,’ the two words cannot therefore fully correspond. We must, indeed, translate the one by the other; because the two nations concerned, and therefore the languages they speak, have nothing more nearly corresponding in this particular cate- gory than ‘ami’ and “Freund.’ But this should not make us jump to the conclusion that the two are the same thing: as long as the German is no Frenchman, and, con- versely, the Frenchman no German, this will not, cannot be the case. The difference between what different nations think, do, and therefore speak, is still more clearly seen in other verbal particulars. Let us take another example, and try to find out what it conveys. For the idea ‘billig’ the Eng- lish language possesses two words, the German only one. The two English words are ‘fair’ and ‘equitable. Running very much into each other in Some cases, they are separated by a nice and delicate line in others. Both involve a keen sense of what is due to our neighbour on principle rather than by law; but while ‘fair' has in it a liberality, a readiness, and an openness natural to a noble and warm- hearted mind, ‘equitable, on the other hand, is said of a calculated justice, which decides according to the intrinsic merits of the case, giving us the share which is our due, neither more nor less. Fairness is the outcome of a noble, generous, and spontaneous feeling, as well as of deliberate rectitude; the equitable man, though we may gladly have dealings with him, is one whose decision will depend upon a searching inquiry into the details of the case, and who, after maturely weighing claims, may possibly conclude by giving us less than what we, not unreasonably, had expected. Youth, with its dread of the mean and its carelessness of what is profitable, has a natural tendency to fairness; age finds few ready to be more than equitable. Whoever knows German must be aware that the one NATIONAL MODES OF THOUGHT. O Word ‘billig’ unites both ideas, the emphasis being laid on the One or the other according to the context in which it occurs. When they speak of a ‘billig’ judgment, the Germans mean ‘equitable;’ when alluding to a ‘billig’ estimate, it is ‘fair’ they are thinking of. But though the discrimination is mentally made in cases clearly dis- tinct, their ‘billigkeit, as the word is generally used, includes both sides of the meaning undivided, and there- fore confused and loosely joined together. In every case in which the context does not define the meaning beyond doubt, when they say ‘billig,' they express the higher meaning of ‘fair’ as well as the lower of ‘equitable, both the spontaneous and the pondered ‘billigkeit' conjointly. So that, unless the connection in which it is placed sharply defines the term as of the lower kind, it is ennobled by the higher timbre that goes along with the phrase, and a tinge of the free liberality of ‘fair’ is reflected on the anxious carefulness of the ‘equitable;’ while conversely, when they mean ‘fair, but do not give its free, frank character indubitable evidence in the context, the equitable ingredient in it is felt to suggest a heavier, more measured, and less interesting quality than the word would imply, if heedfully sundered from all ungenerous associations. As a necessary consequence, the word ‘billig’ is seldom used in the language. In conventional intercourse with others, it is courteously assumed, and therefore not particularly emphasised, that a man is ‘billig’ in the Sense of equit- able, i.e. just by weight and measure ; and though no one need be ashamed of being designated as fair, i.e. as giving others their rights from ingenuous impulse rather than mere honesty, yet who cares to make a fuss about fairness when he has to denote considerate thoughtfulness for undefended and defenceless interests by a word that carries with it the accent of pedantic equity, next door to selfish- ness Z Since in German when a man says ‘billig, how- ever much he may mean fair, he has to allude to equity at the same time, he shrinks from saying much about a IO LANGUAGE AS THE EXPRESSION OF quality to mention which can be hardly complimentary, inasmuch as its absence would amount to improbity. That the word should include both ideas has undermined its position in the language. A sad page of German history is illustrated by this word and its inherent confusion of meanings. Before the Thirty Years' War, when, at any rate for the upper and middle classes, there was absolute personal freedom, the Germans had two words for the different meanings of ‘equitable” and ‘fair;” “recht’ for equitable, and ‘billig’ for fair. * Recht’ related to a sense of justice in weighty con- cerns; ‘billig' was noble and considerate in less impor- tant matters. The war destroyed the burgher, his wealth, and his liberties. In the fearful impoverishment conse- quent upon the catastrophe which forced each man to look out for himself, the wish to be fair towards others could not but be sensibly diminished for a time; while as regarded the chance of any freedom of action, it was cur- tailed by the absolute government that arose upon the wholesale slaughter of the citizens and the extinction of municipal institutions. All was compulsion by pecuniary and state necessity. Between destitution and despotism there was little room left for the exercise of those nobler qualities so carefully described until then as ‘recht’ and ‘billig.' The sentiment of consideration was weakened along with the practical possibility of being magnanimous; and with the old constitutional liberty to do wrong was taken away the possibility of freely choosing to do right. So the words that had expressed these sentiments were changed in meaning, and lapsed into something different. The signification of ‘recht' was the one first affected. Obedience being too strictly enforced for any margin to remain in matters of moment, ‘recht,’ which had signified ‘fair' in more important concerns, by degrees shrank to the meaning of ‘legal,’ ‘moral,' or ‘reasonable.’ The more ‘recht’ lost its original flavour of fairness, and was nar- rowed down to the Sober sense of legality, the more neces- NATIONAL MODES OF THOUGHT. I I sary did it become to find another word to denote cases in which a man still had some liberty of action remaining in important matters, and needed not be fair unless it were in him so to be. Such cases could not be numerous, as the word ‘recht’ had lost its original meaning, and changed it for the new one of ‘legal; ' and yet they would naturally occur. It is never possible to Order everything by law and dictation. The most exhaustive codes, supplemented by the minutest police regulations, will have their loopholes, permitting a righteous man to deal righteously and an unrighteous one to deal unrighteously. If such cases occurred, and if righteous dealing was still appreciated in them, it must have some designation. It had ; and what ? The history of the language teaches us that such cases of bare honesty gradually came to be defined by the word ‘billig, although originally it rather indicated the regard which a warm heart shows in the things of which the law takes no account. That a word of the deli- cate shading and fine touch of the original ‘billig’ could have been so altered as to represent that common justice, the violation of which positively dishonours a man, shows that, at the best, under the pecuniary and moral pressure of the time, there was little inclination left to be considerate in little things and observant towards undefended claims. The word ‘billig,’ ‘fair, must have been weakened in its original delicacy for the thought to have occurred to any one of using it for ‘right- eous,” “just.’ Once so used, it fell for ever from its first estate. And thus it happened that ‘billig' at last came to imply ‘fair' in its rudest as well as its most delicate sense, ‘honest’ as well as ‘considerate,’ and that, through this blending of allied and yet different meanings, the nobler was so grievously injured as scarcely to be used at all. A word which, in its present confusion of meanings, cannot be uttered without allusion to elementary prin- ciples of honesty, may not well be employed to denote behaviour whose leading trait is a watchful generosity I 2 LANGUAGE AS THE EXPRESSION OF towards both the weak and strong. The Englishman has his ‘fair' always on his lips; the German, who can scarcely with propriety pronounce his ‘billig, if he wish to convey the nobler meaning of the two, must often leave the no- tion unspoken. Unless he will help himself out with Such modern makeshifts as ‘anständig, which is con- fined to externals, or, if he be a tradesman, with the yet emptier ‘coulant, he runs the risk of implying a taunt where he desires to commend. The taint of association has rendered his ‘billig’ more or less unfit for conversational purposes. Such pregnant incidents in the mental history of nations may be brought to light by one people having two words for two shades of the same idea, while another has but one. “Ami’ and ‘freund' had each two meanings, and these the same, and the whole difference lay in the fact that in ‘ami’ the one preponderated, in ‘freund' the other; that in ‘ami’ the accent fell on the cold, and in ‘freund' on the warm aspect of the notion. In ‘equitable, ‘fair, and ‘billig, the difference of national thought and expression is more considerable; for here, the one German word has to represent two ideas, to which the English give separate expression. “Ami’ and ‘freund' have each two meanings, but the one stepping out into the light throws the other into the shade; in ‘fair’ and ‘equitable” there is only one, showing the highest distinctness of speech; in “billig’ there are two, mingled into a psycho- logical hodgepodge. Allied to this is the cognate fact of a nation's originally creating two separate words for two kindred ideas, but in the course of history and the gradual decay of percep- tive vitality using them promiscuously. Few civilised peoples are so much in this sad case as is the German. Since the end of the classical period and the beginning of the modern stir in all phases of social and intellectual life the number of words in use for conversational and journalistic purposes has steadily diminished, and the NATIONAL MODES OF THOUGHT. I 3 difference between synonyms been gradually relaxed. Far from being enriched by the political and intellectual energy moving the nation during the last forty years, the language, excepting the addition to it of a number of more or less technical terms, has had its everyday vocabulary restricted to ever narrower limits. It is easy to realise this extraordinary fact by taking up a German book of thirty years ago, and noticing the number of words that are rarely met with to-day, or, if applied at all, used without any attempt at precision of meaning. They are generally finer gradations of thought now merged in some vague term, or themselves relaxed into some such common expression. It seems as if in re- forming so many things at a time, the nation were too busy sketching out the comprehensive work before them to have leisure or attention to spare for detail. This may be an inevitable evil in a preparatory period, a harsh- ness and meagreness inseparable from times of incipient evolution and war; but it is none the less a sensible drawback, and contributes not a little to the bareness and baldness of everyday intercourse, which so many deplore, and which none seem to have the power to amend. The thoroughgoing renewal of their national life ap- pears to be compelling the Germans to lay the founda- tions of the new political and religious structure before concerning themselves about details; and so the details of language too—details indicative of the finer distinc- tions between fact and fact, and notion and notion—are in many instances dimmed, if not fairly obliterated. The day may not be far off when the sap will flow again through these dry and shrivelled branches. In the mean- time, comparison with other and less severely tried lan- guages is calculated to show how much finer vitality is lost in the present upheaval of all notions and things. The commonest English words for the German ‘Ent- schluss’ are ‘resolution' and “determination.’ They have meanings allied yet different. A man sees another drown- I 4 LANGUAGE AS THE EXPRESSION OF ing. His first impulse is to save the sufferer; but the next moment the risk that he himself will be running is vividly presented to his mind. He is no coward, and never yet shrank from his fair share of danger when occa- sion required. But he has never saved any one from the water. He scarcely knows how to manage it. He remem- bers, too, with the lightning rapidity characterising thought at critical moments, that the strongest and most skilful swimmer is in a perilous position if, instead of resigning himself to his rescuer, the drowning man clutches at him, clings to him, and clambers upon him, sinking him. Is it judicious for him to interfere 2 Will his good intention be of any use 2 Will he not, probably, be too weak to bring help, and only cut prematurely short his own career, without doing the struggler any good? And his children, his wife —what is to become of them if anything happens to him 2 Will, judgment, and feeling contend in his breast—will to do the manly, charitable deed ; deliberation as to whether he be equal to the task, so that he may reasonably ven- ture; and sympathy with the poor fellow whom he sees rising and sinking, catching at empty air, and going down with a horrible gurgling Sound. He hesitates, he stands, steps back—and yet in another instant he is in the water, swimming vigorously, and putting forth all his strength to rescue the drowning man. He has closed the conflict of reason and feeling by taking a resolution. A deter- mination arrived at after deliberation, and which despises difficulty where duty and honour call, the English include in the term ‘resolution.’ + There is yet another kind of decision. Commonplace cir- cumstances frequently make it so easy for us to decide, that there is scarcely any room for hesitation. We decide to go out because the weather is fine and exercise healthy. We decide to give notice to our landlord because we find it convenient to make a change. In either case, we can see what to do without much, or indeed any, deliberation. They are common things whose consequences we can NATIONAL MODES OF THOUGHT. I 5 clearly anticipate, easily judged, and but little influenced by fluctuating sentiment. With the same rapidity we often decide in grave circumstances, provided they are grave enough to leave us no alternative. We decide at once to engage in some remunerative occupation when we have lost our property. Frederick II. decided to march into Saxony when things had gone so far that delay only served the enemy and did not avert war. A little while ago some travellers ascending Mount Vesuvius decided to leave the Ordinary beaten path, because it led them too near the rain of ashes falling in that direction. In all these cases there could be little, if any, hesitation how to act. The thing to do was evident at the first glance. The moment, the necessity for decision supervened, the deci- sion was forthcoming. What self-preservation demanded could not be doubtful for an instant. Other considera- tions either had nothing to do with the necessity of the moment, or, in comparison, were so slight as to be wholly insignificant. Decisions forced upon us by necessity or counselled by everyday convenience, without much thought or care—quick, Self-evident decisions, if one may use the term—the English designate by “determination.’” So much for the English. In German also there are two words for ‘resolution' and “ determination,’ namely, ‘En- tschluss’ and ‘Beschluss,’ and their meanings are divided in much the same way as in English. The evil, however, is, that lately these words have not been correctly dis- tinguished, the difference that separates them having been gradually obliterated. In the olden times, when ‘Entschlüsse’ were spoken off, great and ardent resolu- tions were intended—to save a personal enemy from a raging boar, or to wage bitter war between love and duty. What a man, on the other hand, quietly ‘beschloss’ was his conduct in this or that circumstance of everyday life. In modern talk, however, Germans use ‘entschliessen’ * It is needless to observe that both ‘resolution and “determination’ em- brace other meanings, not here adverted to, or requiring to be adverted to. I6 LANGUAGE AS THE EXPRESSION OF about as often as ‘beschliessen’ in reference to the petty particulars of social routine. Both words nowadays may equally refer to the plan to undertake a holiday trip or to change one's shoemaker. And yet, if they spoke accurately, and the value of their ‘Entschluss' were adequately realised by them, they should at most apply “beschliessen’ to such like trifles, but never ‘entschliessen.’ But people are grown weary of drawing distinctions, and so no longer invest the difficult ‘Entschluss’ with the nobility that lifts it above the easier ‘Beschluss. Running. monotonously in its narrow groove, and ever influenced by the same commonplace motives, daily life no longer pro- duces ‘Entschlüsse’ enough for the consciousness of their difference from ‘Beschlüsse' to be kept alive in ordi- nary minds. So ‘Entschluss' has fallen from its former height and been mixed up with ‘Beschluss' without the latter being by the slovenly fusion raised to any of the original superiority of the former. It is now almost all * Beschluss, a purpose which neither excites nor aims at anything particularly remarkable. In the examples we have taken as yet, the notions treated were conceived with sufficient emphasis and de- finiteness to be expressed by a single word without para- phrase or circumlocution. It need not be said that only those thoughts are embodied in a single word which occur often enough, and are realised with sufficient vividness and uniformity to recommend this short mode of present- ing them. Now, to some nations, some thoughts do not occur Sufficiently often, or are not vivid or incontrovertible enough to seem to make special words necessary for them; while to others they appear more important and are con- sidered worth embodying in particular vocables. Natural disposition, Surroundings, and history determine this. To give an example, all languages have a special word for ‘father, there being fathers in all nations, and the fact having always been regarded as sufficiently certain and important to be designated in the shortest and most definite NATIONAL MODES OF THOUGHT. 17 Way, i.e., by one word. But only those dialects in which the Sense of relationship is particularly strict or cordial have different words for the father's sister and the mother's. All others say ‘aunt' for both. In the same way all lan- guages have a word for ‘to throw; but certainsavage tribes, whose combative members are principally occupied in an- noying each other with every possible missile they can lay their hands upon, have, by the technical requirements of their martial pursuits, been prompted to form special expressions for ‘to throw sharply,’ ‘to throw feebly,’ ‘to throw with a jerk,’ &c. And we need by no means go to savage tribes to illustrate this observation. English ladies astonish foreigners by their exactness in discriminating between colours. In Germany the sex generally content themselves with marking the great divisions of the optical scale, and at most indulge in a few foreign words, such as ‘lilac,’ ‘rose,’ &c., for favourite shades between. Only the artist, the manufacturer, and, above all, the milliner, note finer distinctions. For the mass of ordinary colour-blind individuals, it would be affectation to copy them. It is different in Great Britain. No English child in any way developed will be caught confusing the two shades of pink and rose-colour, although Germans call both ‘rosa. No English lady would find it strange to distinguish be- tween violet and peach colour, though her German sisters entirely ignore the latter, as far as my experience goes. No English writer with any care for precision will fail to call hazel, hazel; auburn, auburn; and bay, bay; whilst any German, not wishing to be thought finical, will use “brown' in all three cases. Lavender, lilac, slate, puce, navy blue, mauve, French grey, are all distinct shades of purple which no English lady who visits her linendraper more than once a year would confound. A more signi- ficant token that accurate observation of natural pheno- mena is more generally prevalent in England than in Germany could not well be brought forward. Tints which in Germany only he who has an exceptional eye - B I8 LANGUAGE AS THE EXPRESSION OF for colour can distinguish, and then has to describe by paraphrase out of his own head, are in England recog- nised as of course, and in consequence named with special words. Here, therefore, the German dictionary is posi- tively defective as compared with the English. This is one of the most essential differences which can exist be- tween two languages. This is one of the facts which show that language is the mirror of thoughts common to all the members, or at any rate to large sections of a nation, and that these thoughts, and consequently their speech- mirrors, have moulded themselves differently with different peoples. The few words by whose meanings I have sought to illustrate this pervading rule are but as a drop to the ocean in comparison to the various cognate considerations that could be brought forward, and the thousands of examples that might be adduced to substantiate them. What I have said will probably be enough to prove language to be the most accurate photography of the intellectual world pecu- liar to each nation, and more or less common to its various members. When we consider that almost all the words of every language have meanings belonging to them alone, and that the corresponding words in other dialects reputed to be their representatives scarcely ever express the pre- cise meaning of their correlatives, we can in some measure estimate the extent to which our thought is nationalised by our tongue. He who in German says “Freund, in the act recognises the German notion of friendship; saying ‘Entschluss, he adopts the German idea of decision. But when the Frenchman speaks of his ‘ami, he by no means, as we have seen, implies a German “Freund.’ Neither when an Englishman utters ‘resolution’ does he intend to announce precisely a modern German ‘Entschluss.' And so on through nearly all words in all languages, those denoting the most Ordinary material objects and sensations alone excepted. In consequence of this diversity, translation from one NATIONAL MODES OF THOUGHT. I9 language into another becomes not only difficult, but, strictly taken, impossible. Modern literature being posi- tively deluged with translations, this sounds paradoxical. Yet it is none the less true, if by translation we under- stand an absolutely accurate copy of the original. To replace a word by its nearest representative in another idiom is by no means a safe guarantee of exact rendering. On the contrary, the more verbally exact the translation, the less faithful will it in very many cases be, if measured by the highest standard of inner correspondence. We may, indeed, always explain the sense of a foreign word by paraphrase, definition, and illustration; but to give its meaning fully, this commentary must often be a very wordy one. In nearly every word there is embodied a notion so delicately shaded that, to fully interpret its meaning, we must engage in extensive hermeneutics, as in the case of ‘ami,’ ‘resolution,’ &c. However, to put a page or a couple of pages for every foreign word might be considered a somewhat too prolix style of translation. It would certainly be destroying the sentence while pre- Serving its component parts. Happily, as we all know, to give an idea of what is said in another language sufficient for all practical purposes, it is not indispensable to be so precise. Erom this linguistic variety it likewise follows that any one going into a strange country, and giving up his own language and adopting another, unconsciously changes his opinions too. Neither can he precisely render his old ideas by the new words, nor can he prevent the new words of themselves putting new ideas in his mouth. But he who stays at home and learns foreign tongues in his own land does not need to give up his national mode of thought, whilst enriching it by the study of foreign types. Perceiving the strange words to imply something different from his own, and instinctively realising in them a new aspect of things, he may enlarge his intellect and improve his feelings by contact with the foreign idiom without 2O LANGUAGE AS THE EXPRESSION OF actually abandoning his own for another standard of thinking. Hence the study of language is so helpful to heart and mind when earnestly taken up, and so curiously rousing and stimulating even when lightly followed, as generally is the case. In grammars and lexicons we travel most truly to foreign lands, and see familiar things remodelled and arrayed in new national guise. It is certainly less trouble to gather such impressions in Berlin streets than in German vocabularies. Yet whoever does not stay in Berlin long enough to really master the language can find out better what the Germans are from his lexicon in London than from seeing all the in- structive sights of the Kaiser's capital. Nothing, moreover, tends more to make us just toward other nations than the exploration through their speech of their peculiar thought-World. The national peculiarities of many peoples, or rather some of their more prominent characteristics, repel us; history has brought us into unfriendly relations with others; in either case we are only too prone to rest satisfied with generalising prejudices. He who investigates the language of other nations will be milder and more cautious in his judgments upon them. He will realise their deeper features in the meaning and connection of their words. He will feel the pulse of their national life in the dictionary. With increasing interest he will encounter in their phraseology many a warm, wise, and manly impulse which will counterbalance unpleasant quali- ties and traits. He will discover valuable features latent even in less-developed tribes, awaiting the wakening voice, and most effectually roused into life by him who best under- stands the temper and language of the people. He will not deem it unnatural that even the least civilised should set a high value on the language that embodies their peculiar thoughts, and he will respect the tongues of our feebler brethren, even while admitting the impossibility of preserv- ing them. As he advances in his task, he will observe up- springing in every language the fountain of divine reason, NATIONAL MODES OF THOUGHT. 2 I in many but a rivulet, in others a stream swelling to a deep, wide flood. He will learn to value the speakers in the speech, and the speech in the speakers, and under- stand the poet, saying with him— “In every word, when duly weighed, a perfect book is found, And weighty are the thoughts in which the simplest tongues abound. Few words teach much—to the observant mind a lasting gain, E’en as from smallest germs the mighty trees are ever ta'en " A PP E N DIX. EVERY language supplying a catalogue of all the more important things, qualities, and forces at work in the world, this important peculiarity has been so much admired by linguists as to betray them into regarding the dictionary of their favourite idiom as a complete and perfect synopsis of the universe. ‘Le français est la langue d’état,’ said the German Emperor Charles V., ‘parcequ’elle est celle entre toutes qui répresente le mieux les choses telles qu’elles Sont.’ Improving upon this, Condillac asserts, ‘L'erreur est impossible avec une langue bien faite, the language he has in his mind being French. Only thirty years ago M. Dupanloup, the Bishop of Orleans, expressed himself more explicitly upon the same topic: ‘Un dictionnaire bien fait sous le rapport des définitions serait une des colonnes de la raison et de la Société. Constater ou rétablir le vrais sens des mots, c'est en conservant à une nation la vérité et la sagesse, la préserver des perturbations intellectuelles et sociales que les idées fausses ou confuses amènent imévitablement.’ There is a twofold mistake in all this. Whatever its wealth, a language is no more than a national repertory of thought. Being such, it may be very perfect, but can never be perfect. It registers what has come under the observa- 22 LANGUAGE AS THE EXPRESSION OF THOUGHT. tion of a certain race; it omits what that race has had no opportunity of witnessing. There are special epithets for the lion's character in Arabic or for a Mollah's emotions in Turkish, which, as these things have never been noticed in France, cannot be rendered by any single word in French. Again, language contains only a register of such things and of such of their qualities and active energies as come under the notice of all or of many. Were it otherwise, all the technical terms of science would be included in language. Their definitions would become an appropriate object for synonymical inquiry, and lan- guage would be universal science. With reference to the meaning of the more general terms language actually does contain, it is hardly necessary to observe that as long as human knowledge is imperfect, it must be hopeless to expect significations to mirror forth absolute truth. II. THE CONCEPTION OF LOVE IN SOME AMC/E/VT AAV/O MO/DEA’AV ZA/VG UA GAZ.S. II. SINCE the shortest expression of a thought is a word, those thoughts, which are most frequently and emphatically in their minds, mankind have embodied in this terse form. Thoughts which occur less frequently, less uniformly, or less vividly, in consequence come to be expressed by the juxtaposition of several words mutually supplementing each other. - The notion of man, for instance, uniformly occurring to all men at all times, in all languages is represented by a specific word. And suppose a tall race to come frequently in contact with people considerably smaller than them- selves, it would be just as intelligible to meet with the expressions ‘giant’ and ‘dwarf’ in their language. On the other hand, if a middle-sized race had never seen men of a different type, and were suddenly thrown together with giants and dwarfs, there would be no special names existent in their language to apply to the novel phenomena, which would have to be called by compounds put together at the Spur of the moment, such as ‘large man,’ ‘small man.’ The conceptions ‘large’ and ‘small,’ which, occur- ring everywhere, would have had special words allotted to them long ago, would require to be used to denote certain Subdivisions of the conception ‘man,’ for which, being rare in the region, no special words would have been previously created. A good example is supplied by the common English words ‘journey’ and ‘voyage,’ in contradistinction to the corresponding German expressions “Reise’ and ‘Seereise.’ In England, whose insular position makes travel by water 26 THE CONCEPTION OF LOVE IN SOME almost as common as by land, a special word for each of these various modes of journeying has been framed; in Germany, where the number of land journeys is greatly in excess, the less frequent sea-journey is either expressed genêrally as “Reise, or distinguished by a combination of two words, as ‘See–Reise.' * The like holds in more abstract notions. Suppose a strong, manly race in a position involving frequent War- fare. Amongst a nation thus placed, we should expect to find words denoting the qualities of which it most stood in need. Strength, courage, determination, daring, intre- pidity, audacity, &c., would be the absorbing themes of thought and action, and therefore be designated by a corresponding variety of individual words. Again, another tribe, to whom it had been granted to live in peace, would have had less occasion to feel, and therefore to express, the martial feelings forced upon its less fortunate neighbour. Of course, since courage has to be displayed not only in war but also in ordinary life, it is probable that, even in its idyllic repose, the pacific tribe would possess a proper word for this necessary, or at least desirable, quality of man; but the multifarious synonyms mentioned would be wanting, inasmuch as the opportunity for developing and practising ever fresh, ever more marked, aspects of courage would not have occurred. Hence, if on some special occasion unusual courage were necessary and forthcoming, it would be called great courage, but not daring. * Let us take an example from afar in order to prove the homogeneity of all languages in this respect. Ancient Egyptian ‘hap’ means a law given by the gods, as well as a human statute and the judgment delivered. For each of these three notions Latin has at least one special term— “fas, jus, judicium.’ To the Egyptians all law was divine, * The relevancy of the above re- by land and water. So much the marks is not affected by the fact less as the proper word for this that ‘journey’ may also be used for combined conception is ‘travel.” such travels as include journeys both ANCIENT AND MODERN LANGUAGES. 27 the priest the only judge, and his dictum an immediate efflux of heavenly truth, whose winged image he bore on his neck. So the three ideas were merged into one and received only one designation.* With the Romans, how- ever, who, by the side of their Sacerdotal lore, early developed a most ingenious secular jurisprudence, a dis- tinction between the three notions was made, and a special word set apart for each. º From these few examples it will be seen that words express the most usual and emphatic thoughts of a people; that the dictionary contains a genuine and unquestionable reflex of a nation's intellectual traits; and that in its authentic evidence we have a ready means of investigating the mental history of any of the various races of the globe. A nation, to have many words for a concept, must have been much at work upon it, must have developed and varied it, and nicely shaded it off; on the other hand, from a people less abundantly stocking any particular division of its dictionary, we naturally draw the opposite conclusion. When defining significations with exactness, the dictionary assumes the dignity of a psychological thesaurus, and becomes a vivid and boldly delineated sketch of a national type. A sketch, not a portrait. For since obviously many thoughts are expressed not by single, but by several words strung together, single words give but a sketch of the national way of thinking, the requisite colouring being Supplied by sentences, arguments, and books. The Word is the brick that goes into the wall; the sentence the building; each volume, each book, a town in itself. For a description of these buildings we must look to the history of literature; the examination of the single stone, used ever and anon anew, is the function of philology. So, too, is the review of set phraseology, joining two or Several words in Stereotyped combination, and forming in reality but a single term. * Diodor. i. 48, 75. 28 THE CONCEPTION OF LOVE IN SOME In the following pages we purpose to consider a modi- cum of this useful material — the words which denote love. Describing a sentiment at once powerful and delicate, these words pre-eminently reveal the inmost heart of those who created them. The deeper their emotional colouring, the more delicate are the differences separating them from one another; the stronger the whole concep- tion, the finer are the particles into which it is split up. The vital importance attached to the Sentiment, apparent alike in their earnestness and striking diversity of mean- ing, renders these beautiful words especially adapted to point out the exceeding value of language as a true auto- biography of nations. To subject the several words selected to a thorough- going analysis, even in one language, would require a book. Not only would their exact meaning have to be extracted from many comparisons, but rare, and possibly diverging, applications would have to be recognised as such. A history of the meaning of each word would also have to be written. Since we must confine ourselves to giving results, we add, in the notes of the Appendix, some examples showing the average value of the words investigated. . The more fully to appreciate our subject, let us invoke the aid of several languages. First examining the words for “love' in each language separately, we shall obtain a picture of what the several races analysed have been think- ing of the interesting theme. Then placing the pictures obtained side by side, we shall see in what they differ from One another, and by comparing similar meanings in various languages, shall yet more exactly define each individual term. Thus national characters will be exhibited in their separate individuality, and the nature and essence of the tender passion explained from the diverse points of view taken in different parts of the world. The four languages chosen for comparison are of different stocks and periods. Hebrew will place before us the primitive Semitic epoch; ANCIENT AND MODERN LANGUAGES. 29 Latin shall represent cultured European antiquity, Eng- lish the modern Germanic, and Russian the aspiring Slavonic world. Contrasted alike by time, place, condi- tion, and history, these four nations will be the more fit to reciprocally interpret each other by Striking illustrations. I. LATIN. In specialising ‘love, the Romans made a primary distinction between spontaneous affection and affection accorded as a matter of duty. In each of these they recog- nised two distinct shades. To the Romans spontaneous inclination either rested upon a feeling in which intelli- gent recognition of personal worth had gradually ripened into a warmer appreciation of the goodness and amiability of the individual beloved; or it was pure feeling, which, welling up from the secret depths of the soul, and defy- ing the restraints of Ordinary reflection, might rapidly run through all the various intervening stages between mere gratification of the finer susceptibilities and the mighty flow of an overpowering passion. The former more judicious and discerning kind of spontaneous love the Romans denoted by ‘diligere;’” the latter more im- pulsive one by “amare.” In dutiful love, also, two stages were acknowledged— ‘caritas’ and ‘pietas.” ‘’Caritas' is the moral sanction bestowed upon the bond of nature that links us to parents, brothers, sisters, and tried friends—the loving allegiance due to those associated with us as mates and helpful companions in our earthly career.” ‘Pietas' looks in the same direction, but from a higher point of view. Lending to the ethic glow of loyal attachment the more sublime sanctity of religion and faith, it regards fidelity to relatives and allies, not as a mere moral and interSocial duty, but as an obligation to the gods themselves. The sphere of ‘pietas' extends not quite so far down, but reaches somewhat higher up than that of ‘Caritas;’ a 3O THE CONCEPTION OF LOVE IN SOME & middle range they both have in common. ‘Pietas’ was seldom applied to feelings the Romans cherished as friends, the attachment of a friend being purely voli- tional, and not a divinely ordained tie. All the more frequently the meaning of the word mounted up into celestial regions, wherein the ancients strove to yield themselves up to the Deity. “Pietas’ was peculiarly the Sentiment by which, from humility and gratitude com- bined, man should feel himself bound to the gods.” For the expression of Roman devotion to country, parents, and children, however, ‘ caritas’ and ‘pietas’ served alike, according as more stress was laid upon the ethical or the religious nature of these lofty duties. The distinction drawn between spontaneous affection and the prescriptive love for parents, husbands, children, relatives, and friends is likewise illustrated by the use of the adjectives. In classical Latin ‘ carus’ means ‘loved’ in all cases of dutiful affection; to apply to these “amatus’ would be frivolous. It is certainly otherwise with ‘loving,’ which is “amans’ even in the relations in which ‘loved ’ is ren- dered by ‘carus, but with a special point. The play- fulness attached to ‘amans’ by this use became so con- spicuous that the word frequently meant ‘amantissimus.’ A general, and, in its generality, necessarily indefinite word for almost the whole range of the feelings analysed was “affectus.’ Originally expressing but a vague impulse of interest or feeling, it soon came to denote a sensation which, however warm, was too transient, and took too little account of itself, to be designated by any more definite word. In this sense affectus’ is a real affection, strong indeed, but not steady enough to ripen into conviction and declare itself as “amor,’ ‘pietas,’ ‘ caritas, or ‘dilectio;' or which, even if it endures, has in it too much of passionate caprice to be able to make its choice between the different kinds of love, and expand into either the one or the other.5 Accordingly it is more impulsive than true; given more to profession than fulfilment ; more exacting than vouch- A NCIENT AND MODERN LANGUAGES. 3 I Safing. In the course of time, however, it assumed yet an- other and superior meaning. When, in the steady develop- ment of Roman society, existing differences of rank and opinion became more marked, and a corresponding reserve supervened in the expression of emotion, affectus’ came to be used for more quiet and persistent feeling. The play of feeling being in those later days fettered by many a social and individual restraint, ‘ affectus,’ under the loose cloak of its meaning, without prejudice either to the truth or the ardour of the sentiment, was used to hide ‘love.’ It gradually became a word by which love might be spoken of allusively, and which implied love without mentioning it. When, together with the entire mental attitude of the Roman people, ‘affectus’ had raised itself to this stage of develop- ment, it was more frequently used for the designation of love than formerly, when indeed it spake more clearly, but, by its very demonstrativeness, made its instability too apparent to admit of being regarded as a deep and serious feeling. The old affectus’ is a clinging to per- sons and things, the possession of which is sought by uncontrolled impulse; the later is a restful, sincere love, not exactly demonstrative, but eminently reliable. The former is often used in reference to the beauty of woman; the latter preferably employed in respect of the relation between parents and children and friends. An interesting difference separates affectus’ from ‘ affectio.” Both words come from the same stem; of the derivative syllables with which they are formed, tio, generally speaking, denotes a becoming, while tus is affixed to signify that which has become. In the present case, however, it is the reverse. ‘Affectus’ is the more indefi- nite word, in which there is a play of all manner of shades, and which only by degrees succeeds in evolving a settled and pointed sense; “affectio, from the very first, is a more exact, more clearly defined conception. For the explanation of this exceptional etymology we have to look to the vague purport of the stem from which both are 32 THE CONCEPTION OF LOVE IN SOME derived. Since the termination tus indicates something effected, ‘ affectus, as the stem has an ambiguous meaning, Cannot but likewise embrace a wide and undetermined Sense. In it that which has been effected, and accord- ingly exists, is the genuine child of a fickle parent, whose features it faithfully reflects. With “affectio’ it is other- wise. A certain degree of deliberate concentration is required to watch the growth of a thing which, even when complete, is not a tangible entity, but a dim, fluid feeling, imperfectly condensed from the nebulous state. Hence affectio, as part of the dictionary, is the product of reflection, whilst affectus,’ as a concept, has sprung from the immediate observation of quick and susceptible but inconstant feelings. How these arise, only an at- tentive observer can tell. Too transient to remain long under the lens or to repay the observer for a special effort, they are neither easily scanned nor rapidly determined as to their essence and drift. But all the more cer- tainly will faithful study ensure comparative precision, and lead to corresponding conclusions. ‘Affectio’ has, ac- cordingly, a visible tendency to crystallise the transient interest from which it takes its rise into a more intense feeling, and conceive it as a lasting sentiment. Whilst the ripe affectus’ is eager but fickle, affectio, by analys- ing its growth, describes a less violent but more constant and earnest emotion. The same difference is apparent in another peculiarity of their application. ‘Affectus’ is seldom used for “love, unless this exceptional meaning of the ambiguous word is made obvious by the context; “affectio, on the other hand, defines the meaning of ‘love” sufficiently well to be able to express it by itself without elucidatory surroundings." There still remains to be considered what, to the Roman world, was a characteristic kind of serviceable attachment or loving service—‘studium.’ In the olden days the political and Social organisation of the commonwealth, in its essential features at least, was thought to be so ANCIENT AND MODERN LANGUAGES. 33 good, so natural, and honourable an arrangement, that the subordinate looked upon services to his Superior as a moral duty, and actually loved and cherished the patronus whose protection afforded him a place in the state. Based upon interdependence, interest became so interwoven with affec- tion, that what was found to be advantageous and conducive to mutual profit was also regarded as auspicious and good. Not only on account of the palpable benefits derived, but also because of the sanctifying relation Supposed to exist between the recognition and the gift, ‘studium' was the legitimate predilection each man felt for his nearest poli- tical masters, patrons, and friends. The important word denoted the intense devotion a man acknowledged to those who represented his interests in the state and raised him from an outlawed nondescript—the natural position of man in antiquity—to the rank of a recognised being, endowed with the right to exist and the claim to be re- spected. To this was superadded the further meaning of devotion to country, party, or revered persons, willingly served, even in the absence of a social or tribal tie. The most general meaning is good-will to man.” Mutual love and service are, as a rule, presupposed by the Word, rest- ting, as it does, on the basis of an active interdependence. Even when occasionally expressing a Superior's Sentiments towards a subordinate, mutual benefit is a constant feature in the serious term. With these remarks on their tenor and drift, we couple some observations on the form of these interesting words, ‘Caritas’ and ‘pietas' are substantives, having, as a com- plement, corresponding adjectives, but no verbs. The reason is obvious. The concepts they express are as- sumed to be innate qualities of the human Soul, displayed not only in action, but existing and influential even when there is no occasion for outward display. “Diligere, on the other hand, is solely a verb, and only in post-classic times produced a substantive, which was seldom used and can hardly be called Roman. The opposite of ‘pietas' and G 34 THE CONCEPTION OF LOVE IN SOME ‘caritas, the meaning of ‘diligere” enables us to discover the cause of this formal difference. ‘Pietas’ and ‘caritas’ towards friends, relations, the country, and the gods, were dutiful sentiments of every right-minded Roman, man, woman, and child; they were latent in the soul even though not exhibited every instant ; they were permanent realities, and therefore substantives. On the other hand, ‘diligere” is to love from choice. ‘Diligere” selects, esteems, and honours. It does not exist at all except when it acts, and consequently it is a verb. Being indispensable perma- nencies, even when they have not the opportunity of manifesting themselves, and seem to slumber in the re- cesses of the soul, pietas’ and ‘caritas’ are therefore sub- stantives; ‘diligere, as a practised faculty, must be a verb. For more varied and comprehensive use, and there- fore in the verbal as well as the substantive form, we have the four remaining words “amor,’ ‘studium,’ ‘ affectus, and ‘ affectio.' The passion of “amor” is at Once an active power and an innate element of the soul, a verb there- fore, and at the same time a substantive. By its inmost nature ‘studium is likewise driven to exert itself, whilst, on the strength of its ardent attachment, it claims at the same time to be an enduring reality: an “amor ' trans- ferred from ideal regions to the temperate Zone of social intercourse, and ennobled by the fervent recognition of the mutual need with which it exalts the exchange of services and favours between man and man. Alike active and stable, this fervent notion suitably clothes itself in verbal as well as substantive dress. Bearing in mind that the verb attached to them does not go beyond the sense of ‘making an impression, we can extend the same remark to “affectus’ and affectio.’ In accordance with the usual condensation of meaning occurring in their positive part of speech, these two substantives display a pregnant reinforcement of the sense of the verb ‘afficere.' From a mere “making impression’ they transform the significa- tion of their verb into a prompt albeit fugitive attachment. ANCIENT AND MODERN LANGUAGES. 35 \ While the process of ‘impression-making’ lasts, as hap- pens in the case of the verb, no attachment has as yet been established ; the impression once made, it is but too frequently something more of a reality and a substantive than could have been foreseen. II. ENGLISH. The Englishman's love is always a free gift, depending more upon the will of the giver than upon social relations or kinship. Its various kinds differ from each other, not according to the relative position of the parties concerned, but according to the warmth and colouring infused by personal feeling. When the national mind is so disposed, it is only natural that almost every one of the English words for “love' should admit of being applied at will, independently of all other personal relations. The most general designation is ‘love.’ Originally the passion which seeks to enjoy the presence and sympathy of the beloved,” it has gradually come to be far more than this. With the desire for Sweet communion it unites a more or less prominent spiritual trait, ennobling the passion and enlisting it into the unselfish service of the ideal. It thus becomes a real enthusiasm for the Beautiful and the Good, which for the time being is seen embodied in the beloved object, and which by most men is acknow- ledged only in this short span of the springtime of the soul. It culminates in a transient self-exaltation of his own nature, during which man is apt to fancy he has found a charm that shall give him a new joy in existence, impart a fresh purity of will, and bestow increased fitness for the battle of life.” 19 * To some languages the difference between the love of woman and the ideal enthusiasm inspired by it appears so considerable that it is marked by special words. In Danish, the former description of love is ‘Kjaer- lighed,” the latter ‘Elskov.’” 36 THE CONCEPTION OF LOVE IN SOME If love continues after its enchantment is gone, it ripens into affection. Affection is love tried and purified by the fire of the intellect. It comes on to the scene when, the veil of phantasy being lifted, a beloved object is seen in its true nature, and discovered, if not without failings, still worthy of the warmest appreciation. Affection comes slowly, but abides; gives more than it takes; and has a touch of tender gratitude for a thousand favours received, a thousand remembrances treasured up, and unfading happiness accorded. According to English notions, an affection through whose limpid depths the gold of the old love is plainly visible should be the fulfilment of mar- riage.” Not only to woman and the beloved, however, are both words applicable. As regards “affection, the mingled de- liberation and feeling latent in it certainly restricts the word to individuals whose close acquaintance has engen- dered mutual esteem; but relations of this nature are not necessarily confined to woman. They may, on the con- trary, extend to relatives and friends of whom we have never been enamoured, but towards whom, from long and intimate intercourse, we are drawn by a feeling akin to love tested and tried. Parents and children, good relatives and dear friends, feel affection for one another.” Love likewise expands in meaning. It may either sink to an exaggerated fondness for trifles,” or else rise to a devout appreciation of the great spiritual entities in which we behold our own highest possessions. It is said of a man’s sentiments for his country, for humanity, science, religion, and, in its sublimest application, for God.14 In order to be able to speak of his love in this sense, man, by humility, piety, and enthusiasm, must consecrate himself to the higher powers, whom he may serve through his righteous will, though he cannot exalt them by his feeble acts. The confidence springing from this piety encourages man to speak of the love of God to himself.” For a particular variety of the love of man there is a ANCIENT AND MODERN LANGUAGES. 37 special word—" charity.’ It is love moderated to affection, but extended to all our brethren alike. When, by all sorts of experiences and the gradual growth of prudence and worldly wisdom, youthful enthusiasm begins to flag, its place should be filled by the more temperate and imperishable charity. Charity contends that although all men around us, and not the least we ourselves, are erring creatures, we are bound to love our neighbour for God’s sake. Charity proclaims that, since God has per- mitted men to sin, it behoves man to embrace with for- bearing love those that yield to temptation. Recognising many excellent qualities in him, ‘ affection’ loves and cherishes some sympathetic individual; whilst charity, thinking less of human foibles than of the striving energy for good instinct in man, loves all men alike.” The one emanates from the soul's longing to acknowledge the good, the other from the duty of forgiving the bad. The one is glad, the other sad ; the one of this world, the other of a better. As charity indicates a specific kind of ‘love’ extended to all men, so ‘fondness’ represents a peculiar shade of that meaning of the term which applies to individuals. ‘Fond- ness’ implies a deep devotion without including either the staunch and rational esteem of ‘affection, or the passionate fire of ‘love.’ It is a love for the sake of the dear habit of loving, ready to dispense with any particular worth in the beloved, and, if it must be, even with return. It is a sort of instinctive and uncontrollable clinging that cannot free itself from the object it has chosen to adore, that forgives all, denies nothing, and caresses, even when blame or coldness is deserved. Though it may also extend to friends, in its excessive tenderness the term describes principally relations between lovers or between parents and children. It often originates in a warm heart, inert judgment, and not very active self-esteem; and although it may become foolish, never loses the deep glow of true and heartfelt affection." To the genuineness of its sym- 38 THE CONCEPTION OF LOVE IN SOME pathy the word is indebted for its prerogative in remain- ing applicable in cases of a nobler nature. Where by the context every suspicion of fondling is shut out, ‘fondness’ may be used for a satisfied and restful attachment, less active than affection, less exacting than love, but just as certain and reliable as both. A tinge of forbearing and involuntary fondness should be given to every description of love.18 “Passion’ often denotes emphatically that passion which occurs most frequently—love. Going back the whole way we have come, and enter- ing a province where there is yet no question of love, we are met by ‘liking’ and ‘attachment.” Liking is a vague interest springing from the feelings, which may, or may not, deepen to real attraction. Between young people of different sex it certainly has a remarkable tendency to pass through the whole morphological series, of which it is the first stage. Hence its uses are manifold. Though she may be far enough gone to confess her love to herself, a modest maiden still speaks of ‘liking;' whilst with just as good a right a lieutenant referring to a comrade whom he has seen to-day, and may forget to-morrow, exclaims, ‘I like the fellow, egad ' Attachment lies between liking and love. It arises from an attraction of the intellect or of the feelings, the latter being mostly the more powerful agency of the two. When mutually experienced by man and woman, it has a tendency to imperceptibly draw them towards the Niagara of love. It frequently marks a stage in which a seeming surface liking is unconsciously nourished by passion secretly welling up from the hidden depth of the soul. When occurring between persons of the same sex, the feeling is almost entirely restricted to indi- . viduals in the same Social position, seldom extending to subordinates. Attachment, as a rule, links us to equals, or supposed equals. Liking is so vague and love so im- petuous, that both may be felt for subordinates as well as for equals or superiors; affection so zealously takes care A NCIENT AND MODERN LANGUAGES. 39 of its object, that, in a sense, it aspires to superiority for the sake of protection; attachment, on the other hand, would be a thoughtful devotion—devotion because of the affection manifestly present, and thoughtful because self- possession is sufficiently preserved to prevent an over- powering effect. Conscious reserve is a counterweight to affection, and, asserting itself more strongly towards subor- dinates than equals, makes the Word inapplicable to the former. III. HEBREW. As primitive antiquity differs from this cultured century and the devout past from the sceptical present, so is the ancient Jewish ‘love' opposed to the forms of the same concept prevailing in modern Europe. The various kinds of love possible between men the Hebrew distinguished as abstract and concrete, as inactive and active. Abstract and inactive love seemed to him essentially the same feeling whenever and wherever it arose; the active sentiment he distinguished according to the character and relative posi- tion of the loving and the motives from which it sprang. As long as love was described as mere feeling, one word sufficed to designate it in all its various relations between man and man ; but where stress was laid upon the bene- ficent purposes which accompany love and the felicitous results produced by it, he keenly saw manifold grades, and used several words of peculiarly delicate and specific synonymy. If this mode of conceiving love reflects only too well Social relations, in which less count was taken of the intention than the deed, yet the deed, it should be observed, is ennobled by love, studious and deliberate love, which inspires the beneficent act. This is beauti- fully in accord with the attribution of the feeling, in all its Hebraic shades, to Jehovah, and with the derivation of all earthly love from the divine Fountain-head, which sanc- tifies its manifestations in the life of man. 4O THE CONCEPTION OF LOVE IN SOME “Ahav, love as pure feeling—which indeed may prove active, but does not need to do so in order to come up to its inherent idea—designates love between man and woman, as well as between parents and children, brothers and sisters, between friends, mates, acquaintances, and all men generally ; figuratively, also, love for things, propen- sity to certain actions, even when modified to mere liking. It displays an inner proclivity without expressing itself as to the cause thereof, and, leaving this point altogether undetermined, has a tendency to appear to emanate from a warm heart rather than from a cool head. As between man and woman, it includes both passion and conjugal affection.” The latter meaning is exemplified by the com- mon Talmudic expressions, ‘ahavas n’urim, esches n’urim, ‘the love of youth,’ ‘the wife of youth;' in the former more passionate sense ‘ahav’ is capable of the highest poetic embellishment, as we find in Solomon's Song, where love is held ‘as a banner over the beloved, and all nature searched for florid imagery to portray its sweetness. Love's sacrifice, also, which gladly enters the service of the beloved being, and neither spares nor feels any trouble in promoting his or her good, has, from the earliest time, been added to the meaning of the word. Soaring into transcen- dental spheres, it comes to denote a passion which rates itself higher than all earthly things, and shines forth as the one absorbing ideal of life.” However, in this latter sense, now so general with European poets, the Hebraic term was but Seldom used. Jewish antiquity, doubtless, knew the mood which throws away life in order to gratify love. But it regarded the feeling as the ebullition of hot, rash, and inconsiderate youth. They did not in those days suffer amorous despair to become a recognised condition of the soul, justified by and indicative of a glorious devotion to real or assumed worth. Still less did they permit love to degenerate into one of the conventional elegancies of life. All these are innovations. The wide meaning of the word embraces the love of ANCIENT AND MODERN LANGUAGES. 4 I God to man,” man’s love to God,” and man's love to his neighbour.” Since the days of the oldest historical re- cords of the people, the three conceptions have been in- herent in the Jewish mode of thought and speech. More or less vivid, according to the religious character of the different periods, they never, not even in the times of the New Testament, entirely overcame the simultaneous notion of God as an avenging Judge, or of the duty of man to draw the sword against the wicked. But from the earliest and rudest epochs mitigation steps in, in the form of the highest view to which man can raise himself in Con- sidering the chastisements of the Divinity. God is called a Father, who corrects His children in order to improve their morality (Deut. viii. 5). In other words, God loves even where He punishes. He is angry, not because He is irritated at the disregard of His will, but on our own account. He graciously helps to remove our faults by cen- sure and discipline. A God who loves those that have sinned against Him necessarily expects man to aid, excuse, and forgive his equals. Hence ‘ahav also denotes the universal bond of love and charity which is to unite mankind, and which, albeit in various ways and degrees, is constantly enjoined as one of the principal command- ments of the Eternal.” The farther back we go into anti- Quity, when, like the rest of mankind, the Jews had to fight for land and life, the more is the sentiment confined to the next of kin; while the farther the consolidation of the state and faith progressed, the more the feeling is found to develop that catholic fervour which it finally achieved in the New Testament, and which has since sought to assert itself in all lands.” From this hallowed source the notion of divine love and universal brotherhood has flowed down to the seats of medieval and modern civilisa- tion. The history of the Hebrew word ‘ahaw' forms a sacred chapter in the history of humanity. We now turn to the conceptions of active love. The first word we meet implies a noble union of love and 42 THE CONCEPTION OF LOVE IN SOME grace, ‘Cheset’ is a grace springing from good-will, and often growing on the soil of love; a sentiment which prompts to aid and indulge one's neighbour because it looks upon active love as the one grand prerogative of those that possess power and means.” It is a disposi- tion and an act which may be found even amongst equals. Its slight touch of condescension receding into the back- ground, the word in this case all the more emphatically denotes a great love, sprung from pure benevolence, and intended to gladden the heart. It is a kindness and a favour, which, whether proceeding from a superior or an equal, is felt to be truly beneficial, and ofttimes gives the bestower an inner glow of gratification and delight. The essential character of the word is made especially apparent when kindness being shown to the happy and the rich, the favour conferred is not the result of pity, but the unprovoked impulse of a warm and noble soul;” or when it is not a question of special bestowal, but only of friendly feeling; * or when the meaning of the word gloriously expands to denoting love of God, and the sublimity of the Beloved precludes all possibility of doing Him a favour.” The same characteristic warmth animates the genial features of the word in the numberless cases of God’s relation to man, making the heavenly Benefactor the loving Friend of our race. Everywhere it is a vouchsafing, and, as a rule, a gladly vouchsafing grace, which we encounter in ‘cheset.’ To the friendly kindness of ‘cheset’ is linked the loving compassion of ‘racham. As ‘cheset' is more than mere grace, so is ‘racham’ more than mere pity. The one rejoices in being able to be gracious; the other not only helps the unfortunate, but loves him because he is unfor- tunate. ‘Racham, indeed, is just as sympathetic and tender as beneficent ; as ready to spare as to help; * and it sometimes occurs in the sense of the most ardent love which can be fostered by the human breast, and which has not the least element of beneficence in it—love of ANCIENT AND MODERN LANGUAGES. 43 God.** God Himself exercises ‘racham’ toward erring mankind, whom He pardons, and to whom He awards compassionate grace instead of unrelenting justice. Not to speak of other books of the Bible, in his flaming rhap- Sodies on the banishment and return of the Jews Isaiah is full of this use of the word. Poth “racham’ and ‘cheset ’ are words of a peculiarly expansive temper. To the special notions of grace and pity their genuine philanthropy imparts the warmth of a quick, easily evoked, and truly catholic feeling. Hence they become but special manifestations of an all-embracing love, thirsting to clothe itself in ever-new forms according to occasion and impulse. To denote yet another variety of the sentiment, this longing to benefit and give pleasure all round, latent in the two words, has caused a third to be attached to one of them. ‘Racham' does not, indeed, admit of any complement. Being a compassionate ten- derness towards the unfortunate, it allows no distinction between causes of suffering. Whether labouring under deserved or undeserved afflictions, it is charitably stead- fast in regarding all sufferers as alike in point of need, and in consequence equally worthy of help. It fills the whole conception it denotes to the exclusion of any modifying shade. It is otherwise with “cheset.' Not to him alone who suffers and is sad does the grace of this peculiar term extend; it also benefits the rich and the happy, who, despite all they possess, in the Tampant im- perfection of human arrangements, ordinarily lack so much that they desire. But since it is felt to be less urgent to relieve this well-to-do class than the poor and the wretched, circumstances under which help is afforded admit of being distinguished according to the disposition of the giver and the size of the gift. Accordingly ‘chen,' ‘chanan,’ steps in as a tempered ‘cheset.” Whilst the latter is loving grace, the former is only loving favour. Resting on the favourable disposition of the bestower, and paying * Arabic, {} J, ‘racham,” emphatically ‘friend.” 44 THE CONCEPTION OF LOVE IN SOME little attention to the merit or demerit of the beneficiary, ‘cheset' confers great boons, and considerably influences for good the fate of the person obliged; ‘chen, on the other hand, arises from a mere sense of being pleased, and frequently is displayed in less important bestowals. In the case of ‘cheset, the greater gift coincides with the more generous intention; in ‘ chen’ a less liberal heart is suffi- cient to prompt a more meagre benefit. ‘Chen,' ‘chanan,’ is said even of God when familiar relations are indicated which account for the favour shown.” But just as often it is the courtesy one man shows to another by whom he feels attracted, and, according to circumstances, may bestow a substantial or else an insignificant gift. It is ‘chen’ when the Egyptians give the Jews silver and gold (Exod. iii. 2 I); it is also ‘chen’ when Saul allows David to entertain him with his harp (1 Sam. xvi. 22). Assuredly, in remote antiquity, when the struggle for life was a hard one, most favours implied more real services than to-day, when so many are a matter of polite reciprocity, and easily dispensed with by the recipient. But even in those early days there can have been no lack of openings for smaller acts of kindness. Just because their refusal could be easily borne, minor bestowals must have produced a doubly pleasant impression, shedding the Sunshine of humane and generous impulse on the dreary routine of life. Requests which nowadays would be introduced by “If you please, were then frequently made known by ‘If I have found chen. in thine eyes.” Whenever a slight service is suggested by the passing circumstances of the hour, the word is pretty regularly introduced. In polite phraseology, ‘May I find chen in thine eyes, almost serves as a mere parting salutation (I Sam. i. 18). But, as We may conclude from the occurrence of the same or similar phraseology in cases of solemn summons and adjuration,” the keynote of the word, which had a ring of active and genial sympathy, cannot but have been heard even where it had a fainter sound. So strongly, A NCIENT AND MODERN LANGUAGES. 45 indeed, was affection embodied in it, that the word admits of being positively used for “love’ and ‘caress.' *. To this latter qualification the word is indebted for its place in the conceptual category which we are examining, as well as for its good report in the psychology of the people which created it. IV. RUSSIAN. Like those treated in the preceding chapter, the Russian words for “love’ are fitly divided into such as denote pure feeling, and others which include the loving deed, or the loving purpose of benefit. But no exact classification can be made, either according to this or any other criterion that might be adopted. For the most part the meanings are too wide, and pass into one another in too many ways to be bound to classes. If the above division is accepted, ‘lubov' and ‘Sasnoba’ come under the first, ‘milost' and ‘blagost’ under the Second heading. ‘Lubov, lubity,’ ‘love, to love, is the involuntary un- analysed attachment to a man or a thing from mere liking up to the most ardent passion. Still more compre- hensive than the German ‘liebe, to which it more closely approximates than any of the words discussed, ‘lubov' expresses all shades of fondness, leaving it to the con- text to point out the particular nuance indicated in each case, “The child loves sugar,” “woman loves man,’ ” ‘the butterfly loves the sun.’ Similarly, ‘the father loves his son, the patriot his country.” In each of these instances a different Sensation is dominant: sexual love, parental love, patriotic love, a partiality for Sweetmeats, and the physical predisposition of a creature endowed with a ques- tionable minimum of volition. Not even benevolence and good wishes for the beloved object, which seem to be so natural an element of love, are common to the feelings expressed. Their connecting tie they find in the common idea of wishing to benefit or to be benefited, which in each 46 THE CONCEPTION OF LOVE IN SOME case is specialised by the context. Everything that pleases him the Russian ‘loves, without thereby necessarily con- veying more than just a selfish liking.” The meaning of ‘lubity, to love, wanders still further into vagueness. Not even a desire to possess is necessary to render the application of the verb suitable: to the wish to have it joins that of doing a pleasure, however Small or slight. A comparatively indifferent impulse is lodged in the same term with the irresistible craving of passion.” |Finally, this semasiological chameleon comes to mean ‘to think well of, to approve.' * * A word which indicates affection in so very indefinite a manner cannot of course give any evidence as to the cause or origin of the sentiment; for in each individual case this must be a different one. It is, however, especially worthy of mention that, although it does not exclude the highest reverence and respect, the idea of the word need not, on the other hand, contain the smallest conscious admixture of this ingredient. Accordingly it is frequently connected with words indicative of respect, where this is intended to be shown in addition to love.” The foregoing remarks apply with almost equal force to the verb ‘lubity’ and to the substantive ‘lubov.’ Characteristically enough, they are in no way applicable * Not a few other languages cumulate a similar multiplicity of meanings in ‘love,’ without thereby debasing the noblest application of which the word is capable. The fact is, the term serves to express all the more ancient and exacting stages of the feeling, together with the nobler ones subsequently attained. As regards the first budding of the idea of love, one may perhaps add that, in ancient languages, with their naïve way of looking at things, traces are still to be found that ‘love' and ‘desire originally sprang from the same root; in Egyptian and Sanskrit, for example.” + To realise the multiplicity of these fluctuating meanings, compare the four Hungarian expressions for the principal elements mixed up in the one ‘lubov':—‘Buja, love erotically ; ‘Szerelem,” the sentiment of love as between man and woman; ‘Szeretet,” love for other amiable persons and ideal abstracts, such as freedom, country, humanity; ‘kedy,’ liking for what is attractive in a man or a thing. ANCIENT AND MODERN LANGUAGES. 47 to the numerous adjectives and nouns derived from them. Whilst the original root, in the substantive as well as in the verb, shows the greatest conceivable indefiniteness in its signification, the derivatives are, on the other hand, in many ways specialised, and contain a surprising variety of shades and hues of meaning. This corre- sponds with a general principle inherent in Russian as well as in many other languages. In the more variable form of the verb, the meaning, being determined by the entire sentence to which it relates, is apt to display a certain breadth and corresponding ambiguity; whilst the adjective, denoting an inherent and unchangeable quality, is proportionately distinct and clear in its signification. As regards nouns, an analogous distinction is made for obvious reasons between abstracts and concretes. Accordingly by the side of the indefinite ‘lubov' and ‘lubity, the love and to love, we find the following classified adjectives:– lubesni,’” beloved on account of excellent qualities, which our feelings appreciate and our judgment acknowledges; ‘lubimi, beloved from arbi- trary choice, as a sort of favourite; ‘luboi,' loved as a matter of taste, agreeable; ‘lub, dear from interest excited. With these are connected other words denoting persons active and passive, words so steeped in the quality they ascribe as to represent the whole man as entirely taken up by it: ‘lubim, the beloved man, said by the loving woman; ‘lubimez, likewise the beloved man, but in a weaker sense, including ‘favourite, and sometimes in- volving a contemptuous innuendo; ‘lubovnik, the erotic lover, who does not need to have yet arrived at ‘lubim;’ ‘lubesnik, who is still farther backward, and has only begun to pay his court; ‘vlubtschivi, one of an amorous nature, who often plays at ‘lubesnik’ and ‘lubovnik; ' ‘lubitel, one who takes delight in some subject of Scien- tific inquiry, which he knows how to treat intelligently and with refined taste, an amateur, connoisseur, or dilet- tante. 48 THE CONCEPTION OF LOVE IN SOME To their national capacity for observing social relations the Russians are indebted for endearing diminutives, which, by endless variations of the proper or pet name, indi- cate as many different descriptions of love, tenderness, and caress. As an example, let us take ‘Lubov,' ‘Love.’ A femi- nine proper name in polite Society, Lubov is habitually applied by the lower orders to designate any woman, what- ever her name. Its first diminutive in the order of gram- matical formation, though by no means the most endear- ing or the most frequent in use, is ‘Luba. Next follows ‘Lubka, a favourite and familiar mode of address with the peasants, which amongst the educated (as many pro- per names ending in the boorish termination ka) has an unpleasant twang, and is only used when its peculiar flavour is meant to be tasted. In the same way ‘Luba- scha,” said by a kind father to a big, strapping daughter, is mostly confined to country use. From this latter diminu- tive, which with paternal admiration alludes to size and strength, are derived two others, ‘Lubaschenka’ and ‘Lu- baschetschka.” Often applied by ladies of rank to their very little daughters, the idea of the bluffin these caressing words is tempered and charmingly hidden under that of the pretty. In addressing a daughter not quite so small, and without caressing reference to blooming robustness, a lady would also make use of ‘Lubotschka.’ ‘Lubuschka, seconded by the still sweeter and more playful ‘Lubuschenka’ and ‘Lubuschetschka, being fondling diminutives derived from a term commending bulk and stature, mean tenderly ‘my treasure;’ ‘Lubonka,’ good society claims for its exclu- sive use as an elegant pet-word for a young lady named ‘Lubov.’ The list might be continued and extended to many other proper and pet names. From “Mila, ‘my prettiest, there are reckoned twenty-three diminutives, expressive of such delicate shades of feeling that some are felt as mere variations of auditory sensibility. ‘Lubovatsja,” a term peculiar to the Russian, means to love With the eyes, to approve aesthetically, to gaze ANCIENT AND MODERN LANGUAGES. 49 admiringly at a beautiful woman, a picture, a view, &c. ‘Sasnoba, a popular word with the people, is the bud- ding love with its sweet fears and tender hopes. Properly signifying ‘a tremor, a shivering fit, it is commonly used to denote the early love, without any stress laid upon the figurative. ‘Lubov' embraces every kind and degree of liking; ‘sasnoba’ is the dawn of that species of the feeling which is loftiest when it is young, and most intense when scarcely admitted. Whatever the number and variety of bearings merged in the more general word ‘lubov, there is one shade which has been felt to be too peculiar to be brought within the compre- hensive folds of the collective expression. We now leave the words which define love more espe- cially as a feeling. There still remain to be considered those in which action prevails. As ‘lubov' in the province of feeling, ‘milost’ in the domain of action rules almost absolutely. As gushing as it is fickle, it is a particularly interesting word of the tongue. From ordinary good-nature—the common quality of average men—up to the most lavish love and the out- pourings of divine grace, all friendly bestowal is “milost.’ Wherever a favour is shown, be it great or small, material or insignificant, it is “milost;" wherever a favourable opi- nion is entertained, or supposed to be entertained, it is again ‘milost.” A few notes of the long and polychromatic scale traversed by the word shall mark the extreme points it reaches and connects. ‘We request milost '4" is civilly said to visitors as a usual mode of address, meaning no more than ‘you are welcome.’ ‘Do us milost,” with slightly increased emphasis, means ‘be so good as, on re- questing some Small favour. “He has shown me milost,’ when said of an acquaintance, denotes a friendly act; whilst, when a stranger is the donor, it involves positive charity.” In ‘milost goes before right,” we have the same word of many meanings conceived as human mercy D 5O THE CONCEPTION OF LOVE IN SOME Solemnly extended toward convicted criminals; whilst rising still higher, the formula ‘through God’s milost '4' in the Imperial title, founds the absolute power of the Monarch of all the Russias upon superhuman and heavenly grace. In the entire absence of specialising vocables more exactly defining the various nuances of active love,” we shall not be far wrong in tracing the indeter- minate sense of ‘milost' to the fitful excitability of the Russian character, as well as to institutions which, for- merly at least, afforded only too much room for the free play of severity and grace. Thanks to the agrarian and law reforms of the Emperor Alexander II., relations between man and man now stand upon a firmer footing. There is no longer So much opportunity for saving by positive acts of grace the same persons whom, in the ordi- nary intercourse of well-bred society, one may hourly oblige by petty courtesies and trifling gifts. The man to whom he gives a light for his cigar is no longer in constant dan- ger of arrest by capricious governor and gensdarme. This political change affords a logical basis for the gradual restric- tion of the word ‘milost' to one out of its multitudinous significations. To which of these various shades “milost' ultimately gives preference, and how quickly the concen- trating process is accomplished, will be as interesting to watch for the historiographer as for the philologist. In three words connected with our term, viz., the adjective ‘mili’ and the two verbs ‘milovátj’ and ‘mílovatj, opposite shades of ‘milost,’ are even now markedly if not exclusively displayed. ‘Mili' means ‘ dear, because pleasant ; ‘milovátj’ signifies to caress; ‘mílovatj,’ on the other hand, is to be merciful, to show condescending love,” to pardon the sinner.” What a variety of lights and shades is reflected in these change- able hues | What at one time is only pleasure at another * “Blagovolenie,’ benevolence; ‘blagosklonnosti,’ kindly affection; ‘blagoshelatelstvo,' sympathy; ‘blagoraspoloshenie,' affectionate disposi- tion, are all much more passive. ANCIENT AND MODERN LANGUAGES. 5 I is caress, and at a leap expands to sympathy, forgive- ness, and grace. ‘Mili, which, from its meaning, belongs to the first class of the Russian words for love, and is only cited to show the extraordinary versatility of the root, may be looked upon almost as an adjectival com- plement of ‘lubov.” Although properly interpreted as ‘agreeable, engaging, and in consequence loved, * yet its application extends equally to persons and things, and in many cases admits of a warmer and more tender colour- ing than the word originally exhibits. As in the case of ‘lubov, everything depends upon circumstances, i.e., upon accompanying words. A stranger who, after a few minutes' chat, is called ‘mili,’ is pleasant; an acquaintance to whom the epithet is ascribed after he has rendered us some Ser- vice is obliging, kind, or very kind, according as he has helped us more or less. A face which is called ‘mili,' since its features must be remarkably expressive to produce the requisite effect, is understood to be sweet, kind, and kindly; a brother, as ‘mili,’ is the dearly beloved one;” while “my mili,” with deepening intensity, is addressed to “my own heart's treasure.’ And all this, although the predominant use of the word is confined to a much more temperate region. We have reached the last word on our list. Just as ‘Sasnoba’ is associated with the more general ‘lubov, as a subordinate concept demanding separate expression, so ‘blagost’ is allied to ‘milost.’ And this with a beautiful and easily appreciated difference. Whereas to ‘lubov, i.e., to love considered from the emotional point of view, a supplementary term is added for the designation of the most thrilling stage of passion, the active love of ‘milost' is specialised by a word which signifies divine grace in all its goodness, warmth, and inexhaustibility. This is ‘blagost, a word elevated as far above the caprice of ‘lubov' and ‘milost' as the heaven is above the earth. Pendered necessary by the indistinctness of the two latter expressions, if the uniform grace of God were not to 52 THE CONCEPTION OF LOVE IN SOME be confounded with the fickle kindness of man, ‘blagost’ by its mere existence proves the piety of those who per- ceived the indispensability of the term, and devoutly filled up the gap which the language would otherwise pre- sent. A corresponding adjective, ‘blagi, accompanies the noun.” W.—RESULT. In summarising results, two methods are open to us. We may treat each nation's concept of love as a whole, and regarding it as a separate system of feelings and thoughts, compare it with the concepts of other nations. This is the method pursued by comparative psychology (Wölkerpsychologie), the science full of promise, created by Professors Lazarus and Steinthal. Or considering all the words, independently of the people to which they belong, as products of the one human soul, and arrang- ing them according to their spiritual connection alone, we may aim at a systematic and diversified adumbra- tion of all that can be said or thought about love. By these means the interests of pure psychology and mental philosophy will be best promoted. As either method compares different words, it discovers different aspects. For points particularly accentuated by and specially characteristic of it, each language will find the nearest synonyms in itself, and turn their distinctions to account for purposes of logical discrimination; whilst for other features less completely expressed, and only represented by one or two words, a foreign language will generally supply the word to be put next, and offer a means for testing and defining which does not exist in the idiom of the word tried. We purpose giving a sketch of both methods within the limits to which we have hitherto restricted ourselves. The strength of the Hebrew language in our conceptual category is shown in recognising the love of God to man, ANCIENT AND MODERN LANGUAGES. 53 the love of man to God, and the common love of men to one another. Chiefly taken as active philanthropy, love to one's neighbour is so variously conceived that three words are required to express its different shades. The benevo- lence of the powerful and the rich, when it arises from kindness and a genial disposition, and is equally shown in relieving the unhappy and in making the happy yet happier; the favour which is won by pleasing others; and the mercy which comes to the sufferer from a soft and willing heart—each has its particular expression (‘cheset,” ‘chen,’ ‘racham’). It must have been a religious people of Susceptible and expansive temperament which drew these particular distinctions in its love. Latin shines by accentuating obligatory love. Family love, as a natural consequence of the interchange of ser- vices and kindnesses; love for our kindred, as a divine institution arising from blood relationship, and extending to the other enduring Sanctities of life, the tribe, the country, and the gods; and the zealous attachment which seeks to benefit a friend, a confederate, and any one bound to us by a common interest: these are the characteristic colourings of Latin (‘ caritas,’ ‘pietas, ‘studium'). Next follow love from deliberate esteem, and some indefinite expressions which, indeed, may be passionate, but fre- quently prefer to imply attachment rather than express it (‘diligere,” “affectus,’ ‘affectio'). In these several terms we have the characteristic productions of a people who infused an uncommon amount of conscious and deliberate purpose into love. A people who, although sufficiently familiar with more spontaneous feelings, sought to confine their dangerous realm within the narrowest possible limits, and to establish definite categories of dutiful love instead. A people, moreover, who, to indicate passionate, undisciplined feeling, managed to invent words of vague import, tempered, and to a certain extent ob- scured, by the hazy vapour that encompasses the fiery kernel. How distinctly the Roman is recognised in this 54 THE CONCEPTION OF LOVE IN SOME self-respecting and graduated devotion to others | Ab- sorbed by political, tribal, and family life, we see the civis honestly bound to revere and love whatever pro- motes his weal, but with little sympathy to expend on those that are not specially connected with him by interest or some other more permanent tie. And what a gulf between the Jew and the Roman; the latter pre- eminently conceiving ‘love as gratitude for kindly acts of the next of kin, the former as large-hearted charity to all the needy in all the country, and, at a later period, all the world. Whilst the Roman was fond of recipro- cating what had been conferred upon him by his nearest relations and colleagues, the Jew opened his heart to universal sympathy, and looked upon charity as a primary duty of man. The thoroughly political genius of the race of Latium, and the religious and emotional character of the ancient Hebrew, could not be more strikingly illustrated than by the varied lights and shades playing on these few Synonyms. . In English we meet with a noble and intelligent deve- lopment of the concept in all its various aspects. A feeling beginning with liking, going on to attachment, rising to love, and ending in deep, mature affection, has a separate word for each of its four successive stages. Love to one's neighbour is expressed by ‘charity,’ a term including active philanthropy, as well as mild, loving judgment of others, in its wide and genial range. The clinging to a person loved, not indeed passionately, nor with much critical discrimination either, but loved once and for all, requires another word, beaming with the Sunniest rays of the human heart—" fondness.’ In this array we certainly have neither the ample development of the love of man- kind, as in Hebrew; nor the peculiarly strong family and clan feeling of the Latin; but yet we find a fair amount of both, with many other aspects of the sentiment. Though only one kind of neighbourly love is conceived, the same to all our fellowmen, it is so comprehensive and kind in A NCIENT AND MODERN LANGUAGES. 55 thought and in action, that it may be said to cover the entire ground occupied by Hebrew phraseology. English charity surpasses the Hebrew feeling in this, that it is not modified by circumstances. English charity is one toward rich and poor, good and bad; one toward all, from all, and in all relations; one in the desire to bless, and to think the best under all circumstances. Charity has the sense of unchanging human kindness, formed in Jewish-Christian Jerusalem, but, owing to the New Testament being written in Greek, not expressed by any precise term in the older Hebrew.” For the Roman family ‘love’ we have the Eng- lish affection, no longer prompted by a mere sense of duty, but by long and intimate acquaintance, and the inter- change of friendly sympathies and services in good and bad times; not a civil and religious obligation, founded upon, and nourished by, the necessity of reciprocal support in a rough world, but the natural result of close relations between good-natured, discreet, and considerate people. In this distinction we get a good glimpse of the gulf which separates not only the Roman from the English- man, but the whole of the old world from the new. In the one we notice an intense clan feeling for mutual defence amongst tribes fighting for the primary requirements of life and liberty; in the other the spontaneous attachment of relatives, looking to each other, not for many indispensable services, yet in the generous intercourse of civilised times finding cause enough for earnest love and esteem, with little pressure from without. Amid fierce social antagonisms, the Roman clan feeling was hallowed by a sense of the * Greek áyáirm. To those admitting a radical affinity between the Semitic and Indo-European tongues, the comparison of this Greek word with the Hebrew ‘ahav lies near at hand. To those going still further, and considering themselves justified in comparing Egyptian, a near rela- tive of Hebrew, with Aryan, it will be interesting that ‘Liebe, ptAos’ cor- responds with the Coptic Nige (libe; Germ. ‘liebe;’ Engl. ‘love’), which signifies “to desire,” “to love.’ The Indo-European term, which, etymo- logically, has hitherto remained unappropriated, is thus rendered definitely intelligible. 56 THE CONCEPTION OF LOVE IN SOME absolute necessity of obeying its dictates, equally felt and recognised by all; the English sentiment, on the contrary, rests on the beautiful relations which naturally exist amongst members of a well-conducted household possess- ing the average qualities of the Briton of to-day. Russian is not without its notable peculiarities. Be- sides a comprehensive expression for the various stages of love, more or less common to all the languages treated, it has a word for the different varieties of active love peculiar to itself. ‘Milost' is not only neighbourly love, but includes politeness, and every species of con- descending tenderness as well. We have sought to indi- cate the causes which have given rise to this wide, collec- tive expression: they are chiefly to be found in political and social arrangements from which the land is beginning to emerge, the language still retaining the word as a crumbling monument of the past. As generally happens with such relics of bygone times, ‘milost' will linger on for a while in the old indefinite meaning. When in pro- cess of time it will seem unbecoming to supplicate ‘grace’ out of pure ‘politeness,’ the word will have to decide for the one or the other signification. And who would forget the caressing diminutives which belong to Russian alone 2 or the equally characteristic designation for the first tremor of the young heart? In tender flattery, in the vivid sensation of the first dawn of love, Russian, thanks to these significant terms, excels all the languages compared. While Roman love was gravely disposed to address itself to kinsfolk; while the Jewish feeling religiously strove to embrace an entire race, and, at a later period, all mankind; while English has succeeded in uniting all these manifold rays in the focus of its more catholic and cultivated idiom: the Russian sentiment is caressing and gracious, though less conscious, less deliberate, less certainly reliable. What distinguishes the Russian view most is the emphatic exal- tation of the divine love to man (‘Blagost'). Though ‘blagost' may have been prompted partly by the insta- ANCIENT AND MODERN LANGUAGES. 57 bility inherent in the expressions denoting the various kinds of human love, it is nevertheless there, and consti- tutes an excellence which will outlive the deficiencies which may have helped it to arise. e So much for what chiefly separates the four languages from one another. Now for what, in just as remarkable a way, unites them. English excepted, they agree in one important point. They all have a word expressing all the Successive gradations of the sentiment, from the first liking up to the passionate transport of love. They all possess a vocable embracing the whole range of love from the first attraction up to ardent enthusiasm. They all include in a single term the faint partiality which may not survive the passing hour, as well as the overpowering impulse which draws two beings irresistibly together, converting their judg- ment of each other's worth into an involuntary and almost unconscious act of the enchanted soul. By this strange indistinctness the several languages would seem to declare that, be they strong or weak, attachments are essentially alike in this, that they rest upon a vague feeling of sym- pathy. They would appear to remind us that, whatever its object and degree, love is uniformly an involuntary sensation, the resultant of all the forces and experiences accumulated in the dark background of the human Soul. An important psychological fact is thus testified to by the common evidence of the idioms under discussion. The Jew of ancient times struggling for his faith in God, the coldly judicious Roman, and the more impressible Rus- sian, however different in national genius, history, and civilisation, agree in acknowledging a great Spiritual truth, and thereby give it the corroborative stamp of a genuine consensus populorum. The Englishman alone dissents from this view to a certain extent. Already in possession of a cultured language, he had to accept French from alien conquerors, who themselves spoke it as a foreign tongue. Too strong to allow his own idiom to perish, yet too closely mixed up 58 THE CONCEPTION OF LOVE IN SOME with the conqueror to withstand the inroads of the foreign tongue, the Saxon aboriginal admitted Norman words for Norman ideas, whilst he retained indigenous expressions for indigenous thought. The two sets of notions frequently approximating each other very closely, the range of verbal signification became proportionately limited, and Teu- tonic words were contracted to more distinct and pointed meanings in English than they can be said to possess in any other Germanic language. To this circumstance, amongst others previously detailed, we may ascribe the preserva- tion of the word ‘like’ extant in English, but extinct in German.* ‘To like ’ denotes a stage preparatory to ‘love,’ which is reserved for the more promoncé degrees of the sentiment. In accordance with the distinction drawn, the Colder ‘like ' is promiscuously used for persons and things, the warmer ‘love' being preferably bestowed upon persons and ideal, conceptions.” Slightly limited by these re- strictions, the sphere of ‘love' remains wide enough to allow us to extend, in a general way, to English the inference we drew from the less definite conceptions of the other three languages. Though Englishmen do not say quite as frequently as Russians, “I love this lamp, this knife,’” yet English ‘love” as well as Russian, admits of so many different shades of earnestness and fervour, of playfulness and caprice, that its meaning is kept in a haze and the feeling remains a mystery. In employing ‘affec- tion,’ ‘charity, and ‘fondness’ for the more definite phases of a warmer attachment, the language shows its need of supplementing the vague conception of ‘love' with some more exact ideas. * English ‘like,' Anglo-Saxon ‘licjan,’ properly means to please. The word existed in Gothic as ‘leikan,’ and in Old High German as ‘lichen,’ ‘gilichen ; but in modern High German it has become obsolete, or rather is only preserved in provincial dialects. In the German jargon of the Polish Jews, whose lingo, from their original residence on the Middle Rhine, retains many traits of the Old Frank dialect, we encounter the phrase, ‘Das ist sehr gleich,’ for ‘Das ist richtig und treffend und gefällt Illil". ANCIENT AND MODERN LANGUAGES. 59 More or less at one in this point, the general designa- tions of love differ widely in others. The Roman scarcely ever rose to the belief that the gods loved him, although he often enough wished that they might love him; the Jew from the very first ascribes to God love for the chosen people and, subsequently, for all humanity. Even when professing that they loved their gods, the Romans were not at all Sure they had a right to indulge the feeling. In venturing to approach the Powers of the higher and nether worlds with their “love,’ Romans cautiously used to add that they not only loved, but also feared them. The Jews, on the contrary, seldom spoke of their fear when they protested their love to the Deity; confiding devotion being so natural to them that, so long as they gave themselves up to Him, they felt sure of God's love in return, and so experienced no fear. It is unnecessary to say that the English and Russian languages conceive this idea from the Christian point of view. Another point of difference in these general expressions for love, is the ideal element present in the modern lan- guages, as contrasted with the ancient. It is true, in Hebrew and Latin, as well as in English and Russian, love may be a burning fire consuming all life's goods to achieve the possession of the one beloved object. More seldom, indeed, but still appreciably, it may grow to be the higher passion, which seeks happiness in the happiness of another, and, in its fervent disinterestedness, expects to be specially protected by approving Heaven.” But it might be difficult to find a single instance among the ancients of ‘love’ denoting that ennobling exaltation of the soul which is its modern acmé. It never entered into their minds, in those early days, that a man might be morally raised by perfect dedication to another being. They never imagined that through absolute devotion to one individual a man might come to sympathise with all his fellow- creatures, and learn to regard the whole world in the glorifying light of friendly appreciation and good-will. 6o THE CONCEPTION OF LOVE IN SOME Nowadays poets have so much to say about this particular feature, that every one knows of it by hearsay, though, may be, not by experience. On this moralisation of love, too, rests the noble capacity of loving only once, so much more common amongst ourselves than among the ancients. The much-loving Heine, the fickle Tibull, are phenomena common to all times; Schiller’s “Ritter Toggenburg,” So touching and sublime to us of the present generation, would scarcely have been understood at all in antiquity. We proceed to the last part of our task. For this pur- pose let us forget we are dealing with four different nations, each a distinct historical entity developing a peculiar view of this as of every other concept. Let us rather consider these nations as members of ‘the one and indi- visible' humanity, different indeed in many respects, yet essentially alike in the main. There is as much to recom- mend this combining method, as there is to advocate the preceding more divided mode of research; for, in speaking of love and hatred, every nation means something analo- gous to, though never fully identical with, what is conveyed by others. The combining method enables us to arrange words ac- cording to their inner correspondence, independently of the idiom to which they severally belong. The mosaic thus put together shows the concept in more varied colour- ing and delineation than can be seen in any single lan- guage. Uniting what is separated in time and space, it supplements the One nuance by the other ; grouping into one comprehensive picture the various aspects of the idea, caught singly here and there, it contributes towards the better knowledge of the individual notion examined, as well as of the entire history of the human mind. If this synthetic proceeding could be extended to all existing and extinct languages, we should be having a perfect catalogue of what humanity, as a whole, has ever thought and said of love. We had better content ourselves with a rapid sketch of the more limited material in hand. ANCIENT AND MODERN LANGUAGES. 6 I Respecting the general term for love in the four lan- guages, so comprehensive in its indefiniteness, so warm in its sympathy, we may refer to what has immediately preceded. There we saw what unites and what separates ‘ahav, “amare,’ ‘love,’ ‘lubity.’ For love to one's neighbour we have the widest expres- sion in the English “charity.’ Charity embraces love in thought and action, enforcing it, irrespective of any par- ticular occasion, as a constant and most gratifying duty. It is just as much the love of the happy for both happy and unhappy, as of the unhappy for both unhappy and happy. It is likewise the love of the good for good and bad, and of the bad, as soon as he has awakened to a sense of his obligations, for bad and good. Next to it in bestowal, if not in feeling, comes the Russian “milost, which may do everything that charity does do, but has not necessarily the same motives. ‘Milost' emanates from a friendly disposi- tion roused to action by fortuitous circumstances, rather than from the recognition of an abiding duty. In origin as well in duration it is less reliable than charity. It is apt to be whimsical and capricious. Even while it gives, it causes itself to be felt as a favour, willing, perhaps, but none the less arbitrary, and liable to be withdrawn. Charity, on the other hand, must give, because it dare not refuse, and could not if it dared. Of the three Hebrew words ‘chen,' ‘cheset,’ ‘racham, the two former go with ‘milost, the latter with charity. Respectively signifying loving grace and favour, ‘chen' and ‘cheset' refer equally to the happy and unhappy, to the needy and the prosper- ous, making this universal liberality their justification for choosing whom they will benefit; ‘racham,’ which helps only the unhappy, is irresistibly attracted by him, and asks for nothing better than ever-fresh opportunities to comfort and save. The admixture of love to these several terms varies according to their different motives. ‘Cheset,’ as proceeding from one who, either temporarily or per- manently, holds a superior position, has least of this 62 THE CONCEPTION OF LOVE IN SOME generous ingredient; ‘chen, emphasising not the power but the grace of the bestower, prompted by Some kindly approval and liking, shows a preponderance of fervent feeling; and ‘racham' is entirely absorbed in it. Hence, while the pious ardour of ‘charity’ embraces all rela- tions alike, and the easy affability of ‘milost' may do the same, though it need not, ‘chen,' ‘cheset, and ‘racham’ divide philanthropy between them, and are differently tempered according to the circumstances by which the feeling is evoked. The development of love for a single person is described in the following four phases: ‘liking,’ ‘attachment,’ ‘affec- tus,’ ‘sasnoba.’ The three first may apply to persons of the same sex; the last only to the other. “Liking’ begins as a pleasure half instinctively experienced at this or that trait; attachment follows as a partiality for One spiritually akin and therefore sympathetic ; ‘affectus’ comes next, being the warm impulse of one soul towards another, when attachment has lasted long enough, and been suffi- ciently intimate to ripen into a more active sentiment, or when this middle stage has been hidden from view by impetuous feeling overleaping it in a cataract ; and ‘sasnoba, the first love of youth and maiden. Were we to describe the four grades according to their intensity, we should say, “temporarily warm ; ' ' warm ; ' ' warmer, with hidden heat only waiting the opportunity to burst into flame; ’ ‘intermittent fever. It will be seen that even in the few languages compared a closely connected chain of logical development can be observed. The next group is formed by words denoting a strong love, whether arising from mature esteem, or from an unscrutinised and apparently involuntary bias of the charmed soul. In the first class there are two: ‘diligere’ and affection.’ Agreeing in essentials, they are con- trasted in one subordinate point. The Latin ‘diligere” does not begin to love at all until it has critically re- cognised the worth of its object; the English ‘affection, ANCIENT AND MODERN LANGUAGES. 63 on the other hand, is the outcome of a more involuntary love, when it has gradually ripened into a deep conviction of another's goodness and worth. The one is first cold and then warm, the other first hot, then intense ; the One first head and then heart, the other first passion and then deep feeling. The one is the act of a man ready to attach himself sincerely to those he has tried and ascer- tained to be good; the other arises in a soul carried away by impulsive susceptibility, yet retaining sufficient prin- ciple and judgment to look for confirmation of precon- ceived esteem and fortunate enough to find it. The one is Roman, the other English; the one is antique, urbane, and measured, the other modern, impulsive, and kind. In striking opposition to both stand the words for strong, uncontrolled, and irresistible affection. There are three of them : ‘ affectus,’ ‘ affectio,' ‘ fondness.’ In its original meaning the first is an imperious bent of the soul, sometimes as strong as “amor, but not generally as lasting and acknowledged; the second, a milder affec- tion, less warm at first, but less uncertain afterwards; the third a sweet revelling in soft-hearted delights, which often rather satisfies an innate desire to love than con- siders the disposition and worth of its object. ‘Fond- ness’ and ‘affectus’ equally accentuate their unguarded and unpremeditated character; but while ‘ affectus’ is giving way to a powerful bias, ‘fondness’ clings in restful intimacy to the being to whom it has once given itself; the former threatening storms, the latter ever persisting in a changeless and quiescent attachment, even at the risk of incurring ridicule. They are both words of an ardent temper; the one bordering on passion and often preceding it, the other listlessly absorbed in its own doting mood; the one hot, proud, and shy; the other devoted, prone to be demonstrative, and apt to become, without looking for any more gratifying reward, its own aim, end, and object. “Affectus,’ ‘affectio,” “affection, and ‘diligere,' in their secondary meanings, might be formed into a special sub- 64 THE CONCEPTION OF LOVE IN SOME division for the more or less reserved expression of heart- felt love, whether springing from feeling alone (‘ affectus,’ “affectio,” “affection') or aided and, at the same time, re- strained by the co-operation of the intellect (‘diligere'). It is worthy of remark, that the four expressions coming under this dignified category are either Latin or English. They belong to people of decided self-respect, who, even when they do give themselves away, are in no hurry to avow the fact. Then follows dutiful affection, accompanying certain relationships, either of blood or circumstance. This class is exclusively Latin: ‘caritas,” “pietas, ‘studium.’ “Cari- tas’ is the love to one's own next of kin, or to the friend we count a relative ; ‘pietas, reverent love for parents, gods, and country, as the permanent benefactors of man- kind; ‘studium, love required to arise from political or personal alliance for worldly advantage, such alliance being understood to protect the position of the individual, and to deserve zealous attachment in return. Here we over- take the genuine old Roman in his everyday life. Utilising business ties, but at the same time deeply respecting them; forming connections avowedly for reciprocal advantage, but regarding his advantage as something legitimate, and cherishing the promoters of it with an almost religious glow ; directing his love to the quarter whence his ad- vantage comes, and regarding it as a Solemn duty to give affection in return for Services received. A people could not but thrive that hallowed the ties of interest, and knew how to harmonise the claims of human egotism with its notions of virtue and right. “Blagost, the love of God to man, universal, all- embracing love, belongs to Russian alone. Of the other languages compared, English and Hebrew have the con- ception, though no separate term. Latin almost lacks the idea. Almost, not quite. Whilst in Ordinary par- lance the words for “love' were scarcely ever used to denote any relations between gods and men, chosen Spirits ANCIENT AND MODERN LANGUAGES. 65 rose to the lofty idea, and imparted their discovery to the cultivated and reading portion of their countrymen. Of the rare passages proving this memorable fact, suffice it to mention one. In Juvenal's tenth satire we meet with the pious dictum : ‘Not thy wish, but thy best good the gods give. See, they love thee more than thou lovest thyself.” The expression used is ‘carus,’ applied by the poet's genius in a Sense beyond its ordinary reference to intimate rela- tions between kinsfolk and friends. 66 THE CONCEPTION OF LOVE IN SOME APPENDIX. 1:) Itaque quamguam et Pompeio plurimum, te quidem praedicatore ac teste, debebam, et eum non solum beneficio, sed amore etiam et perpetuo quodam judicio diligebam. Cic. Fam. I, 9, 6. 1*) Although, as you yourself know and have made known, I was much indebted to Pompey, and not only showed him my love by what I did for him, but was led by mature judg- ment to cherish him ever and ever anew. 1*) Dicebas quondam solum te nosse Catullum Lesbia, nec praeme velle tenere Iovem. Dilexi tum te non tantum ut vulgus amicam Sed pater ut gnatos diligit et generos. Catull. 72, 1. I”) You once said you only knew Catullus, Lesbia; great Jove himself you did not hold so dear. Then, indeed, Iloved you, not as the crowd loves a mistress, but as a father loves his sons and his sons-in-law. 2") Persuasit nox, amor, vinum, adolescentia— Humanum 'st. Terent. Ad. 3, 4, 471. 2") Wine, love, and youth did it. It is human. 2") Non vestem amatores mulieris amant sed vestis fartum. Plaut. Most. 1, 3, 13. 2") Not woman's clothes does he who loves her love, but what is set within. 2*) Ac mihi videtur matrem Valde ut debet amare teque mirifice. Cic. Att. 6, 2, 2. ANCIENT AND MODERN LANGUA GES. 67 2°) It seems to me that he loves his mother much, as it behoves, and you also most dearly. 3°) Ex ea caritate quae est inter natos et parentes, quae dirimi nisi detestabili scelere non potest. Cic. Am. 8, 27. 3°) For the sake of those intimate bonds which exist between parents and childrem, and camnot be broken except by some detestable crime. 3°) Oblitaque ingenitae erga patriam caritatis, dummodo virum honoratum videret, consilium migramdi ab Tarquiniis cepit. Liv. I, 34, 5. 3°) She thought more of the position of her husband, than of her innate love for country and home, and therefore deter- mined to leave Tarquinii. - 4°) Est enim pietas justitia adversum deos: cum quibus quid potest nobis esse juris, quum homini nulla cum deo sit communitas. Cic. Nat. D. I, 4I, II6. 4°) If we love the gods we are only doing what is right ; but we can have no legal relations with them, since we have nothing in common. 4°) Mi pater, tua pietas plane nobis auxilio fuit. Plaut. Poen. 5, 4, Io7. 4°) Father, thy love has obviously helped me. 4°) Justitiam cole et pietatem, quae quum magna sit in parentibus et propinquis, tum in patria maxima est. Cic. R. P. 6, I 5. 4°) Practise justice and dutiful love towards parents and relatives, and especially towards thy country. 5°) Si res ampla domi similisque affectibus esset. • Juv. Sat. I 2, Io. 5°) Had I money enough to do justice to my feelings. 68 THE CONCEPTION OF LOVE IN SOME 5*) Tu quoque victorem complecti, barbara, velles; Obstitit incepto pudor : et complexa fuisses, Sed te ne faceres tenuit reverentia famae. Quod licet, affectu tacito laetaris. Ov. Met. 7, 144. 5") Willingly hadst thou yielded to the victor's kiss, Omaid; But modesty would never have it so. And thus alone In silent gazing thy love was fed. 6*) Non modo principis sollicitudinem, sed et parentis affectum unicum praestitit. Suet. Tit. 8. 6°) He showed not only the careful attention of the prince, but the full love of a father. 6”) Nisi si Gallos et Germanos et, pudet dictu, Britannorum plerosque, licet dominationi alienae Sanguinem commodent, fide et affectu teneri putatis. Tac. Agric. 32. 6%) Unless, indeed, you think that Gauls, Germans, and even many of the Britons who to-day serve with their blood the foreign enemy, are bound to him in faith and love. 6°) Neque enim affectibus meis uno libello carissimam mihi et sanctissimam memoriam prosequi satis est. Plin. Ep. 3, Io. 6) It is not enough for me, with my warm feelings, to pre- serve the dear and sacred memory in one small book. 7*) Simiarum generi praecipua erga fetum affectio. Plin. H. N. 8, 54. 7*) The ape has an extraordinary love for its young. 7") Ob adfectionem et pietatem in se eximiam. Grut. Inscr. 459, 4. 7*) On account of the great love and reverence. 8°) Quam vellem Bruto studium tuum navare potuisses. Cic. Att. I5, 4. 8°) How much I wished thou hadst been able to devote thy good services to Brutus. A NCIENT AND MODERN LANGUAGES. 69 8") Studium et fides erga clientes ne juveni quidem de- fuerunt. Suet. Jul. 71. 8") Good faith and friendship towards clients he practised even as a youth. r 8%) Nihil est enim remuneratione benevolentiae, nihil vicis- situdine studiorum officiorumque jucundius. Cic. Am. I4, 49. 8%) Nothing is more beautiful than mutual benevolence and the exchange of good offices. 9°) O love, O fire . Once he drew e With one long kiss my whole soul through My lips, as sunlight drinketh dew. - Tennyson, “Fatima.’ 9°) Were I crowned the most imperial monarch, Thereof most worthy—were I the fairest youth That ever made eye Swerve—had force and knowledge, More than was ever man's, I would not prize them Without her love. For her employ them all, Commend them and condemn them to her service, Or to their own perdition. Shakespeare, ‘Winter Tale.” 9°) Kjärligheden giör mangen Byrde let og meget byttert södt. J. C. Tode, ‘Kjärlighed’s Nytte.’ 9°) Love alleviates our burdens and allays our sorrows. 9) Min Else er sa trofast, som den ranke Lilienvand Der sjätter eders Hjerte i en evig Elskovsbrand. Christian Winther, “Henrik og Else.” 9") My Lizzie, as fair and faithful as any fairy, whose love fires your brain. - Io") I love her— Her whose gentle will has changed my fate And made my life a perfumed altar-flame. Tennyson, ‘Maud.’ 7o THE CONCEPTION OF LOVE IN SOME Io") He who has loved often has loved never. There is but one Eros, though there are many counterfeits of him. - |Bulwer, ‘Pompeii,’ chap. ii. II) But conjugal affection, Prevailing over fear and timorous doubt, Hath led me on, desirous to behold Once more thy face and know of thy estate, If aught in my ability may serve To lighten what thou sufferest, and appease Thy mind with what amends is in my power. Milton, ‘Samson Agonistes.” 12) Worthless men and women, to the very bottom of whose hearts he saw, and whom he knew to be destitute of affection for him, could wheedle him out of titles, places, domains, state Secrets, and pardons. Macaulay, ‘History of England,’ chap. i. 13°) Their love' Lies in their purses, and whoso empties them By so much fills their hearts with deadly hate. Shakespeare, ‘Richard II.” 13°) Sir Lionel was a man whom he could in no wise respect, and could hardly love. Anthony Trollope, ‘The Bertrams, ii. II. 13°) What a love of a bonnet you have got on Household Words, vol. xviii. 14") Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy soul. Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself. To keep these two commandments is the whole duty of man. Dr. J. Hamilton. 14") From his youth up he was distinguished by love of country, pure, simple, honest, and upright. - New York Tribune, May 30, 1872. 15) In his pity and in his love God redeemed them. Isaiah lxiii. 9. A NCIENT AND MODERN LANGUAGES, 71 I6") Charity is friendship to all the world. -- Bishop Taylor 16") Let us put the finger of charity upon the scar of the Christian, as we look at him, whatever it may be—the finger of a tender and forbearing charity, and see in spite of it and under it the image of Christ notwithstanding. .. - Dr. Cumming. 17") I am a foolish fond wife. Addison. 17%) Where’er I roam, whatever realms to see, My heart, untravelled, fondly turns to thee. Goldsmith, ‘The Traveller.” 17%) Parents being wisely ordained by nature to love their children, if reason watch not that natural affection very warily, are very apt to let it run into fondness. Locke on Education. 17") He really did believe she was an idiot, and he founded his belief—I can’t say whether consciously or not—upon her being fond of him. Dickens, ‘The Cricket on the Hearth.” 18) She really seems to have been a very charming young woman, with a little turn for coquetry, which was yet perfectly compatible with warm and disinterested attachment, and a little turn for satire, which yet seldom passed the bounds of good nature. Macaulay, ‘Sir William Temple.’ 19) nº-ins Dºpº Sºyin Yºn') Dºy Vinºy ºnna Spy, Thy") Tin Nº ºn-ln N- Gen. xxix. 20. 19) And Jacob served seven years for Rachel; and they seemed unto him but a few days for the love he had to her. 20) * Inn ºn Hansh nº ºn 95 ns ty's nº-ps Canticles viii. 7. 20) If a man would give all the substance of his house for love, it would utterly be contemned. 72 THE CONCEPTION OF LOVE IN SOME 2 I) *Nº ºn ns mn, nins- Hosea iii. I. 21) Go yet, love a woman beloved of her friend, yet an adulteress, according to the love of the Lord toward the children of Israel, who look to other gods, and love flagons of wine. 22) Tise 252. Twº ºn. This ºn Três mn, ns nins. Deut. vi. 5. 22) And thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thine heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy might. 23) - : mans HDºn Dyve $5 by Prov. x. 12. 23) Hatred stirreth up strifes, but love covereth all sins. 24) mm is ºppo TV-9 nansi, Toy in ns on sº ºpn sº Lev. xix. 18. 24) Thou shalt not avenge nor bear any grudge against the children of thy people, but thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself. I am the Lord. 25°) byn' beyonwy prºsn nºs sºn bºmbs mn 5 tº ºn nx pnans) : Hºpw, Drº lº nnº - ans) nºrbs) Dynsp?ns: pnºn bºn: Deut. x. 17, 18. 25°) For the Lord your God is God of gods and Lord of lords. He doth execute the judgment of the fatherless and the widow, and loveth the stranger in giving him food and raiment. 25°) 'O ©sog &yoºrn agriy. I John iv. 16. 25") God is love. 26) nºnn) who sº. Tnsp "Em Hypºpn nynºn) who bºnn's *ny prino ºpx blon Nº pºv Isaiah liv. Io. 26) For the mountains shall depart and the hills be removed; but my kindness shall not depart from thee, neither shall the covenant of my peace be removed, saith the Lord that hath mercy on thee. ANCIENT AND MODERN LANGUAGES. 73 27) : "in sº ps: º Tin its ns nos) +Dn psy, ps nny) spy by is "p by nies) Gen. xxiv. 49. 27) And now, if ye will deal kindly and truly with my mas- ter, tell me: and if not, tell me; that I may turn to the right hand or to the left. 28) nps, ibn Toy livy) ºnxn ns ºb nin' nnn nºn Josh. ii. I4. 28) And it shall be, when the Lord hath given us the land, that we will deal kindly and truly with thee. 29) nºs nº ºnwy vs "bn non 5s) ns by nºs º nºt Yº-Yºyon) Neh. xiii. 14. 29) Remember me, O my God, concerning this, and wipe not out my good deeds that I have done for the house of my God, and for the offices thereof. 30) *Nº by mm brin bºn by as prins Psalm ciii. I3. 30). Like as a father pitieth (has mercy on) his children, so the Lord pitieth them that fear him. 31) "pin nºn Honns ºbsº Psalm xviii. 2. 31) And he said, I will love thee, O Lord, my strength. 32) nwys nºn- "ws him ºn-in ns pl nep ºs mn "ps” - Dwn TV-TR, ºxyn in nssp ºn Exod. xxxiii. 17. 32) And the Lord said unto Moses, I will do this thing also that thou hast spoken ; for thou hast found grace in my sight, and I'know thee by name. 33) Tº sº by Tºwn in ºnsso sº. Es S ºps" ºpiº ºn; sºp') bºnspiºnnºn Nº 5s nos) "pn ºpy hºvy) on nnn Gen. xlvii. 29. 74. THE CONCEPTION OF LOVE IN SOME 33) And he called his son Joseph and said unto him, If now I have found grace in thy sight, put, I pray thee, thy hand under my thigh, and deal kindly and truly with me: bury me not, I pray thee, in Egypt. 34) Jon 25% nºn nys; nº nin Job xix. I 7. 34) My breath is become nauseous to my wife, and my caressing to the children of mine own body. 35) KTo BMHIJo MoonTE, camb ceon Työwth. Hapoſ[HaH IIocMOBMIIa. 35). He who loves wine ruins himself. 36°) Kakh, Tpwropiiſ MMXaúMMHE, BEI . . . Mpiſha Toſſe he Moria Aokoh'IIITE pRºb, M IIpHCMOHMIIIMBCH KT, CHWKB Kpecia, IICAhecia KB TMacaMB off pykh. BEI . . . Mehh MI06WTe? Typrehebb, ABIM'b. 36°) “What, Gregory Michailitsh, you’. . . Irina could not finish her speech, but, leaning back in the arm-chair, covered her face with her hands. “You . . . you love me?’ 36°) BE atom'B cWMa M 6yAyIIIHocTE Pocciù, Anh Kotopoiſ Takh HeycTahho, cºb Takoło MyöOBIO pabotan'E IIetpb Beliſkiii. ToMoch, 6 IIoHa 1872. 36") Herein lies the power and future of Russia, for which Peter the Great worked so indefatigably, and with such love. 36°) ºutep ep geºmic e os were it souc ow-e Kutep Melipe 2-11 200?\ew Psalm lxii. 10. 36°) Do not put your trust in defrauding, and be not ren- dered vain through robbery. 36°) orog & Iakoſ weripe peºx. Hº Genesis xxix. 18. 36") And Jacob loved Rachel. A NCIENT AND MODERN LANGUAGES. 75 36°) gārāqā Hā āī ā āraa a, afqar sº *TRTH a stan Hå gate witHIHR witHHT 36°) The fool who would curse such a Nala would curse, would kill himself. 37) H MI06wth. He MI06MI0, OTKa8ath He Mory. 37) I love not to love, and yet can scarce refuse. 38) ‘Hero Bt, ApyroMB. He MI06mmit, Toro M camºb He A Blaii. 38) What you do not like in another, do not yourself. 39) H Takt, MI06MI0, ybañaro M ITy 6pata AMekcahápa, HTo he Mory 6eat, ropecTV1, Aake 6eat, yikaca, Booopagúth ceòa B08Mo- HHOCTE, 3ah HTB eIO MTSCTO. Bapoht, Kopob, Boeinectbie Ha Iſpector, MMHepatopa HMkoſiah I*. 39) I love, treasure, and honour my brother Alexander so much, that it is not without grief, nay, without dread, that I can imagine the possibility of ever filling his place. 40°) H ero BCero paga A Ba BMAtſia, M. obt, IIOKagaſca Mht, IIpentodeshBIM'b KaBaſepoMB, IſpińTHoiſ Hapy:Rhoctri, a AMā Ty 6epHaTopa, eIIIe MOMOA.B. TyöepHaTopcKah PeBM3in 1, 8. 40°) Altogether I have seen him twice, and he has shown himself to be an exceptionally attractive cavalier, of pleasant exterior, and—when one remembers that he is already governor—still quite young. 40°) IIy6MMKa yeTpeMMacb KB, MBCTy HaxoßAehia 60THKa iſ Moria Iyoobatch MMI, B6MM3W. MockoBckia BBAoMocTM, Mah 30, 1872. 40°) The public pressed towards the boat, and being near could feast on his aspect. 41) MMMOcTH IIpoclimb. 41) We pray for grace. 42) CABIaiíTe MMMOcTH. 42) Do me the favour. 76 THE CONCEPTION OF LOVE IN SOME 43) CKolbko HM IIckaTb, a MILIOctii y MI0, ſeiſ He cBIKath. Hapo/[Hah IIocMOBVIIIa. 43) However much we may seek, no love can be found among men. 44) MMMOctE M Ha cyAB XBaſūTch. 44) Grace is prized even in a judge. 45) Bohiero MMCoctelo. 45) By the grace of God. 46) TBoe Bolā MūMOBath MHôo kaghilth. IIpHBBTE Bohpobt, Lapio. 46) Thine is the right in grace to grant or to punish. 47) IIoMMMOBah'b Mahnoectomb. 47) Pardoned by imperial manifesto. 48) He no xopolily MMTb, a no MMMy xopoult. IIocMOBMIja. 48) It is not dear to me because it is good, but because it is dear to me it is good. 49) "HTo TEI, cyaapp, IIoMMMyū, 9to 6patelye MoM MMMBIií, AaTE IIoAapok E Ha ChacTie Hallie: MMT, Teób yroHy H MMT, Teoh chaphKy H CTapBlà, 6yāellyb MOMOAeHBKMXb Kpallie! B. Bypehnhe (BBCTHMKB EBponBI 1872, 4.) 49) Have mercy, lord; this is my dear brother. He has brought presents for our happiness. 50°) CKyºho, Matyluka, Bechoio Hútb oA hoiſ, A cKyºhei Toro Heiſſett, Ko MHE MMMoiſ! HapoAHah II fictib 50°) It is wearisome to be alone in the green spring; but what is still harder to bear is a lover that does not come. ANCIENT AND MODERN LANGUAGES. 77 30°) He #eſſaro CMabbi, 3Mata . H cºntato wxb Mehtoiſ, H chactawba a 6orata KorAa Mehbkiä co MHoà Koráa MMMeHBKiń co MHoà! Hapoſ[Hah II.Bchb. 50”) I long for neither gold nor glory; to me they are all a dream. When my lover's arm is round me I am rich and happy. 50%) IOHonia Mwaiii! ha Murb TB Bºb Hamn wrpBI BMBIIIaica! Po25 IIoA.06HEliſ Kpacoiſ, Kakt, owiOMBMa TEI IIBM'b. CKoneko niobobb notepana Be Teófi moiſbayebt, a mBeeht, CKOMEKo Heſſahiiſ M. MacKE HOBEIXb, IIpekpachbiXb, Kakt, TBI. Bapoht, MeMBBurb, Ha CMepTB BehetWHOBa. 50°) Loving youth, how quickly hast thou fled our games 1 Thou, lovely as the rose, sweet as is the nightingale, Thou art gone, and thy death robs the longing love Of thy delicate look, of thy glowing song 50°) KB, MILIOMy M ceMB BepcTB He oko/IMIIa. Hapoſhah IIocMOBMIIa. 5o") To the loved one even seven versts are no detour. 51) HMKTo Re 6/ſart, TokMo eamHt, Borb. EBahrenie ott, MapKa 10, 18. 51) None is good save God alone. Aſabbi B'B' rpäAyLIIIIxb BTKaxb HBMIIIb IIpew806HMHoe 60- TatcTBo 6MaroAaTM CBoeh BB 6Maroctiſ KB HaM'B Bo Xplictſ, Mcyc+. IIocMahie KB ExpeceñMt, 2, 7. That in the ages to come He might show the exceeding riches of His grace in His kindness toward us through Christ Jesus. - Ephes. ii. 7. 78 THE CONCEPTION OF LOVE, ETC. 52) I think some people love the young gentleman better, than our lord likes. James, ‘Ehrenstein,’ chap. xvi. 53*) I love to have time to consider all things. James, ‘Ehrenstein,’ chap. xlviii. 53”) You love a book, and have read enough of history to be interested in these ‘Echoes of a Famous Year.’ Holme Lee, “Echoes of a Famous Year.’ 54) Quisquis amore tenetur, eat tutus Sacerque, Qualibet; insidias non timuisse decet. Tibull. I, 2. 54) Inspired by love, thou art sacred, and free from all the wiles and snares of the world. Fear naught; thou art secure 55) Nam pro jucundis aptissima quaeque dabunt Di. Carior est illis homo quam sibi. Juv. Sat. Io, 347. 55) Instead of pleasant things the gods give thee what is good for thee. Man is dearer to them than he is to himself. III. THE ENGLISA VERBS OF COMMA/VD. III. ENGLISH words are distinguished from those of most other European languages by their distinct, finely-shaded, and proportionately narrow meanings. Being the output of a teeming national life, English words, too, are unusually numerous, just because of their distinctness, subtlety, and precision. Developing as they do from one another, these quali- ties render the English language an exceptionally profit- able subject for the study of synonyms. Many-shaded thoughts, all definite, delicate, and easily intelligible because of their precision—what more remunerative ma- terial could the student of synonyms desire 2 In its rare combination of copiousness with exactitude, subtlety with lucidity, the English dictionary must ever exercise the highest charm over any explorer. - It is not to be assumed that other languages are neces- sarily poorer because their wealth is differently distri- buted or lies less plainly in sight. If a language had fewer words than the English, and these as restricted in meaning, it would necessarily embody a smaller array of national thoughts, and so, speaking roughly, and with- out taking the quality of the thoughts expressed into consideration, it would be poorer. But a language having a smaller stock of words, if they had wider meanings, vividly realised in every detail, might well vie with the English in wealth, and gain in tropical force what it lost in precision. Or if a language equally rich in words applied fewer to the needs of everyday life, keeping the larger portion for higher intellectual intercourse, and giving F 82 THE ENGLISH VERBS OF COMMAND. it a correspondingly thoughtful tone, the same plenty would be there, though differently employed and differently turned to account. These three positions are approximately those of the French, Italian, and German languages in relation to the English. There are other more delicate distinctions influencing the character of a language as formed by the most striking qualities of wealth and clearness of diction. Besides which, no language is equally copious, fine, and correct in all its concepts. Hence there arise distinctions within distinctions. We are but on the threshold of these comparative studies. Their progress will effectually contribute to re- veal the diversity of national thought, and whilst initiating races into each other's deepest secrets, enlarge views and enhance mutual appreciation and respect. In the pre- sent incipient stage of the task, the investigation of the IEnglish idiom must be doubly necessary on account of its specific qualities. Surpassingly important for intel- lectual depth and breadth, its copiousness and precision make it a unique standard for gauging the meanings of other, especially of poorer or less definite languages. The following sketch is a study in this direction. It treats of the eleven principal English words of command, first singly, and then in a comparative summary, intended to show the whole idea as conceived by the English mind, with each shade of difference occupying its proper place in the general tableau. Illustrative examples, including figurative applications, are appended. I. COMMAND. Command presupposes both the possession of absolute power and the will to use it. It takes its stand upon its own authority, using it as it pleases, and declining all explanation. Though the arbitrary element is strong in the word, it is checked by a pride or a dignity too lofty to make itself THE ENGLISH VERBS OF COMMAND. 83 felt in trifles. The word is only in its right place when anything of consequence is to be performed. It interferes With the course of events when ordinary and gentler directions do not appear to be equal to the occasion; or When they require to be specially emphasised; or else when the Self-indulgent will refuses to recognise any bounds. It takes the reins because things are too serious to be left to themselves, or because the consciousness of power is too active so to leave them. It domineers both where it is necessary and where the charm of exercising power proves irresistible. It commands because it can command, though not without considering the occasion as worthy of itself. Though it need not, command may derive its power from an inherent and moral right of the person command- ing. When this right is permanent, it cannot, consistently with the imperious character of the word, belong to any except the higher and highest authorities, whose injunc- tions are accounted momentous, whatever they may con- cern. The position of the person commanding always imparts the importance that the thing in itself may seem to lack. With God there is nothing small; with government, nothing insignificant which it chooses to notice. Hence, if this permanent authority is of a reli- gious nature, it belongs to the Almighty, to Christ, to celestial spirits, prophets and patriarchs; or if it spring from moral or social sources, it is due to potentates, governors, officers, and so forth. The authority of a father, when he thinks fit to exact the full claims of his position, is derived alike from religious, moral, and social sources. When transient, the warrant for the possession of this authoritative command can only be conferred by the consciousness of speaking in the name of Supernatural powers. Thus virtue opposed to vice will give even to the feeble the sovereign right and courage to command. But the word has never in any circumstances to submit to a discussion of its right. That is beyond question. It rules because of its Secure Self-reliance, as well as because, 84 THE ENGLISH VERBS OF COMMAND. when it chooses to exert itself, it takes things too much in earnest to allow itself to be mocked. But inherent and moral authority is by no means necessary to the term. It is a free lord. It exults in its might, however obtained, and scorns to be dependent upon anything. A robber uses command, dragging his victim into his den; a king uses command, making his loving people happy. Though their position and character widely differ, undisputed power is common to both. In harmony with the prevailing freedom and independ- ence of Englishmen, the word is principally employed by them when its imperative behests are legitimately based upon recognised political, moral, or social grounds. The State commands more often than the rebel, the temperate more often than the violent. The weight of the word has a ten- dency to bring down the scale in the right direction. In modern times the word has more and more fallen into disuse, except when its application is regarded as morally justifi- able. In these free-and-easy days power seldom chooses to command, if the necessary and beneficial end can be called in question. From the past, however, when the tie between master and servant was more permanent and strict, and commands were habitually issued as a matter of course, certain typical phrases have been handed down, which, indicative of real Submission in former times, have long been classed as mere polite verbiage, and even in their present inanity are fast becoming obsolete. Such are, “at your command,’ ‘to command,’’ ‘bought at com- mand,’ &c. Commands must be obeyed, either because it is impossible to resist, or else because resistance, even where it might be attempted, would be criminal or wrong. The mastery exercised by him who commands is characteristically shown in the fact that no special service required need be coupled with the word. We have not only ‘He com- mands my services, but also ‘Command me while I live,’ quite without purpose specified (Shakespeare's ‘Two THE ENGLISH VERBS OF COMMAND. 85 Gentlemen,” iii. 1); and ‘He will command his children, and they will keep the way of the Lord.’ These examples clearly demonstrate the dominion held by the person com- manding; and as command is generally used in reference to the execution of specific mandates, the definiteness which it gains from this exact application is felt to augment its force in those rarer cases when a general Supremacy is asserted and no particular commission specified. Com- mand then implies that absolute control over the entire existence and acts of another which, ordinarily, is de- manded only in relation to single performances. Such phrases as ‘a window commands a view,’ ‘a battery commands a position,’ ‘a virtuous man com- mands our respect, by their figurative use of the last meaning recorded show the force of the word to its full extent. Absolute dependence and devotion could not be more emphatically expressed. II. ORDER. Order, too, emanates from the higher position of the One ordering. But the position it implies is not founded upon any very high personal or acquired dignity, nor upon overpowering force, but merely upon moderate rank. The officer orders the soldier, the judge the police, the master his servant. Though a peremptory command, it derives its authority from the organisation of society only, and content with this modest basis, thinks it superfluous to seek a higher moral title. It orders the business of daily life, and, sure of its immediate efficacy, contents itself with that, and cheerfully renounces any special sanctity, might, or strength. Order guides the steps of those who have to carry out the directions of their acknowledged superiors; and though the right to use it is not bestowed by any very lofty authority, and its exercise has no very important aims in view, yet it regulates the details of daily life, which in their endless variety and sequence go 86 THE ENGLISH VIERBS OF COMMAND. to make up the greatest events. Originally the word only meant to arrange, to regulate, while, in the case of ‘command,’ the primary English signification is the same as at present. In striking contrast to the more important and lofty ‘command, order has always a special aim in view. It is a direction to do this or that, given by authority and relating to everyday things and incidents, which are ever calling for fresh management and direction. In the common combination ‘in order to, we perceive the em- phasis laid on a certain definite thing to be done. The Superiority implied in the term being a conven- tional One, resting less upon merit than upon social position, he who receives the order will occasionally be inclined to question it as to its judiciousness, and to examine his superior's title to exercise control. On the mighty ‘com- mand’ such criticism would be powerless or wrong; order, with its more trivial meaning, admits of it, though, in the dependent position of the person ordered, the possibility given is not often, at least not openly, turned to account. In a weaker sense order refers to business relations. In these, though there is no command, there is certain and" prompt compliance. A man at an inn “orders’ a beefsteak; a lady in a shop orders a bonnet or a dress; and the bill of Mr. Brown is drawn to order of Mr. Green. III. ORDAIN. Even higher than ‘command’ stands ordain. While command is generally warranted, but need not necessarily be so, the law that ordains is always sacred—sacred both in consideration of the source whence it springs and the purpose for which it is issued. It proceeds from the highest heavenly and earthly powers, and from these latter ones only in so far as they may be considered as acting in harmony with the consecrating laws laid down by the former. And it can only be enforced with a view to THE ENGLISH VERBS OF COMMAND. 87 our highest good, so that its compulsion is love actively at Work. Through combining the highest power and wisdom, and using them for our salvation, this noble word occupies the most exalted place in the notion of command. In keeping with its lofty tone, the word is only excep- tionally used for definite mandates. Even the Bible, with its solemn diction, has but seldom phrases like the follow- ing: ‘The king ordained the captain to lead the troops against the enemy.” Such a command is too trifling to be given in the grand style of ‘ordain;' too much concerned with a passing event to need, or to bear, the pressure of this ponderous word, weighted, as it is, with the eternal nature of things. For this reason, if ‘ordain’ is used at all in relation to a particular performance, it can only be one prescribed by God and His representatives, when the com- parative insignificance of the act commanded is raised to the elevated sphere of the term by the dignity of Him who uses it. So (Dan. ii. 24), ‘The king had ordained him to destroy the wise men of Babylon.” But, as a rule, ‘Ordain’ is only employed to inculcate religious and moral precepts, or to institute secular observances con- sidered tantamount to ecclesiastical ceremonies. “To offer the offering as it was ordained by David’ (2 Chron. xxiii. 18). “And Jeroboam ordained a feast ’ (I Kings xii. 32). “When first this order was ordained, Knights of the Garter were of noble birth' (Shakespeare’s “Henry WI., Part I., iv. 1). In its comprehensive import this kind of command is mostly given to no solitary individual, but to entire classes of the community, to nations, to humanity. And here we approach a sphere from which the word ascends to a yet higher meaning. From a law issued for observance it rises to predestination; from a single expressed command it is raised to a permanent dispensation, ruling all with silent control. ‘ Ordain,’ in this sense, is a decree issued from everlasting, never declared, ever in force ; an inte- gral part of the fore-determined scheme of the universe SS THE ENGLISH VERBS OF COMMAND. which, hidden from the crowd, and but dimly divined by the wise, silently accomplishes its immutable mission. ‘Ye have not chosen Me, but I have chosen you, and ordained you, that ye should go and bring forth fruit' (St. John xv. 16). “The moon and the stars that Thou hast ordained ' (Ps. viii. 3). - When this predestination is expressly declared, we have that application of the word in which its meaning culminates and its use is most frequent. In this sense the decree enjoined retains its eternal import, and is made sufficiently intelligible for ordinary mortals to comprehend and act upon it. It is a revealed divine mystery with immediate bearing upon Ourselves, an audible providence that has spoken for our guidance. ‘We speak the wisdom of God, even the hidden wisdom which God ordained before the world unto our glory’ (I Cor. ii. 7). “I will ordain a place for My people Israel, and will plant them, and they shall dwell in their place’ (I Chron. xvii. 9). And Gloucester, with blasphemous scoff, says, after mur- dering King Henry, ‘For this, amongst the rest, was I ordained ’ (‘Henry VI., Part III., v. 6). A figurative use of this meaning is found in the ‘’Taming of the Shrew, iii. I : “To know the cause why music was ordained.’ It is a specially emphatic form of the same meaning when “ordain’ is used for ordination to a distinct office. In this application it embodies a decree of Providence aiming at high and lofty purposes, and addressed to an individual, not for Once, but for ever. Thus: ‘I ordained thee to be apostle to the nations’ (Jer, i. 5); and, ‘I am ordained preacher’ (I Tim. ii. 7). IV. DECREE. A slight distinction making a great difference in this grand terminology, ‘decree, however closely connected with ‘ordain, is yet wide apart. Both forms of command are too comprehensive and too enduring to be lightly THE ENGLISH VIERBS OF COMMAND. 89 wasted on individuals; both chiefly pertain to the behests of the highest secular and celestial authorities, appointed to promote Right in whole countries and through all ages. But while the one lays stress upon the majesty and beneficent wisdom of the person commanding, the other emphasises his irresistible and indisputable power. A thing is ordained to realise the holy purposes of God; it is decreed in order that the power of the Creator may remain of surpassing importance through all events. A king ordains when he claims to be carrying out the will of the Deity; he decrees as a monarch who thinks fit to exercise the full power of his prerogative. As a consequence of its close alliance with power, ‘decree” more commonly utters decisions touching the current affairs of the world, while ‘ Ordain’ rather declares the abiding laws of the universe. There is something in the compulsion of power which recalls our need of political order, and keeps a word so massively resting upon the foundation of mastery in the circle of mundane affairs: “By me kings reign and princes decree justice’ (Prov. viii. 15). One step further in the same direction, and power applied to the management of secular affairs takes the tone of harsh and arbitrary decision. As in the following: “ King Ahasuerus remembered Vashti and what she had done, and what was decreed against her (Esther ii. 1), where ‘decree refers to an order banishing a lady for being too modest for the king's drunken caprice. ‘Decree, however, is too weighty a word to be allowed to become capricious; its fiats are too enduring to admit of being wilful. For this reason, and since individuals possessing license so unlimited and productive of such lasting results could scarcely avoid abusing it, the appli- cation of the word in this latter sense is generally restricted to the mandates of judicial and legislative boards. When several take counsel and decide in com- mon, the peremptory absolutism of the word is modified, and, at the same time, maintained in its original dignity, QO THE ENGLISH VIERBS OF COMMAND. by distribution. A characteristic trait of the English is reflected in this restriction. Their independence does not lightly intrust the power to decree to an individual; their historical tendency to keep public authority within bounds, on the contrary, disposes them to divide and portion it out, when it has to enforce absolute sway. The Senate decrees, the Court of Justice decrees. Freedom of decision, united with plenary power, is well expressed in the technical use of the word in the Courts of Equity. The Courts bearing this name, it is well known, differ from the ordinary Courts of Law in this, that while in the latter the law requires to be literally carried out, the former have the right to unravel extraordinary com- plications by inferences drawn from existing statutes. Such decisions, in which much is necessarily left to the discretion of the arbiters, are called ‘decrees, in contra- distinction to the ‘judgments’ of the Courts of Law. W. ENJOIN. ‘Enjoin’ conveys a command, binding indeed, but solely based upon an appeal to our moral nature, and proceeding from a person whom we sufficiently respect to accord to him the right of moral control. It is a serious word, whose peremptory tone is taken from, and yet, at the same time, modified by, its moral quality. Where a person can only exhort, and not command, the coercion implied in the word comes out all the more beautifully as the result of moral power; while, when he who enjoins occupies a higher Social position, which might enable him to compel, the peremptory ingredient in the meaning is indeed emphasised, but we are still reminded that force will not really be applied, but, for the time, is replaced by an earnest and confident appeal to judgment and conscience. We have the former case when ‘enjoin’ is used by the aged and venerable to the young and immature, or by God to man. In contexts of this nature THE ENGLISH VERBS OF COMMAND. 9I f ‘enjoin' is resorted to when the one commanding wishes to act, not as a despot, but as an earnest counsellor, mov- ing us chiefly by the moral urgency of his remonstrance: the more gentle the means that is to exercise so marked an effect, the more surely must it address itself to the unsophisticated depths of the soul. The second case occurs when ‘ enjoin' is employed by a ruling person, or One socially our superior. Leontes, in the ‘Winter Night's Tale, iii. 3, says: “We enjoin thee, as thou art liegeman to us.” As a king he might have commanded; but he is speaking to one he trusts; he is adverting to an exceedingly delicate business which troubles him; and So he prefers to secure intelligent zeal rather than to exact passive obedience. ‘On thy soul’s peril and thy body's torture,’ he goes on, strengthening the moral appeal. In the more legitimate use of the word, the moral aspect of the meaning being more important than the autho- Titative, the purport of the injunction is usually a general moral duty rather than a precise, single act. ‘Father enjoined diligence and reticence upon us,’ rather than “Father enjoined us to quit this town after his death.’ VI. CHARGE. To charge is to make an earnest injunction, and hold others responsible for its fulfilment. The responsibility imposed is the essential element in the word. To slight its behests is to neglect a moral or a social obligation. So that when an equal or a subordinate charges his equal or , his superior, the injunction made can only be grounded on an appeal to the other's conscience, and thus approaches the nature of a religious adjuration: ‘A poor man may charge a king to tell the truth.' Whilst, when a superior resorts to this solemn form of command in addressing an inferior, appeal to moral agencies is replaced by reference to social relations, and the threat of earthly punishment takes its place. “As you love our favour, 92 THE ENGLISH VERBS OF COMMAND. I, the king, charge you to forget this quarrel’ (Shake- speare's ‘Henry VI., I, iv. 1). Yet this reminder of unpleasant consequences in case of disobedience does not necessarily exclude an appeal to the inner man, and only the context can decide whether the bidding is addressed to conscience or fear. This decision is not always an easy one. The follow- ing four examples illustrate the four possible cases. In the first case, both the levers of fear and conscience are evenly worked to move compliance; in the second, it is doubtful whether the one is not more forcibly applied than the other; in the third and fourth, one or the other is preferably used. “And the Lord charged him to do his bidding, as he valued his life, and the life of his soul.” God, to whom both souls and bodies are subject, will punish both if He see His command set aside. ‘Strong as the rebels were, the general charged them to lay down their arms, reminding them of their duty towards their country, and alluding to the possibility of severe repression.’ Which is he more vehemently insisting upon—the duty of patriotism or the expediency of yielding to force : The way the sentence is put says little about it. The general dwells as much upon patriotism as upon force, without giving either a de- cided preponderance. He does indeed mention patriotism first, which points to his laying special emphasis upon it. But concerning patriotism, rebels are apt to have their own peculiar views, and the general cannot count upon producing any very great impression with that argument. The general consequently alludes to fear, which, in the circumstances, is a surer agency, and must doubly recommend itself to him, whose calling warrants the application of force. But then he can only point to force from afar, as it is not on the spot. So that the weaker motive is the first put into requisi- tion, while the stronger can only be regarded as acces- sory, being by circumstances prevented from taking im- THE ENGLISH VFRBS OF COMMAND. 93 mediate effect. Through this mutual neutralising action, the problem, which motive has the stronger emphasis, is rendered insoluble. It would be otherwise if it ran : ‘The general charged the rebels to lay down arms, telling them distinctly that his troops were ready for attack, and also speaking of the duty of the subject to obey the behests of the king.' Here it is all clear. The general speaks as a soldier. He has the necessary troops at his disposal, and his words leave no doubt that he relies upon the sword, although he may not leave re- monstrance altogether untried. So conversely: ‘The clergyman charged the rebels to lay down arms, dwell- ing in a long and earnest speech upon their duty towards the king, and winding up with a hint at the probable disastrous consequences of continued disobedi- ence.’ Here, too, no doubt is possible as to whether duty or fear is principally dwelt upon. It is the priest's office to move the soul; and it is plainly stated that he has confined himself to religious arguments, glancing only at the disastrous results contingent upon rebellion against the secular power. In keeping with the serious admonition implied, charge has always a momentous purpose in view. Whether it concern a single action, or a continuous line of conduct, its object is something of importance. When a man in a superior position gives a charge to his inferior, he lays special emphasis on the consequence he attaches to the execution of his Orders, representing the behest at the same time as necessary on intrinsic grounds, and, indeed, as indispensable. Appeal to another's duty keeps caprice within bounds in his own breast. In this qualification of ‘charge there is latent something like a moral sanc- tion, which, even though the Order may be given for purely selfish purposes, has a tendency to make it appear legitimate, and in harmony with the common good. This aspect of the word is fully realised in the numerous in- stances in which the common good really is the object of 94 THE ENGLISH VIERBS OF COMMAND. the charge given. It is still more strikingly disclosed when charge is used by an inferior speaking to his Superior. Being in a dependent position, how could he dare to attempt to overcome his superior by an invocation of conscience, were the inferior not certain that truth and virtue fought on his side 2 VII. DICTATE, This is a harsh order proceeding from an arbitrary and wilful quarter, which has might on its side, but not neces- sarily right. The word's distinctive trait is the emphasis laid upon arbitrariness. When said of One entitled to command, the grating keynote of its meaning is felt in the impression given, that more is exacted than should be, or at least, that the language held is unnecessarily imperious and arrogant. Though the right to command may admit of being vindicated on moral grounds, the same unpleasant undertone is plainly heard, and Swells to a piercing disson- ance when the oppressor's title is, wholly or partially, based upon social or other purely external circumstances: ‘Father was a little inclined to dictate to us;” “An impe- rious master is apt to dictate to those whom he had better consult.’ In the commonest application, however, not only do the commands given appear overbearing, but the act of commanding itself is represented as an unrighteous and domineering exercise of power founded on the adven- titious possession of the means: ‘An arrogant millionaire is in the habit of dictating to his betters.’ Power in a position to take liberties is imposing, and must be obeyed. As a redeeming point, however, it seldom cares to control the business of the passing hour with the expenditure of Severity and menacing haughtiness ingrained in the word. ‘Dictate’ generally gives rules of conduct, not for the moment, but for whole periods, or for ever. “He dictated the rules by which we were to be guided.’ THE ENGLISH VERBS OF COMMAND. 95 But if the arrogance of the word is too great and too deliberate to condescend to short-lived orders, rendered obsolete by the press of events as soon as executed, it is, on the other hand, too jealous to leave the more per- manent directions in which it rejoices, to be interpreted or fashioned by others. To impose detailed and exacting regulations about objects of a general nature is a signi- ficant feature of the word. A general cannot dictate to an officer to lead on the troops, which would be to throw away dictatorial stringency on an occasion perfectly suited to the more regular and quiet authority of command. But when a military leader says, that, having defeated the enemy, he will dictate the terms of peace, he plainly announces his intention to impose his will rigorously in an important and enduring settlement, including all manner of details. When dictation is founded upon right, it need not be used in the interests of the dictator, but may be employed for the good of those dictated to. As, for instance, when used by God, by rulers and parents, by Reason and Virtue. But if coercion originates in no better title than power, the suspicion creeps in that a reckless appli- cation is made of force to benefit the dictator at the cost of him to whom he dictates. He who cannot hide his own arrogance will scarcely consider the interests of others. It depends on the context, to what extent selfish- ness is seen to display her ugly frame above the boiling seas of insolence. If shown off at full length, dictate’ becomes the address of the unrelenting victor to his routed foe. VIII. PRESCRIBE. A prescription is a dictation raised to the higher ground of right and benevolence. Like ‘dictate,’ ‘prescribe’ gene- rally gives rules for lasting observance; but it derives its authority, not from power, but from Superior know- ledge, and it is actuated, not by arrogance, but by the wish 96 THE ENGLISH VERBS OF COMMAND. to do good to others. Hence it chiefly gives moral direc- tions, while ‘dictate’ serves all sorts of purposes. When its aim is the good of the person prescribed for, its appeal to reason is the more noticeable, and its autho- ritative ingredient the less apparent — ‘Wrath-kindled gentlemen, be ruled by me : Let's purge this choler without letting blood; This we prescribe, though no physician : Forget, forgive.”—Richard II., i. 1. But, when the common good is the object of prescrip- tions addressed to an individual, we are wont to recom- mend unquestioning obedience to judicious and beneficial directions. In both cases, scrupulous observance of the prescription given is taken for granted: in the first, because the person to whom it is addressed obeys willingly, being convinced of the soundness of the authoritative advice administered ; and in the second, because inherent reasonableness is as- sumed to possess incontestable cogency, and compliance follows of course. The power to ‘prescribe’ is the triumph of reason. In its confidence of certain efficacy, we see ignorance, passion, and ill-will subdued by judgment and right. God prescribes that portion of His ordinances which we are able to comprehend. The wise, who have a right to prescribe, show wisdom in the appropriateness of their prescriptions, and give none unless they think they can expect a certain obedience to reason in the person pre- scribed to. We talk of prescribing laws to an erring people, since, however far astray it may go, in the sifting action of the forces at work in a nation's life, the utility of what is really good is likely to be recognised at last. But it never would occur to any one to attempt to exercise the logical constraint of ‘prescribe’ on a man wild with anger or mad from mental disease. The argumentative command, which impresses upon THE ENGLISH VERBS OF COMMAND. 97 the Word its stamp of rational authority, causes it to be frequently employed in two specific modes of speech, the One properly belonging to it, the other catachrestical. The moral right to prescribe is sometimes attributed to the wise, who have a legal claim to supremacy as well, it being considered desirable to regard the powerful as intelligent. Kings, and, still more generally, theocratic priests, who pro- fess to unite temporal power with inspiration from on high, are held to prefer prescription to command. Being but too well aware of their own fallibility, and longing for an un- erring standard of action, mankind, formerly at least, loved to ascribe the power of granting them this priceless boon to those who govern the world. ‘The Jews called upon their king, asking him to prescribe the ordinances which were to govern them.’ And thus the term came to be used for every permanent direction emanating from persons of high standing, however Small the amount of wisdom required to give it. ‘I, Artaxerxes, the king, do make a decree to all the treasurers, that whatever Ezra shall require of you be done speedily, unto a hundred talents of silver, and to a hundred baths of oil, and salt without prescribing how much.” After this complimentary fashion sliding down into the region of mere command, ‘prescribe’ ultimately came to admit of an ironical perversion of meaning. In this Secondary and improper use, the commanding element is paramount indeed, but only to be exhibited as unreasonable. In examples of this sarcastic nature ‘prescribe’ is used precisely of those persons whose only title to dispense advice is their own vanity and conceit ; as in ‘A coxcomb sets to prescribe to wise men; ’ ‘Nothing is so tyrannical as ignorance, where time and long possession enable it to prescribe.” IX. DIRECT. ‘Direct’ is ‘prescribe’ applied to the common concerns of life, and suitably moderated in the stringency of its command. Like ‘prescribe, it derives its authority from G 98 THE ENGLISH VERBS OF COMMAND. Superior knowledge and appeals primarily to the co-operative judgment of others. Referring, however, as it usually does, not to permanent arrangements which call for general rules, but to mere passing events which need only momentary steerage and skill, the wisdom which directs is more prac- tical and its rule less absolute than that which prescribes. It dwells in the open tableland of commonsense, and in respect of the director and directed, as well as of the occa- sion for direction, is essentially a business-like and work- a-day type. In a definite case before him, the experienced director points the way to be taken. He to whom the direction is given is likely to comprehend, appreciate, and follow. And finally, the occasion, though belonging to the circumstances of everyday life, is one which requires somewhat detailed instructions. Otherwise there would be no cause for alluding to the superior knowledge of the director, and appealing to the intelligence of the directed. In its proper use, direct is confined to occasions too com- plicated or too new to be mastered by the one directed without guidance. A bare order is of no use if he to whom it is addressed is unequal to the task. ‘Wisdom is profit- able to direct’ (Eccles. X. IO). And, with express reference to the explanation which follows, ‘I’ll first direct my men what they shall do with the basket’ (Shakespeare, ‘Merry Wives, iv. 2); and ‘We’ll direct her how 'tis best to bear it’ (Shakespeare, ‘All's Well, iii. 7). When used by a person of consequence, ‘direct' approxi- mates command. So closely, indeed, that in cases of this nature ‘direct’ often stands for ‘command, and might be entirely merged in the overpowering tendency of imperious- ness did it not retain a milder tone from being originally meant to guide the mind. If a gardener directs his assistant to prune the trees, it is difficult to decide to what extent the direction is intended to teach or else to command. The decision depends upon the amount of gardening knowledge possessed by the assistant. If the assistant already know his work, then command is sufficient; if not, it must be THE ENGLISH VERBS OF COMMAND. 99 Supplemented by instruction. But if the secretary of some minister is ‘directed by Lord A. to request you to accord him the pleasure of an early interview,’ he clearly refers not to any didactic instruction, but to a laconic order, politely designated by his superior as a ‘direction.’ Where the director and the directed are equals, the rational guidance conveyed in the word exercises an influence to which we seem to be obliged to Submit. In reply to my inquiry the gentleman directed me to take the second turning to the left and then proceed due South. Of course I follow his directions. He knows his way about town. I don’t. The purpose of the direction depends upon the chang- ing relations between the director and the directed. When it comes from one in a superior position, he may have his own interest in view; or if he be a government official, that of the public service. If a man directs his equal, the advantage of either may be the motive ; and in the same way, if a moral or immoral purpose be specified, the connection is no hindrance to the use of the word. To all these distinctions our vocable is utterly indifferent, offering itself as it does with equal readiness as an appro- priate instrument and means to any end. It is a rational word which prefers instruction to command, and convic- tion to compulsion. But its skill in dealing with men exceeds its zeal to serve a good cause. For purpose or aim it cares nothing. X. APPOINT. * Appoint' gives detailed directions, accentuating the rational end and the fitting means. Its authority is de- rived from passing or permanent social superiority. It claims no particular dignity, or virtue, or intelligence which, however, by the context may be infused into the word. As regards the Somewhat peremptory tone assumed . IOO THE ENGLISH VERBS OF COMMAND. by it, this is moderated and kept within reasonable limits by the implied pursuit of some judicious plan and the presumption of suitable directions given for its execution. Sufficiently active for all purposes of direction and sway, the element of arbitrary power contained in the term is kept within bounds by the reflection incidental to its pru- dent use. Through reason combating caprice the level of the word has been gradually raised, and lifted from out of the foaming ocean of command to the terra firma of expe- diency and sense. The progress of this moral elevation admits of being historically traced. Whilst ‘I appoint that you shall do a thing’ was a familiar form of speech in the olden times (cf. Shakespeare, ‘Merry Wives, iv. 6; 2 Sam. xv. 15), the gradual introduction into the meaning of a more reasoning element has sufficiently advanced to-day to cause a man to be “appointed” not so much in the sense of command as by way of selection. Selection, an act of the reasoning faculties, has become at least equally potent in the word as command, which is a mere self-assertion of the will. Pushing on resolutely into the realm of the reasonable, from the judicious starting-point of “select and direct,” the word has reached still higher ground, where it may be seen to pass for “determine conjointly and agree.” Trom this acceptation the notion of command has been altogether expelled by judgment and deliberation. There is a lesson conveyed in the history of the eventful verb. It is interesting to compare ‘appoint’ with ‘direct.’ ‘Direct, even in these liberalising days, is kept in the sphere of command by the Superior knowledge it assumes. ‘Appoint,’ on the other hand, which in the olden days confidently undertook to manage affairs without caring to claim any particular experience or Sagacity, thanks to the emancipating influence of civilisation, has had to acquiesce latterly in arrangements based upon insight and sanctioned by compromise. . THE ENGLISH VERBS OF COMMAND. IO I In another feature “appoint' and ‘direct’ are closely related terms. Both are essentially temperate. “Appoint,’ for the reasons just stated, and ‘direct' on account of the judiciousness inherent in it, have long been purged of whatever harshness there might have been originally lurk- ing in them. Hence they have become qualified for recep- tion into modern official language, which habitually repre- sents government authority as resting on both reason and expediency. XI. BID. A word including the whole scale of demand, which extends successively from ‘beg” to “wish, from “wish' to ‘require, and from ‘require’ to ‘command.’ The fundamental note distinctly heard through all these chromatic modulations is an urgent desire expect- ing fulfilment. Confidence in the fulfilment of a wish expressed, which we find strong in the word, has caused its meaning to incline gradually more to the side of com- mand, and less and less to that of Supplication. So late as in Shakespeare's time, telling Lady Macbeth to pray to God, King Duncan expresses himself in these terms: ‘I teach you how you shall bid God.' Blended with persuasion and advice, a somewhat more urgent form of request is found in ‘Much Ado about Nothing’ (iii. I), when the servant is to desire her mistress to hide in the shade and to listen: “Bid her steal into the pleached bower.’ A passage in the Book of Numbers (xiv. IO) marks a further advance in intensity, where the Jews, in passionate excitement, require their leaders to let them stone the spies who had been sent out into Canaan: ‘All the con- gregation bade stone them with stones.’ Here we still have a request addressed to a Superior, but assuming an authoritative character by its tumultuous delivery and the threatened rebellion. In the further stages which I O2 THE ENGLISH VERBS OF COMMAND. the meaning of the word has to traverse, the demand becomes ever more emphatic, until it reaches command confident of ready obedience. A passage in Shakespeare's ‘Richard III.' (ii. 1) shows the transition to a harsher tone: ‘Bid me kill myself and I’ll do it.’ Obedience being spontaneously offered, in this case to neglect the command were still possible. A similar proffer of obedience is implied as a proper and necessary thing in Peter's speech, Matt. xiv. 28, ‘Lord, if it be thou, bid me come to thee on the water.' Going still further, and actually expressing a sense of the duty of obedience, the elders say to Jehu (2 Kings x. 5), ‘We are thy servants, and will do all thou shalt bid us.” The last traces of the old meaning disappear when God Himself commands and requires absolute submission: ‘And Joshua did unto them as the Lord bade him ' (Josh. xi. 9). A certain use of ‘bid’ unites the greater part of these meanings, and is specially indicative of its varying sense. ‘Bid’ is said with a peculiar emphatic, half-threatening accent when something is urgently desired which the speaker fancies the other is inclined to refuse. Here its defective title to any sort of hest is vigorously supported by passion, causing the angry demand of the illegitimate ‘bid’ to reach almost to the quiet force of the conscious and lawful ‘command.’ But yet an element of uncertainty is introduced by the implied refusal of the other party, which countervailing the intensified demand, makes the sense of the word relapse into even vaguer obscurity than that which Ordinarily encompasses it. In point of fact, the inner sense of the word is shrouded in such inveterate ambiguity, that any attempt to strengthen it by the em- phasis of passion at Once raises a doubt as to whether compliance will be accorded : ‘Drink, servant monster, when I bid thee' (Shakespeare, ‘Tempest, iii. 2). The three last examples mark the points upon which the meaning of the word most frequently turns. With- THE ENGLISH VERBS OF COMMAND. IO3 out proving his title to command, he who bids expresses a wish in the earnest desire that it will meet with fulfilment. It depends entirely upon circumstances Whether this desire is understood as an urgent request or a specific command. It may appeal to the feelings, or to the judgment, or to duty. In the two former cases pro- minence is given to the person, as in the last to the posi- tion of him who bids. ‘Bid her have good heart’ (‘Antony and Cleopatra, v. I) is only an earnest request ; ‘I bade him reflect” is a forcible appeal to reason; ‘She bade him lay three covers’ is an order given to a subordinate, whose compliance is ensured by his dependent position. Allowing the nature and force of its claim to remain un- certain, ‘bid' is no word for officers, officials, and parents. Except in anger or when opposed by disobedience, parties in this position are likely to consider their authority as too well established to refer to it in such dubious language. Even when approaching to command, “bid’ is more appropriate to occasions arising out of temporary circumstances than of actual subordination (“My friend bade me attack one robber, and leave the two others to him '); or else, if it be used toward a subordinate, it usually concerns such insignificant trifles as make it unnecessary to specify the right to command ( Bid the servant pass on before us,’ I Sam. ix. 27). The latter application was extremely fre- quent 150 years ago. Altogether, it is characteristic of the change of manners that ‘bid’ was in much more constant use in former times than it is now. Then it was employed for urgent requests between equals as well as for ordinary commands to subordinates; now polite- ness requires more complaisance to one's equals, while the growing independence of subordinates forbids us, even when we command them, to speak of it. In mo- dern intercourse with equals we ask, request, and urge; dependants we no longer bid, but tell, or, at most, ask. That which unfits the word for military purposes gives IO4. THE ENGLISH VERBS OF COMMAND. it an established position in poetry. If the captain has his commission in his pocket, which invests him with an indisputable right to command, feelings act, work, and operate without their authority being always precisely examined or generally recognised. Violent feeling finds in itself the right to rule, and loves to proclaim its demands by means of a word which, whilst it declines to prove its authority, has yet an imperative tone. ‘Friendship bids me,” “Honour bids me,’ ‘Love bids me,’ are protestations which Shakespeare puts into the mouth of his heroes. Still more abstract figures, such as ‘The minute bids me,’ ‘His labours bid him, are not wanting in the classic poet. Ever since, ‘bid” has remained a favourite word with poets. Well-nigh banished from daily life, because it leaves mutual relations half indefinite and half emphasised on the un- popular side of personal superiority, “bid' lives immortal in the realm of verse, just because it is at once vague and urgent. To fully display the wide and vague notion contained in the word, we have yet to state, that besides the many shades of demand already noticed, “bid’ includes the oppo- site sense of giving and of proffering. It is an unsolved etymological problem whether both meanings have sprung from one root, or whether two roots originally different in sense and sound have, by phonetic decay, coalesced into the one word ‘bid.' If the former, “bid ' is an example of the primitive period when the human mind was Wrest- ling with the task of framing language, and in its laborious struggles resorted to denoting opposites by the same root.* SUMMARY. For a comparative review of the foregoing words various methods may be adopted, according to the purpose pur- sued. * See ‘The Origin of Language.” THE ENGLISH VERBS OF COMMAND. IO5 Each word may be placed side by side with all the others, and examined as to similarities and differences; or the traits common to all these words may be consi- dered and illustrated in their various intensities and colouring; or the disparities peculiar to individual words may be contrasted ; or we may class the words according to their most important shades of meaning, and follow, within this narrower range, the first, second, or third method, or all three. Each method has its peculiar advantages. The first gives the most varied pictures. Comparing similar and dissimilar words, it yields a medley of unlike results. While some display slight distinctions only, others con- front absolute contradictories. Where the most preg- nant points of comparison alone are admitted, as in the fourth method, slight distinctions reappear with par- ticular nicety. Absolute antitheses are of less interest, since the more different the words the less profitable the comparison. Like the things which they represent, words must be closely related for any intellectual profit to arise from consideration of their differences. By the second and third methods order and lucidity are introduced into the less systematic arrangement of the first. These two bring into view the various ingredients of the meaning; trace them into the involved meshes of the more general notion, and discover their presence and force with or without consideration of the signification as a whole. Both these methods prominently call for the abstract energy of the metaphysician, who ranges the universe in categories to attain to general conceptions freed from phenomenal change. They could not certainly ignore the national colouring which is seen in every particle of a word's meaning, if looked at sufficiently closely ; but severing the connection between the different parts of a signification, they are apt to impair observation of the specifically national, which, generally speaking, is more visible in the combination of IO6 THE ENGLISH VERBS OF COMMAND. elements than in any one element alone. To take an illus- tration from our own subject: the peremptory element in ‘command’ is met with in other idioms. What gives the word its peculiar English stamp is the combination of this peremptoriness with the right upon which it rests and the purpose which it fulfils. This particular com- pound is found to exist in no other language in exactly the same proportions. But the discovery of this remark- able fact will be scarcely assisted by first investigating the peremptoriness of all the words in this group, next the right, and lastly their aim. Even if, in considering the one, the other two points are carefully kept in view, the feeling of proportion is weakened by allowing a seeming equality to all. Instead of the photograph of an organic being, analysis of this mechanic nature is liable to degenerate into the dis- section of its severed limbs. In the fourth method we have the most effectual means of realising idiomatic peculiarities by comparison of synonyms. Classifying words according to the most important ingredients of their meanings, we secure a suitable standard for gauging their intellectual structure. We lay special weight upon what is characteris- tic, grouping subordinate points according to their minor import. In classing ‘command, for instance, we shall not, under the fourth method, start from the idea of utility, which is weak, but from that of the charge, which is strong in the word. Conversely, we do not begin the analysis of ‘pre- scribe’ with the notion of charge, because in this parti- cular term it is merged in that of utility, which, being the essential element of the signification, should there- fore take prominence in the investigation. When com- mon to several words, these salient points offer natural names of species under which to arrange the different groups and note their distinctive aspects. Sometimes, when several meanings are each equally potent in and characteristic of a word, it will have to be ranged under several categories, to be inspected from different points of THE ENGLISH VERBS OF COMMAND. Io'7 view. So that, in this fourth method, we not only allow each language to supply its own categories, which is equally the case with the second and third methods, but also accord to each word its place in the category to which it pre-eminently belongs. In the prominent and pervading notions forming the heads of classes we see the principal points grasped by the national intellect; in the relation of these to the individual word we discern the different shades of colour admixed to the prevailing hue. Hence this method best unites comprehension and criticism, per- Spicacity and perspicuity. We shall successively avail ourselves of all these methods. The first has been already pursued to some extent, each word in what precedes being examined as to its specific relation to the general notion of command. The fourth will be specially discussed later on. Mean- while the purposes of all four are equally served by the following table. If read vertically, our systematic synopsis shows the occurrence of the same shades of meaning in different words, and, according as these are frequent or rare, answers the objects of the second or third methods. Read horizontally, it exhibits the entire contents of a signification in all its constituent parts, and according as the anatomy of the more or less nearly related words is compared, sets forth the results of the first and fourth methods. For ease of reference the definitions of the table are concisely worded, and hence require to be supplemented by the illustrations which precede and follow. 3. Binding or not. 4. Purpose defined or not. 5. Object. 6. Proceeding from : Binding. Binding. The moral appeal is sufficiently powerful to act per- emptorily. The purpose avowed- ly depending on the will of the person commanding, re- quires no definition. Accentuated only in so far as every moral action is an end in itself. Important moral and secular concerns. More frequently a general moral duty than a single right action. (I.) From God. (2.) I'rom high secular authority. (3.) From men of such charac- ter as to command authority in matters of right and wrong. (4.) From any one to whom passing cir- cumstances give the right to absolute command. I. Command is based upon : 2. Kind of title. Command Order . . . Enjoin . . . High personal or acquired digni- ty, or irresis- tible power. Moderate, ac- quired rank; or social or mer- cantile rela- tions, which, even when tem- porary, give a kind of superio- rity. An appeal to our moral nature, to our sense of what is right and good. Tsually but not necessarily mo- ral. It may also be derived from high social position or irre- sistible power. Social or merely conventional. Strong remind- er of God, vir- tue, and moral duty. Binding, or conven- tionally considered so. Arising from ar- rangements concern- ing little things, and therefore easily to be altered. Purpose defined; the purpose to keep up the routine of social life. No special con- sideration of either end or means. Directions for the or- dinary business of life, especially of a subordinate nature, and given to subor- dinates. (I.) Persons who have a moderately high rank in the social scale, permanently or for a time. (2.) Merchants, custom- ers, and all such as, for the moment, oc- cupy a sort of social vantage-ground. Every person whom we sufficiently re- spect to allow him to make an appeal to our moral self. J 3. DeCree . . Irresistible, in- disputable pow- er, acting from its own free will. IMoral or other- wise. The more surely to direct this absolute power to moral ends, it is not usu- ally accorded to individuals, but mostly belongs to corporations. Binding. Too powerful to need, and too domineering entirely to omit, such definition. Means to regulate state affairs by deliberate com- mands. To order, define, and finally adjust both the current affairs of the world and eternal destinies. Bid . . . . Ordain . . mand, made in the earnest de- sire that it will be granted. The highest tit dom, and grace, exist in the su and earthly pow An urgent de-Social or moral; generally the former. le of might, wis- such as can only preme heavenly €I’S. Ranging from request to demand. Depen- dent upon the rela- tions of the persons concerned and the situation of the mo- ment. Binding. Not accentuated, or only in so far as an urgent request im- plies an interest in its fulfilment. It proceeds from too sublime a source to need any emphasis on its purpose, which, it is self- evident, can be no- thing less than our moral improvement, and that of the whole world. Single acts, social, moral, or mental. The two latter, be- cause they cannot be absolutely com- manded, are spe- cially suited to the doubtful intensity of the word. (Ibid you reflect ; he bade him mind his duty.) To cause us to strive for moral improve- ment. Generally great religious or moral duties pre- scribed to nations and worlds, not to individuals. Sel- dom single actions. Those who rather em- phasise their will than their title to command, although social, personal, or moral titles are not wanting. See first and second columns. Supreme earthly and heavenly powers. 3 6. Proceeding from : Superior know- ledge and the wish to do good, generally united with a personal position which disposes others to submit will- ingly to those Qualities in the person prescrib- ing. The moral title derived from the wish to do good to our fellow- IOleIle Appeals to the know- ledge and character of the individual. Its power lies chiefly in the reasonableness of the prescription given; and is, there- fore, pretty certain of compliance from whosoever possesses average intelligence and conscientious- Ile SS, Moral teaching. Used also in reference to single transactions, when having a seri- ous influence on the circumstances and welfare of him to whom the prescrip- tions are addressed. The good of one or several, generally in relation to his or their earthly wel- fare. From any one having the power, , which need neither be legi- timately obtained nor permanently wielded. From the wise and good. From those in power who are wise and good, and wish to act by virtue of these qualities. The power they possess is that of personal or social position, but never that of mere force. I. Command is based upon : 2. Kind of title. 3 Binding or not. 4. Purpose defined or not. 5. Object. Harsh arbitrari- ness carried to all extreme, resting upon personal, physi- cal, or social Superiority. Superior know- ledge with its appeal to the reason and com- mon sense of those directed. Whateverthe na- ture of its title, it is abused with dictatorial strin- gency and harsh oppression. Authority unde- fined, but most- ly implied in the certainty with which it awaits obedi- €IlC6, Dinding as long as dictator lasts. This word gives rea- sonable directions for the details of daily life. He who directs takes it for granted that the advisability of his directions and the superiority of his position will be duly recognised. the superiority of the Generally the inte- rest of the dictator; more rarely the ad- vantage of him to whom he dictates, or of others. Defined as right and expedient. Accord- ing to circumstances, it may be used in the interest of either the director or the directed. Generally not pass- ing directions, but rules for lasting ob- servance. The ex- penditure of force is too great to be wasted on single directions. By single directions to rule and order passing events. From him who has superior knowledge, and therefore claims authority, which may or may not be sup- ported by social rank. 5 Charge . . The power to hold others re- sponsible. Moral grounds or social rela- tions. (See Col- umn 4.) j Binding. It special- ly emphasises the responsibility to earthly or to hea- venly powers. Defined. To further the right, the good, or at least that which is necessary to the welfare of some or many. Frequently in relation to the public good, more rarely for the promotion of personal interests, which the word is apt to represent as coinciding with the general welfare, and in harmony with moral law. See Column 4. One who stands so high in rank or posi- tion that he pos- sesses, or at least may claim to possess, the power to punish. Or, from our equals, or even inferiors, who appeal to God, orthermoral agencies, to vindicate their de- mands, thereby using their utmost pres- SUlle, Appoint . Expedien cy, without wishing to claim any unusual intelli- gence or know- ledge. TJndefined. Binding in so far as it is appropriate. If the circumstances in which anything has been appointed were to alter, the probable expectation would be that the order would be suitably modified by him who first gave it. The reasonable pur- pose and the suit- ableness of the order are the most strongly marked features of the word. Daily affairs which are thought of suffi- cient importance to require careful and appropriate manage- ment. Superiors, or those to whom, in the in- terest of the matter in hand, we give a temporary obedi- ence, and who rather than command pre- fer to consider and decide what is best to be done in the circumstances. An appointment may be reciprocal. E II 2 THE ENGLISH VERBS OF COMMAND. Uniting finally essential features into a comprehensive tableau after the manner of the fourth method, we dis- cover the primary fact that in an advanced state of society most orders arise from the recognised nature and arrange- ment of things, and hence they have little which is arbi- trary about them. In a civilised country the duties inci- dental to the various professions and callings are so metho- dically organised, that there is rarely any occasion to issue imperious behests. In a cultivated age the mental capacity of men belonging to the same class is, moreover, so similar that, as long as things go smoothly, individuals scarcely ever alter the common manners and customs of their station, but act very much in grooves and by routine. Last, not least, commands given in such a state of Society are addressed to men politically free, and who are very little dependent, even pecuniarily and socially, on their em- ployers. Hence most commands of everyday life are far more frequently directions affecting the details of practical management than arbitrary dictates which raise fresh and unexpected claims. When the baker bids his apprentice to rise before daybreak to attend to the oven, the order is a matter of course, the only question left for personal deci- sion being whether a thing necessary to the trade shall be done half an hour sooner or later, which, again, depends less upon choice than upon the particular requirements of the shop. Receiving Such-like Orders, subordinates have no occasion to feel coerced. They are, on the contrary, perfectly aware that their movements are being directed only to an extent indispensable to the effectual perfor- mance of joint-work. The minimum of obedience exacted from persons in such independent positions is rendered palatable by the probability that the apprentice may later rise to his master's rank, when he himself will give the usual orders of his trade. All this tends to raise modern servants to the comparatively independent position of tem- porary helps. To persons in this comfortable situation directions are issued by means of the easy-going verb ‘order,’ THE ENGLISH VERBS OF COMMAND. II 3 * Command’ has become a rare word in the English language. You may peruse entire books without encoun- tering the haughty term. When you do encounter it, the word more commonly indicates the high rank and dignity of the person commanding, than the possession by this person of any arbitrary power and might. The Queen and the highest civil and military authorities alone, nowadays, habitually employ a term, once a standing phrase in the mouth of every one when addressing subor- dinates. In modern society the unpopular expression is only heard in the event of extreme circumstances justify- ing the application of extreme means. In moments of danger, or in a burst of passion, a gentleman will even now venture to ‘command' persons whom at other times he would not even “order.” In everyday life, ‘command’ to-day is almost proscribed, and belongs only to the violent and the brutal. On the other hand, virtue, wisdom, pru- dence, and other abstract agencies have recently taken upon themselves to command. The power of man over man is on the wane, whilst accredited spiritual power increases. In keeping with its innate arbitrariness, ‘command’ is backed by imposing force. Hence the question of the appropriateness of the command given Scarcely ever arises. Aiming at the transaction of the general business of Society, ‘order,’ on the contrary, is content with moderate power, and shuns reference to compulsion. The object in view, and the appropriate means to its attainment, are strongly marked in ‘appoint' and ‘direct.’ In many instances, whoever appoints might be able to command, but is wise and prudent enough to signify that he merely prescribes what is appropriate to the occasion. In ‘direct 'we are listening to one who knows what he is about, and whose authority, being founded upon intelligence, does not need to be propped up by any social scaffolding. Gradually receding before rational agencies, force is step by step ousted by intelligence and replaced by fitness. These four words have yet a closer relation. “Appoint' |H I I4. THE ENGLISH VERBS OF COMMAND. is ‘command” with a reasonable purpose plainly infused into absolute power; ‘direct ' is ‘order' with the rational design distinctly expressed. In their stricter sense, ‘ap- point ’ and ‘command ’ are too proud to allow the reason- ableness of their purpose to be discussed, or to be made dependent on any general standard of right and good; while ‘direct ' and ‘order' are too intelligent not to sub- mit to the accepted rules governing everyday life. In ‘direct’ this sensible colouring becomes so very vivid that it passes into a new and lighter shade of meaning—that of ordering for the good of a person, who, relatively and temporarily at least, may be regarded as one's inferior. We take this opportunity of noticing a peculiar kind of synecdoche, often repeated in the English language. Even when there is no need to express their peculiar shades of meaning, ‘ appoint' and ‘direct ’ are not unfre- quently put for the more general terms “ command ’ and ‘order.” In cases of this nature, their application is readily appreciated by the prevailing tendency of the English idiom to substitute for more general terms, likely to give offence, expressions of a narrower range and milder tone, and vice versa. This is the politeness of a cultivated tongue. If a general, without going into any details, says, ‘I had appointed the lieutenant should attack the village,’ he does not use ‘command, because he has no wish un- necessarily to glorify himself by the introduction of the high and mighty term. He accentuates the purpose in order to veil the order. In the same way, when a minister ‘directs’ his secretary to write a letter, it is frequently not because he gives him specially minute directions as to the contents, but because he has too much manner to waste ‘commands’ on So Small a matter, or he feels too much as a gentleman to use towards another gentleman the strict and more official phraseology of ‘order.’ A new feature is introduced into the class meaning of this copious and diversified notion of ‘command’ by ‘charge, accentuating responsibility. “Command ’ and THE ENGLISH VERBS OF COMMAND. II 5 ‘order” certainly hold likewise responsible, but without expressly saying so; ‘command’ is altogether too dic- tatorial to consider the means of forcing compliance in the improbable event of disobedience; ‘order’ is too indifferent to refer to the reprimand it might be able to inflict in case of neglect. Hence it needs a special word, which shall be neither too much exalted by power, nor too much dragged down by triviality, to include a threatening allusion to the responsibility of recalcitrants. ‘Charge, which fills up the gap, has always a serious undertone. The right to command is determined by the other parts of the meaning. Absorbed as they are in arranging the current affairs of life, and moving in narrow and plainly marked channels, none of the four words under discussion deem it necessary to specially assert themselves on moral grounds. Far from making any effort in this direction, all may lack the prerogative arising from moral claims. When they refer to it at all, we make the pleasant discovery that right is emphasised in proportion to force and intelligence. “ Appoint ’ has least. Often finding in its partialities a sufficient title for the exercise of its power, appoint' is content to follow its own special view of what is ap- propriate. Next comes ‘order.' Drawing its authority from social arrangements, held to be right in the main, it can afford to dispense with the mention of any special moral pretension. On the other hand, the power of ‘com- mand’ is so great, that where it relies upon social Superi- ority, freemen require it to accord with the demands of natural right. Were it to command without a legitimate title to the exercise of power, an English or American Government would be accounted an insupportable despot. Like ‘command,’ ‘charge ' and ‘direct' cannot always pro- duce an inherent justification of their right. When there, they, however, give it prominence and allow it to shine through the crust of their more ordinary and apathetic meaning. Boldly used by a subordinate addressing II6 THE ENGLISH VERBS OF COMMAND. his superior, ‘charge’ can only spring from moral right; while when ‘direct’ will not only teach, but also confer benefits by its teaching, its benevolent purpose becomes a recognised and most lawful warrant. Whilst ‘appoint’ gives appropriate orders and ‘direct’ appeals to our judgment, ‘charge” holds us responsible with an earnest reminder of duty. “Enjoin’ addresses itself to our conscience. Since it speaks to this spiritual mentor alone it is both strong and weak—compulsion for the good, a mere indifferent phrase to the wicked. It is preferably employed to inculcate permanent moral duties rather than accomplish anything of an ephemeral nature. It is handled by those who are our superiors through age, worth, and recognised merit, rather than by our equals or by subordinates, who can scarcely claim enough wisdom and weight to enable them to manage the momentum of this big word. United to the high consecrated power of king, priest, or sage, enjoin' becomes ‘ordain.” The notion so engen- dered is too sublime to distinguish between the various aims and objects of command. Whether transitory or per- manent, any command proceeding from ‘ordain’ is equally obligatory in consequence of the matchless dignity, purity, and might of its source. Through its lofty purpose it furthers the ultimate good of one and all. Through the formidable might embodied in the True and the Eternal, even when assuming the week-day garb of the Judicious and the Sensible, “ordain’ is absolutely binding. With reference to its object, “ordain’ is plainly distin- guished from ‘decree.” As it emphasises not so much the wisdom and worth as the overwhelming power of him who resorts to it, ‘decree may, but seldom does, have as lofty a purpose as ‘ordain.' Facing rather the external aspect of command, yet mostly sustained by intrinsic worth as well, ‘decree 'appropriately lends itself to the impres- sive mandates of kings and courts of justice. Though it may be merged in peremptoriness, its higher tone remains THE ENGLISH VERBS OF COMMAND. I 17 sufficiently audible to allow ‘decree’ to refer to passing and permanent ordinances, which are both raised in im- portance by the Superadded dignity of this lordly term. ‘Decree 'gives prominence to power, pushing wisdom and Worth into the background; the converse is the case with ‘prescribe’ and ‘ordain.” Albeit likewise claiming wisdom and benevolence within the narrower limits of its meaning, ‘prescribe’ allows power to become so weak that compulsion may even entirely disappear. Those whose title rests upon knowledge and sympathy rather than upon anything more elevated, ‘prescribe’ doctrines or lay down the law on currrent affairs. When used by those in power, ‘prescribe' flatteringly implies that they would rather guide and warn than compel and command. Its appro- priate use by doctors is self-evident, by teachers desirable, by rulers laudable. Depriving ‘decree’ of its intrinsic worth, but allowing it the continued enjoyment of external power, its arbitrari- ness is raised to the acme of ‘dictate.” That which it loses in wisdom and benevolence is replaced by imperious- ness; that which it forfeits in grand and lasting aims in this change for the worse, dictate’ makes up for in petty insolence. As ‘ Ordain’ and ‘decree hold no trifle too small to be made subservient to their solemn aims, the ready arrogance of dictate’ from sheer love of command aspires to lord it over everything, however great or small. Passing and permanent order, charge, direction, domina- tion, and decree are largely included in the comprehen- sive domain of ‘dictate.” Revelling in command, dictate ’ alike omits and declines to discriminate between purposes. Happily in a free and civilised commonwealth, dictate’ is as rare and extravagant as ‘ Order’ is common and sen- sible. Unless arising from an abuse of parental or con- jugal power, dictate’ in ordinary modern life is an insult offered to servility which submits to gain its private ends. We here reach the extreme dictatorial point of the concept, directly opposite to the tame and sensible ‘order’ from which we started. II.8 THE ENGLISH VERBS OF COMMAND. E X. A M P L E S. I. APPOINT. “My master has appointed me to go to Saint Luke's to bid the priest be ready to come.”—SHAKESPEARE, Taming of the Shrew, iv. 4. “His Majesty, Tendering my person’s safety, hath appointed This conduct to convey me to the Tower.” —SHAKESPEARE, King Richard III., i. 1. “A committee is immediately appointed to draw up the address, which is usually brought in the next day and ordered to be presented to Her Majesty.”—The Times, January 24, 1872. “Colonel Hutchinson has been appointed to inquire into accidents at Clayton Bridge and Glasgow.”—The Times, August 6, 1873. “ Unless he can prevail upon Lord Derby to fill the vacancy caused by the retirement of Lord Cairns, he must appoint some peer of secondary political rank to the place of leader in the House of Lords.”—Saturday Review, January 1, 1870. “Being appointed Home Secretary in the Aberdeen Mini- stry in 1852, his prompt and effective action in every part of his charge was a relief and comfort to the whole kingdom.”— Miss HARRIET MARTINEAU, Lord Palmerston. “The amendment to the fifth article of the Constitution, giving the Governor power to appoint the state officers, was defeated in the Assembly to-day by a vote of 76 to 42. Mr Davies of Washington was the only Democrat who voted for it.”—New York Evening Post, February 18, 1874. THE ENGLISH VERBS OF COMMAND. I IQ “Senator Johnson is ready to be heard on the pro rata. freight bill, and the Senate Railroad Committee will appoint a day this week for the hearing.”—New York Herald. “It was a Monday that was appointed for the celebration of the nuptials, and Miss Amelia Martin was invited, among others, to honour the wedding-dinner with her presence.”— DICKENS, Sketches : Characters, chap. viii. “This is the place I appointed.”—SHAKESPEARE, Merry Wives, iii. I. “It was by him that money was coined, that weights and measures were fixed, that marts and havens were appointed.” —MACAULAY, History of England, chap. i. “However the more spiritual minds may be able to rise and soar, the common man during his mortal career is tethered to the globe that is his appointed dwelling-place ; and the more his affections are pure and holy, the more they seem to blend with the outward and visible world.”—KING- LAKE, History of the Crimean War, vol. i. “His article on Dr. Francia was a panegyric of the halter, in which the gratitude of mankind is invoked for the self- appointed dictator who had discovered in Paraguay a tree more beneficent than that which produced the Jesuits’ bark.” —LOWELL, My Study Windows, Carlyle. “Dr. Tempest said he would be punctual to his appoint- ment.”—TROLLOPE, Last Chronicle of Barset. r II. BID. “Tailor : You bid me make it orderly and well, According to the fashion of the time.” —SHAKESPEARE, Taming of the Shrew, iv. 4. “And bid them bring the trumpets to the gate.” —SHAKESPEARE, Measure for Measure, iv. 5. “Ride forth and bid the deep Within appointed bounds be heaven and earth.” —MILTON, Paradise Lost, vii. 166. I2O THE ENGLISH VERBS OF COMMAND. “Love bade me swear, and love bids me forswear.” —SHAKESPEARE, Two Gentlemen of Verona, ii. 6. “Less than half we find expressed Envy bid conceal the rest.”—MILTON, Arcades, 14. “ Unjustly thou depravest it with the name Of servitude to serve whom God ordains Or Nature : God and Nature bid the same When he who rules is worthiest and excels Them whom he governs.” —MILTON, Paradise Lost, vi. 175. “Be it so, since he Who now is sovran can dispose and bid What shall be right.” —MILTON, Paradise Lost, i. 246. “What is an Englishman? Is he to be trampled upon by every oppressor Is he to be knocked down at every- body’s bidding What's freedom ? Not a standing army.”— DICKENS, Sketches: Characters, chap. v. “Bid the dishonest man mend.”—SHAKESPEARE, Twelfth Night, i. 5. “You may as well spread out the unsunned heaps Of miser's treasure by an outlaw's den, And tell me it is safe, as bid me hope Danger will wink on opportunity And let a single helpless maiden pass Uninjured in this wild surrounding waste.” —MILTON, Comus, 408. “When Meantragupta hears this, he disguises himself as an ascetic, proceeds to the king's court, and induces the amorous sovereign to follow his instructions. These are that the king shall visit a certain tank at midnight and bathe in its waters. By this means he will acquire ‘a new and beautiful body acceptable to the lady, and she will no more be troubled with the evil spirit.’ The monarch does as he is bid, and is pulled under water and strangled by his instructor, who has lain in wait for him in a hole constructed for the purpose in the dam.”—The Athenæum, April 12, 1873. ----- THE ENGLISH VIERBS OF COMMAND. I 2 I “In choosing a site for a vinery, we are bidden to seek a South slope sheltered from the north and east, but not shaded, and to avoid a low damp situation with the chance of stagnant water—inimical to all fruits—as a bane only equalled by the dry gravelly subsoil which suffers most and quickest from drought.”—The Saturday Review, April 19, 1873. “The squire, who did not as yet understand it all, bade him a formal adieu.”—TROLLOPE, Last Chronicle of Barset. “General Trochu, in his last speech, when bidding farewell to public life, warned his countrymen against the danger of legends and the stars and spangles of over-patriotic histo- rians.”—Pall Mall Gazette, March 4, 1873. III. CHARGE. “I do in justice charge thee, On thy soul's peril and thy body’s torture, That thou commend it strangely to some place Where change may nurse or end it.” —SHAKESPEARE, Winter's Tale, ii. 3. “I charge thee, As Heaven shall work in me for thine avail, To tell me truly.” —SHAKESPEARE, All's Well that Ends Well, i. 3. “Say from whence You owe this strange intelligence? or why Upon this blasted heath you stop our way With such prophetic greeting'ſ Speak, I charge you.” - —SHAKESPEARE, Macbeth, i. 3. “Adam and his race Charged not to touch the interdicted tree.” —MILTON, Paradise Lost, vii. 46. IV. COMMAND. “Commanded by Nero to put himself to death, and having selected bleeding in a warm bath as the mode of his death, I 22 THE ENGLISH VERBS OF COMMAND. we have a description of him to the last moment of conscious- ness, and we know that he made not the least mention in any way of the doctrines of Christianity.”—Westminster Review, January 1873. “Circumstances might eventually induce the Emperor to command that,” &c.—Sir A. BUCHANAN to Earl CLARENDON, Central Asian Papers, 1873, p. 24. “The vessel will be commanded by Captain Edington, who has had much experience in ocean cable-laying expeditions, having been engaged in that description of work since the year 1866.”—The Times, May 19, 1873. “No qualification could be more important to a man whose life was to be passed in organising great alliances and in com- manding armies assembled from different countries.”—MAC- AULAY, William, Prince of Orange. “I would give,” he once exclaimed, “a good part of my estates to have served a few campaigns under the Prince Condé before I had to command against him.”—MACAULAY, William, Prince of Orange. “The Emperor of Russia and the King of Prussia were present, and gave orders independently of each other and of the general nominally in command.”—The Saturday Review, April 19, 1873. “A stripling of few years' service, who has through the interest of a man who commands a borough been suddenly raised over the heads of his brethren to a lucrative post.”— Illustrated Review, February 20, 1873. “These important works . . . . enabled Russia to domi- nate the western portion of the steppe and to command the great routes of communication with Central Asia.”—Quarterly Review, 1865. “This phalanx of Ultramontanes and Home Rulers will command the situation.”—Pall Mall Gazette, March 19, 1873. “You are indeed monarch of these kingdoms, said Mar- garet ; but is it necessary to remind your Majesty that it is but THE ENGLISH VERBS OF COMMAND. I23 as I am Queen of England, in which I have not an acre of land, and cannot command a penny of revenue?”—SCOTT, Anne of Geierstein. “In a balanced parliament this party would be simply omnipotent, and might command for their country all the blessings for which she has long struggled without success.”— The Daily News. W. DECREE. “Father Eternal, Thine is to decree; Mine, both in heaven and earth, to do Thy will.” —MILTON, Paradise Lost. “If of my reign prophetic Writ hath told That it shall never end; so when begin The Father in His purpose hath decreed.” —MILTON, Paradise Regained, iii. 186. “What He decreed He effected. Man. He made, and for him built Magnificent this world.” —MILTON, Paradise Lost, ix. 151. “All hast thou spoken as my thoughts are, all As my eternal purpose has decreed.” —MILTON, Paradise Lost, iii. 171. “Fate, show thy force : ourselves we do not owe ; What is decreed must be, and be this so.” —SHAKESPEARE, Twelfth Night, ii. I. “We are decreed Reserved and destined to eternal woe.” —MILTON, Paradise Losi, ii. 160. “It provides that the sheriff may sell real estate under a decree of the court ; and if the sale is made by a referee, there shall no greater charge be made than the fees of the sheriff would be.”—New York Evening Post, February 18, 1874. I 24. THE ENGLISH VIERBS OF COMMAND. “An officer by decree notifies that a credit of 5oo,ooo francs has been opened in the budget of the city of Paris to establish additional soup kitchens.”—Illustrated London Wews, December 31, 1870. “The French Academy, containing the great body of the distinguished literary men of France, once sought to exercise such a domination over their own language, and if any could have succeeded, might have hoped to do so. But the lan- guage recked of their decrees as little as the advancing ocean did of those of Canute.”—TRENCH, Study of Words, iv. VI. DICTATE, “The physician and divine are often heard to dictate in private company with the same authority which they exercise over their patients and disciples.”—BUDGELL. “Russia appears to believe that her greater power gives her a right to dictate.”—Sir A. BUCHANAN to Earl CLAREN- DON, Central Asian Papers, 1873. “For many centuries, by its very situation, Nuremberg was able to dictate the traffic of Europe.”—North American Review : Nuremberg. “He was averse to dictate when the place did not seem to him to justify dictation.”—TROLLOPE, Barchester Towers, vol. i. chap. XX. “Yet the commonest dictates of natural justice might at least require that an author's family should not be beggared of their inheritance as soon as his own capacity to provide for them may have ceased.”—JoHN FORSTER, Life of Goldsmith. “Reason will dictate unto me what is for my own good and benefit.”—State Trials, “Thus the clearest dictates of reason are made to yield to a long succession of follies.”—EDWARD EVERETT, Prospects of Reform: THE ENGLISH VERBS OF COMMAND. I 25 “If the prudence of reserve and decorum dictates silence in some circumstances, in others prudence of a higher order may justify us in speaking our thoughts.”—BURKE, Reflections on the Revolution in France. “His refusal to attempt to form a Ministry at the present time was no doubt dictated by the conviction that his tempo- rary self-denial would soon receive its reward.”—Westminster Review. “The feelings which then dictated his proceedings were those of a young man at an agitating period.”—SCOTT, Waverley. “With regard to the action of the Government in not deal- ing with the subject before, this had been dictated by public considerations and the necessity for giving priority to matters of a pressing political character.”—Daily Telegraph. “This was the idée mere, as he often calls it, of his great work on the American Democracy: this engrossed and coloured all his thoughts and actions while an active politician : this dictated his last literary effort, ‘L'Ancien Régime,’ and haunted him to his latest hour.”—GREGG, Literary and Social Judg- ments : M. De Tocqueville. “They seldom improved or risked their great opportunity to demand obedience, in all cases, to the dictates of the golden rule.”—GREELEY, The American Conflict, vol. i. chap. ii. “His stout English heart swelled at the thought that the government of his country should be subject to French dicta- tion.”—MACAULAY, History of England. “She could not be led by Lily's advice. Her letter, what- ever it might be, must be her own letter. She would admit of no dictation.”—TROLLOPE, Last Chronicle of Barset. “Let them be taught, as matter of fact, that there is a book called the Old Testament, which is recognised by the Jews and by Christian nations as a sacred book; that this book is made up of a number of ancient books or writings written from time I 26 THE ENGLISH VERBS OF COMMAND. to time by men of the Hebrew nation, the latest of them being the writings of Malachi, who lived during the fifth century before the Christian era; that the writers are believed by Jews, and by many Christians, to have written the works under the inspiration, guidance, or dictation of God.”—West- minster Review, January 1873. º VII. DIRECT. “He had at first been minded to go on to Allington at once and get his work done, and then return home or remain there, or find the nearest inn with a decent bed, as circumstances might direct.”—TROLLOPE, Last Chronicle of Barset. “There is a story of a French married lady who desired to have a portrait of her lover, but directed the painter to make it as unlike him as possible, so that her husband might not recognise the features.”—Saturday Review. “Mr. Henry Atarner (), a Montreal banker, has attended on a subpoena before the Pacific Railway Investigating Com- mittee, and produced certain documents, together with an order directing him to hold them until ten days after the rising of the Dominion Parliament.”—The Times, May 19, 1873. “He was then furnished with money to make an expe- ditious journey, and directed to get on board the ship by means of bribing a fishing-boat, which he easily effected.”— SCOTT, Waverley. “Formal instructions given to the French Consul direct him to co-operate with Sir Bartle Frere.”—Times Telegram, April II, 1873. “He further directs me to request that the contents of this note be mentioned to no person whatsoever, and that the importance of total secrecy, even as to any meeting being held on your attendance there, will be quite apparent to you at the interview.”—New York Tribune. THE ENGLISH VIERBS OF COMMAND. 127 “These are merely a few of an infinity of points which would have to be definitively settled before it would be possible to direct by positive enactment on what principle and to what effect the Bible should be explained as part of a national system of Biblical teaching.”—Westminster Review, January 1873. “In order to make such an enactment legally effectual, the law must also direct that the violation of the enactment shall be legally punishable by some of its ordinary known punish- ments of whipping, fine, and imprisoment, which can only be inflicted by the ordinary course of legal prosecution and trial.”—Westminster Review, January 1873. “A chief who mighty nations guides, Directs in council and in war presides.”—POPE. “It is the business of religion and philosophy not so much to extinguish our passions as to regulate and direct them to valuable and well-chosen objects.”—ADDISON. “Wisdom is profitable to direct.”—Eccles. x. Io. “It required some exertion in Emmeline and Ellen to pur- sue their studies with any perseverance, now that the kind friend who had directed and encouraged them had departed.” —AGUILAR, Mother's ReCompense. “It was chiefly from the prevailing epidemic of licentious- ness—from the reckless patronage of novelty for the indefinite amount of excitement it promised—among the ruling and prominent classes of society that inspiration flowed upon the directing mind of France.”—Westminster Review, January 1873. “It is easy to imagine how deftly this theory would be manipulated by those who work the caucus machinery. Every Liberal organisation in the country would be directed to raise a shout for the clöture as the only means of quickening legis- lation, and any Liberal member who showed dislike for the gagging process would find himself denounced as a malignant obstructive.”—The Globe, March 4, 1882. I 28 THE ENGLISH VERBS OF COMMAND. VIII. ENJOIN. “We enjoin thee, As thou art liegeman to us, that thou carry This female bastard hence.” —SHAKESPEARE, Winter's Tale, ii. 3. “The doctor magnanimously suppressed his own inclina- tions, in deference to the rights of hospitality, which enjoined him to forbear interference with the pleasurable pursuits of his young friend.”—SCOTT, The Abbot, chap. xxvii. “At length, that grounded maxim, So rife and celebrated in the mouths Of wisest men, that—To the public good Private respect must yield—with grave authority Took full possession of me, and prevailed; Virtue, as I thought, and truth and duty so enjoining.” —MILTON, Samson Agonistes, 870. “Adam, well may we labour still to dress This garden, still to tend plant, herb, and flower, Our pleasant task enjoined.” —MILTON, Paradise Lost, ix. 205. “When any chance Relieves me from my task of servile toil Daily in the common prison else enjoined me.” —MILTON, Samson Agonistes, 6. “Raphael, After a short pause assenting, thus began : High matter thou enjoin'st me, O prime of men, Sad task and hard.”—MILTON, Paradise Lost, v. 563. “Wherefore, though I might be much bold in Christ to enjoin thee that which is convenient.”—Philem. 8. “He had no occasion to exercise that evening the duty en- joined upon him by his Christian faith.”—SCOTT, Bride of Lammermoor. “It endeavours to secure every man's interest by enjoining that truth and fidelity be inviolably preserved.”—TILLOTSON. THE ENGLISH VERBS OF COMMAND. I29 IX. ORDAIN. “As many as were ordained to eternal life believed.”— Acts xiii. 48. “The feast is ready, which the careful Titus Hath ordained to an honourable end, For love, for peace, for league and good to Rome.” —SHAKESPEARE, Titus Andronicus, v. 3. “For this did the Angel twice descend. For this Ordained thy nurture holy, as of a plant Select and sacred, glorious, for a while The miracle of men.”—MILTON, Samson Agonistes, 360. “Neither sea nor shore, nor air nor fire, But all these in their pregnant causes mixed Confusedly, and which thus must ever fight, Unless the Almighty Maker them ordain His dark materials to create more worlds.” —MILTON, Paradise Lost, ii. 915. “Unjustly thou depravest it with the name Of servitude to serve whom God ordains. Or Nature.”—MILTON, Paradise Lost, vi. 175. “But to a kingdom thou art born, ordained To sit upon thy father David's throne.” —MILTON, Paradise Regained, iii. 152. “Wast thou ordained, dear father, To lose thy youth in peace, and to admire The silver livery of advised age, And in thy reverence and in thy chair-days thus To die in ruffian battle '''' —SHAKESPEARE, 2 Henry VI., v. 3. “Preposterous ass, that never read so far To know the cause why music was ordained. Was it not to refresh the mind of man!” —SHAKESPEARE, Taming of the Shrew, iii. I. I I3O THE ENGLISH VERBS OF COMMAND. “And let them be for lights, as I ordain Their office in the firmament of heaven.” —MILTON, Paradise Lost, vii. 343. “For other things mild Heaven a time ordains.” —MILTON, Sonnets, xvi. II. “Our ancestor was that Malmirtius which Ordained our laws.” —SHAKESPEARE, Cymbeline, iii. I. “God will Himself ordain them laws.”—MILTON, Paradise Lost. “Meletius was ordained by Arian bishops, and yet his ordi- nation was never questioned.”—STILLINGFLEET. “When Henry died, the Archbishop and his suffragans took out fresh commissions, empowering them to ordain and to govern the Church till the new sovereign should think fit to order otherwise.”—MACAULAY, History of England, vol. i. X. ORDER. “The rays of the sun cannot shoot across the sky more swiftly than they will bear his chariot across the plain; but the necessity which orders all things is stronger and Swifter still.”—Edinburgh Review, January 1865. “It shows the genius of the Middle Age at its divine task, rearranging a world of ruin, correcting pagan profligacy by its religious spirit, and pagan insubordination by its military spirit, and ordering both through its two great faculties of fidelity and strength.”—The Nation, March 13, 1873. “Hast thou forgotten the order from thy superior, sub- jecting thee to me in these matters!”—SCOTT, The Abbot, chap. xii. “What have you to say why I should not order you to be ducked in the loch ’’-SCOTT, The Abbot, chap. xxvii. “At the preliminary examination in Arts in the Univer- sity of Edinburgh the day before yesterday, the ladies were THE ENGLISH VERBS OF COMMAND. I 3 I ordered to take their places in the Library Hall, where all the male students were assembled, and this without any notice whatever having been given to them that such would be the case.”—The Scotsman, March 19, 1873. “I can only say that I have heard nothing from the Bishop as yet. Of course, if he thinks well to order it, the inquiry must be made.”—TROLLOPE, Last Chronicle of Barset. “He said he should ask the House on Thursday to order that a new writ be issued for Tipperary, the election of O'Donovan (Rossa), as a convicted felon, being void, and he gave notice that on Tuesday week he would ask leave to bring in his Land Bill.”—The Times, February 9, 1870. “The party would support the new Cabinet if it showed a desire for the definitive establishment of a republic, and the chairman of the meeting was ordered to transmit the resolu- tions adopted to M. Thiers.”—The Times, May 19, 1873. “The physician ordered me to be let blood.”—DEFOE, Robinson Crusoe. “He consulted a doctor in London, who pronounced the brain overworked, and ordered total rest.”—The Athénøum, April 26, 1873. “Just before the concert commenced, Mr. Samuel Wilkins ordered two glasses rum-and-water.”—DICKENS, Sketches : Characters, chap. iv. “The Emperor gave precise orders to the effect that the arrival of the missing regiments should be pushed, but he was obeyed slowly, excuse being made that it was impossible to leave Paris, Algeria, and Lyons without garrisons.”—War Correspondence of the Daily News, chap. i. “Saturday having been Victor Hugo's eightieth birthday, the French Government ordered a free performance of ‘Her- nani’ at the Théâtre Français on Sunday afternoon.”—St. James's Gazette, February 28, 1882. I 32 THE ENGLISH VERBS OF COMMAND. “But what can be expected of authorities who are forbidden from home to plant Eucalyptus, and are instructed to depend on the reproduction of forests if left to themselves?”—The Standard, August 11, 1881. “Order was restored by the treaty of Balta Liman, which took away from the Roumanians all guarantee of freedom, suspended their assemblies, and gave them only the privilege of executing the joint orders of the Sultan and the Czar.”— North American Review: The Danubian Principalities, 1857. “After a decent resistance, the crafty tyrant submitted to the orders of the Senate.”—GIBBON, History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, chap. iii. “We insist that the General (in dealing with the Indians) shall not be hampered with temporising orders from Washing- ton.”—New York Tribune, November 23, 1871. “The commissary of police said you and M. Emile were dangers to the Government, and that he had got his orders about you from the Prefect.”—Trois Etoiles : Member for Paris, i. 8. “Too well bred was M. Demarais (my valet) to testify any other sentiment than pleasure at the news; and he received my orders and directions for the next day with more than the graceful urbanity which made one always feel quite honoured by his attentions.”—BULWER, Devereua, iii. 6. “I will not sell it without order of a physician.”—SCOTT, Kenilworth, chap. xiii. “The appellant being informed that the case had been decided against him by the Supreme Court, asked the proper officer if anything further could be done, and was told that nothing further could be done, and that the sums mentioned in the decree must be paid in hard money or an order of execution would at once be issued against the property of his bondsmen.”—New York Evening Post, February 18, 1874. “It is true that when the Penny Stamp Act was passed, the Ministry of the time were weak enough to yield to a THE ENGLISH VERBS OF COMMAND. I 33 pressure from the banking community, and inserted a clause entirely opposed to every existing legal principle, declaring that a banker paying a check to order with a forged endorse- ment should not be liable.”—The Times, May 19, 1873. XI. PRESCRIBE. “In the form which is prescribed to us (the Lord's Prayer) we only pray for that happiness which is our chief good and the great end of our existence when we petition the Supreme for the coming of His kingdom.”—ADDISON. “Why hast thou, Satan, broke the bounds prescribed To thy transgressions !”—MILTON, Paradise Lost, iv. 877. “To the blank moon Her office they prescribed.” —MILTON, Paradise Lost, x. 656. “Prescribe not us our duties.”—SHAKESPEARE. “This is true; but these parochial schools were then under the control and jurisdiction of the Established Church of Scot- land, which had power to enforce religious teaching according to its own doctrines and confessions, and which had also power to try and to dismiss schoolmasters who failed to do so. This jurisdiction on the part of the Church of Scotland is now at an end, and the civil law has no standard, either there or else- where, by which to try questions of doctrine, except such as may be prescribed to it by the Legislature.”—Westminster Review, January 1873. “The matter cannot be passed over in silence. If it is to be a subject of specific legislation, the whole of the points which have been mentioned, and a great many more, must be con- fronted, and specific direction must be given as to the manner in which each is to be dealt with, with specific punishments or penalties in case any point shall be treated in any respect differently from what the law may prescribe.”—Westminster Review, January 1873. I 34 THE ENGLISH VERBS OF COMMAND. “The utilitarian doctrine at the utmost prescribes only impartial justice.”—The Saturday Review, April 19, 1873. “It is difficult to say whether Mr. John Dounce's red countenance, illuminated as it was by the flickering gaslight in the window before which he paused, excited the lady's risi- bility, or whether a natural exuberance of animal spirits proved too much for that staidness of demeanour which the forms of Society rather dictatorially prescribe.”—DICKENS: Sketches. “Mr. Slagg seconded the resolution. He insisted that there was a wide distinction between the Bulgarian atrocities and the present case. He disclaimed the intention of pre- scribing to the Government any particular course of action.” —The Evening News, March 4, 1882. IV. OW THE DISCRIMINATION OF S VAWOW VMS. IV. WHEN perusing a dictionary of synonyms, one is apt to be haunted by painful doubts. The more delicate the distinctions drawn, the more intellectual and subtle the shades displayed, the more unlikely does the thing be- come. After all, speech exists as the performance of the Speakers. Is the majority, nay, is any considerable por- tion, of a race intelligent enough to produce such exact significations 2 Is synonymy, peradventure, the inven- tion of a few ingenious and over-refining writers ? Or has it been devised by pedantic grammarians, intent upon parading their wits, and making their studies appear more important than they really are ? Surely, if the suspicion be unfounded, it is not unnaturally aroused on seeing whole nations credited with a bril- liancy, a refinement, and a tact, ordinarily found only in the most gifted individuals. Synonyms are words whose significations partly agree and partly differ. As one example among thousands, let us compare ‘high ' and “tall.” Both indicate altitude; but while ‘ high ' is a generic term, including any ex- tension in an upward direction, whether great or small, ‘tall’ refers only to the elevation and elongation of a certain class of objects, and this, too, to an exceptional elevation and elongation of the same. “High, a derivative from the Germanic root ‘huh,’ to be above, means nothing but to be above; “tall, from a root denoting extension, has in it an element of growth and ascending vitality, which plainly hints at the existence of other and less developed 138 ON THE DISCRIMINATION OF SYNONYMS. specimens of the same species. Each of the two related words conveys the same general idea; but each looks upon the notion from its own point of view, the one being purely mathematical, the other, so to speak, organic, with a dash of imagination magnifying its living force." Hence, while there are cases in which altitude can only be expressed by either “high or “tall, there are others admitting of the use of both promiscuously. A moun- tain is ‘high; a mouse is two inches “high ;' a man is ‘tall; a poplar or a chimney may be either “high or “tall, or both. If the signification of ‘high be repre- sented by the circle A, and that of ‘tall’ by the circle B, their mutual relations may be set forth thus:— In the two first circles we have each signification con- ceived as a separate logical entity; the third diagram, in which the two circles partially intersect, shows where the significations agree and where they differ. The lateral sections of A and B, outside of A B, represent the cases which require the use of either “high or “tall.’ A B, on the other hand, comprises the common element in the two terms, and in consequence represents those instances in which the one as well as the other may be indiscriminately employed. The larger the space covered by A B, the more closely do the words A and B resemble each other; the Smaller the intersecting area, the more dif- ferent are the meanings of the non-intersecting portions, and the less frequently interchangeable. In the two following diagrams, the larger A B stands for the inter- section of “liberty’ and ‘freedom, the two terms being nearly equivalent; the smaller A B delineates the con- ON THE DISCRIMINATION OF SYNONYMS. 139 currence of “liberty’ and ‘privilege,’ words which have but little in common in these days of universal equality:— Like relations may exist between three words, or, in- deed, any number of words. “Escape” (A), elude ' (B), ‘ evade' (C), may be drawn as– OOC) S2 º <> OT a S- “Escape' is to avoid or run away from, whatever is shunned; “elude and “evade add to this general notion, the one the wily deed, the other the underhand deed or crooked speech; whereas A B C, including all three together, marks the concurrent ingredient in their several significations. We escape an earthquake (A). She eluded pursuit (B). He evaded the law by prevari- cating replies (C). They all escaped, eluded, and evaded danger (A B C). It is by no means necessary for synonyms to stand to each other in the relation of general and subordinate, or more and less comprehensive terms. Synonyms, on the contrary, may be co-ordinates, and yet agree and differ, as is the wont of their class. A poor man sinks 14o ON THE DISCRIMINATION OF SYNONYMS. under the burden or the load; but those who bear the burden expect to reap the fruit of their labour, while those who carry loads must be content to take such as are given them. A burden, as a rule, is voluntarily accepted; a load is always placed upon our shoulders by others, and Ordinarily imposed very much against Our will. Both oppress, both are felt to be oppressive; but the one has a tendency to induce endurance, the other is likely to provoke complaint. Both are co- Ordinates, neither laying claim to a wider signification than that possessed by its colleague. Both, moreover, are equally subordinate to another term, ‘weight, in which their several significations meet. The connection of the trio may be graphically presented to view as in the preceding example— where A is ‘ burden, B ‘load, C ‘weight,’ and A B C the oppressive element equally present in all; or, regard being had to their common subordination to a third term, their relation may be more exactly delineated thus— where what is A B C in the above diagrams is replaced by A C and B C, the peculiar nature of the participation of A and B in C being shown by means of two separate and minor circles. Besides being either co-ordinates or subordinates, ON THE DISCRIMINATION OF SYNONYMS. 141 three or more words may be arrayed in couples, the members of each pair having a closer affinity to each other than to the rest, and the various couples being mutually connected by each member appearing in two of them at the same time. º If A signifies “to act, B to perform, C ‘to perpetrate,’ and D ‘to sin, A is the vaguest term of the chain; B directs the action of A to a distinct purpose; C imparts a criminal hue to the aim ; D draws the result. The points in which two and two of these significations meet are A B, B C, CD, respectively ‘action’ and ‘perform- ance,’ ‘performance’ and ‘perpetration,’ ‘perpetration and ‘sin.” Though it has no direct connection with C, ‘to perpetrate,’ and D, “to sin, A, ‘to act, is yet indirectly linked to both through the intermediate agency of B, ‘to perform.’ B, again, is indirectly joined to D, “to sin, although its direct affinities are limited to A, ‘to act,’ and C, ‘to perpetrate.’ D, “to sin, finally, has no near kindred except C, “to perpetrate,’ which connection ad- mits it to the family and makes it a relation of A and B. As may be gathered from this last example, all the various words of a language might be treated as synonyms, if only the connecting chain is made long enough, and the interval filled up by the requisite links. In this united universe, where everything is part of a whole, no two notions can be entirely dissociated. Absurd as it seems, ‘intellect ' may be viewed as a synonym of ‘ cat,' the one being approximated towards the other by ‘in- stinct” and ‘sense.' Again, by the rigid logician, the 142 ON THE DISCRIMINATION OF SYNONYMS. globe is justly considered as synonymous to a lucifer match, due regard being had to the circumstance of both belonging to the extensive category of ‘matter.’ ‘Black” and ‘white,’ ‘high ' and ‘low,’ ‘beautiful’ and ‘hideous,’ admit of being tied together by the like reasoning, if their common property of qualifying other things be taken into account. However, practical reasons forbid to give the term this wide and purely metaphysical signification. We restrict conveniently the name of synonyms to the most nearly allied ideas, and, even in this circumscribed sphere, apply it only to things intellectual, or to things viewed intellectually, to the exclusion of mere sensual apperceptions. To think, to reflect, to meditate, are men- tal operations, to be distinguished only by logical and synonymical inquiry; ‘high,’ ‘tall,’ ‘lofty,’ involve an in- tellectual consideration of the outer world, penetrating, as they do, the veil of ocular evidence, and designating abstractly the nature and cause of certain descriptions of altitude, and their relation to surrounding objects; but the right and left boot, albeit doubtless coming under the logical definition of synonyms, are not usually treated as such, a glance sufficing to discriminate between the leathern pair. On examining the words cited, the origin and import of synonyms is easily discovered. By the side of every- thing in the World there exists a vast multitude of other things, similar yet different, related yet independent, and what constitutes a variety in nature and thought, in language assumes the guise of a synonym.” By the side of the shovel there stands the Spade ; water is seen to flow in brooks, rivers, streams, and torrents; and land is subdivided into counties, regions, provinces, and king- doms. Co-existing with common sense, we think we can distinguish reason and understanding. We notice beauty to be diversified by prettiness, grace, and charm ; and we infer, We prove, and conclude by related though ON THE DISCRIMINATION OF SYNONYMS. I43 not identical operations of the intellect. In the case of natural objects, this diversity as well as this similarity are rapidly detected by the visual powers; but when the inherent qualities and action of things are examined, or the workings of the human mind explored, distinctions necessarily become so fine, and reciprocal relations so multitudinous, that no little culture and judgment are required to form independent opinions, or to clearly define the accepted notions of common and popular Words. In what follows we shall endeavour to ascertain how far the one or the other is indispensable for the distinction of synonyms. It is a common fallacy that every Englishman speaks English, every German German, every Frenchman French. Each individual speaks only that limited portion of his idiom with which he happens to be familiarly conversant. A ploughboy habitually uses the words ‘shovel’ and ‘spade,’ and knows the difference ; a carpenter distinguishes with absolute certainty between ‘ axe and ‘hatchet, con- sidering both indispensable, and employing their verbal equivalents with equal confidence and accuracy. Plough- boy and carpenter, too, speak of ‘cutting' and ‘beating,’ being fully acquainted with the manual operations indi- cated by these technical terms. Nor are they likely to confound “even and ‘Smooth, a glimpse teaching them that the former may exist without the latter, while the latter is found to presuppose the former. Neither is there any fear of their mistaking a wish for an order, or an order for a wish, the one being the privilege of the master who pays for the prerogative, the other denoting a request from non-paying and comparatively indifferent humanity. All these notions entering into the sphere of their daily life, the respective words are fully realised and freely used by the men. But how circumscribed must the total extent of their notions be, and how very few of them can be supposed to touch upon things in- 144 ON THE DISCRIMINATION OF SYNONYMS. tellectual, when we are told that agricultural labourers have been discovered in England possessing dictionaries of less than three hundred words ! Are not uneducated Erenchmen known to substitute the vague generalities of “faire' and ‘dire’ for a whole host of simple but easily realised terms ? And how many German field-hands have been heard to utter words like ‘intellect,” “distinc- tion, and ‘proof,” albeit the literature of their race has been ever resounding with the din of mental and philo- sophical phraseology Indeed, what motive could they have in employing language of an import and a bearing altogether unfathomable to them 2 Is it not, on the contrary, only too natural that, with their primitive life ever moving in monotonous circles, a few indefinite terms should be found to suffice for conversation upon spiritual concerns ? In the lowest strata, therefore, no peculiar brilliancy can be required to draw synonymic distinctions. The compass as well as the contents of the village lexicon exclude any effort that way. Between Shakespeare with his gigantic thesaurus of I 5,Ooo words, and the navvy with his scanty store of 300, the different social and linguistic layers inter- vene. Each is thoroughly at home in the language of its particular vocation and type: all are only partially acquainted with the rest. Having invented the most indispensable words, and not needing any more for their humble business in life, our primitive ancestors left the original roots to be developed by the superior minds amongst them. From time immemorial this linguistic task has been one of the noblest imposed upon the wise and the good; for as no idea can be very generally accepted unless embodied in a word or a phrase, all that is most important for humanity to know has had to be coined in these intel- lectual tenders, prior to its recognition by many or by all. When it is remembered that sensual apperceptions only are designated by the original roots, and that the ON THE DISCRIMINATION OF SYNONYMS. 145 vast majority of mankind to this day content them- selves with the 300 verbal necessaries above quoted, the magnitude of the linguistic work committed to lead- ing intellects will be duly understood and appreciated. Whatever in our dictionaries exceeds that primitive 3oo has had to be devised in comparatively recent periods by the clever and the sage. In other words, excepting a few fundamental notions of the most elementary kind, the whole framework of our ideas has been supplied by the later etymological achievements of these intellectual pioneers. By infusing metaphorical meanings into, and forming endless derivatives and composites from the original roots, they have furnished us with the wonderful treasury of ready-made thoughts contained in the dictionary of every cultivated tongue. Neither in political nor in literary history can the importance of intellectual initiative be so effectually observed as in the history of language. Until very recently, however, the knowledge of these mental discoveries was a privilege of the Select few. As long as there was no literature, the more intellectual words necessarily spread but very slowly, nor did they travel very far. The masses did not experience the want of them, and the more intelligent, who did, were, at any given spot, but a small minority. When literature arose, a ready means of circulating ideas beyond the confines of a village or a district was at hand. Still, as for a trifle of 5 Ooo years after that auspicious event (being the introductory phase of the more polite epoch of humanity, which set in when the first inscription was scratched upon stone), books could not help being manu- scripts, the new words they suggested for the expression of novel thoughts cannot have reached any very large numbers of a race. The recital of Songs, prayers, and laws was still the principal means of disseminating ideas which lay beyond the work-day horizon of the barbarous million. K 146 ON THE DISCRIMINATION OF SYNONYMS. It was not till fifty long centuries after the inven- tion of the alphabet that the printing-press induced a thorough change in the material conditions of culture. Writers and readers were equally benefited by the mar- vellous machine. The thoughts of the intelligent now for the first time penetrated, if not the masses generally, at least considerable numbers of them. Authors became easily acquainted with the productions of other authors, and ideas and words were communicated and inter- changed to an unprecedented extent. In consequence of the fresh facilities given, the language of the cultivated left its isolated abodes, and from college and court flew to city and burgh ; and while the people were intro- duced to a profusion of bookish vocables they had never suspected to exist, the literary community, by the impulse given to their work, were encouraged to create many more. The masses learnt what to them was a new tongue, and poets and politicians vied with scholars and divines in framing and shaping an even newer one. In Germany more especially, where religious and politi- cal revolutions coincided with the incipient production of popular sheets, the aggregate effect upon the development and dissemination of abstract and discriminating terms was truly astounding. But four years after composing his first awkward and ponderous pamphlets, Luther began the translation of the Bible, than which nothing more lucid and powerful has ever been put forth in Teuton speech. While their ancient idiom is still more or less exclu- sively cherished by the masses, a special language of culture —thanks to the gradual increase of books and periodicals —has since been developed in all European lands. Both in quantity and quality the new tongue is immensely superior to the old. In striking contrast with the agricul- tural vocabulary of 3OO words, Johnson's Dictionary con- tains 60,000. Webster added I 5,000 more, Ogilvie ON THE DISCRIMINATION OF SYNONYMS. 147 raising the total to a full IOO,OOO. French contents itself with about half as many, but Russian, in Dahl's Dictionary, records twice the number, and German boasts an even larger figure. Simultaneously with this immense augmen- tation, by means of derivation, composition, and importa- tion from abroad, there arose an infinity of new intellec- tual concepts unknown to the popular mind, and, if known to scholars, not hitherto expressed in any modern vernacular. Many of these were imitated from Hebrew and Latin patterns, familiarised by the study of the Bible and the classics. It was by no means a rapid or an easy process. Before obtaining admission to the literary tongue, the new words, and the new significations attributed to the old, were obliged to prove the justice of their claim. When proposed by one writer, they had to be approved and circulated by others.” They had to be endorsed by legislative and administrative authorities and to be used in the correspondence and conversation of the cultured. They had, finally, to penetrate to the middle classes, now fast gaining in numbers as well as in know- ledge. Not being accorded a favourable verdict by these various tribunals, many of the new literary terms had but a short career, and, after an ephemeral existence, were doomed to eternal oblivion. Those that survive are the sifted result of a labour of five centuries.* They are the result of a labour conjointly accomplished by the leading minds, and tried, tested, and appreciated by the intelligent and the educated. When so many new notions were conceived, and so many old ones divided and subdivided, significations, as a necessary consequence, were narrowed and better defined. For the creation of every new idea an old one had to be resolved into its component parts. “Do” was bisected into ‘do’ and ‘perform.’ ‘Think’ was analysed into ‘reflect, ‘meditate,’ ‘contemplate.’ ‘Time’ 148 ON THE DISCRIMINATION OF SYNONYMS. was split into ‘period, ‘season, and ‘term.' Every- where in Europe a new development of synonymy dates from the expansion of language and literature in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries. Books written pre- vious to this prolific period are bald and tame in com- parison to the stage attained at the beginning of the sixteenth century. The language of the courts, too, was to a certain extent divested of its ancient crudity; and numerous new ideas and words creeping into the daily talk, the upper and middle classes gradually abandoned the halting diction of the past for a style at once more copious and concise. But after all, ordinary intercourse moves in grooves. Whether business or any more general topic be the theme of ordinary conversation, the range of available ideas is, as a rule, neither very large nor very original. Why, then, take the trouble to convey discursively what may be said in a few common words 2 Why aim at being more than intelligible % Nay, why adorn by select language what most people agree in regarding as the monotonous routine of life In discussing everyday generalities, men do not usually soar to the region of specialised words. They say they see when they mean they perceive. They speak of going when about to depart. They hint at getting when they are taxing their energies to gain, to obtain, to secure. They object to be bothered by precision, and they are afraid to appear pedantic by exactitude. Hence, however numerous the synonyms invented at the close of the Middle Ages, a moiety only was received into the familiar discourse of society. However rich and refined the language of books became, common talk participated only in a limited degree in the additions made. The linguistic level of conversation rose very considerably; but literary composi- tion growing still more rapidly in elegance and force, the discrepancy between what may be distinguished as public ON THE DISCRIMINATION OF SYNONYMS. 149 and private speech was even greater than before. Upon the whole, writers and public speakers were left to use the language they had created for the more deliberate and judicious comprehension of men and things. The phase which now supervened is thus sharply criticised by Mrs. Whately in her excellent little book on English Synonyms:– “The advantage of a variety of words to express various shades of meaning is, when stated, too obvious to need comment; but, practically, many are apt to overlook it. The habit of making some one word do the duty of half-a-dozen is one which grows up in fami- liar conversation. It is a practice much to be depreemed as it in fact injures the richness of a language, which depends not on the having a number of words to expres one idea, but a large number of pseudo-synonymous terms to convey their nicer shades of meaning. Such a language resembles a well-furnished house, with arti- cles of furniture and cookery to supply all the wants of civilised life. But the slovenly use of language, and the exclusive employment on all occasions of some word, as ‘charming,’ ‘nice,’ ‘horrid, resembles the conduct of the inhabitants of some wretched cabin, who, being accus- tomed to make their single iron pot serve the purpose of a cooking-vessel, a washing-tub, a dish to hold their food, &c., are quite bewildered if liberally supplied with a variety of furniture by kind friends, and end by taking some one article into universal employment, and laying the rest aside as useless.” To which it might be retorted, that the more intricate articles of the linguistic kitchen are not absolutely laid aside by their possessors. They are kept in the house and reserved for holiday cookery; they are used on any occasion which seems to require the exercise of the higher faculties. Reflection frequently calls forth the hidden strength of the mind, and, with it, the latent 15o ON THE DISCRIMINATION OF SYNONYMS. powers of the dictionary. Devotional feeling evokes the treasures of the soul and the language. Discussion and epistolary correspondence have a like tendency, and the charm of letter-writing in no small degree arises from the employment of careful and polished phraseology beyond the wants and usages of oral intercourse. When it is further taken into account that the reading habits and facilities of the last few generations have been spreading an unexampled appreciation of language and literature in all classes of the people, it will be readily understood that delicately shaded synonyms, though less frequent in conversation than in type, should in these modern days be very extensively known. Still, the knowledge of significations by the gene- rality of mankind differs essentially from the deli- berate discriminations instituted by the synonymist or practised by careful and judicious authors. Without thinking about it, we attribute to words the meaning attributed to them by others. Without exactly defining them, we employ significations as we have heard and seen them employed in language and literature. And how could it be otherwise ? The words of a language containing a synopsis of all the principal things in the world, with a list of their qualities, agencies, and effects, the distinctions drawn by them are unconsciously adopted, and necessarily become our own views of the general ar- rangement of the universe. Notions at once so personal, so fundamental, and so abstract resist rather than invite analysis. They are constituent portions of our intellec- tual self; they regulate the momentary operations of our mind; and referring mostly to general ideas suggested by the observation of many individual things and events, are more easily adopted than explained. Anybody knows what beauty is when he sees it ; few can at a moment's notice logically explain it. The concrete phenomenon is promptly appreciated; but it requires an effort to ON THE DISCRIMINATION OF SYNONYMS. 151 determine its general features through comparison of re- lated phenomena. The beauty of woman differs from the beauty of a landscape; yet there is a resemblance be- tween the two which had to be discovered before the com- prehensive term beauty could be conceived and equally applied to both. The discovery once made by some lead- ing logician of primeval mankind, and gradually approved by Sagacious contemporaries, has since been adopted by successive generations without any individual member of posthumous humanity being necessarily put to the trouble of re-detecting the fact. To be able to apply the term ‘beauty’ to the two objects aforesaid, all a man requires nowadays is to realise, though he may fail to define, their similarity. In like manner the meanings of all the various words have been devised by mental dis- coverers, ratified by the clever, and ultimately guessed, realised, and repeated by the many, or portions of the many. Reasoning is by no means the only process by which knowledge is acquired, and notions lose nothing in cer- tainty from being the aggregate result of imperfect ap- prehension, lively imagination, and eager imitation. On the contrary, they are made incontrovertible by admis- sion, in a half-veiled state, to the national catechism of thought. A man's inability to dissect a meaning does not in the least militate against his handling the com- pound body of the word with perfect skill and tact; and the meanings of two related words being known, synony- mical distinction follows as a matter of course. The synonymist ascertains significations by the evi- dence obtained in the most competent quarters. He asks the farmer for the proper distinction of rustic terms; he applies to the statesman to teach him the purport of political phraseology; he endeavours to enter into the feel- ings of the poet, in order to fathom the tender momencla- ture of the heart. For the reasons explained, he prefers to 152 ON THE DISCRIMINATION OF SYNONYMS. consult the writer who meditates rather than the speaker who states. He goes to him who, reflecting at leisure upon the graver concerns of life, is compelled, as well as pre-eminently fitted, to weigh and choose his words. In any case, he aims at ascertaining the average use of a word, both as regards the general notion which it has in common with others, and the peculiar shade or shades which belong to it alone. The proportions in which the several component elements are mixed, and which determines the degree to which words are convertible with other words, form another important theme for inquiry. Nations differ as much in the precision they impart to their words as in the way they turn the different divisions of the dictionary to account. Of the three literary nations par eaccellence, the English keep a greater proportion of their synonymical paraphermalia in daily colloquial and literary use than the two others. English Ordinary speech is decidedly more exact than German, which reserves its strength for the loftier purposes of meditation, investigation, and poetry. The circumstance does not a little contribute to anglicise Germans in England and America, by leading them to transact business and hold the ordinary confab of society in the foreign tongue in preference to their own. French is at least as definite as English in what it says, but it is less copious in what it is able to say. In no other language, how- ever, has precision so effectually combined with acuteness to give meanings brilliancy and point. In no language, accordingly, is it so easy and so indispensable to be a synonymist. Louis XVIII. displayed no mean degree of political and linguistic penetration when he uttered these memorable words:— “Que de choses dans une epithète J’ai toujours été de l'avis de BOSSuet, qui a dit quelque part que lorsqu'on n’est pas scrupuleux dans le choix des mots, on donne à .* ON THE DISCRIMINATION OF SYNONYMS. 153 penser qu'on ne l'est pas davantage sur les choses. Mon peuple est bien persuadé de cette vérité, et les sifflets ne manquent jamais à ceux qui négligent la propriété des termes. Il faut savoir la grammaire et connaître les synonymes lorsqu'on veut être roi de France." 154 ON THE DISCRIMINATION OF SYNONYMS. APPENDIX. I) “Words without exactly coinciding in sense, may never- theless relate to one and the same thing regarded in two different points of view. An illustration of this is afforded in the re- lation which exists between the words “inference ’ and ‘proof.” Whoever justly infers, proves; whoever proves, infers; but the word ‘inference ’ leads the mind from the premises which have been assumed to the conclusion which follows from them ; while the word ‘proof’ follows a reverse process, and leads the mind from the conclusion to the premises. We say, ‘What do you infer from this? and how do you prove that ?” Another illustration may be quoted in the synonyms ‘ ex- pense” and ‘cost.’ The same article may be expensive and costly ; but we speak of ‘expense' in reference to the means of the purchaser ; of ‘cost in reference to the actual value of the article.”—WHATELY, English Synonyms, viii. 2) “Quamguam enim vocabula prope idem Valere videantur, tamen quia res differebat, nomina rerum distare voluerunt.”— Cic. Top. 8, 34. “Pluribus autem nominibus in eaderm re vulgo utimur ; Quae tamen si diducas, suam propriam quandam vim osten- dent. Nam et urbanitas dicitur : qua quidem significari video sermonem prae se ferentem in verbis et sono et usu, pro- priam quendam gestum urbis, et sumptam ex conversatione doctorum tacitam eruditionem, et denique cui contraria sit rusticitas.”—Quint, InSt. Or. 6, 3, 17. 3) “Il est aisé de sentir que nous ne pouvons avoir d'usage écrit moderne ; il n'appartient qu'aux auteurs classiques de le former, et les auteurs ne deviennent classiques dans la langue que lorsque la postérité les a honorés de ce titre ; ON THE DISCRIMINATION OF SYNONYMS. 155 elle a le droit de juger ceux dont les exemples doivent faire règle pour elles. . . . Il n'en est pas ainsi de l'usage parlé; incertain et fugitif il n'a sur la postérité aucune influence positif.; l'histoire de la langue est le seul rapport sous lequel il puisse l’intéresser. Formé presq'au hasard, fondé souvent sur des motifs de peu de valeur, il n'oblige que les con- temporains qui eux-mêmes en Sont plutót les témoins que les juges; c'est à eux à transmettre aux générations à venir les modifications qu’il fait subir aux mots, puisqu’elles sont des régles pour eux, et ne seront peut-être pour elles que des faits isolés et sans pouvoir.”—GUIZOT, Synonymes de la Langue Française, xviii. 4) Duplicates at one time abounded, especially in English. In his English Synonyms Mr. Taylor observes:–“English abounds with duplicates, one of which is borrowed from some Gothic, and the other from some Roman dialect. . . . In such lan- guages many words are wholly equivalent, . . . and it depends on a writer's choice whether the Northern or the Southern diction shall predominate. . . . Wherein lies the difference between a gotch and a pitcher, but that the one is a Holland- ish and the other a French term for a water-crock'ſ Such double terms are always at first commutable, and may con- tinue so for generations; but when new objects are discovered or new shades of idea, which such words are fitted to depict, it at length happens that a separation of meanings is made be- tween them. Thus, ‘to blanch' and ‘to whiten' are insensibly acquiring a distinct purport, ‘to blanch’ being now only ap- plied where some stain or colouring matter is withdrawn which concealed the natural whiteness. Thus, again, ‘whole' and ‘entire,’ ‘worth’ and ‘merit,” “understanding’ and ‘intel- lect,’ are tending to a discriminable meaning.” Jane Whately assigns another cause of ultimate distinc- tion :-‘‘In the case of such duplicates as have no assign- able difference, it may happen, from the mere fact of the greater or less familiarity which one word presents to the mind, that although it be in most cases indifferent which we use, yet in some instances custom makes a difference in their employment.” 156 ON THE DISCRIMINATION OF SYNONYMS. In French, words of absolutely identical meaning, according to Girard, the first French synonymist, disappeared only in the classical age of Louis XIV. This opinion is endorsed and improved upon by Condillac :—“La langue française est peut- être la Seule langue qui ne connaisse point de synonymes.” (i.e., absolute equivalents). Heyse, in his ‘System der Sprachwissenchaft,” thus ac- counts for the disappearance of absolute equivalents:—“Die gebildete Sprache duldet keinen Ueberfluss und weiss einen jeden durch aussere Umstände entstandenen Zu ihrem Wor- theil, zu Schärferer Begriffsonderung und feinerer Nüancirung des Ausdrucks zu verwenden.” Brother Berthold, the Bavarian missionary of the thirteenth century, who preached in all parts of Southern Germany, had to accommodate his language to the dialect of the parti- cular district in which he happened to be holding forth. To express ‘hope,” he relates in his sermons, he had to say “Hoff- nunge’ in one province, “Zuoversicht’ in another, and ‘Gedinge’ in a third. Of these three equivalent terms, two subsequently found their way into literary German, the one specialised as ‘hope,” the other as ‘trust.’ In this wise the dialects have largely contributed towards the wealth of the literary medium, their various popular equivalents being frequently diversified into cultured synonyms. Sometimes the distinction drawn is purely aesthetical, as in Latin between “parens’ and ‘pater,’ ‘uxor' and ‘conjunx;’ in German, between ‘Jungfrau' and ‘Jungfer,’ ‘Ross’ and ‘Pferd,’ ‘Gattin’ and ‘Weib,' &c. V. OAW PA/IZOZOG/CA/ ME 7TP/O DS. V. NOTIONs which are the common and recognised property of whole nations or important national sections come to be expressed by means of single words or standing phrases. When new ideas arise and are not represented by new or modified terms, they are either not sufficiently popular to be precipitated in this terse and solid form, or else they circulate in too small a section of the people to require being rescued from the fluctuating eddies of cir- cumlocution and periphrastic phraseology. Let us take a case. When the idea of freedom had become familiar to Englishmen, then there was Occasion to create the word which should embody the thought. Only when, in contradistinction to republic and absolute monarchy, constitutional liberty had become a fact, was it possible to combine the two terms into one which should denote the new state of things. Not sufficiently specific to need a new word, the dawning conception of limited monarchy had yet enough influence to unite two old conceptions in perpetual alliance and practically create a new compound term. But after the novel arrangement had again been modified by the extension of the franchise, the difference between this and the preceding stage was regarded as too insignificant to be marked by a new term. To describe this last phase, therefore, a whole sentence is required: ‘constitutional government supported by a near approach towards man- hood suffrage.’ The diffusive length of this phraseology may be regarded as proof sufficient that, when it arose, the new political era was, Curiously enough, assumed to I6O ON PHILOLOGICAL METHODS. involve a less remarkable innovation than either mon- archy, constitutional monarchy, or republic at the time they severally came into existence. To add an example of change of meaning : who now, using the expression ‘Working man,’ is not aware that what he means is some- thing very different from what his grandfather conveyed by the appellation fifty years ago Ż The same is true of grammar. As long as the diffe- rence between reality and possibility was not sufficiently felt to render discrimination desirable, neither the Eng- lish “if” of condition nor the Latin ‘ut' of purpose could govern the conjunctive. Indeed, the conjunctive itself could not exist prior to the appreciation of the contin- gent. It could have arisen only on the budding of the idea of the conditional and potential in some advanced minds, and it could become generally accepted only after the novel perceptual discrimination had been acknowledged as essential by the many. In the same way the Second case of English “man’ and German ‘Mann’ would never have obtained its distinguishing termination S had not possessor and possessed been correlates so generally realised at the time that a special form had to be set apart to denote them. In other words, without these preliminary conditions the genitive could not have come into existence at all. And so it is with all words and all grammatical forms. As regards grammatical forms, are they not the equals of independent words in that they express independent ideas, albeit referring only, and this in an abbreviated shape, to the most Ordinary and constantly recurrent notions of time, number, place, person, &c. 2 Each language embodying the special thoughts of a special people, different languages must be expected to convey different national modes of thought and expres- sion. This conclusion is confirmed by research. Few are the words that can be set down as exact equivalents ON PHILOLOGICAL METHODS. I6 I in any two languages. It might be thought that a berg was a berg * all the world over, and that a word signifying this tangible object in one language must be the absolute equivalent of the word conveying it in another. Yet this is by no means the case. The English ‘moun- tain, for instance, usually refers to Something bigger than the German ‘Berg.’ ‘Hill,’ on the other hand, which has the next lower signification, in its ordinary meaning is far too diminutive for the German term, the medium idea of which finds no exact rendering in any English vocable. Such being the case in things material, how much greater must be the variety of thought and expres- Sion when gazing upon the ever-changing forms and hues of the metaphysical kaleidoscope 2 In the concep- tion of the intellectual, does not everything depend on tendency, temperament, and experience 2 When a Ger- man speaks of ‘Tugend,’ he means something entirely distinct from the manly ‘virtus’ of the Romans, and rather unlike even the active ‘virtue’ of the English, which, like the Latin term, implies a conscious and determined effort. The German means a sentiment potent by its peerless purity, and which should engender action with the absolute necessity of a law of nature. In like manner, in mentioning a definite point of past time, an Englishman puts the verb in the imperfect; with the same general theory and practice, a German wishing to be emphatic can equally employ the perfect, and in some instances, even the present. The Englishman, it is obvi- ous, chiefly desires to define the time, while the German attaches equal importance to associated circumstances. Or when the Greek verb has a special mood indicative of desire, the expression of which in English and German is included in the conjunctive as the general represen- tative of promiscuous possibility and dependence, Hel- lenic distinctness in this precatory particular is naturally * German for mountain and hill. L I62 ON PHILOLOGICAL METHODS. explained by the assumption of an accentuated urgency in request, hope, and wish. To fully realise the pervading thoughts of a people in language, we shall, therefore, have to group them according to their subject-matter. If desirous to find out what the English think about freedom, we shall have to investigate the meaning of “freedom,’ ‘liberty,’ ‘independent,’ ‘self- dependent,’ ‘uncurbed,’ ‘unrestricted,’ ‘unrestrained,’ ‘un- bound,’ ‘untrammeled,’ &c. We shall have to compare these several meanings and ascertain in what they supple- ment or restrict each other. Finally, it will be necessary in a general summary to indicate the proper position of each shade of meaning in the concept, and thus present the complete idea in a clear and classified digest. Wish- ing to discover what the English think about ‘time, we shall have to set forth the meanings of ‘time,’ ‘hour,” ‘year,” “when,’ ‘before,” “after,’ ‘soon,’ ‘early,’ ‘late,’ ‘short,” “long,’ ‘fleeting,’ ‘passing away,’ ‘eternal,’ ‘be- come,’ ‘be, ‘cease,’ and many other words coming under the same comprehensive category, irrespective of the part of speech they belong to. To these we shall have to append an account of the Origin, signification, and use of the grammatical forms which serve to express notions of time in declension, conjugation, and in the structure of sentences. Since conjugation is essentially a union of ideas of action, condition, personality, and time, the temporal notion will have to be extracted from the compounds in which it appears, and inserted in its proper place in the list of independent chronological words, if the concept is to be apprehended in its totality. Supposing several languages to be examined in this way and the results compared, we shall obtain a thorough- going insight into the views and characters of the nations concerned. The variety of national conceptions far exceeding what any single individual cooped up within his own particular nationality can possibly realise, this ON PHILOLOGICAL METHODS. I63 thoroughgoing account of national thought should equally enlarge our views and enrich the mind and the heart. Historical investigation of the various periods of lan- guage, carried on in the true spirit of intellectual research, Will some day yield remarkable disclosures as regards the growth and the decay of nations. But do we study languages in this instructive way? We do not. In learning a foreign language, the first requisite is to know the method adopted for conveying the most ordi- nary and ever-recurrent relations—in other words, to study grammar. Relations of time, number, person, reality, possi- bility, &c., are expressed in European languages by changes of the verb, known as conjugation; relationships of place, number, direction, cause, &c., are indicated in those mul- tifarious modifications of nouns which, as declensions, are Wont to worry our early school-days; whilst the exponents of more complicated forms of interdependence are to be found in prepositions, conjunctions, and the syntactic structure of sentences. Having once learnt the changes of verbal form which subserve the end of succinctly denoting these various relations, the student taking up the lexicon tries to translate. It does not trouble him in the least that the translation of the foreign words into his own tongue which he finds in the dictionary is not exact, and cannot be exact, because it could not be fully given without lengthy commentaries. Most European languages being allied to his own, he easily contrives to make out their general sense, and does not mind giving it the specific colouring of his own particular idiom. The more his study advances, the more he certainly feels the difference in the signification of seeming equivalents, and instinctively becomes aware of the novel ideas accruing to him from his work. Yet, for the most part, he is satisfied with the vague, indefinite perception of the discrepancy. Every now and then, grammatical singu- larities may produce a staggering effect ; striking idioms I64 ON PHILOLOGICAL METHODS. may excite a passing remark; but the sole aim and object of linguistic pursuits being usually to read, write, and speak a foreign tongue, the prevailing method, if not the best for all, is sufficient for most students. Added to the difficulty of psychological exploration and ar- rangement, this has given grammars their purely practical form. Still no thoroughgoing knowledge of conceptual import can be gained from ‘practical' dictionaries and grammars. Though dictionaries must give insufficient translations; though grammars would not suit the tyro were they to be much altered from their present catalogue and register pattern, existing dictionaries and grammars convey but a very imperfect idea of what language really is. The deficiencies of the dictionary have been dwelt upon in pre- ceding synonymical essays. As regards grammar, instead of ranging inflections according to ideas of time, space, cause, number, reality, possibility, and others inherent in them, existing primers, it is well known, are wont to dis- cuss their subject from a purely formal point of view. To mark in each part of speech the various inflections indica- tive of the general and ever-recurrent notions of time, space, number, person, &c., is the primary object ; to show how words are strung together is the acme of grammar. Not the national peculiarity of inflections, but their connec- tion with individual verbs and nouns is studied; not the essence of the language, but the process of combination is presented to view. Similarly the headings of syntaxis are taken not from what is to be expressed, but from the individual terms and forms employed to express it. The Latin accusative is rather promiscuously shown to note time, Space, and direction, and no attempt made to con- nect each of these several applications with other gram- matical forms serving the same end. The English par- ticiple is taught to refer to the present as well as to the future, without its being put together with, and explained ON PHILOLOGICAL METHODS. I65 by, other forms indicative of time. The French definite article is observed to accompany very frequently inde- finite nouns, but nothing else is added respecting the categories of the definite and indefinite in that tongue. Still it is evident that to understand the peculiar turn given to a concept in a language, it should be viewed in all its various embodiments conjointly. To realise the Latin idea of space, the English notion of the present, and the thoughts of the French about the distinct, it cannot suffice to inspect a single case, tense, or article. Only by investigating all the various forms subservient to a notion can the mode of conceiving and expressing it in a special instance be comprehended and adequately appreciated. As a man does not form an opinion about any part of a subject independently of what he thinks of the rest, so the ideas of a nation are embodied not in one, but in all the diverse aspects of a notion or a fact. If language is ever considered as an object of psycho- logical study, and every language regarded as reflecting a complete and peculiar view of the world, a different method will have to be pursued in analysing its contents. Grammatical forms will have to be classed not only according to the part of speech in which they occur, but also in harmony with what they imply. Any one notion indicated by grammar, instead of being studied separately in each part of speech to which it ministers, will have to be traced through all the various forms embodying it, and confronted with the independent words of the language exhibiting the same idea. To make the parts of speech the only classheads of grammatical study is to hide the thoughts of a people under the mere form of their words, and impede the investigation of the multitudinous con- crete by the exclusive consideration of one, and this the most abstract, feature of speech. But the work is more easily cut out than accom- I65 ON PHILOLOGICAL METHODS. plished. The desirability of historical research clogs reform. If it is a huge task to trace the history of inde- pendent words, it is still more difficult to gain an insight into the growth of the forms upon which grammar rests. And what is worse, the harder part of the work is the more important. Semasiology, the Science of significa- tion, is not necessarily a historical science; grammar is. The meaning of a word at a given time can always be ascertained from its use ; the signification of a gram- matical form cannot. Containing but transient modifica- tions of independent words, inflections have shrunk into: diminutive shapes from the substantial roots, originally appended to denote relations of time, space, &c. This, at least, is what has happened in the more advanced lan- guages. Now, when we inquire into the meaning of forms, this phonetic decay presents great difficulties. Inflections originally different have, with the flow of time, coalesced into a single sound ; others, variously modified from a common ancestor, present us with several words where formerly there was but one. In either case we may easily be misled. On seeing the diverse notions of cause and place expressed by one and the same case in Latin, the inference would seem to be forced upon us that, however different in sense, both must have been connected by some vague and hazy reasoning in the infancy of the undeveloped tongue. But the conclusion is altogether erroneous. In restoring ancient forms, etymology proves that the two expressions originally differed in Sound, and only by a process of phonetic decay gradually coalesced in a single phonetic form. Accordingly place and cause were never confounded in Latin. Again, finding in Egyptian the article t appended to feminine nouns, and a neuter de- monstrative t added to transitive verbs, their different import is calculated to cause us to consider these ter- minations as distinct. Further scrutiny deduces both from the neuter demonstrative t, showing the original ON PHILOLOGICAL METHODS. 167 classification of all non-masculines in a mixed and most discourteous category of feminine-neuters. So full of pitfalls is the study of forms to those who venture to classify them according to meanings without investigat- ing history. But however indispensable, these investi- gations are the province of a science so young, so pru- dently timid, and so involved in the simultaneous explora- tion of very many languages, that its usefulness for our method as yet is rather limited. With this admission the hope of immediately applying the psychological method to all grammatical forms is disappointed. It is reserved for the future to reform phonetics, to elucidate more fully the meaning of gram- matical forms, and to prepare them for the Supreme object of insertion and discussion under the proper conceptual class heads. In the meantime, we are able to utilise analysed inflections for classified digests. We may like- wise explore syntactical combinations from truly psycho- logical points of view, instead of clinging to formalism and arranging them under the parts of speech, which they affect. And we may ascertain and systematise the meanings of independent words at a given period, and trace their history and origin as far as is known in the present state of etymological research. Lexicon and grammar, the creation of one national mind, will be comprised within the scope of one conjoint and psycho- logical Science by the philology of the future. VI. OW THE CONNECTION BAE TWEEAV D/C. TIO/WA R Y AAWD GRAMMAR. VI. A WORD contains a notion and the relation of this notion to other notions. The examination of the notion is the province of the dictionary; the discussion of its affinity to similar notions is the study of synonyms; while the knowledge of the simplest logical relations, repeated in whole classes of words, belongs to grammar. The notion of the word ‘time ’ is taught by the lexicon; its meaning in reference to the word ‘period' measured by synonymy; whilst ‘the time of man,’ ‘the men of the time, and all the other general logical relations in which the word ‘time” can be placed to other words, are regu- lated by grammatical rules. Etymology, as the history of the formation of words, is useful to all three. The most elementary application of grammar attends to the form of a word, raising a shapeless root to a definite stem and part of speech. A substantive is the notion of an object or of a thought, represented as an independent entity by its form as 'a noun. Similarly the adjective contains the idea of a quality, whether passing or permanent. The adverb denotes circumstances accom- panying action or condition. The verb is the expression of the act and time of being, doing, or suffering, or more than one of these. The pronoun adds ideas of separa- tion, connection, or comparison to those of independent agencies; the article severs more sharply, and in some languages marks gender; while the particle crystallises the most various elementary conditions of place, time, and cause in an abstract form. I72 ON THE CONNECTION BETWEEN If by its form as a part of speech the permanent position of a word in the world of thought is indicated Once for all, inflection notes transient relations between the principal classes of words. That ‘ the table ’ and ‘the man’ have been singled out of the mass of sensual phenomena as independent things is shown by their form or their construction as substantives. That a par- ticular table might stand in a particular relation to a particular man, and that this kind of relation has been recurring so constantly as to need to be expressed in a brief and customary way, is shown in the English language by the bestowal upon the two words of the nominative and genitive form. The other cases arise out of similar relations of origin and aim, of communi- cation and operation, of time and space. Conditions of time combined with abundant determinations of action and suffering, of reality, possibility, necessity, personality, dependence, sequence, &c., are described by conjugation. Comparatives subserve comparison, while separation and interdependence after the type of man and woman is Sug- gested by gender.” Syntax teaches the reunion in the sentence of several ideas into a single more comprehensive one. Beginning with the juxtaposition of two words, of which only one needs to be inflected, it advances to the most extensive paragraphs and periods, replete with intricate relation- ships and interdependences. In it all the different forms of conception, as represented by parts of speech and inflection, are woven into artistic tapestry of the most varied texture and design. Inflection having been created for the purposes of syntax, each serves to render the other intelligible.f Accordingly all grammar deals with the most general * In this we give a sketch of the more developed languages, putting aside the entirely or partially uninflectional. t “Quis quid ubiquibus auxiliis cur quomodo quando 3’’ DICTIONARY AND GRAMMAR. I73 relations affecting whole classes of things and words. What should be included in these general relations is a point viewed differently in different languages; but the conception of grammar remains the same in all, since only that which corresponds to it is embodied in regular forms and combinations. Grammar never goes beyond the simplest logical laws of a people. Lexicons and synonyms are more comprehensive. Embracing the whole circle of national thought, they contain both the ancillary ideas conveyed by grammar, and the entire mass of independent notions reflected in a people's mind. What in grammar is expressed by inflection and syntactical ties, in the dictionary and synonymy is comprised in the signification of inde- pendent words. While declension marks origin, aim, place, time, &c., as so many casual modifications of inde- pendent notions, the dictionary possesses numerous words for these accessory ideas themselves taken as independent notions. Again, while conjugation adds to verbs con- ceptions of action, Suffering, and being—of present, future, and past—of reality, possibility, necessity, per- sonality, and a great deal more besides, the dictionary treats of all these ministering concepts as independent, and has much to say about them that cannot come to the front in grammar. Besides embodying grammatical notions in its own self-asserting Way, the dictionary, more- over, presents all other current ideas of a race. The num- ber of relative and subservient expressions being small in comparison to the exuberant luxuriance of the rest, the lexicon is a much more extensive storehouse of national thought than grammar and Syntaxis, respectively the combinations of formative syllables and words. However, the same national mind having created dic- tionary and grammar, notions common to both, though differently rendered in each, cannot but correspond to a single pattern. Their external aspect may vary with I74 ON THE CONNECTION BETWEEN the different means used for the embodiment of ideas in the two modes of linguistic expression; still it can only display the same idea in twofold manifestation. Hence, to grasp this idea we must conjointly examine its two modes of expression and consider them as essentially one. Whoever wants to find out the purport of an oblique case termination denoting cause, must not only inquire into its application and use, but also investigate the meanings of the independent words of the language signifying cause and effect, and discover the mental connection uniting the two results. Further, he must pass in review all other inflections and constructions subserving the same idea, again adducing relevant synonyms, and explaining each part of the notion in relation to the whole. In the same way with every other notion underlying a grammatical fact. One mind created etymology, syntax, and semasio- logy,” and producing them for one purpose must be appreciated by the student as a united and indivisible agency. The psychological method is not content to take etymological and syntactical forms as starting-points for linguistic research. Only if every notion in the lexicon is likewise made the point of issue for special inquiry is language adequately apprehended. If the notion is ab- stract enough to admit of being also expressed by gram- mar, etymology and syntax will be needed to throw light upon it, as well as Semasiology. If it is concrete, sema- siology will have to be chiefly consulted; but etymology and syntax will have to be called in likewise to account for the form of the word, and illustrate its meaning by derivation and use. The former would be the case if we take the words ‘ cause,’ ‘time, or “possibility’ for our theme, when the idea conveyed would have to be eluci- dated not only by the meaning, form, and use of the vocables set apart for its independent expression, but also * Reissig, Vorlesungen über die Lateinische Sprachlehre, $ 171. DICTIONARY AND GRAMMAR. I75 by the inflections and constructions affecting other words: the latter would occur were we to select any concrete concept inaccessible to grammar. Beginning with the signification of the word in the sentence, in which the meaning is clearly exhibited, investigation in this case proceeds from Semasiology to syntax, and goes as far back as etymology, which, again, leads to phonology.* Though chiefly lexicological, it finally reverts to grammar to test the intercourse between words, and to measure their actual life by the standard of their past. To successfully carry out the psychological treatment of the lexicon, we shall have to confront whole groups of Words, in contradistinction to the old synonymical method, which compares only a few nearly allied words. For the various aspects of a notion to be collectively represented in the array, a sufficient number of illustrative shades must be taken. If the words assorted are too few, the notion is not realised in its entirety, and the individual Word misapprehended from want of sufficient comparison; whilst if the meaning of each word is eked out and ex- plained by all the remaining shades of the idea, instead of single tints you will have a complete picture before you. To define ‘virtue’ and ‘uprightness’ will not disclose the English view of this particular side of human char- acter. It is only by adding ‘probity,’ ‘integrity,’ ‘recti- tude,’ ‘honesty,’ ‘justice,' principle,’ ‘honour,’ ‘loyalty,’ * That the sound is subordinate to the sense, and why, is shown by Steinthal in his treatise ‘Assimilation und Attraction, Zeitschrift für Völkerpsychologie,” i. I 19. Schleicher so strongly adhered to the opposite opinion, that he endeavoured to rid the science of linguistic form, and sound of all mental element. (See Comp. d. Vergl. Gram. i. I 18, 119.) Even to him, however, style and syntax remain psychical things, which he jealously strove to separate from his own ‘naturwissenschaftliche Glottologie.” More recent investigators, going yet further (Hübschmann, Casuslehre), speak of grammatical categories as absolutely distinct from logical. The distinction made is easily disposed of by the observation that every language has its own logic, i.e., its psychologic (Steinthal, Philologie, Geschichte und Psychologie, p. 18). 176 ON THE CONNECTION BETWEEN “faithfulness,’ ‘conscientiousness,’ and a dozen other sub- stantives, adjectives, and verbs, and gauging the meaning of every one by that of the rest, that a true result is obtained. Every one of these words has been shaped with reference to others; each has modified something old, added something new, and only when they are all taken together do they express what the nation thinks of the entire concept. In the same way, by interpreting the German terms of causality, ‘Grund” (ground) and ‘Ursache' (reason), very little is known of the Teuton view of these fundamental motions. To really under- stand them it is necessary, besides investigating many other substantives, to consider the particles ‘weil, ‘warum,' ‘wodurch,” “wieso (why, through, because, on account); the prepositions ‘durch,’ ‘mit,” “von (by, with, from); the verbs “machen,’ ‘schaffen,’ ‘wirken' (to create, operate, effect); the subjunctive as implying cause, the Gothic and Old High German instrumental case, and much else that is relevant. Simultaneously with this amplification, Semasiology might be suited to its higher purposes by internal reform. To understand their sense, it is not enough to compare allied words and explain each by contrasting it with the rest. Such mutual measurement and valuation is little more than an exercise of subtlety or a practical lesson of style. Comparison, to be really useful, requires the meaning of a word not only to be defined, but also to be illustrated by examples. To give an instance, it is quite worth know- ing that both English and Germans distinguish between certain relations by “this ' and ‘that,’ ‘dies’ and ‘das.’ The one is used for the nearer, the other for the farther object, and the distinction is expedient and clear. Yet we are entirely ignorant of the real import of these words until taught by experience that the German uses them in a different way from the Englishman, and that much which is ‘this ' to the one is ‘that ' to the other, and vice DICTIONARY AND GRAMMAR. 177 versa. So that the logical discrimination of the two pair of Words, which is the same in English and German, avails nothing for psychological Science ; the words, which apparently cover the same ground in either lan- guage, being altogether different in reality. Putting aside the English, and supposing we had only concerned ourselves with the German, we must allow that we could not have discovered the weakness of our position in sup- posing the same distinction to be drawn in either lan- guage. Though we might have rightly defined the two German words, their true value would have remained hidden from us. And so with most other words. The general meaning of a word is easily sketched in a few strokes, especially in contrast to cognates; but the ap- plication needs a detailed account. If such an account is made up thoroughly, and compared with an allied concept similarly handled, we shall have the means of clearly conceiving both, without running the risk of mistaking abstract discrimination for an analysis of the living mind. The definition will not then be conveyed by means of a mere comparison, content with relative appreciation, and indifferent to the independent nature and use of each term. If two or more languages are contrasted, each being previously analysed in this careful and explicit wise, this comparison of thoroughly prepared materials will have paved the way to realise national peculiarities of thought. As there are hardly any words in any two languages completely representing each other, the amount of conscious knowledge to be gained by the comparison of what exists half-unconsciously in every land cannot be easily over-estimated. A philology in the sense of the fundamental labours achieved by Wilhelm Von Humboldt, Bopp, Pott, Grimm, Max Müller, Steinthal, and others, will some day form an essential part of that “national psychology' which owes name and scope to Lazarus. “Those explorers of lan- M 178 ON THE CONNECTION BETWEEN guage,” Lazarus and Steinthal, say in the preamble to their ‘Zeitschrift für Völkerpsychologie und Sprachwis- senschaft,” “who would tread in Humboldt's footsteps should seriously endeavour to discover in each language the peculiar imprint of the national mind. It seems to us that linguistic science, psychologically conceived, con- tains a wealth of the most interesting and important tasks, Scarcely dreamed of until now. Language not only presents a nation's view of the world, but also the reflex of its perceptive activity. Only in the later stages of a people's culture science steps in, carrying on through individuals the effort originally made by all in the creation of language. The primary object of psycholo- gical linguistics should be the vocabulary, as showing the extent of a nation's intellectual horizon. Copiousness or poverty of expression is in itself characteristic. Still more important is wealth or poverty in special departments. If a language is rich in expressions for sensuous qualities, or else for religious ideas and the deeper feelings, this should be known and turned to account. But more characteristic than wealth is depth and clearness, and more valuable than subtlety the truth of the distinctions drawn. The original etymological meaning scarcely ever exhausts the current meaning of any word, or, as it is usually expressed, almost every word has several meanings evolved from and yet clustering around the etymological one. The laws of this evolution and the development of whole vocabularies out of a comparatively small number of roots, are to be laid down both in the abstract and also with reference to national characteristics. The same is to be done, but conversely, for etymology and inflec- tions; for While the immense multitude of words and meanings may be traced to a small number of roots and concepts, the declension of nouns sets the problem of showing how a small number of case-forms has been preserved out of a much larger array. Lastly, DICTIONARY AND GRAMMAR. I79 laws are to be laid down for the general development and history of language. It is not to be denied that the Solution of these problems needs a good deal of preparatory historical research which remains to be ac- complished.” No doubt, the complete solution does. Meanwhile there is no reason why psychological scrutiny should not be carried on simultaneously with etymo- logical research. VII. OAV 7"HE AOSS/B/ZZZTY OF A COMMOAV ZAZTEA2AA’ Y AAAWG UA GAZ AſO/C ZZ/AE S/A V AVA 77OAVS. VII. [AUGUST 1876.] ON May 26, 1867, the then Czar and Czarina received at St. Petersburg a party of distinguished Slavonic politi- cians, on their way from Austria, Servia, and Turkey to an “ethnographical exhibition’ in the ancient capital of Moscow. An address having been presented by the Servian mem- bers, in which the Czar was saluted as the perpetual pro- tector of the Slavs, whose fortunes were described as indissolubly associated with those of Russia, the Empress expressed her deep regret that the Slavonic nations were still without a common alphabet and a common Ortho- graphy. A few words echoing her Majesty's sentiments were spoken in reply, upon which the Emperor cordially thanked his visitors for their good wishes, and, assuring them that the Russians had always regarded the Serbs as their kith and kin, earnestly hoped that all their aims and ends might be speedily achieved for the common good of Slavdom. “Upon our common Slavonic soil,” concluded his Majesty, “I greet you once more as brothers, and sincerely desire that you may have every reason to be pleased with your reception, both in this capital and at Moscow. Aw revoir.” As may be supposed, the Slavic notabilities were highly gratified by everything which passed at that memorable interview. Nothing struck a more responsive chord than the allusion of the Empress to their linguistic de- 184 ON THE POSSIBILITY OF A COMMON LITERARY ficiencies. The subject had for some time past occupied Slavonic circles; but, like the complicated Eastern Ques- tion, with which indeed it is intimately connected, no prospect of a definite solution had been opened, or has been opened, to the present day. Recent and current phases of the Eastern question have, however, largely added to the interest of the point mooted by Her Majesty. When politics run high, grammar, in polyglot countries, assumes diplomatic importance. Beginning with an examination of the alphabets, we find three series of characters employed by the various races of Slavonic origin. Russian, Ruthenian, and Servian are printed with Cyrillian letters of the elegant and dis- tinct form given them by the Russians. The Bulgarian dialect retains a more primitive pattern of the same style. The Polish, Wendish, Czechian, Croatian, Slovakian, and Slovenian tongues avail themselves of Latin characters supplemented by a multiplicity of modulating marks, points, accents, and hooks, which, moreover, are differently used in each dialect. The Bible and devotional books of Czechs and Poles (among the latter chiefly the Protestant Mazurs) are still printed with German characters, standing as solitary memorials of the period when printing was first imported from Germany into the East. Slavs of the Orthodox Church cherish a like preference, as regards religious books, for the original Cyrillian letters in which their sacred writings came down to them. Of all these alphabets, the Russian is unquestionably the one best suited to Slavonic languages. Originally constructed for Old Bulgarian, and subsequently improved on for Russian, it possesses a separate character for each individual sound, and requires no added signs to enable it to fully represent the rich variety of phonic elements presented by these idioms. Its adoption by Poles, Czechs, and Croats would relieve their alphabets from the majority of those multitudinous diacritical marks by which their type is overladen and their handwriting hampered; while, LANGUAGE FOR THE SLA W NATIONS. I85 for the few sounds peculiar to their dialects, either exist- ing signs might be retained, or new ones invented of a Cyrillian stamp. With regard to the Wends and Slo- Venians, these, it is true, employ such accessories some- what less freely than Poles and Czechs, but still to a Sufficient extent to render a change advantageous. Slo- vakian follows Czechian pretty closely in this as in other respects, the two dialects being very nearly related to each other. A change the other way, involving the sub- stitution of Latin for Cyrillian letters, is not to be thought of for a moment, being objectionable both on philological and practical grounds. Since only by a host of incon- venient auxiliaries the Latin alphabet has been rendered adequate to denote that wealth of sound for which Slavonic languages are so especially distinguished, it is evident that by laying aside their present serviceable and simple letters in favour of the elaborate forms of the Czechs and Poles, Russians and Servians would lose in the same proportion as all others must gain were they to adopt the alphabet of St. Cyril. A decision, therefore, is not difficult either as to the expediency of a uniform alphabet or as to the One to be chosen. The Orthographical question is quite another matter. To establish a common Orthography for distinct dialects, however closely related, must be pronounced an impracticable task. From the ultimate relationship between the Slavic tongues, and the large number of roots shared by all, it would seem to be a simple demand that roots identical in sound should be written in an identical form by all. Still it must be borne in mind that, in the majority of instances, Toots, even when sounded alike in two or more dialects, have in each acquired separate terminations and inflections. Hence it is a rare occurrence for entire words to coincide. If ‘to smoke’ in Russian is ‘kur-ity, but in Polish, “kur-zić,” “to wash, in Russian ‘kup-aty, and in Czechian ‘kup-ati’ (koupati), it would of course be easy to estab- 186 ON THE POSSIBILITY OF A COMMON LITERARY lish orthographical agreement as regards the first radical and like-sounding syllables; to assimilate the endings, whether etymological or grammatical, would amount to laying down the rule that either Russian, Polish, or Czechian, as the case might be, in all such instances is to be regarded as the standard to which the two sister- dialects must conform themselves. What, however, hap- pens far more frequently is for the roots themselves to take a different form in each cognate language. Here are a few instances: Russian ‘tem-ny’ in Polish be- comes ‘ciem-ny’ (dark); Servian ‘sev-ati’ is equiva- lent to Russian ‘sve-tity’ (to light); Slovenian ‘kuh-ati’ corresponds with Russian ‘Zeč-y’ (to burn, to glow, to roast). To attempt to write such words as these alike would be to destroy dialectical idiosyncrasies, and, in short, to substitute one language for another. It is just this separate and specific moulding of materials with which all were uniformly provided in the beginning that has produced the variety now presented by the Slavonic tongues. Assimilation consequently would involve some- thing more than Orthographical amendment. It would mean the partial effacement of one or the other dialect. To effect it successfully would demand linguistic, political, and national transformation, rather than mere Orthogra- phical revision. But radical as it might be, the innovation must assume even more destructive dimensions, or it could not be sus- tained. No great advantage would accrue from the reduc- tion of similarly sounding roots and endings to a uniform external standard, unless at the same time the significa- tion were made identical in all the dialects. What, for instance, would be gained by settling upon one form for the Slovenian ‘kutati' and the Russian ‘Zigaty, if to the former were to be left its most usual meaning of ‘cooking,' and the latter continued to denote “burning’ or “glowing;' or by conforming the Servian ‘disati’ to the Slovenian ‘zdihati, if one were permitted to retain its present wide LANGUAGE FOR THE SLA W NATIONS. 187 sense of “breathing, and the other the narrower one of “sighing’? Thousands of instances are to be met with of the representatives of the old roots in one dialect differing not only in form but also in purport from those in another, each dialect having extracted its own shades of meaning from the vaguer and wider significations covered by the Original terms. Words of precisely the same sense are found in any two dialects as rarely as words of precisely the same sound. Like all related languages developed apart from each other, the Slavonic idioms, moreover, are not composed exclusively of similarly sounding roots and stems. Each contains an additional stock of words of its own. Some of these are independent derivatives from common roots; others are roots shared by but one or two sister-dialects, having never existed, or else (which is more frequently the case) died out in the others. Remembering that roots of a similar sound have not always the same sense in every dialect in which thy occur, and that in each they may form different derivatives, we cannot but conclude that the concepts belonging to one dialect are to a great extent dissimilar to those contained in another, and that even when they do correspond, they are provided in each with distinct phonetic representatives. What influence this has upon syntax we need not now consider. From what we have seen it is evident that phonetic agreement, even in the few cases where it is practicable, would contribute little towards linguistic unity. Words corresponding in certain particulars might be reduced to an external likeness, but essentially they would still remain distinct. And by what means could this spurious reform be forced upon the Slavs 2 Albeit patriotic men of letters might decide upon the new Orthographical models and adopt them for their own personal delectation, they would find it a hard task to persuade their fellow-country- men to accept these products of artificial etymology. The perusal of books would become troublesome and vexa- I88 ON THE POSSIBILITY OF A COMMON LITERARY tious even to the educated; to the people generally read- ing Would be rendered a punishment, if not an absolute impossibility. In speaking, no one would be disposed to use unfamiliar words merely to express the old meanings; no one would think of clogging conversation with novel forms merely to secure a purely mechanical approxima- tion to sister-dialects, which, after all, would be confined to a comparatively small portion of the vocabulary, and even this implying no internal assimilation of sense. Language, of course, is liable to compulsion. Books might be forbidden to be printed in the old idioms; the new idiom might be exclusively taught in the Schools, and measures could be taken gradually to introduce it into general use. Such an artificial and laborious process would, however, involve political conditions which, if existing at all, might well admit of a simpler and more radical procedure. Admitting the practicability of such an attempt at no very distant future, the question would be whether all but one of the various Slavonic languages can be degraded to the level of a mere popular dialect, in order to elevate the exception to the dignity of a literary medium for universal use, and a conversational vernacular generally employed by the cultured classes 2 In other words, is the affinity between the Slavonic idioms sufficiently near for a people brought up to the use of one of them to be able to learn another as a book language, and gradually to adopt it themselves in their intercourse with the educated ? Assuming that any of the Slavonic nations could be induced to co-operate in effecting the change, or that coercion could be employed, it is very certain that were it possible to depress the native tongue to the position of a popular dialect and cause the literary vehicle to become the language of polite society, the latter would be com- pletely mastered much sooner than the former could be partially remodelled. The popular tongue would supply the greater portion of roots and forms, while the literary LANGUAGE FOR THE SLA W NATIONS. 189 standard would furnish developments and application; the relation being similar to that existing between the Swa- bian, or the Saxon-Lowland dialects, and the High Ger- man speech of cultured society. It is easier to acquire a strange language than to accommodate oneself to a partial change of the native one. In learning a new language an entirely new system of conceptions is introduced, which, So Soon as the mind becomes habituated to them, take the place of their predecessors, and, like an irresistible infec- tion, Secure the supremacy of their proper medium. In partially changing the old tongue, a confusion of ideas takes place, and the new idiom, resisted by the surviving momentum of old associations, is unable to establish itself properly in the mind. It is by no means so difficult as is commonly supposed to get either individuals or nations to take to a new language, if only daily reading in it and the regular exercise of the ear and tongue be provided for. That occult property of language, by which it becomes part of our very self, acts with the power of an elementary force in favour of an old idiom, until a certain stage of conversancy with a new one is reached, when ancient associations being replaced by novel ideas, the mental fibres quickly assume a foreign hue. If this happens where the two antagonistic languages are entirely foreign to each other, how much more would it be likely to occur if the old and the new were in the relation above sug- gested, of popular and literary tongue 2 It must, of course, be assumed that the dialect chosen for the dignity of the literary language of all Slav nations is richer and more developed than those which are to be subordinated to it. For unless this were so, its acquisi- tion would imply no intellectual advantage, and would not, therefore, be helped on by the desire for culture or social position. Judging by this standard, the choice would have to be made between Russian, Polish, and Czech. Far in advance of any of the others in regard to syntax, style, and richness of vocabulary, these three 190 ON THE POSSIBILITY OF A COMMON LITERARY languages possess a literature so much more ancient, copious, and diversified, that not one of the sister-dia- lects—Servian, Croatian, Slovenian, Slovakian, Wendic, Ruthenian, or Bulgarian—can, in comparison, for a moment be considered as eligible. Of the three named, Polish and Czechian are less adapted for the purpose than Russian. With the Slovakian and the all but extinct Wendic, Polish and Czech are the only languages of the West Slavonic branch, a group which differs from the eastern division by marked phonetic and etymological peculiarities. Hence, were Polish or Czechian selected, the change would come natural only to the speakers of the two other languages belonging to the same branch, while, if the choice fell upon Russian, the innovation could with comparative facility be participated in by Ruthenians, Bulgarians, Serb-Croatians, and Slovenians, the four prin- cipal divisions of the eastern group of Slavs. Moreover, being of a vastly inferior development to Russian, the four eastern dialects would the more readily embrace the reform, while of the two languages which could without effort link themselves to Polish or Czech, one is just as advanced as the other, to which it would have to become secondary. Again, the literature of Poles and Czechsis, for the most part, imbued with the Romanist Spirit, and, there- fore, distasteful to the great majority of Slavs; the literary power of the Poles, too, has, during the last fifty years, gradually diminished, that of the Czechs being seriously obstructed by the existence in their country of a second and predominant tongue; and lastly, the political status of neither Poles nor Czechs is such as to give to their writ- ten productions the additional weight of an independent nationality over and above their intrinsic literary worth. To all these drawbacks the Russian language presents corresponding advantages. Although restricted in many respects, its literature has exhibited up to the present day uninterrupted productivity, and is of that national and religious stamp So highly appreciated by the majority LANGUAGE FOR THE SLA V NATIONS. I9 I of Slavs. It is sustained by the power of a gigantic empire to which many national yearnings are directed, and which particularly excites the hopes of the Southern Slavs whose dialects are the least advanced, and there- fore are most in need of furtherance and support. Even if the dialects of Bulgarians and Illyrians were nearer allied to Polish or Czechian than to Russian, they might, under the circumstances, be reasonably expected to prefer the latter to the former; but, considering that they gravitate linguistically rather to Moscow than to Warsaw or König- inhof, there is no room for doubt as to the language which they would desire to see in the position of the Slavic literary medium. It is not of course to be anticipated that such a choice would be approved by their western brethren, the Poles and Czechs. Less nearly related as their dialects are to the Russian, they would, under any circumstances, find it more difficult to become reconciled to the reform. They would also feel a strong reluctance to renounce their highly improved, eminently characteristic, and dearly loved lan- guages, the vehicles of ancient culture and the weapons of modern international strife. The Pole, moreover, would be influenced by his habitual disinclination to submit to anything Russian; whereas, having all the wealth of German literature open to him, the bilingual Czech has no great inducement to obtain access to Russian books. While, then, any exchange must be repugnant to Poles and Czechs, the Southern Slavs would be able to adduce linguistic, literary, and political arguments in favour of the predominance of Russian. But since Ruthenian is merely a dialect of Russian, Bulgarian has next to no literature, Slovenian approximates to, and Croatian is almost identical with Servian, our business is really only with Servian, and the question before us becomes reduced to an examination of the prospects of a successful meta- morphosis of this important idiom. for a more detailed inquiry, let us commence by com- paring the inflections of the two languages concerned. 192 ON THE POSSIBILITY OF A COMMON LITERARY Masculine substantives with hard consonantal endings are similarly declined in Russian and Servian in six cases of the singular number, and almost alike in the seventh; whilst in the plural four are declined alike, and the varia- tions in the remaining three are so slight that the identity of the cases cannot fail to be recognised by the ear. In regard to the masculine substantives ending in Soft conso- nants with the moderating suffixes of i or i, the relation between the two languages is about the same. Feminine substantives with vowel endings form only five or six of the fourteen cases of the two numbers in the same way in either language; but the flectional variations of the other cases are purely vocalic. The rule for the declension of feminine nouns with consonantal endings, as also for neuter nouns, is mainly identical in Servian and Russian. Pass- ing to the adjectives, we meet in the abridged form with the same flections in both languages in six of the seven cases of the masculine singular, while in the plural five coincide. The declension of the feminine of the adjective differs considerably, like that of the noun, Servian case- endings having become, as it were, rubbed off; neuters are nearly identical. About the same relations obtain in the long declensional form of the adjective, except that the Servian feminine terminations are better preserved, and more nearly approximate the Russian, than in the short form. In the singular, four of the Seven cases are formed similarly. Personal pronouns are declined in the same manner in both languages, with the exception of the prefix of an n in Servian in the oblique cases beginning with vowels. The same may be said of the possessive; the demonstratives agree essentially, the only distinctions being that in Russian a vowel is not unfrequently pre- fixed, and that in Servian the flections are not so intact as in Russian. With reference to verbs, the auxiliary ‘to be’ forms the present and future tenses, the infinitive, imperative, and participles in the same way in Russian and Servian; LAINGUAGE FOR THE SLA V N A TIONS. I93 the perfect tenses are almost uniform ; the imperfects alone differ. The conjugations of the regular verbs are appar- ently dissimilar in many points, but still correspond sufficiently for Servians and Russians to be hardly ever in doubt as to the inflectional meanings of the sister-dialect. The present tenses, the participles, and generally the infinitives and imperatives, are similarly framed; the perfect and imperfect tenses differ however enough to render it necessary for the Servians actually to learn the Russian forms; the compound tenses are likewise dis- similar, but may be understood from the simple tenses. The future tense, when not expressed by the present, is eked out in Russian with ‘to be, and in Servian with ‘will” or ‘shall.’ On the whole, then, it is evident that the inflectional distinctions between the two languages need present no insuperable difficulty. As regards the vocabulary, the case is otherwise. It is true that no such marked phonetic differences exist between the languages of the same Slavonic group as between One group and the other, Being in many respects more in accord with each other than the various dialects of High and Lowland Germany, those of the eastern group may be called very intimately related indeed. Though dissimilarities are too consider- able for a common Orthography, they are insignificant to the ear and quite insufficient to endanger mutual intelli- gibility. Existing hindrances Spring from another source. At that stage in the development of language when sounds were in a more liquid and fluctuating state than at pre- sent, the forms of roots could be turned and twisted in various ways, and their meanings accentuated or modified by the change of some letters or by the addition or with- drawal of others. To illustrate this individualising of a general conception, the following English examples may be given of groups of words, the members of which, though now differing in form and meaning from each other, have sprung from a N 194 ON THE POSSIBILITY OF A COMMON LITERARY common germ : wist, wit, wise; fresh, free, frank; fly, flutter; glisten, glitter; rest, roost; slink, Sneak, &c., &c. Of this process the English language preserves compara- tively few evidences, but in the Slavonic dialects their name is legion. Hence we often find analogous ideas expressed in Slav by root-variations, where in English derivatives, compounds, or other roots are employed. Such being the case in each of the Slavonic idioms, it is easy to imagine the profuse variations which present themselves on a comparison of the several sister-dialects, each with a long independent existence behind it. Though some- times appearing in the like forms, roots willmore frequently be phonetically diversified in the various cognate idioms, even when their meanings are identical. Here are a few examples where both sound and signification are the same in Russian and Servian: ‘voda' (water), ‘kraj' (margin, frontier), ‘koza' (goat), ‘dati’ (to give), ‘kovati’ (to forge). The following will illustrate those cases where the sound has been diversified, but the meaning remains alike in both languages: Servian ‘turiti, Russian ‘u-darity’ (to thrust, to hew); Servian ‘puk, Russian ‘polk' (a troop); Servian ‘Zao, Russian ‘zli' (bad); Servian ‘vercati’ or ‘perskati, Russian ‘brisnuti' (to squirt); Servian ‘mlaka,’ Russian ‘boloto’ (a marsh); Servian tuéi, Russian ‘seei' (to break); and so forth. Facilitating the for- mation of stems and meanings, this unrestrained phonetic diversification gave rise in each dialect to a mass of new words, of which those that most nearly resemble in form others contained in Sister-dialects are certainly not always approximate in Sense. As noticed above, what in one denotes ‘to cook' means in the other ‘to glow ; the word bearing in one dialect the general sense of ‘to breathe,’ in the other assumes the nar- rower signification of ‘to sigh.” “Iskaty,’ ‘to seek’ in Russian, grows ‘to need’ in Servian; ‘lasity,’ ‘to go' in the former, is specialised as ‘to ascend’ in the latter; ‘gubity,” “to annihilate’ in One, takes the intransitive LANGUAGE FOR THE SLA W NATIONS. I95 Sense of ‘to perish’ in the other; while ‘plav, the Servian for ‘ship, stands in Russian for ‘navigation, another root being employed for “vessel.” Whenever such diver- sifications of sound and meaning were effected in the same word, the connection between the several words so produced, which, where but one of these modifications occurs, can be easily discerned, was necessarily obscured. The results of this double diversification are shown in words such as the following: Russian ‘Soxa.” (plough), Servian ‘seei' (to cut); Russian ‘polzti’ (to crawl), Servian ‘spu%’ (a snail); Russian ‘maraty’ (to soil, to write badly), Servian ‘per-l-jati’ (to besmear), &c. These examples show that prefixes and suffixes are frequently present to increase the difficulty of identification. Add to this that the two nations have been long and widely separated by the course of history. The one has established the most extended empire of the earth, pro- duced a literature of considerable wealth, and developed an upper class possessed of a high degree of culture; the other, deprived for a long period of national independence, has gradually sunk into a state of poverty and ignorance, from which it is only recently beginning to recover. The one has immensely enriched its language by adap- tations from abroad, as well as by the acquisitions of its own intellectual advance; while, until a few generations ago, not the slightest effort was made to lift the vernacular of the other above the level of a peasant brogue. The extent to which circumstances' have augmented the voca- bulary of the more fortunate nation, the comparative definiteness they have imparted to it, and the vividness and brilliant variety of Sense and metaphor they have generated, cannot easily be overvalued. The limited capacity for expression, On the other hand, imposed upon its neighbour, the inferior accuracy of its concepts, and their relative inaptitude for Scientific pur- poses, will be no less evident. The result is a divergence of the two languages, not sufficient, it is true, to prevent 196 ON THE POSSIBILITY OF A COMMON LITERARY intercourse between Servian and Russian on such matters of everyday life as were designated before separation occur- red, but great enough to prevent either from understanding the Written language of the other, where notions are dealt with, formed, and developed in more modern times. Any Russian may ask a Servian for water and food in his own tongue, and be easily understood; but unless he has the dictionary by his side, no Servian will master a Russian leading article. After all that has been advanced, is it reasonable to presume that Russian can ever become the literary language of Servia, or that Servian will ever be content to take the humble position of a mere country dialect in regard to domineering Russian 2 What keeps them apart is some- thing more than that insignificant difference between one cognate dialect and another, which rarely precludes mutual intelligibility in members of the same race, providing the rules of phonetic modification have been mastered, or a little amount of practice has familiarised the ear with them. Separation results from dialectic diversification of sound and meaning in a considerable portion of the voca- bulary. In many cases diversification has reached such a luxuriance as entirely to hide the common germ from which words have grown. The extraordinary copiousness of the one, and the comparative poverty of the other, is another bar to union. Last, not least, the contrast between two intellectual organisms, the one fully grown, the other just beginning to sprout, necessarily impedes amalgamation. Nevertheless, where the will is present a way may possibly be provided. From the prevailing state of feel- ing on the subject it is to be foreseen that in certain circumstances the attempt will be made to give the Russian language a literary, and so by degrees a social, position in South Slavonic lands. Linguistic remoteness, to a great extent, is compensated for by political intimacy. A few days ago, when discussing the Eastern question, LANGUAGE FOR THE SLA W NATIONS. I97 the St. Petersburg Golos thus reflected the sentiments of the party now in the ascendant in Russia:- ‘The Slavic race being the most numerous in Europe, their formation into a confederacy would ensure for it a place in the European concert corresponding to its numerical Superiority. But any federation of Slavs, or any number of middle-sized Slavonic states, even when not confederated, must necessarily gravitate towards Russia as their natural defender and protector, and must add their own resources to the already formidable power of our great Empire. This is alike understood, and almost equally dreaded, in London, Paris, Berlin, Vienna, and Pesth. Hence the alarm of all Europe when the rights of Slavs are so much as mentioned. As for us Russians, who, at periods now fortunately past, have seemed to appear as conquerors on the Balkan peninsula, we are low well assured that there is no need for us to acquire either Constantinople, or even the smallest strip of territory in those regions.” Suggestions and intimations of a similar nature are, of late, frequently to be met with in various Organs of the Bussian press. Should the execution of Such a programme be ever entered upon, a tendency would be induced, alike by what it promises to Russia as by what it withholds, to inaugurate measures directed to linguistic approximation. Were a federation instituted, a language would be de- manded for business intercourse, when there could be no doubt upon which the choice would fall. If, on the other hand, no federation existed, a necessity would be felt to supply the defect in the political connection by the estab- lishment of a spiritual bond. If Russian were taught in the schools, it would not be long before the educated classes were sufficiently advanced to read the sister-dialect. Strange as it must remain to them in the absence of special study, they would become conversant with it after a few months' application. The near relation- ship of the two tongues, and the remarkable aptitude of 198 ON THE POSSIBILITY OF A COMMON LITERARY the Slavic mind, as evidenced in the rapid acquisition of absolutely foreign idioms, would combine with national sentiment to produce a speedy result. Together with the prospect of possessing a highly developed language, far more serviceable for purposes of culture than their own, the noble privilege of speaking a tongue common to many millions of human beings, and the vehicle of a valuable and varied literature, would do their part. For Some time past efforts have been made in this direction. In the Slovansky Svet, a journal published at Prague, M. Tomitschek, a Czechian patriot, wrote on Ist April I872:— ‘We Slavs form the mightiest stock in Europe, but we are divided into numerous branches, each of which has a separate existence, lives its own life, and reaps its own harvest. Every Slavonian people has its own lan- guage, literature, science, and politics. To this division it is due that the Slavs are still without that influence in the council of nations which both their numerical weight and their intellectual achievements should ensure them. The greatest obstacle to a joint development is, without doubt, that diversity of tongues which impedes direct intercourse between the several Slav peoples. A common language is therefore our most pressing need. In what way we should set about providing ourselves with this indispensable requisite Nature herself teaches us. As by the law of gravitation lesser bodies are attracted to the greater, so must the Slavic dialects link themselves to the language of Russia. Supported by their political posi- tion, the Russian nation have been enabled to develop their language to an unusual degree, and have produced a literature which excites the admiration of civilised Europe, and is entitled to rank, with that of either Ger- many or France. . . . In order to bring about the desirable connection of the Slavic nations with Russia, it is neces- sary to begin with diffusing among them the knowledge of the Russian tongue. . . . The first step to be taken is LANGUAGE FOR THE SLA V N ATIONS. I99 § to establish linguistic associations in the non-Russian Sla- vonic countries and train Russian teachers both for public classes and for educational institutes. In all superior schools, as well as in all the seminaries for the educa- tion of elementary teachers, these associations must aim at securing the establishment of professorial chairs for the Bussian language and literature. As a subject of instruc- tion in the middle and lower schools, Russian must take its place side by side with the native dialect.’ IIere follow sundry ingenious suggestions regarding the ublication of reading-books, the use of the theatre as a hº of instruction, the frequent holding of Slavonic ‘Exhibitions,’ &c. The same periodical, which, to pave the way for the end aimed at, appeared both in Czechian and Russian, pub- lished a report on the measures taken by the Moscow Congress, the adjunct and supplement of the ‘Exhibition, for giving effect to the wishes expressed by the Empress: ‘For the Slavonic Congress in Moscow it was reserved to make a practical move towards the realisation of Sla- vonic unity. We have to thank that memorable Pan- slavonic assembly that Slavic solidarity has ceased to be a mere well-Sounding phrase, and that it has now become an actual reality. Those who took part in that Slavonic pilgrimage to Russia, the most prominent men of the entire Slavonic brotherhood, Solemnly announced their conviction of the absolute necessity of selecting one of the Slavonic tongues as the common language of all Slavdom, and declared Russian to be the most eligible for the pur- pose. This declaration has since been approved by the entire Slavonic press.’ Among the objects in regard to which innovation is demanded, it is urged in the same place by M. Toužimski:- . ‘In face of the great dangers menacing the Slavic family, our motto must be, “One for all and all for one.” It cannot be indifferent to the Russian that Czech or Slo- 2OO ON THE POSSIBILITY OF A COMMON LITERARY venian should become the prey of a foreign conqueror, that the Prussian soldier threatens to make himself at home on the banks of the Danube, and that the key of the East may some day fall into Berlin hands. Just as little can the Austrian Slavs permit Austria, which is, for the most part, a Slavonic state, to support Berlin projects of conquest directed against Slavonic Russia. In Slavdom and in its success lies the power of Russia, and might also lie the strength of Austria. . . . Those memorable words “Not a single Slavic cottage shall be left to the stranger." which were spoken at the Moscow Congress, will, if our bond be fostered, doubtless become the cry of the entire Russian race.” In these utterances we have the linguistic issue deli- berately raised to prepare the execution of the political programme for the impending Eastern campaign, as pub- lished by the Golos. Hitherto little, it is true, has been done in promotion of the contemplated reform, it being felt that premature action in the matter of language might interfere with the accomplishment of political designs. But if the seed that has been sown be favoured by political constellations, such as we must expect to arise, there are, from a linguistic point of view, Sufficient grounds for believing that success will be achieved. By the introduction of Russian teachers the rising generation would soon be able to read Russian books and newspapers. In the succeeding period the ability to do so would become extended and confirmed. Should the political situation, the advent of which must precede the experiment, be prolonged, the next step, of printing Russian journals and literary productions upon South Slavonic soil, would sooner or later follow. On further consolidation of the new political arrangements, and the consequent extension of intercourse between Russia and the Balkan lands, the educated classes of the latter might adopt the new lan- guage, and thus pave the way for its diffusion among the people generally. What extent that diffusion will LANGUAGE FOR THE SLA V N ATIONS. 2O I reach must, of course, depend upon the future course of political and national events. In no circumstances could Servian or Bulgarian be expected to become dialects of Russian, but they might well serve as a valuable stepping- stone, rendering the acquisition of that language a com- paratively easy task. The Croats, or Catholic Serbs, and the Slovenians, the branch nearest to them, would hardly co-operate in any such movement. With the wide diffusion of German among them, political and religious reasons combine to oppose these nationalities to Russ. In proportion, how- ever, as the Servian markets were closed against them, would the risk of printing Croat and Slavonian books be enhanced. A. In the interest of national unity, the Russian Govern- ment even now objects to see dialects put into print. Ru- thenian, or Little Russian, the language of Some 15,OOO,OOO subjects, may not be printed at all; Polish is likewise grievously restricted; whilst Lithuanian, a cognate but not a Slavonic tongue, is officially treated as almost non- existent. VIII. COPTIC INVTENSIFICATION. VIII. [PARTIALLY A REPRINT FROM THE ‘TRANSACTIONS' of THE PHILOLOGICAL SOCIETY.] WHEN Egypt was conquered by the Macedonians, the native religion, and, with it, all learning declined. It Was Only after the introduction of Christianity that the national mind was again roused to intellectual effort, and that a literature was composed which has been handed down to us under the name of Coptic. Accord- ing to Eusebius, the Evangelist Mark entered Egypt during the reign of Nero, and rapidly converted thousands of the mixed Greek, Jewish, and Egyptian population of the lower country. Anxious to invest their traditional ceremonies with a meaning acceptable to cultivated pagans, the Jews in those scholarly regions had become mystical Platonists; the Greeks had exhausted both religion and criticism ; while, routed by foreign conquest and philosophy, the discomfited Egyptians no longer believed in their indigenous gods, but were still affected by all the ancient spiritual wants of their reli- gious race. With the soil thus effectually prepared for its beneficent action, Christianity took the people by storm. Only seventy years afterwards Justin Martyr found the new religion almost universally predominant. Those who remained heathens turned their adorations principally to the god Serapis, the judge after death, exhibiting in the fashionable worship a significant anxiety to attain perfection during, and Salvation after, their earthly life. The Egyptians being the first nation converted as a whole, 2O6 COPTIC INTENSIFICATION. their influence on growing Christianity was proportionately great. Having ever believed in the immortality of the soul and a certain triplet of gods, thanks to ancient associations and new enthusiasm, the men of the Nile now rose to be the leaders of the primitive church. Their voice dominated in all the councils of the Church; their separate African Council of Hipporegius was the model of that of Nice ; and an Egyptian deacon, Athanasius, settled the consubstantiality of God and Christ against the Arian heresy. A Jewish colony near Alexandria, the Therapeutae, invented monastic life; and the lost Gospel, according to the Egyptians, contained the praise of celibacy. Even before this, the Egyptians had been called Docetae, because they thought that the Saviour had been crucified in appearance only. Together with the testimony of the Fathers and the Coptic literature, these circumstances sufficiently estab- lish the fact that the Egyptians had a principal share in settling the first dogmas of Christianity. It is doubtful whether the preserved versions of the Coptic Bible are older than the third century. They certainly are not of later date. In many respects they evince so genuine a character, as to admit being used as a means for emendating the Greek canon. Round this new centre of the Egyptian mind the Gnostical philo- sophy composed its mystical writings, as a combination of Egyptian dogmatic subtlety with the pure and simple spirit of the new religion. Formerly known by the de- nunciations of the Fathers only, the first Coptic religious treatise was lately published from a manuscript in the British Museum, and created a sensation among learned theologians, hardly lessened by the mystic obscurity of part of the contents (Pistis Sophia, Opus Gnosticum edidit, latine vertit, &c., G. A. Schwartze). A vast number of similar religious works were written in the following centuries down to the Arabian conquest. Many COPTIC INTENSIFICATION. 2O7 books on various other subjects are extant, and the study that is now being bestowed on them will, we may hope, throw a new light on the first development of Chris- tianity, and the still older culture of Egypt. As yet, a considerable portion of this literature is manuscript. Very valuable collections are preserved in London, Oxford, Paris, and Berlin. By far the most precious relics are deposited in the Library of the Vatican. The Catalogue Taisonné of the Coptic books in his possession (Catalogus Bibliothecae Borgianae, ed. Zoéga) shows the Pope to have inherited the most important part of the New-Egyptian literature. When will the early traditions and legends of the Church, preserved in Egyptian at the Vatican, be published for the benefit of theologians and his- torians ? The hope once entertained that much more might be discovered in the Coptic monasteries of Nubia, Abyssinia, and Jerusalem, has so far been disappointed. Hieroglyphic and Coptic literature together allow the Egyptian language to be investigated through a compass of over four thousand years. This is probably the only instance of so lasting a vitality all over the earth, a draé Xeyopetov of philology. Chinese, and even part of Hindoo literature, may reach up nearly to the same age; but Chinese dates are still unexplored by European science, and Hindoo chronology evinces most strongly the characteristics of mythological confusion. Christianity and Christian literature were only transient phenomena in Egypt. When the Arabs conquered the country, the bulk of the inhabitants, being forced to turn Mussulmans, gradually forgot their native tongue. The reading and copying of religious books remaining, however, an obli- gatory rule in the Christian monasteries, Lower Egypt, by many MSS. of the tenth century, is proved not to have lost its language before the beginning of the eleventh. Arabic translations added to Coptic MSS. were introduced from and after this period. In Upper 2O8 COPTIC INTENSIFICATION. Egypt, according to the Arabian Macrizi’s ‘History of the Copts, every man spoke Egyptian in the fifteenth century; in the sixteenth, Leo Africanus tells us, it had disappeared. At the present time Arabic is the exclusive idiom of Egypt, spoken by a Mahometan population of mixed Egyptian, Arabian, Kurdish, Turkish, and Berber blood. By the side of this hybrid race about half a million remain of the ancient and unmixed Egyptian stock. Called Copts, and adhering to monophysitic Christianity to this day, they still mechanically recite prayers in the venerable idiom of their ancestors; but they have long ceased to speak, and at present they hardly understand, a single word of their ancient tongue. Long ago the native name of Egypt, Chemi, the black, has given way to the Arabic denomination of ‘Kebt.” Like the Greek Atyvirtos, however, Kebt is explained as a foreign and abbreviated form of an in- digenous name, older, or at least more sacred, than ‘Chemi: ' ' Kahi ptah, country of Ptah, or land of the Spirit to whom Egypt was specially consecrated. With the introduction of Christianity the old and autochthonal alphabet of the country began to change. It is not easily determined when the hieroglyphical shorthand was utterly discontinued, and the Greek letters forming the Coptic alphabet became exclusively pre- valent. As the Egyptian Saint, St. Antonius, who lived about the middle of the third century, and did not un- derstand any language but Egyptian, knew the contents of the Holy Scriptures perfectly well, these must have been translated at the beginning of the third century at the latest. But although the translation of the Bible involves the introduction of the Greek alphabet, it does not follow that the Demotic form of the hieroglyphic characters was not preserved with it for a while. When Demotic died out at last, six hieroglyphical signs, received into the Coptic alphabet to denote as many peculiar Egyp- COPTIC INTENSIFICATION. 2O9 tian sounds, were the only trace left of the local and pri- mitive writing, from which neighbours had originally borrowed their letters. There is a moral in this. The more advanced nations, after the lapse of many centu- ries gratefully returning the gift of the more ancient but less progressive race, the highly-developed Greek alpha- bet was bestowed upon Egypt a thousand years after the primitive Egyptian characters, in their modified Phenician form, first initiated Hellenes into the arts of reading and writing. The memorable six Egyptian char- acters preserved in Coptic, under the pictures of a garden, a snake, a triangle with stick and crescent, an eagle, a crocodile's tail, and a basket, respectively represent sh, f, kh, h, dj, tsh. There is a seventh sign for the syl- lable ti, The Coptic separates into three slightly differing dialects: the Thebanic or Sahidic of Upper Egypt, the Memphitic of Lower Egypt, and the Bashmuric, so called from a region in the Delta. The Bashmuric being the most degraded, and the Sahidic, both locally and philo- logically, the more remote, the Memphitic is frequently called Coptic, to the exclusion of the others. Similarity of inflections is more surely illustrative of international relations than likeness of roots. Judging by the inflectional standard, Coptic is found to approach the Semitic much more closely than the Indo-Germanic in the nature and arrangement of its forms. In certain particulars justly considered to bear a nearly deciding witness to original unity, Coptic is all but identical with Hebrew, Arabic, and Ethiopian. The suffixed pronoun of the first person, I, is alike in Egyptian and Hebrew. That of the second, in Egyptian and Arabic, k, in Hebrew is represented by another palatal with under- laid vowel, cha. The third person, Coptic f; Hebrew v, is essentially the same. Again, the likeness between Egyptian and Arabic conjugation is a striking one in O 2 [O COPTIC INTENSIFICATION. many instances. The original form of the verb, the asl of the Arabians, in both languages is the perfect. Con- jugation by means of analogous suffixes has been more or less preserved by Coptic as well as Arabic ; prono- minal prefixes, very similar to the Coptic forms of ei, being used in Arabic for the present tense. The auxiliary verbs for the perfect, the subjunctive mood, &c. (Arabic kan, leitni, Coptic nei, mti, &c.), are arranged almost in the same way. The present tense of the verb ‘to be ' is frequently omitted in either language for the present, and as often inserted to denote the future. The Arabic “incha allah, too, sometimes added to the present tense when used for the future, may be said to have its equal in the formation of a Coptic future by means of the auxiliary verb tare, ‘to desire.’ And what is particularly important, one description of Coptic passive infixing the vowel ee, instead of any other contained in the root, is analogous to Arabic, which forms its passive in a similar mode. Without entering more deeply into a subject which could not profitably be attempted without a good deal of preliminary phonetic exploration, suffice it to say, that among leading Egyptologists who have paid attention to etymology, there are scarcely any that do not foresee the eventual demonstration by sufficient scientific means of a radical affinity between the Egyptian and Semitic tongues. From Rossi to Bunsen, from Bunsen to Lepsius, from Lepsius to Maspero and Brugsch, a unanimous voice has been heard to proceed from the Egyptian camp claiming kindred with Arabs and Jews. Brugsch more especially, as he has shown the way in so many other departments of Egyptian philology, so also in this has acted as a pathfinder and a guide equally ingenious and expert. Hitherto, it is true, Semitists have made no very respon- sive reply to the advances of their Egyptologist brethren. Yet it cannot be denied that a large number of Hamite COPTIC INTENSIFICATION. 2 I I Toots is plainly identical with Semite roots; and if, in reducing others to a Semite type, Egyptian phonology does not satisfy the demands of a linguistic school, ac- customed to the steadier laws governing the more highly developed languages under their immediate control, the defect, it is to be hoped, will be recognised ultimately as one inherent in the subject, and only partially amend- able by progressive research. After all, it is not the fault of Egyptologists that Egyptian sounds are liable to more copious change than those of our own Asiatic tongues. Nor are the votaries of Hamite grammar to be blamed if the roots they handle, having in many instances been preserved in numerous variants, in others allow of such variants being scientifically restored under the liberal laws demonstrably in force in their own par- ticular domain. Should not each language be gauged by its own standard? And if their native standard admits of Egyptian roots assuming forms akin to words of cog- nate meaning in other idioms, should not these idioms be regarded as cognate, even though they lack the means of establishing the affinity ? By way of ethnographical. evidence in favour of an etymological thesis, it may be added that Egyptians, both by the Bible and modern natural Science, are classed as men of Aryo-Semitic type. With the Semitic languages Coptic specially agrees in attributing etymological importance to vowels. The use made in Egyptian of this apparently indifferent por- tion of the verbal material is even more striking and effective than in Hebrew and Arabic. Egyptian vocalisa- tion displays a linguistic sensitiveness and an auricular susceptibility which, accustomed to less musical languages as we are, we find it hard to realise when first making its acquaintance, and impossible not to admire when Once familiarised with the extraordinary fact. The delicate Egyptian ear assigned to each vowel a 2 I 2 COPTIC INTENSIFICATION. specific import and signification. A short, half-audible e was regarded as befitting roots of primary, sensuous meaning. Whenever this meaning was to be intensified, a sonorous 0 replaced the muffled e ; while if a more dynamic and metaphorical enhancement of the original idea was contemplated, both these vowels had to give way before the soft and flowing a, Other characteristic significations were allotted to i, 7, ai, and ow; nor were Ö and 6 altogether identical in the verbal music of the Nile. The conceptual value of the different vowels can be clearly traced in preserved parallel forms. According as the one or the other meaning was intended to be conveyed, the vowels of the roots admitted of being changed, and what now was an e, anon appeared as an o, or an a, i, 7, as the context might demand. Not all roots, indeed, can be demonstrated to admit all the various vowels; not all, again, are found to separate meanings distinctly, even when they display the different sounds. Naturally signification had a most decisive influence upon the adaptability of roots to intensifying uses, and a process which with One notion admitted of being fully carried through, with another ran the risk of be- coming obscure if not absurd. In other cases, roots, which willingly did lend themselves to intensification, may have been lost in the prolonged pruning process of the idiom anterior to the advent of a more settled period; while still others, which, from their significa- tion, would have been variously vocalised had they arisen in the olden times of melody, were created at an age when the musical capacity was no longer active enough to profit by the etymological license allowed. But, after all the deductions occasioned by these unto- ward incidents, the number of preserved words plainly coming under the euphonic categories, is legion. A few instances will alike illustrate the marvellous fact and COPTIC INTENSIFICATION. 2 I 3 more exactly define the general rules laid down for de- termining vowel sense:— * Bel, to loosen, to solve ; ‘ból,” to liberate ; ‘esh,’ to Cry, to proclaim ; ‘osh, to explain, to pray, to adore ; ‘shep, to take, receive, accept ; ‘shop, to purchase, take to heart, to welcome and honour; ‘ems, to submerge; ‘oms, to baptize, to merge in voluptuousness; ‘fesh, to break; ‘fosh,’ to divide ; “mesh, to beat ; ‘mishi, to wound one's conscience; ‘esh,’ ‘ishi, to suspend ; ‘ashi, to depend upon, to be dependent upon, to be attached to one, to honour one ; “mes, to generate; ‘misi, to pro- create intellectually. Similarly the causation verbs, which, however, place their characteristic vowel at the end :— ‘Tale, to put ; ‘talo,” to impose ignominy, to impose religious duties; ‘taltshe, to cure disease; “taltsho, to heal the wounds and alleviate the sorrows of the soul; ‘tahe, to take ; ‘taho, to hire; ‘tashe, to augment; ‘tasho, to go on doing a thing with increasing energy and violence; ‘tsabe, to communicate; ‘tsabo,' to teach; ‘take, to kill; ‘tako, to work wholesale destruction. In these examples the o variant expresses augmenta- tion, enhancement, or effect of the action, indicated by the e variant. Enhancement and effect may be either direct and concrete or else metaphorical and abstract : 0 is direct; a has a metaphorical tendency; i is uncertain, equally lending itself to either purpose. Exceptions more frequently occur by the e variant waxing intense than by the o and a variants descending to the lower level of the ordinary e. When rising above its proper sphere, the e variant is mostly supported by a particle, which, indeed, is often added to the o variant likewise. The functions of vowel signification are not exhausted in the above. Looking upon passive, intransitive, Sub- stantive, and adjective likewise as implying increment of sense, the Egyptian, in the case of the old pluri- 2 I 4 COPTIC INTENSIFICATION. vocal verbs, is fain to characterise these forms by the insertion of a significant i, 5 (o), or a. As regards the passive, the e of the root, which appertains solely to the active, in this mood is replaced by 7, 6 (0), or a 7 hardly ever occurring in transitive verbs, its presence clearly argues the passive, or, in other instances, the intransitive; but 6 (0) and a, as they include the enhanced signification of the active as well, cannot be determined as possessing passive sense, except by the context. The number of verbs subject to this ambi- guity being very large, comprehension might be seri- ously impeded by their equivocal use, but for the peculiar conception of the passive carrying its own specific remedy with it. Upon close observation, the o and a passives of the pluri-vocal verbs are found to be almost exclusively confined to the third person. As ‘oms,’ to baptize, is the result of ‘ems, to submerge, so ‘oms,’ ‘ he has been submerged, he has been baptized,’ expresses but another sort of final and even more con- clusive effect. ‘ I am baptized,’ ‘ thou art baptized,’ cannot be well rendered by passive ‘oms,’ being con- sidered as involving too much of the action expended to signify the result obtained; but ‘ he has been bap- tized, indicating not only the performance, but the act performed and the final product of it, properly offers itself for translation by a passive, which is only a consummated active. On reviewing the intellectual process from the first ‘ems’ to the last ‘oms, one cannot but be struck by the logical force and consistency displayed: active ‘ems, to submerge; active ‘oms, to submerge for a purpose, to baptize; passive ‘oms, a person that has been baptized, a baptized One. In the last meaning the word, having both intensified its sense and carried its action to a final result, successfully attains its culminating point and closes its onward career. The deed done has been done to good purpose. Submersion has produced a COPTIC INTENSIFICATION. 2 I 5 Christian. In words like these, the first and second persons of the passive are, as a rule, paraphrased by the active. In like manner intransitives, adjectives, and substan- tives are viewed as intensives. The reason is easily explained. While the transitive verb aims at direct but temporary action, the intransitive, formed of a transitive, in its abiding duration either imports the effect or the continued activity of the primary root. For instance, ‘shet, to demand, “ shat,’ to want, to be deficient in ; ‘ouom,’ to chew, “Ouam, to eat, to feed ; “uoh, to pursue, ‘ouah, to overtake; ‘hnt,’ to accede, ‘hant, to be near ; ‘dshekm, to wash, “dshakm, to be wet ; ‘tnhet, to credit, “tnhot,’ to be credible, &c. Adjectives need not specially be accounted for, being regarded as third persons, or participles of the passive mood: ‘tntn, to assimilate, ‘tntan, alike ; ‘shet, demand, ‘shot,’ requisite, wanting; ‘feh, to attain, ‘fob,' mature. Substantives lawfully incur the operation of the in- tensifying vowels, converting, as they do, the temporary performance of the verb into a more settled and enduring act, and, in many instances, including the effect as well: ‘ems,’ ‘oms, to submerge, ‘oms,’ submersion; ‘tehm,” ‘tóhm, to call, ‘tóhm, the cry; ‘tesh,’ ‘tósh, to con- stitute, ‘tosh, constitution; ‘tadjre, to confirm, “tadjro, confirmation; ‘shel,’ ‘shol, to rob, ‘shöl, the spoils; “shep,' ‘shöp, to receive, ‘shöp, reception; ‘fet, to destroy, ‘foti, destruction; ‘djnt,’ ‘djönt,’ to attempt, ‘djönt,’ experience, &c. As interesting as the fact is the history of vowel signi- fication. In hieroglyphics we meet with a large number of words consisting of two or more consonants, and dis- playing no vowels at all. The ancient alphabet possessing, and in other instances freely using, vowel characters, this omission induces the inference that the purely consonantal words, requiring some faint vocalisation as they do, were 2I 6 COPTIC INTENSIFICATION. sounded with the short e, which fills the analogous semi- vocalised syllables in Coptic. By the side, however, of these all but purely consonantal and unvocalised roots, we find the same words frequently provided in hierogly- phic writing with vowel terminations, or fully armed and equipped with inherent vowels, when the termination, as a rule, vanishes. Eacempli gratid: ‘sf,’ ‘sfi,’ ‘sif, boy; ‘Smb,” ‘Snbi,’ ‘snib, to heal; ‘ty,’ ‘tyu,’ ‘tux,’ to arrose, inject, &c. Add to this, that in the later, the Coptic, stage of the language, vowel appendages have almost entirely disappeared, and inner vocalisation has nearly universally set in, and the course of the process is obvious. The primitive language was pre-eminently consonantal, with muffled, half-perceptible vowels. The concept clung to blurred consonantal clamour, rapidly ejaculated, and neither coloured nor diversified by vocal hues. Subse- Quently, to render the discordant vociferation more emphatic, vowels were gradually appended, and in many instances expanded into long and chanting terminations, consisting of many a reiterated a, i, u, a, i, u, a, i, u, &c. At length, a taste for significant vowel application having been developed, terminations were allowed to enter the body of the word, and in their new place appeared important enough to be invested with different meaning and rank. We are thus enabled to distinguish three stages in this primitive history of the Egyptian tongue: the pre-eminently though not purely consonantal condition, containing the first babbling designation of things; the Second stage, marked by vowel appendages, designed to emphasise and qualify consonantal notions; and the third, or mixed consonant and vowel period, when these asseverating and expanding excrescences were done away with at the end and received into the concep- tual skeleton of the word, furnishing the verbal bones with a living and feeling soul. It would be venturesome to assert that all languages have had to pass through the like COPTIC INTENSIFICATION. 217 preliminary stages in their infancy; at the same time it is as well to observe, that from Egyptian—as will be shown in the ensuing essay—we are likely to learn more respecting the origin and first development of human speech, than from any other idiom hitherto explored. The plural, appropriately considered an augmentation of the singular, was likewise formed by suffixes subse- quently converted into infixes. Intensification, which in the more changeable sense of the verb wrought an access of quality, in the settled notion of the noun had to content itself with denoting a mere increase of quantity. The method and the feeling, which from “rekh, to burn, successively evolved “rekhu” and ‘rökh,’ to consume by fire, and ‘rökh,’ to be consumed by fire, in “rekh, the flame, could accomplish no enhancement beyond “rekhui,' flames. Primeval inability to distinguish between augmenta- tions of quantity and quality is illustrated by another suffix, forming both plurals and passives. This is the suffix ut or tu. It is a termination of strongly accentuated import, which, added to a verb, converts it into an absolute passive, while, when appended to a noun, it denotes plu- Tality in very express and unmistakable style. In the later stages of the language, quantity and quality having become distinguished at last, ut, tu, had to resign plurality, and was appropriated for the passive alone. Plural and passive being thus originally viewed as the climax of their respective singulars and actives, it is only natural that the migration of vowel terminations from the end to the centre of the word, which at a remote age served to form intensives and passives, should be also encountered in the ancient plural. Origin and growth of this plural are fully exemplified in their every stage. There are instances in which the termination is appended; there are others in which it is lost at the end and transferred to the centre; and there are still others, illustrating an intermediate stage, 2 I 8 COPTIC INTENSIFICATION. in which the termination, while already occurring in the centre, is still kept at the end. In later times, the noun, being always accompanied by the article which distinguished the number, required no indication of plurality at all, and in consequence dropped both suffix and infix. The few words preserving the original marks of plurality then came to be regarded as anomalous, and are now registered as irregular nouns. Some examples may not be amiss :—Hieroglyphic ‘taš,” border, plural, “tašu.” and “tauš; ’ ‘şeb, food, plural, “Śebu, Šabu; ’ ‘ām,’ a shepherd, plural, ‘āaumu. Coptic ‘ii, a house, plural, ‘Iow; ’ ‘son,’ a brother, plural, ‘sniu;’ “Śom,’ father-in-law, plural, ‘Smöu;’ ‘tshalodsh, a foot, plural, ‘tshalaudsh; ’ ‘mkah, grief, plural, ‘mkauk; ’ ‘ethosh, an Ethiopian, plural, “ethaush.” There being other suffixes and infixes besides u denoting plurality, this proves that all the various vowels have been originally appended for numerical augmentation, just as they were added for enhancement of quality. In either case the lyrical vowel was employed to raise the notion conveyed by the logical consonant. Suffixes: ‘shböt, a rod, plural, ‘shboti; ’ ‘halit, bird, plural, ‘halati; ’ ‘sobt,’ a wall, plural, ‘sebthaiou ; ’ ‘eshö, a pig, plural, ‘eshau, pigs. Infixes: ‘abot,’ a month, plural, ‘abit;' ‘uhor,' a dog, plural, ‘uhoor; ’ ‘urit,' a keeper, plural, ‘uraate,’ &c. The tendency of the language to remove terminations from the rear to the front, which, in the case of vowels, accounts for the gradual advance of the primitive jabber to the more civilised sphere of distinct speech, is further exemplified by the Coptic conjugation as compared with the hieroglyphic. The ancient language appends its pronouns to the verb, like Sanskrit, Greek, Latin, English, German, &c.; the more modern tongue prefixes pronouns to the root. Thus, the present tense of the verb ‘kash,” to break, would run in Hieroglyphics and Coptic as follows:— COPTIC INTENSIFICATION. 219 Pll EROGLYPEIIC COPT.JC EIIEROGLYPEIIC. COPTIC. PREFIX. SU FFIX. kasha, I break. eikash. (I, e? kashk, thou breakest. ekkash. k ek kashf, he breaks. efkash. f ef kashs, she breaks. eskash. S €S kashºn, we break. enkash. 72, €70, kashtn, you break. tenkash. in, tem, kashew, they break. eukash. €1ſ, €M. In the same way ai, ‘I have been,” forms the perfect; nei, ‘I come, the imperfect, and eie, ‘ I am in Order to ' (made out of ei, ‘ I am + e, ‘to ), the future. The latter, eie, is conjugated eke efe, &c., the inherence of the suffixed pronouns being stronger than the addition of the particle e, ‘in order to, which produces with the ei the idea of ‘shall be.’ Some other auxiliary verbs are allowed a similar but rarer use. It may likewise be worth observi ing that the original conjugation by means of suffixes has been preserved in Coptic for three verbs, peje, ‘to say,’ thre, ‘to do, and mare, “to wish, all of them conveying such primitive notions as have, in fact, adhered to ancient forms, and in consequence produced so-called anomalous verbs in most languages (Latin inquit, aio, cedo ; Greek, £mut, imput, &c.) The like observation may be made in the case of gender. In ancient times, pronominal suffixes, standing at the termination of Substantives, marked, as it were, both the quality of a noun and its gender. The Coptic dropped the suffix, formed it into a prefixed article, and converted the mere root of the noun into a substantive. Only in a very few instances have the former terminations of s, i, e for the feminine and f for the masculine gender been preserved. Numerals, which have been observed in many languages to be of a particularly conservative nature, are among these exceptionally persistent words. Possessive pronouns underwent an analogous change of place. Appended in hieroglyphics, they were made into independent words and prefixed in Coptic. Hiero- 22O COPTIC INTENSIFICATION. glyphic ‘ uro-S, her king, became ‘pes-uro in Coptic, the appended pronomical suffix 8, her, being metamorphosed into a preceding article by combination with p, the char- acteristic consonant of the third person. Similarly the characteristic consonants of the various personal pronouns, as shown in the conjugated tense above, admitted of reunion with p for the production of the other posses- sive pronouns. Allied to f, a weaker form of itself, p became pef, that is to say, ‘ he he, or, if we acknowledge the promoted dignity of p as definite article, ‘the he,’ meaning ‘ his.’ In the same way are formed pes, ‘the she, meaning ‘ her;' pen, ‘the we, meaning ‘our,’ &c. In all these instances hieroglyphics added the charac- teristic suffix, which, in the case of nouns, denoted the possessive, while, with verbs, it expressed the personal pronoun. From “uro, the king, by the addition of the feminine pronoun S, meaning ‘she, is formed “uro-s,’ her king; the same sound joined to the verb ‘rex, to know, produces ‘rex-s, she knows. To wind up. Among other ingenious theories pro- pounded in his ‘Cratylus, Plato attributes conceptual significance to the individual letters of the Greek, and, indeed, of every alphabet. To a he assigns whatever is great and grand ; i, according to the same subtle observer, denotes the thin and fine; o is supposed to name the round ; r, the fluent ; g, the sliding and sleek, &c. These views do not seem to have produced any very marked impression upon the Scholars of his age, and have since been regarded as a curious poetical fancy rather than anything else. No doubt, to the examples cited in support of his phonetic distinctions, any number of others proving the reverse might be opposed. And yet his doctrine is now discovered to contain a very considerable ingredient of truth. If Plato erred in regarding fully developed Greek as a suitable vehicle for the exploration of primi- tive speech, the progress of Egyptian philology reveals COPTIC INTENSIFICATION. 22 I traces of Sound-significance left in a more simple and aboriginal tongue; if the Greek philosopher ambitiously hoped to find out the meaning of every individual letter, the Coptic grammatician of the present day, though he has to content himself with determining a few vowels, saves the theory by establishing it on a historical basis. Even Egyptian, it must be admitted, has not been preserved in a sufficiently infantine state to display more than a few scattered vestiges of the musical delicacy at work in the first formation of language. That these vestiges should be discerned in the vowels, not in the consonants, is readily accounted for. There are mostly several consonants, but there is, as a rule, only one vowel in an Egyptian root when restored to its primitive form. Accordingly, while the several consonants obscure and interfere with each other's meanings, the solitary vowel stands out intact, and is gauged on its own unalloyed merits. Again, vowels have been shown to refer not to specific meanings, but Only to modifications of degree. If consonants had the like functions assigned to them, they are clearly too many for the task; while, if they are to reflect special meanings, they are manifestly too few. In the former case, the conceptual significance of the individual consonant is concealed by too many serving the same end; in the latter, it is confused by each consonant having too many and too various mean- ings heaped upon it. In the ensuing essay it will be seen that not only the same consonants, but the same groups of consonants were originally employed to express the most divers notions; indeed, they are so to this day, the distinction of otherwise identical words fre- quently arising from the vowels alone. What identical meaning can consonants be intended to convey in words like English ‘bat,’ ‘bet,’ ‘bit,’ ‘bite,’ ‘beat,’ ‘beet,’ ‘but,’ “boat,’ ‘boot 2 Or what can they have in common in “lack, ‘lick, “leak,’ ‘leek,’ ‘lock,’ ‘look,” “luck’? Or in 222 COPTIC INTENSIFICATION. ‘great,’ ‘grate,’ ‘grit,’ ‘greet,’ ‘grout'? All which does not militate against the demonstrable significance of conso- Inants, or combinations of consonants, in some isolated instances. Mr. Alfred Wallace has shown that in English the word mouth begins with a labial, the word tooth with a dental, and the word nose with a nasal. The same remark holds good with reference to most Indo- Germanic languages. Consonants, moreover, are more liable to change and decay than vowels. Once created by the union of the finest intellectual and sensuous agencies, the word is subject to the wish for rapid and fluent talk, which speedily causes its limbs to wither and collapse. To render a word acceptable, its music, at first, had to reflect the notion conveyed by it ; but the moment the vocable was accepted and definitively established, the corrupting tendency of easy pronunciation set in, and remodelled the ideal sound to suit the practical wants and conveniences of everyday life. Of these two stages, the former is clearly attested by Egyptian, as regards Egyptian and its congeners, including some of the most highly cultivated idioms of the world; the second is illustrated by the process of phonetic change and decay, observable in every language, and traced by comparative philology to the earliest records preserved. Fortunately, enough of the primitive matter is left in Coptic for an investigation originally instituted by Plato to have produced results, as soon as knowledge extended to a more remote period of antiquity than was accessible to the great Grecian.* * For a more detailed account of intensification and its allied changes, the reader is referred to the author’s “Coptic Researches.’ Previous attempts to explain sound signification are recorded in Bindseil, Abhand- lungen, Hamburg, 1838. For the Germanic Ablaut, see Grimm, Gram- matik. IX. THE OR/G//V OA’ CAAVGUA GAZ. IX. [READ AT THE ROYAL ASIATIC SOCIETY, JUNE 7, 1880.] SINCE the early Greek philosophers began to speculate as to whether language was the result of mutual agreement or the spontaneous product of human nature, working the same effect in the case of each individual member of a race, it has generally been assumed in researches of this kind that language has always been as intelligible as it is to-day. Unintelligible language seemed to be a con- tradiction in itself. Language which is not understood appeared to lack the very qualities which, in analysing that wonderful union of sound and mind, we seek to explain in our attempts to discover the genesis of human speech. . But is it really altogether impossible that language, which in the mouth of the more gifted nations has ultimately become so perfect a medium for the expression of thought, before attaining to its present high degree of development, should have passed through many a more primitive and less perspicuous stage 2 Is it not, on the contrary, in accord with the gradual growth of the human mind, and the concurrent evidence of the history of man and men, that the traces of imperfect apprehension still found in the most highly cultivated tongues are the last remnants of an age, when the reasoning faculties were not sufficiently developed to serve all the purposes of distinct speech 2 In early Teutonic, things totally dissimilar were confused and denoted by a single sound. The Gothic root ‘liub’ stands for faith, love, and hope; the Gothic word ‘leik’ both for carcase and body. If we suppose P 226 THE ORIGIN OF LANGUAGE. that, in addition to these meanings, ‘liub’ and “leik’ could have had a great variety of other significations having no apparent connection with each other, and that many, if not all, other Gothic words were equally multi- farious in meaning, we shall have conceived an epoch in the history of speech which, judging it by modern stand- ards, may be described as unintelligible. It is the object of the following sketch to attempt to show whether such a condition has ever existed, and whether it really did involve unintelligibility. The inferences drawn will be applied to the question of the Origin of language generally. For an inquiry of this nature, the Egyptian language probably offers greater facilities to the philologist than any other that could be named. The extensive period through which it may be traced—the longest, indeed, observable in any language—is in itself a great advantage. We have hieroglyphics as old as 3OOO years before Christ, and Coptic writings dating from IOOO after Christ. Added to antiquity and a proportionately long course of recorded development there is a transparent simplicity facili- tating analysis, which effectually displays all the more essential features of the original germ and its progressive expansion. In its more ancient hieroglyphic period, Egyptian is so largely a language of homonyms, that we moderns may well be tempted to dismiss it as unintelligible. Here are a few instances. ‘Ab’” means to dance, heart, calf, wall, to proceed, demand, left hand, figure; ‘āp-t’ means bread, corn-measure, jug, Stick, part of a ship, or hippopotamus; ‘uah' means to place, lay, Work, garland, grain, and fish ; ‘uet’’ means green, plant, vessel, mineral, sacrificial cake, sceptre, eye-water, to hurt; ‘bā’ signifies wood, palm, blade, mineral, holy bark, Sacrificial bread; ‘māk’ means to cover * The hooks, points, and strokes on the letters, with which the Egyptian words are transcribed, refer to the pronunciation, e.g., á is the Hebrew N, à long, a the common vowel; h is h, h =hh, t—t, #=l and S, t-6, dj, d, s=sh, &c. THE ORIGIN OF LANGUAGE. 227 (protect), consider (because, for), linen, boat, to rejoice; ‘hes' means jug, to contemplate, to penetrate, sing, be joyful, to command, refuse; ‘xebyeb' means to open, beat down, and vase; ‘xemt’ means three, to lack, demand, go, fire, to heat, javelin; ‘xer’ means to overturn, pleasant, sacrificial bullock, myrrh, sepulchre, therefore, processional boat, to cry, enemy, rascal, subject, to bear, means of subsistence, in respect of, through, whilst ; “Sensen’ means to breathe, echo, Smell, unification, happy, pleasant; ‘şet' signifies to effect, separate (choose, save), a weight, to nourish, read; ‘tebh' means useful (necessary, utensil), to request, shut, offering, grain, vessel, &c. The use of one sound, or one combination of sounds, for the most various things is not, moreover, the only source of confusion. There is the opposite practice of expressing one notion by any of a multitude of sounds, or combination of Sounds. The second phenomenon is not less remarkable than the first. ‘To cut, for instance, is expressed by äsex, fin, ten (tent, tenu, tená, atm), tem, (temu, tem), mtes, Šā, śāt, Śetà, Šet, nesp, peht, pex, bexn, behi, Sau, us, ush, ust, tes, Xab, xeb, Xebs, xet, hebt, hent, hesb, sek, sex, usX, asex, Seha, kaša, &c.; ‘to call’ finds its equivalent in xen, semã, Šen, t'aauk, hun, ätu, âm, àmàm, akeb, as, &c.; ‘to anoint’ is Sesenau, Skenen, sbek, tehs, firhu, üarh, urh, ur, uru, merh; for ‘boat' or ‘ship’ we have karo, bari, kaka, kakau, kek, kebn, kebni, Sehir, t'a, t'ai, ti, u, uá, uáa, uáu, iua, àaut, teks, tep, tepi, ātpa, āpt, menš, hā, hâu, hāi ; ‘dirt' is sellu, Seheräu, hes, het", āmā, śmem, &c.; ‘night’ is us, uxa, uxau, uhau, àxex, Axxu, Xau, Xaiu, tſau, utſu, mesi, kerb, kerhu, &c.; “naked’ is hauum, hauu, beka, bes, kai, ha, sha, hba; ‘mighty, strong, is tar, tenr, tenro, utºro, neš, nāšt, next, nexi, nextà, ken, &c. For nearly every ordinary idea, examples of this kind might be added almost indefinitely. These two phenomena taken together, the student may well ask in astonishment, on first looking into an Egyptian dictionary, whether every Sound may have every meaning, 228 THE ORIGIN OF LANGUAGE. and, on the other hand, whether nearly every meaning may be expressed by nearly every sound ! At first sight a considerable portion of Old Egyptian appears an impene- trable enigma. There are, however, certain restrictions to the con- clusive force of the quotations given. Not all meanings are certain ; not all homonymous words have been used in all their meanings at the same period and in the same localities; not in all parts of the country has the same thing been looked at through the medium of so rich a nomenclature. At the same time, making every allowance for restrictions, the extent of which cannot in the pre- sent state of science be accurately defined, the fact of numerous homonyms occurring at the same time and place admits of no doubt or cavil. There rushes past our won- dering eyes a confused current of words, of which many denote a multitude of objects, and many one and the same thing. In a word, we seem to have before us unintelligibility. To enable us to apply the true Solvent to our problem, let us remember how the present generation has penetrated the mystery of ages and rediscovered the art of reading hieroglyphics. After the first indispensable step of the discovery of the alphabet and syllabarium, achieved by the comparison of the Greek text in bilingual inscriptions, nothing so effectually helped the deciphering process as the explanatory pictures, which the Egyptians were wont to add to the alphabetic spelling of a word. All hiero- glyphic writing is composed of text and accompanying illustration. Excepting certain grammatical abstracts, which, from constant recurrence, could not fail to be instantly intelligible, every word is first written by letter, and then explained by a supplementary picture, pointing out the Order of conceptions to which the word belongs. Behind the name of a flower, written with the ordinary alphabet, there stands the representation of a plant; if the word denote a disease, it is illustrated by a THE ORIGIN OF LANGUAGE. 229 drawing suggestive of misfortune or uncleanliness; or if any kind of work be designated, there is placed behind it the picture of a hand grasping an instrument, denoting activity. There being several hundreds of such classifying signs constantly recurring as so many standing illustra- tions, the reference of a word to its conceptual order is comparatively easy. In these pictorial additions we have, therefore, a ready clue to the general sense of a term, whatever its special meaning may be. It is easy to perceive, that what applies to the modern reader with regard to the help given him by these pic- tures, must have applied likewise to the ancient Egyp- tian. Had Egyptian words been settled in their phonetic form, and had each idea been represented by one term only, the language would have possessed the clearness of modern tongues, and there would have been no occasion for what might be called a literature of picture-books. If to this conclusion it be objected, that the priestly style of writing being traditionally bound to primitive forms, unnecessarily continued a system which, to secure clearness, had been indispensable only in very early periods, the reply is, that although in historic times there exist many words sufficiently distinct for their sense to admit of no doubt without appended illustra- tion, yet of others that do need such an explanation there is a vast multitude left. Determining pictures, therefore, are neither mere archaisms nor superfluous adornments. They are absolutely necessary aids to the reader. The very imperfections of the language which forced class signs upon the Egyptians have thus become the means of disclosing to us the signification of their words. What in most cases would otherwise have re- mained an impenetrable enigma is revealed to the epigones by the difficulty its deciphering presented to the inventors themselves. If, then, literature could not have been understood with- out the accompaniment of elucidatory drawings, what, if 23O THE ORIGIN OF LANGUAGE. not gesture and facial expression, could have supplied the place of these in the spoken tongue 2 It is true, as an indicator, gesture is less certain than pictorial illustration; but the speech of a primitive people is even more simple than its literature. Its range of ideas being limited, and chiefly connected with sensuous objects, easily denoted by action, a very slender vocabulary and a proportionately small number of explanatory gestures suffices. Even in the very latest hieroglyphic period we find abstract ideas for the most part imperfectly expressed. Love, for in- stance, is conceived merely as desire; will as command; and honour as fear or praise. The further back we go, the more sensuous must everyday talk have been, the more easily understood from contingent circumstances, and the more readily explained by accompanying panto- mime. From what we have seen of the extent to which one word might be used to denote many things, it is evident that gesture, the attendant mimetic picture, itself illustrated by the circumstances in which the interlocutors were placed, at first must have been quite as important a medium as the uttered word. But half understood as such, primitive speech required to be supplemented and interpreted by the intelligible motion of the body, the signal given by head, hand, or leg, the impression con- veyed by nod, shrug, wink, glance, or leer. In the rare instances where the situation of the primeval speakers did not explain itself, where gesture was likewise inade- Quate, and the word uttered not fixed in meaning to the extent of imparting a distinct thought, there could have been little, if any, understanding. In fact, language had to grow. An advanced stage is marked by the appearance of words definite in meaning and distinct in sound. Amid all its homonymic and synonymic confusion, such words are to be numerously found even in ancient Egyptian. There are many phonetic units which can have but one meaning, and many concepts which can only be expressed THE ORIGIN OF LANGUAGE. 23 I by a single combination of sounds. The progress thus indicated can only have been the result of a particular combination of sounds ultimately commending itself to the ear, as better adapted than any other to denote a certain object or conception. Such definiteness, as we have seen, not being an Original and necessary condition of speech, it must have been the result of a process of continued selection. It must have been the profit de- rived from an advance towards accuracy of thinking, and a gradually educated national sense of hearing, whereby certain thoughts were referred to certain sounds, simple or complex. In its later historical aspects, the selective process can be distinctly traced. From amid the vast number of homonyms and synonyms occurring in the oldest Surviving epoch by the side of fixed and definite terms, there arise, in the course of history, ever-fresh words, distinct in sound and meaning. The fact that hieroglyphic literature was more or less tied to an ancient vocabulary of the tongue, the so-called “sacred dialect, and so could be but little in- fluenced by the growing language of everyday life, is, it is true, a great drawback to an inquiry into the gradual development of the idiom. Yet the gradual rise of new words may be plainly tracked in the papyri, until the Sum-total of the changes wrought ultimately stands out with surprising clearness in the Demotic and Coptic periods of the long-lived tongue. The Copts, as the Egyptians were called soon after their acceptance of Christianity, together with the old religion gave up the ancient hieroglyphic writing and dialect cherished by the priesthood in pagan times, and translated the Bible into the vernacular. And behold ! the vernacular had become an idiom essentially different from that handed down by hieroglyphic tradition, and so long reverently adhered to as the language of the old national science and faith. Of an immense number of homonyms and synonyms not a vestige remains in Coptic. Homonyms have either dis- 32 THE ORIGIN OF LANGUAGE. appeared, trunk and stalk, or, where there is yet life left in the roots, it becomes manifest, for the most part, in altogether new words, derived from the old, but differen- tiated in sound. Synonyms, too, are largely reduced by the disappearance of a vast number of words and the contraction in meaning of those retained. In order to realise the magnitude of the revolution wrought, let us compare, as to homonymy, the many meanings given above for the hieroglyphic ‘xer’—to overturn, beat down, pleasant, Sacrificial Ox, myrrh, burial, therefore, processional boat, to cry, enemy, rascal, &c., with the few to which the Coptic ‘xer' is restricted—to knock out, throw out, destroy. As regards the diminution of synonyms, we need only put together the host of the thirty-seven above-named hierogly- phic words for ‘to cut –asex, fin, ten, tent, tenu, tená, étn, tem, tem, temu, mtes, Šā, śāt, Śetà, Šet, nesp, peht, pex, beyn, behi, Sau, us, ush, ust, tes, Xab, xeb, Yebs, xet, hebt, hent, hesb, Sek, sex, usX, àSex, Seha, keša, &c.; and then consider the ten of the same meaning in Coptic—nuker, felth, fêkhi, Šat, Šót, běč, pah, ēetéót, Četéóth, Šeć (to which others might be added for the idea of ‘cutting to pieces,’ ‘utterly de- stroying'). On the other hand, where roots equal in sound or alike in meaning have not absolutely disappeared, they are replaced by derivatives differentiated in sound and sense. The ‘Yer’ which, in hieroglyphics, was promiscu- Ously used to designate to overturn, strike down, pleasant, sacrificial bull, myrrh, burial, therefore, processional boat, to cry, enemy, rascal, Subject, to carry, provisions, in respect of, through, whilst, with its collaterals appears in Coptic divided into ‘xer, to strike down; &reht, destruction; ‘Saar, Šari, Śoršer, to destroy; ‘holò, pleasant; ‘şušouši, kholkel,' sacrificial offering; ‘şal, myrrh ; ‘hrau, clamour:* It is highly instructive that as far back as the hierogly- phic age we find attempts at employing some of these * The said Coptic words can, according to the laws of Egyptian ety- mology, be traced back to hieroglyphic ‘xer” and to root-affinities of & y Xer. THE ORIGIN OF LANGUAGE. 233 new words; but they were not in those tentative days able to make themselves sufficiently felt to force the compre- hensive and indiscriminate ‘xer' into narrower limits. In the same way, the synonymy of the words cited for ‘to cut” has become more exact simultaneously with the limitation of the number of words. Now, if we can extend these observations, as might easily be done, to a large num- ber of Egyptian roots, the course of linguistic evolution in Egyptian is detected in its essential features, and proved alike by the verbal monuments preserved and destroyed. In the beginning we have homonymy and synonymy lack- ing definiteness of thought and precision in sound. Then, as the mind advanced, as conceptions became better defined and sounds were more accurately distinguished, before the force of these enlightening agencies most homonyms had to vanish, or to content themselves with replacement by differentiated derivatives. Thousands of former synonyms were likewise swept away, or, being used in narrower and more accentuated meanings, ceased to be loosely synony- mous. From vagueness of sound and uncertainty of sense clearness and precision were thus gradually evolved: to the illumination of the psyche was superadded a corre- sponding development of the sense of hearing, and the power of definite speech. Though their history cannot be traced with equal exacti- tude, enough has been preserved of the original material of the most highly cultivated idioms to prove them to have passed through similar phases. On a close exami- nation of the Aryan and Semitic families, linguistic phenomena analogous to those displayed in Egyptian are revealed to the student. With the wealth of un- doubted Egyptian homonyms before him, the very diverse meanings of many a Sanskrit, Hebrew, and Arabic verb are easily understood, as having no affinities pointing to a common centre. The many ingenious metaphors em- ployed by the modern interpreter in twisting opposite motions into some common idea are disposed of by the 234. THE ORIGIN OF LANGUAGE. : : •: : : : . * : discovery of homonymy, and its enormous share in the formation of languages.* Again, with our experience of the rank luxuriance of old Egyptian synonymy, none can call upon us to regard words of one meaning in any language as originally expressing two different shades of that meaning. But likeness of primitive structure in different languages involves likeness of evolutionary prin- ciple. Albeit the perception of sound which ultimately assigned distinct meanings to distinct phonetic types, as well as the means of differentiation employed for the attainment of this end, may have been more or less different, analogy of primary principle indicates a similar method of development. t From what has been shown, it follows that the question why certain conceptions are expressed by certain sounds, why ‘man’ should stand for “man’ and ‘boy’ for ‘boy, instead of ‘boy’ for “man’ and “man’ for ‘boy, does not regard the time of the creation of language, but a much later period. From the numerous words originally invented, and tentatively used by successive generations for “man’ and ‘boy, a continuous choice was made until sounds most responsive to the national sense were fixed upon and universally adopted, to the exclusion of previous rivals. To what extent the creation of words, even at the early and more arbitrary period, was limited and locally diver- sified by national partialities for certain sets of sound, there is no evidence to show. Admitting that the lin- guistic sense was governed and restricted by such idiosyn- crasies from the very first, it must nevertheless have been unsettled within certain limits, and have required a long process to bring it to maturity. The fact that there was a time when one idea could be expressed by a host of words, and when each of these rival words equally applied to a host of different ideas, opposes the hypothesis that * In Egyptian, as in other tongues, disregard of homonymy has some- times led to the assumption of the most impossible metaphorical transitions of meaning. THE ORIGIN OF LANGUAGE. 235 speech began as an outburst of uniform inspiration, or that the distinct linguistic sense, which to-day connects sound and meaning, had any original existence. Neither homogeneous ejaculation nor deliberate agreement made our dictionaries. What happened was the gradual de- velopment within nationally confined boundaries of the faculty of appropriating distinct sounds for distinct con- cepts. In Egyptian we have definite etymological evidence in proof of this gradual and continuous genesis; in other languages, besides the remnants of similar doings left, the demonstrable Egyptian process explains what is neces- sarily inexplicable where the growth of words can be less fully investigated—the assignation of distinct ideas to distinct sounds at a time when language, the medium of communication, did not yet exist. The light thrown by Egyptian upon remote phases in the history of the human intellect is not confined to the area delineated. There are other features as marvellous as those already dwelt upon. There is, for instance, the inversion either of sound or of sense, or of both. Sup- posing ‘good’ were an Egyptian word, it might mean either good or evil, and be pronounced good or doog at pleasure. Doog, in its turn, might likewise denote good or evil, and, by a trifling phonetic modification—of which there are many examples — become, perchance, dooch. This again might be turned into chood, also representing any of the Opposed meanings. What, at first sight, can be more incredible 2 Since, in the appreciation of miracles, the first requisite is an inquiry into the facts, it may perhaps be stated that the author's Coptic Researches contain a list of such meta- theses to the extent of ninety pages. Even this list is only a selection from much more copious collectanea. Here are a few—(I.) Inversion of sound: ‘ababa, stone; ‘ām Ama, come; ‘ān Ana, list; ‘ārară, to make; ‘ken A nek, to strike to pieces; ‘kenh Nhnek,’ to flourish; ‘penh Axenp, to catch, take; ‘tebAbet, fig; ‘sår"raš, to cut to : e tº gº S. ; 236 THE ORIGIN OF LANGUAGE. : gº te : pieces, divide; ‘fesasef, to purify, wash; ‘peh Ahep,' to go; ‘SmåNanš,’ wind, to blow. (2) Inversion of meaning: ‘kef, to take v to let lie; ‘ken, strong V weak; “men” to stand v menmen, to move; ‘tua, to honour v to despise; ‘tem, to cut to pieces V to unite ; ‘terp, to take v to give; ‘Yen, to stand v to go; ‘neh,’ to separate, cut to pieces v noh, band. (3.) Inversion of sound and sense: ‘Soš,’ becoming, () Šes, unbecoming; “Seb, to mix, () ‘pes, to separate; ‘hen, to bind, () ‘neh, to separate; hot, to crumble, () ‘toh, to make fast; ‘ben, not to be at hand, () neb, all; ‘6erp, to sew together, () ‘preč, to break to pieces, to divide, &c. As may be perceived from some of these examples, variation of sound may accompany inversion. If, then, we can have no doubt as to the fact, the next thing to be done is to seek a rational explanation. In the light of the homonymy observed, the explanation readily suggests itself that there has been no deliberate inversion of sense or sound at all; that, in fact, we have before us words which fortuitously happen to correspond to one another in these particular ways. This would especially seem to apply in the case of inversion of meaning; for at a time when homophonic roots abounded, it might well have chanced that the same word having so many different significations, the One meaning happened to be exactly the reverse of the other. If, for instance, ‘ken' may have every possible meaning, why should it not accidentally mean ‘weak’ as well as ‘strong’? This being so, there is apparently no need to assume any intentional or conscious inversion of sense. Without denying that this may account for some inver- sions, it cannot be accepted as a satisfactory explanation of all. If, by reason of mere fortuitous homonymy, ‘ken' had come to mean both ‘strong’ and ‘weak,’ the use of the word for one of these meanings would, in the interest of clearness, have been speedily discontinued, and some of the many other existing words for ‘strong’ and ‘weak’ would THE ORIGIN OF LANGUAGE. 237 have been substituted for it. Where no such substitution has been made, we are forced to the conclusion that, far from being fortuitous, the crowding of antipodal meanings into one word must have had a motive. The cause is revealed on reference to Egyptian writing. When ‘ ken' is used for ‘strong,’ we find behind the alphabetically Written word a supplementary picture significant of strength; in the same way we may always know when the word stands for ‘weak’ from the accompanying illus- tration indicative of weakness. Here, then, we have the rationale of the phenomenon. On analysing our impres– sions, we shall find them to have been originally acquired by comparison and antithesis. Unnecessary as it may now be for us, in order to realise strength, to compare it with weakness, there was a time when the mind could not conceive the one notion without contrasting it with its opposite. No intellectual effort is demanded of a child in the nineteenth century to learn what strength means; the word being habitually applied by his teachers to certain things, persons, and deeds, its inherent idea is disclosed by the most casual observation of the circumstances in which it is uttered. But quitting the domain of daily life and its familiar language, and trying to form ori- ginal ideas, or to adopt ideas rarely expressed, we are forced to call antithesis to our aid. To realise either an obtuse, or an acute, or a right angle, the schoolboy has in each case to observe the different characteristics of the three. Similarly, whenever some new instrument is in- vented, the readiest method to understand its operation is to mentally liken and separate it from similar but yet different utensils. Again, the simplest way of learning the exact signification of a foreign word is to mark its deviations from a corresponding term in our own idiom ; and no student has ever taken in the logical and metaphysical categories without placing them in juxtaposition to each other. Egyptian takes us back into the childhood of mankind, when the most elemen- 238 THE ORIGIN OF LANGUAGE. tary notions had to be struggled for after this laborious method. To learn what “strength' was, the attention had, at the same time, to be directed to ‘weakness;' to com- prehend ‘darkness, it was necessary to contrast the notion mentally with “light;" and to grasp what “much ' meant, the mind had to keep hold simultaneously of the import of ‘little.' Egyptian words, lapsing into their antithesis and including the two elements of the comparison origin- ally instituted, allow us to conceive some idea of the intellectual effort by which the first and most indispen- sable notions—to-day the most ordinary and most easily acquired—had to be primarily achieved. It is plain that, in such circumstances, the rapid comprehension of gesture and attendant circumstances alone can have ren- dered spoken intercourse possible. The number of surviving Egyptian words which undergo change of sense without any variation of sound is, how- ever, by no means large. For the most part, antithetical meanings, in the words of the literate epochs whose language can be sufficiently traced, are marked off by phonetic modifications; at times, also, phonetic differen- tiation, not originally existent, is noticed to step in gradually. A good example of accomplished phonetic variation is ‘mex, empty v “meh, full. To enable the reader to watch its rise we may mention “men,' which, in hieroglyphic, means ‘to stand,’ and, reduplicated or in the form of ‘menu,' ‘to go, but which, in Coptic, is super- seded by ‘moni’ for the meaning ‘to stand,’ and by ‘mon- men’ for ‘to go.” Fortunately for the student of language, proof of inten- tional inversion of meaning does not rest upon logical grounds only, but is made absolute by the recorded history of the tongue, Among Egyptian prepositions there are many in which the difficulty of grasping abstract ideas is sought to be overcome by reference to opposite notions. No more vivid illustration of the primitive practice of thinking by thesis and antithesis could be afforded. THE ORIGIN OF LANGUAGE. 239 Hieroglyphic ‘m’ means alike ‘into something,’ ‘toward something, and “away from Something, according to the context; ‘er’ means not only ‘away from something, but also ‘toward something, and ‘together with some- thing;’ ‘hr’ and ‘xeft' mean both “for” and ‘against;" ‘xont,’ ‘in,’ ‘under,’ &c. In Coptic, ‘ute’ and ‘sa’ denote both “away from something’ and ‘into some- thing;' ‘kha’ is over’ and ‘under;' ‘ha, over,’ ‘under,’ ‘toward something, and ‘away from something;' ‘hi,' ‘toward, something,’ ‘away from Something,’ ‘into some- thing,’ &c. Though this is nothing more than the polar change of meaning observable in other words, it yet conveys stronger evidence of intentional inversion. If, in the case of other words, it might be objected by the sceptical that, bearing in mind the multifariousness in meaning of Egyptian roots, it might well happen that antithetical sense should, without any internal connection, be expressed by identical sound, this possibility is inad- missible as regards prepositions. If, of such difficult conceptions as prepositions express, any two directly antipodal had accidentally happened to meet in the same sound, one or the other must, for the sake of clearness, have been given up, and by the rank creative faculty of the language have been replaced by some other word. None would subsume “for” and ‘against in the same word without a purpose, and unless it were found impossible to- think of the one without at the same time thinking of the other and pitting it against its opposite. The logic of this remark is confirmed by an allied and conclusive phenomenon preserved in the transmitted material of the language. Besides its simple prepositions, Egyptian has a large number of compound ones, whereof not a few unite two simple prepositions opposed in meaning, in order thereby to bring the sense expressed by the one or the other to a clearer understanding. This thoroughly establishes the fact that antithetical conceptions were intentionally placed in opposition in order to facilitate 24O THE ORIGIN OF LANGUAGE. the comprehension of either. For instance, the preposi- tion ‘ebol, made up of ‘e,’ ‘toward something, and ‘bol, ‘ away from something,' means ‘away from something.’ The preposition ‘ebolkhen, composed of 'ebol,’ ‘away from something, and ‘khen,' ‘into something,' signifies “away from something.’ ‘Ebolute, made up of ‘ebol, ‘ away from something, and ‘ute, both “away from some- thing’ and ‘into something,' means ‘away from some- thing,’ ‘before something.’ ‘Ehraihm, formed of ‘ehrai,’ ‘in, toward something, and ‘hm, ‘in something, becomes ‘in ' and “away’ from something. To these pregnant examples, which really solve the problem, others might be added. Analogous processes may be detected in other languages. Arabic has polar change of meaning in great abundance; in Chinese the literary period marked by the Tiu Li (2OOO B.C.) is characterised by the same phenomenon; and even now, when the Englishman says ‘without,' is not his judgment based upon the comparative juxtaposition of two opposites, ‘with ' and ‘out'? And did not ‘with itself originally mean “without' as well as ‘with, as may still be seen in ‘withdraw,’ ‘withgo,' ‘withhold,’ &c. 2 Is not the like metamorphosis still observable in the German ‘wider’ and “wieder’ (‘against ' and ‘together with '); the German ‘boden' (“groundfloor’ and ‘loft’); the Latin ‘contra’ (cum + tra), &c. 2 That but few instances of this primeval dulness should have been handed down to the modern and highly cultivated stage of European idioms is readily understood. As regards inversion of Sound, though we can more easily transfer ourselves into the psyche than the sen- sorium of antiquity, we are likewise enabled to explain this part of our subject by the preserved traces of Egyp- tian linguistic growth. In many cases, indeed, these topsyturvy words, which, direct opposites in sound, con- tradict or else correspond to one another in meaning, may be simply an accident, occasioned by the original superabundance of roots; the more so as they often do THE ORIGIN OF LANGUAGE. 24. I neither. Take, for instance, ‘ma,’ ‘to see;’ it can have nothing to do with ‘ma,’ ‘to come.' Now, why cannot ‘ma,’ ‘to come, have arisen just as independently as ‘ma,’ ‘to see, without being derived by metathesis from ‘am,” ‘to come ' ' And yet, as regards the great majority of transposed words, correspondence in meaning is so usual, and extends to such rare phonetic combinations, that it would be difficult to renounce the belief in logical affinity, even if it could not etymologically be accounted for. But the explanation of the conceptual connection is found in a method of forming secondary roots peculiar to the Egyptian idiom. Egyptian roots are almost without ex- ception capable of development by repetition of the initial consonant at the beginning or end of the word, or by the repetition of the terminal consonant at the end. That is to say, VT fes may become either Vffes, V fesf, or Vºfess; V met may become V`mmet, V metm, or V mett, &c. A change of meaning by no means always accompanies these new formations. They are simply instances of the full play given to the speech-making faculty in the first glorious flush of its exuberant spring. By repeating and transposing their component sounds, the liquid material of roots was being poured into ever-varying forms, the Sense of emphasis and euphony prompting a desire for iteration, and giving words a musical finish, while making them more pointed and expressive. Among the forms produced by this luxuriating growth, the one in which the initial consonant is repeated at the end paves the way for absolute inversion. “Fes’ having been developed into ‘ fesf, produces, by a slightly emphasised pronunciation, ‘fessef, i.e., ‘fes-sef, or the root and its inversion. When this can be historically proved, it is easy to comprehend that the idea contained in the whole—this whole being a reduplication—came to be likewise expressed by each of its constituent parts. As soon as ever ‘fes’ had expanded into ‘fes-sef,’ ‘sef’ naturally came to be a synonym of ‘fes, and both might be used promiscuously. The two Q 242 THE ORIGIN OF LANGUAGE. limbs of the entire word according like a rhyme, and each completing the other like premise and conclusion, either acquired the value and significance of the two combined. It may be added that the two first stages of this process, ‘fes, fesf,’ are also known in the Aryan languages, where they are designated by the name of the ‘broken redupli- cation.’ We refrain from discussing why this explanation only apparently contradicts the metathesis of the three- consonant words. Phonetic metathesis in words logically related abounds in the Aryan and Semitic languages. By those regarding these families of speech as akin to the Egyptian, the Aryo- Semitic phenomenon, however unaccountable in the petri- fied condition of modern languages, will be readily explained in the light of an ancient and less fixed idiom, with Sounds and thoughts still unsettled, and in a state of liquid and fitful transition. A few Germanic illustrations are easily collected: Fisch A Schiff; Stamm A Mast; Kahn A Nach- en; Top-f A pot; Berg A Grub-e ; Lich-t A hell; tāuw-en A to wait; Ruh-e () hurr-y; boat A tub; rise A soar; grip-e A prig; top () pit, &c. If the comparison is extended to the wider range of the various Indo-European tongues, examples, though necessarily restricted to primitive notions, rapidly multiply: Lat. cap-ere A Germ. pack-en; Griech. fity A Lat. nar; Lat, ren A Germ. Nier-e; Lat. tog-a A Griech. Xut-ov ; Russ. Xreb-et A Germ. Berg; Lettoslav. pol-a A lap-as, lup-en, Germ. Laub ; Eng. the leaf A fo– lium ; Russ, dum-a; Griech. 6vp-os N Sanscr. médh V mādh-a, Germ. Muth; Griech. Tnx-0s A Sanscr. lip (to soil); Lettoslav. palk-a A klep-ati, klop-f-en; the rav-en A Russ. Vor-On ; Germ. Rauch-en A Russ. kur—iti; Russ. ves A Serb. Sav (every one); Germ. kreisch-en A to shriek; the leech, Russ. lek-ar, leó-iti A to heal, heil-en; Lat. clam-are () Russ, molé-ati (to call () to be silent), &c. Forgetful of the difficulties surrounding its infancy, mankind, through Egyptian grammar, is afforded an idea of the labour expended in rearing the wondrous edifice called Language. X. OW THE POSITION AND ORDER OF WORDS JAW THE /A TV/V SAEAVTEAVCAE. X. THOUGHTS naturally arrange themselves in sentences containing subject and predicate. Any part of a sen- tence being formed with reference to the rest, it follows that all the more important component parts are collec- tively present in the mind as soon as the first is uttered, and that they are present and are uttered in the order of their importance to the whole. In estimating this relative importance nations employ different standards. While some apply the law of causation, by which effect follows cause and the part the whole, others look upon all constituent parts as alike indispensable, holding that the less important may be considered as well as the co-efficient of the more impor- tant, as conversely. Under the former view, preferably taken by nations of analysing tendency or such as labori- ously adopt a foreign tongue, a definite order of words is established, and pretty uniformly accepted, for every species of grammatical combination. As regards the second, seemingly the more primitive and certainly the more imaginative method, it is pursued in varying degrees by various races, according to the bent of the national mind and the mixture of involution and analysis affected. In no cultured language has the second method been developed with the surprising opulence and refinement displayed by Latin ; in no other civilised tongue has the first method been, at the same time, so fully preserved and so systematically fashioned. In this respect, as in so many others, Latin was equal 246 ON THE POSITION AND ORDER OF to the most diverse requirements of thought. Whilst the analysing style was there to serve the ends of scientific research or dry dissecting argument, the poet wove all things into a gaily twisted wreath with bold synthetic hand. Holding the mean between the two extremes, ordinary speech mingled analysis and Syn- thesis in truly artistic proportions. Proper arrangement of words was considered indis- pensable by the ancients to ensure logical accuracy and fine musical rhythm: Cic. Or. 69. 229, 7.O. 22.3, 65. 22O, 49. I 63; Quint. Inst. 8. 4, 45. 9, 4. 24. Their speech being a compromise between these two hetero- geneous claims, it is hard to discover the exact working and extent of each. Still, it is evident that only by Sun- dering the two opposite agencies can the effect of either be ascertained. It seemed to me that the inherent difficulty of the task has, by some writers, been unnecessarily aggra- vated by comparing whole sentences. Sentences containing propositions of very various import, each of them possibly consisting of several sub-propositions including several words, the laws of intellect and melody are alike dis- guised under the generic diversities of the whole, and the multitudinous influences affecting the parts. But if the arrangement of each of the simplest grammatical combinations is separately inspected, what recurs in spite of generic diversity of proposition, rhythm, and sound presents itself as the fundamental law of Latin verbal sequence. It is the purpose of the following essay, through the analysis of elements, to bare Salient features from the mass of surrounding and subordinate detail. One observation is so easily made, established, and accounted for, that it may be safely taken as the starting- point of our inquiry. The initial utterance of dependent parts putting off the close of a proposition until the inde- pendent are enunciated, the reunion of two notions into WORDS IN THE LATIN SENTENCE. 247 one, is effected in Latin by putting the dependent first. The converse order is adopted when the proposition is to be dissolved into its constituent parts, and when the second part, as an independent member, is to be separately men- tioned side by side with the first. By the first method the force of the individual members is merged into an aggre- gate effect ; under the second, each member retains an equal amount of force, unless, indeed, one of them receives additional weight from antithesis, expressed or implied. Accordingly, (I) Any proposition considered by itself ranges its adjective, pronoun, and participle before the substantive, if the two are to be conceived as a logical unit. In the same way it puts oblique cases before the governing substantive or adjective. (2) When considered in relation to others, a proposition gives precedence to the part accentuated by antithesis. Prepositions are usually put first. (a.) ADJECTIVE WITH SUBSTANTIVE. Considering an adjective as an inherent quality enter- ing into the very composition of its substantive, ordinary speech puts it first, except when the substantive is emphasised by antithesis. But signification influences position. Adjectives denoting indefinite quantity, size, and strength, as a sensation vividly felt but not exactly calculated, claim the first place; in the responsible position of second they might expose the speaker to correction and ridicule. ‘ Omnes,’ ‘multus,’ ‘magnus,’ ‘amplus,’ ‘vastus,’ ‘celsus,’ ‘clarus,’ ‘splendidus,’ ‘magni- ficus,’ ‘grandis,’ ‘immanis,’ ‘ingens,’ ‘immensus,’ ‘infinitus,’ ‘ vehemens,’ and all superlatives are very regularly placed first. As frequently adjectives indicating limited and carefully estimated qualities follow their noun: ‘aptus,’ ‘idoneus’; all numerals, and all those expressing a mode- rate degree: (1) absolute comparatives (‘Gloria in rebus 248 ON THE POSITION AND ORDER OF majoribus administrandis, in things of moderate impor- tance, Cic. Off. 2. 9, 3 I ; “Perturbatio est appetitus vehementior, Cic. Tusc. 4. 2 I, 46); (2) adjectives and participles coupled with “paulo,” “aliquanto,” “quatenus’; (3) affirmation emphasised by negation, so long as it implies a moderate degree ( Lucumo vir impiger,’ an active man, Liv. 34, I); similarly with “haud’ (‘Inge- nium ejus haud absurdum, Sall. Cat. 3, I ?), and further, as the products of reflection, all compounds excepting the simplest and commonest kind with a privative ‘in.’ When an adjective is habitually joined to a substan- tive for the production of a new and, so to say, technical term, the two positions possibly may convey very different meanings: ‘homo urbanus’ means townsman, ‘urbanus homo, a wit: ‘Urbanus homo erit Gujus multa bene dicta responsaque erunt, Domit. Marf. Quint. Inst. 6. 3, IO 5 ; ‘mensa Secunda, the second table, ‘secunda mensa” des- sert, Cic. Att. I4, 6; ‘partus Secundae, second confine- ment, ‘secundae partus, placenta, Plin. A. N. 9. 3, I 5 ; “res mala, a bad thing, ‘mala res crucifixion, Ter. And. 2. I, I 7; ‘Carmen malum,’ a bad poem, ‘malum Carmen, an incantation, Leg. I 2, tab. ap. Plin. 28. 2, 4 ; ‘Dea bona, a good goddess, “bona Dea, Ceres, Juven. 2, 84; “verba bona,' a good speech, ‘bona verba, auspicious words, Tibull. 2. 2., I, and so forth. Being the cause of the changed meaning of the noun, the adjective stands always first in the new compound phrase. Were it not so preceded, the noun would retain its ordinary sense. Some adjectives infixed to a noun, after this fashion have entirely absorbed the meaning of the compound term, and caused the accompanying substantive to fall * In both descriptions of the third case, as the context shows, the con- verse takes place as soon as the degree expressed is considerable, though, it may be, indefinite : “Jugurtha uterat impigro atque acri ingenio,” keen and energetic, Sall. Jug. 7, 4 ; ‘Haud mediocris hic ut ego quidem intel- ligo vir fuit,” by no means an ordinary man, at least in my opinion, Cic. &ep. 2, 3. WORDS IN THE LATIN SENTENCE. 2.49 into disuse. ‘Manus’ is omitted after ‘dextra,” “sinistra’; ‘febris’ after ‘tertiana,’ ‘quartana’; ‘praedium' after ‘Suburbanum,’ ‘Tusculanum.’ The precedence of the adjective in many technical terms of Roman law is another case in point : “Theodosianus codex,’ ‘ calatis comitiis,’ ‘regius curator,’ ‘virilis portio,' &c. Owing to their vague and indefinite meaning requiring to be exactly defined, a number of substantives, though forming conceptual unity with their adjectives, require these indispensable satellites to take the second and more explanatory place : ‘res domestica,’ ‘militaris,” ‘familiaris,’ ‘privata,’ ‘publica ’; ‘vir egregius,’ ‘vir impiger’; ‘urbs Roma,’ ‘populus Romanus’; ‘genus humanum,’ ‘agreste’; names of places, such as Via Appia, Prata Quintia, Saxa Rubra, Porta Collina, Naevia (this even in a kind of antithesis: ‘Hinc a E’orta Collina, illinc ab Naevia redditus clamor, Liv. 2, I I). When used in a more concrete sense (not to speak of antithesis), the same substantives admit of the opposite order: Cic. Div. I, I, ‘Huic praestantissimae rei;" Cic. Div. I, 36, ‘In amplificanda re, where the position chosen is due to the superlative, and also to “res’ in the sense of subject; ‘vir, man, not human being; ‘via, a way, not a Roman road; and so with ‘pratum,’ ‘saxum,’ &c. The same holds of putting the name of the family after that of the gens, which was preceded by the dis- tinctive proper name, but followed by any won in later life: ‘Publius Cornelius,’ ‘Scipio Africanus.’ Apposition is governed by the analytical method, the rule of unity not extending to a construction whose parts complete rather than define each other. The principal term precedes; qualifying clauses follow : ‘Miltiades, Cimonis filius, Atheniensis, Nep. I. I ; “An Scythes Anacharsis potuit pro nihilo ducere pecuniam, nostrates philosophi quod facere non potuerunt, Cic. Tusc. 5. 82, 93. In personal appellations of eminent 25o ON THE POSITION AND ORDER OF men the proper mame was considered the principal thing under the Republie, the title under the Empire: * Cicero consul,' * Imperator Augustus.' It was also correct to say * fratres gemini,' * mulier ancilla,' * digitus pollex,' for, as Quintilian remarks (9. 4, 29), * Quædam ordine permutato fiunt supervacua, ut fratres gemini. Nam si præcesserint gemini, fratres addere non est necesse.' (b.) PARTICIPLE WITH NOUN. Expressing a, mere transient action Or passing state, the participle, when used as am adjective, is usually put last: * Dictator triumphans in urbem rediit,' Liv. I o, 5 ; * Centuriones armati Mettium circumsistunt,' Liv. I, 28. When placed in antithesis, its meaming is the most im- portant of the two, and accordingly comes to the fore: *Temeritas est florentis ætatis, prudentia senescentis,' Cic. de Sen. 2o ; * Mitatæ res facile e memoria elabuntur, insignes et novæ manent diutius,' Auct. ad Her. 3. 22, 35. (e.) PRONOUN WITH NOUN. To divide What properly belongs together, personal promouns aTe oftem set at a distance from their noum and verb. Too small to sever the context, and too clearly connected to need a more Order]y sequence for intelligibility, by their daring transposition they bring into prominence every member of the sentence as well as themselves: “ Res tuæ quotidie faciliores mihi et meli- ores videntur,' Cic. Fam. 6, 5 ; * Sed quæ sunt ea quæ te dicis majoris moliri,' Cic. Tusc. I. 8, I 6. The natural positiom of demonstrative pronouns before the nouns to which they refer may be reversed for the sake of special emphasis. Ordinary incidental indication being raised to the dignity of an express and independent statement, “ille,' 'iste,' and even *hic' and * is,' in cases of this nature VVORDS IN THE LA TIN SENTENCE. 25 I follow the noum. If, howeveT, amy further qualifica- tions are added to the noum, pronouns cam mo longer hold the post of homour in the rear, but are forced back to the centre Or the front : * Hoc a te peto, ut subvenias huic meæ sollicitudini et huic meæ laudi,' Cic. ad Fam. 2. 6, I o ; * Ex suo regno sic Mithri- dates profugit, ut ex eodem Ponte Medea illa profu- gisse dicitur,' that motorious Medea, Cic. p. Leg. Man. 9, 22 ; * Captis Syracusis initium licentiæ huic sacra profanaque omnia vulgo spoliandi factum est,' Liv. 25, 4o ; * Quam fuit imbecillus P. Africani filius is qui te adoptavit,' Cic. Sen. I I, 35 ; * Incendium auriæ, oppug- mationem ædium M. Lepidi, cædem hanc ipsam contra rempublicam senatus factam esse decreverat,' Cic. p. Mil. 5, 9 ; * Catulus non antiquo illo more, sed hoc nostro fuit eruditus,' Cic. Brut. 35, I 32. It is only a seeming exception when Cicero says (p. Dej. I 3, 36), * Antiochus magnus ille rex,' since * ille ' may be considered as refer- ring either to * rex ' or * magnus,' or * magnus ' may be regarded as grOWn into a standing surname evem them. Possessive pronouns much more frequently precede than follow their substantives, being as a rule used in animated diction Only, and when special stresS is laid upom them. We always read * mea manu,' * mea sponte,' * mea auctori- tate,' * mea, tua, sua causa,' and similarly * mihi crede.' Indefinite pronouns are treated like adjectives When sole attributes. Whenever an adjective is joined with them, they, however, yield to its greater impOrtance and are either surroumded by adjective and moum, or, more rarely, are pushed forward to point to some distinct and important object: “Est gloria solida, quædam res et expressa, non adumbrata,' Cic. Tusc. 3, 2 ; * Est quædam certa vox Romani generis,' Cic. de Or. 3. I 2, 44. The interrogative and relative promouns maturally claiming the first place in the sentence, cam Only be supplanted by some Word with quite extraordinary emphasis: “ Quis 252 ON THE POSITION AND ORDER OF clarior in Graecia Themistocle, quis potientior, Cic. Lael. I 2 ; ‘Quis Sim, ex eo quem ad te misi, cognosces, Sall. Cat. 44, 5 ; ‘Qui esset ignoratus, Cic, in Verr. 5, 64; “Ego Cetera, qui animo aequo fero, unum vereor, Cic. Fam. 9. I 6, 7 ; ‘Sed haec quis mulier est ?' Plaut. Truc. I. I, 76; ‘Libet interponere, nimia fiducia quantae Calamitate Soleat esse, Nep. I6, 3. ‘Quisque' and ‘ipse' scarcely ever stand before their complement. When meeting in the same phrase, they take it between them, so that the weight of neither may be impaired: “Quanti quisque se ipse fecit, Cic. Coel. I 6, 56. (d) SUBSTANTIVE WITH OBLIQUE CASEs. A genitive governed by a substantive denotes the possessor or promoter of some appurtenance belonging to that substantive. This appurtenance may either be (I) an inherent quality or an action so constantly re- peated as to be considered an inherent quality, or (2) it may be a passing action. In both instances the governing and governed members of the phrase may be viewed either separately or as one united idea. When separate, the appurtenance is considered inde- pendently, and the possessor only mentioned in so far as he, she, or it is connected with that appurtenance. Hence this is the view generally taken in the second instance, and the one mostly adhered to by the very active nouns in tor, tria, tºo, tus. In the first in- stance, too, Ordinary parlance usually allots a separate and independent position to the appurtenance, which, after all, is the principal thing alluded to : “Officia Sunt consolantium tollere aegritudinem funditus aut levare, Cic. Tusc. 3, 75. And always So when met by or connected with an antithesis: ‘Oratio conformanda est non solum electione, Sed etiam Constructione verborum, Cic. Or. I, WORDS IN THE LATIN SENTENCE. 253 I 7. Under the joint view, the appurtemance is either considered om account of its possessor, Or else indissolubly united to the possessor. The possessor, therefore, precedes, the combining method being as frequently employed in the first instance as it occurs rarely in the Second : * Adjun- gatur hæc juris interpretatio, quæ non tam mihi molesta sit propter laborem, quam quod dicendi cogitationem aufert,' Cic. Leg. I. 4, I 2 ; * Lacedæmoniorum gens fortis fuit, dum Lycürgi leges vigebant,' Cic. Tusc. I, I o I ; * Ne videres liberalissimi hominis meique aman- tissimi voluntati erga me diffidere,' Cic. ad Fam. 7. IO, 3. Entirely distimet from all the descriptions of genitive men- tioned, and governed by a substantive endowed with verbal power, the objective genitive is almost always placed last: * Cæsar pro veteribus Helvetiorum injuriis populi Romani ab iis poenas bello repetierat,' Cæs. Bell. Gall. I, 3o. The rare instances in Which it comes first are only found in the case of words frequently construed together Or connected in such a Way that there cam be no hesitation as to the meaning: “ Quod erat insitus menti cognitionis amor,' Cic. d. Fin. 4. 7, I8. The dative, not standing to its goverming moum in the close relation of am appurtenance, like the genitive, but in the more distant one of am aim, almost universally follows it : * Homo frugi,' Cic. Dei, 9, 26; Tim. 2. 28, 9o: *Justitia est obtemperatio scriptis legibus institutisque,' Cic. Leg. I. 5, 42 ; * Tegimenta galeis,' Cæs. B. Civ. 3, 62 ; * Mumimentum libertati,' Liv. 3. 37, 5. Similarly the mames of office, * decemviri legibus scribendis, litibus judicandis, agris dividendis, sacris faciendis.' Of rare exceptions the following may be mentioned: “ Questus est Achæos, Philippo quondam milites, Corinthum reci- pisse,' Liv. 34, 22 ; and in Cic. de Or. 2, 248, * frugi,' which, however, according to Quint. I. 6, I 7, should not be considered a dative, but an adjective like * fru- galis.' 254 ON THE POSITION AND ORDER OF When an accusative of aim or goal is dependent on a substantive, it precedes. The absolutely transitive power vested in the substantive in this exceptional con- struction, seemed neither strong, nor indeed intelligible enough to be realised without the aid of closest colloca- tion. Thus ‘domum reditio, Caes. B. Gall. I, 5 ; “domum concursus, B. Civile, I, 53; “domum itionem, Cic. Div. I, 32. An ablative dependent on a noun can only denote a quality, and therefore is treated as an adjective: ‘Eximia forma pueros delectos, Cic. Tusc. 5. 2 I, 6 I. But ‘Iccius Remus summa nobilitate et gratia inter Suos,' Caes. B. Gall. 2, 6. The ablative of direction in Cic. Phil. 2. 3 o, 76, is perhaps the only case of the kind. For rules and reasons given above, it accordingly precedes: ‘Nar- bone reditus.’ (e.) SUBSTANTIVE WITH PREPOSITION. An oblique case with a preposition governed by a substantive stands to it in even closer relations than an adjective. Denoting a quality common to many things, an adjective may be regarded as embodied in its governing noun, or else as a separate entity, appertain- ing to many other nouns besides, and deriving abstract independence from the multiplicity of its concrete em- bodiments. Hence its changeable position. But an oblique case with a preposition indicating locality or direction, without its governing noun lacks point of issue or goal, and, to exist at all, has to coalesce with it into a common idea. However, the Romans evi- dently thought a solitary substantive too essential to the sentence, yet logically too weak in itself, to be exposed to the risk of having its import obscured by an inherent attribute exceptionally strong because emi- nently special. Hence they always place the substantive WORDS IN THE LATIN SENTENCE. 255 first : “Cursus ad gloriam, Cic. Ranc. 67 ; ‘Transmissus ex Gallia in Britanniam, Caes. B. Civ. 5, 13. (Yet Livy, in an antithesis, writes: “Ex Italia itinera in Mace- doniam.") How fully, however, they appreciated the close nature of the relation may be seen from their frequently placing an adjective or genitive qualification before the substantive, and receiving preposition and case into the centre of the joint notion so formed : ‘Expeditus ad Suos receptus,” Caes. B. Gall. 4, 33 ; “Perjucunda a proposita oratione digressio, Cic. Brut. 85, 292 ; ‘Caesaris in se beneficia, Caes. B. Gall. 7, 63. ‘Is” and ‘quidam are added to give occasion for this adhesive construction: ‘In hoc spatio et in iis (some read “his”) post aedilitatem annis, Cic. Brut. 93, 32 I ; * Quaedam ad meliorem spem inclinatio, Cic. p. Sext. 3 I, 67. There are but few excep- tions to the great quantity of Such-like instances: Liv. 38, 2 I, ‘Ab Attalo Cretenses funditores,’ where, how- ever, the troops of Attalus are brought into strong prominence by the side of the Romans, Trallians, and Thracians. (f) ADJECTIVE WITH OBLIQUE CASE. The signification of adjectives ruling cases has the fol- lowing influence on their position. When a part is con- ceived as separated from the whole by deliberate division, adjectives denoting measure govern the genitive, and, in accordance with the primary law laid down, are almost unexceptionally ranged in analytical Order. For space, time, number, and promiscuous degree, we have the inde- finite ‘multum,’ ‘plus,’ ‘plurimum,’ ‘minus,’ ‘minimum,’ ‘nimium,’ ‘tantum,’ ‘quantum,’ ‘aliquantum,’ ‘summum, ‘ exiguum,’ ‘quid, ‘quidquid, ‘aliquid, ‘quidquam,’ ‘multi,’ ‘plures,’ ‘plurimi,” “pauci,’ ‘nonnuli,’ ‘singuli’; the defi- nite “id, “idem,’ ‘reliquum,’ ‘alter,’ ‘uter,’ ‘ neuter,’ ‘utergue,” “ultimus,’ ‘ extremus,’ ‘postremus,' and the 256 ON THE POSITION A ND ORDER OF numerals ;* and some for space only, which do mot relate to size, but to various Other qualities, and which always precede; as * obliqua,' * eminentia,' * quassata,' &c. (Dakerb. ad Liv. 37, 38). When coupled with a noum conceived as a whole, the same adjectives meither demand the genitive nor the analytical position: “ Hominibus opus est eruditis, qui adhuc in hoc quidem genere nostri nulli fuerunt,' Cic. de Or. 3. 24, 95 ; and, in marked contrast to this, * Alexander cum nullo hostium unquam congressus quem non vicerit,' Justin. I 2. I 6, I I. After the analogy of these adjectives, and in like ama- lytical Order, amy quality Was attributed to a sectiom of a class by the later language : * Nigræ lamarum,' Plin. H. N. 8, 48 ; * Degeneres canum,' id. ibid. I I, 5 I. Post- classical partiality for division and subdivisiom has affected the arrangement of words in Other cases with a like result. Nouns expressing cause Or direction of adjec- tives, at first connected to them by prepositions, came to be conceived as collective abstraéts, and were joined to these adjectives as so many individual substrata in the genitive. Tacitus says, * lassus laborum,' * dubius itineris,' * æger timoris,' ' anxius consilii,' * promptus belli,' * stre- nuus militiæ,' &c., always in this Order. Just as decidedly adjectives of participation, which rise above abstractions only when joined to their object, prefer to have it before them. Such are * compos,' * impos,' * particeps,' * potens,' * impotens,' * consors,' * exsors,' * ex- * Adverbs coming under this category always push their gemitive after them. * Loci,' * locorum,' * terrarum,' * gentium,' uniformly succeed to * ibi,? * ubicunque,' * hic,' ' huc,' * illuc,' * unquam,' ' eo,' * quo.' The like posi- tiom is more rarely exemplified in * inde,' * interea,' and * postea, loci :? * Inde loci mortalia sæcla creavit,* Lucr. 5, 789; * Imterea, loci nunquam quicquam feci pejus,' Plaut. Men. 3. I, I ; ' Postea loci consul pervemit, im oppidum,' Sall. Jug. 102. * Huc,' ' eo,' * quo,' before the genitive of degree: * quoad ejus,' Cic. ad Att. II, I2 ; Ad Fam. 3, 2 ; Inv. 2, 6; Div. 39, 45. * Jum' and * tunc temporis,' in post-Augustam lamguage, for classic * id,' * idem temporis.' WORDS IN THE LATIN SENTENCE. 257 pers,’ ‘suetus,’ ‘assuetus,’ ‘insuetus,’ ‘insolitus,’ and ‘capax'; less decidedly those that merely denote a strong inclination, as ‘tenax,’ ‘edax,’ ‘ferax,’ ‘cupidus,’ ‘avarus’; or want of fulness, as ‘inops, ‘inanis,’ ‘egens,’ ‘plenus,’ ‘ dives,’ ‘refertus.” Adjectives of likeness, resemblance, or affinity, which may as well be connected with the dative as with the genitive, scarcely ever permit the geni- tive to be placed after them : ‘similis,’ ‘dissimilis,’ ‘par, ‘dispar,’ ‘aequalis,’ ‘communis,” “affinis,’ ‘proprius, ‘alie- nus,’ ‘amicus, and ‘inimicus. With the dative, too, their position is much the same. It is shaken in the case of other adjectives of similar but more independent meaning, less urgently in want of complement. In des- cending order, these are, ‘proximus,' ‘congruens,’ ‘consen- tiens,’ ‘concors,’ ‘propinquus,’ ‘cognatus,’ ‘conjunctus,’ “aptus,’ ‘idoneus,’ ‘utilis,’ and ‘noxius', with their Synonyms. The only accusative adjectives can govern is that which measures length, breadth, height, depth, and thickness after “longus,’ ‘latus,’ ‘altus,’ ‘crassus,’ ‘ depressus,” “de- missus.’ It contains a numerical estimate, and mostly follows. An exception in the case of ‘longus’ is found in Plin. Hist. Nat. 6. 34, 39, where, however, antithesis comes in to help the reversion of the usual order: ‘Umbilicus Septem pedes longus umbram non amplius quatuor pedes reddit.’ Similarly Caes. B. Gall. 7, 73 ; ‘latus, id. ibid. 72 ; and often in technical descriptions, but only with small, that is, short numbers. “Demissus,’ See Sallust, Cat. 55, 3. It is impossible to lay down hard and fast rules for the ablative, there being so many examples on either side. As it implies cause and occasion, the ablative so governed may be assumed to have an intrinsic partiality for the combining order; but, on the other hand, the qual- ity occasioned does not seem to have been felt so entirely dependent upon the cause stated as to lose all claim to R 258 ON THE POSITION AND ORDER OF the analytical view. Only in pure comparisons of mag- nitude with ‘par,’ ‘ major,’ ‘ maximus,’ ‘ minor,’ ‘mini- mus,’ ‘longior,’ ‘altior,’ ‘lation,’ &c., did the former con- ception steadily prevail; whilst in all comparisons of inner quality, that is, with nearly every other compara- tive, uncertainty set in. Statements of age, conveyed by ‘major,’ ‘maximus,’ ‘minor,’ ‘minimus,’ ‘grandior,' ‘grandis, always have their “natu’ after them; similarly ‘macte’ its ablative. (g) OBLIQUE CASE WITH PREPOSITION. Of prepositions, the speaker always puts that which denotes his own or his interlocutor's association after the personal pronoun. In the same way, and for the same reason, ‘cum’ comes after the connecting relative. In the same way, and for the same reason, ‘cum ' mostly occu- pies a middle position, facing right and left alike, and binding both together with concordant ties, if it govern a substantive joined to an adjective. ‘Versus,’ ‘ tenus,’ “causa,’ ‘gratia,’ ‘ ergo, and ‘instar' enter into intimate relations, and always follow. ‘Ex,’ ‘ob,” “de,” “per,’ ‘ad,’ sometimes follow a connecting pronoun; while ‘in,’ ‘contra,’ “ultra,” “juxta,’ ‘ circa,’ ‘propter,’ ‘subter,’ ‘penes, and ‘adversus’ are at liberty, in particularly distinct or else in specially refined phraseology, to imitate this example. Excepting these, a preposition joined to a single case always precedes the same. If it stand behind its case, any preposition must succeed immediately; preceding, it can only be separated from it by cases dependent upon it (to which cases, again, other dependencies may be attached), or by adverbs, or the coupling conjunctions ‘autem,” “vero, “tamen,’ ‘quidem,' and ‘enim.’ ‘Ad judiciorum certamen, Cic. Or. I 2 ; “Cum ignominia dignis, Cic. ad Fam. 7, I 2 ; ‘In bella gorentibus, Cic. Brut. I 2 ; ‘ Propter Hispanorum apud WORDS IN THE LATIN SENTENCE. 259 quos consul fuerat injurias, Cic. Div. 20; “Ad beate Vivendum, Cic. Tusc. 5, 5 ; ‘Post vero Sullae victoriam,” Cic. Off. 2, 8. Sole exceptions are ‘per’ in adjuration, and ‘ex ante,’ ‘in ante,’ ‘post ante,' in defining time : “Per ego te deos oro et obsecro, Ter. Andr. 5, 15 ; ‘Ex ante diem V idus October, Liv. 45, 2; ‘Comitia in ante diem vi calend. dilata sunt, Cic. ad Att. I, I 6. (h) POSITION OF CONJUNCTIONS. Conjunctions intended to rivet two consecutive periods follow part of the second, thereby bringing it in direct contact with the first. For periods containing similar pro- positions we have ‘que,' ‘quoque,' and ‘ve.” Of these ‘que’ and ‘ve are usually joined, not to any incidental prepo- sitions, but to the oblique cases governed by these preposi- tions, even though the prepositions may begin the sentence. |For contrasts, in animated or demonstrative language, we have “autem,’ ‘ vero, “tamen,’ ‘tandem, ‘enim, in the like intertwining attitude and function. In the same charac- teristic position, and answering a similar purpose, we meet with the running insertions of ‘inquam, ‘credo,” “censes, “arbitror,’ ‘opinor,” “obsecro,' ‘quaeso,” “ratus,’ and of the vocative. Contrariwise, where related propositions are successively advanced or conclusions drawn in an argu- mentative tone, sentences are headed in orderly and methodical arrangement by “et,’ ‘ quare,’ ‘idcirco, ‘inde,’ ‘ deinde,’ ‘nam,’ ‘ namque,’ ‘sed,’ ‘verum,’ ‘at,’ ‘tamen, ‘ attamen.” “Igitur,’ ‘ergo, and “tamen, when they refer to a whole sentence, precede that sentence ; whilst, when they support a single word, they succeed that word. ‘Ut’ frequently transfers its initial position to another word requiring special emphasis. More rarely, because being weaker they can less afford being generous, the front is quitted by ‘si,’ ‘etiamsi,’ ‘ne,’ ‘quomodo,” “ne’ used interrogatively, ‘cur,’ ‘utrum,’ ‘ quâ,' ‘ubi. All 26o O N THE POSITION A ND ORDER OF which may step behind the first three words, but not hehind more : * Id ille ut audivit, domum reverti noluit,' Nep. 7, 7 ; * Crassus eam admirationem assensionemque commovit dixisse ut nemo contra videretur,' Cic. Brut. 53. And similarly * iis ut,' Cic. Tusc. 2. 4, I 2 ; * te ut,' Cic. ad Fam. 5. I 7, 3 ; * ulla ut,' Cic. Tusc. I. 3 I, 76; * nihil ut,' Cic. Tusc. I. 42, 99 ; Ad Fam. 6. 3, 3 ; * Tantum moneo hoc tempus si amiseris,' Cic. ad Fam. 7. 7, I O ; * Ubi igitur locus fuit errori deorum? Nam patrimonia spe bene tradendi relinquimus, qua possumus falli: Deus falli qui potuit,' Cic. Nat. Den. 3, 3 I ; * Non id quæritur, sintne aliqui, qui deos esse putent : dii utrum sint necne quæ- ritur,' Cic. N. Deor. 7, I 7 ; * Antonii leges etiamsi sine vi essent rogatæ censerem tamen abrogandas: Nunc vero cur non abrogandas censeam, quas judico non roga- tas ? * Cic. Phil. 5. 6, I 7. * Nonne * is peculiarly fond of a rearward positiom, and may be placed behind whole parts of a sentence: * Cyrenæum Theodorum, philosophum non ignobilem nonne miramur ? ' Cic. Tusc. I. 43, I o2 ; * Quid paulo ante dixerim nonne meministi? ' Cic. de Fir. 2. 3, I o ; * Nescio am,' * haud scio am,' * dubito an,' in the sense of perhaps, take frequently the same position: * Num igitur eorum senectus miserabilis qui se agri cul- tione delectabant ? Mea quidem sententia haud scio an nulla beatior esse possit,' Cic. de Sen. I 6, 56. * Quum * always follows its subject, forming am inci- dent proposition -of its OWn. If the capital proposition has amother subject, and its OWm, being implied in the predicate, canmot precede, * cum' will at least get behind some accusative. So strong is its tendency to combine cause and effect : * Antiochus quum adversus Seleucum Lysimachumque dimicat in proelio occisus est,' Nep. 2 I. 3, 2 ; * Plura quum scribere vellem, nunciatum est vim mihi parari,' Sall. Cat. 35, 5. On the other hand, * quum ' always comes first when it refers to a * tum,' and even without that When it governs the indicative WORDS IN THE LATIN SENTENCE. 26 I as a particle of time: * Quum multæ res in philo- Sophia nequaquam satis adhuc explicatæ sint, tum perdifficilis est et perobscura quæstio de matura deorum,' Cic. Nat. D. I, I ; * Tum quum haberet hæc respublica Luscinos, Colatinos, Acidinos, et tum quum erant Catones, Philippi, Laelii, tamen hujuscemodi res commissa me- mini est,' Cic. de Leg. Agr. 2. 24, 62 ; * Quum ver esse, coeperat, Verres dabat se labori atque itineribus,' Cic. Verr. 5, I o. (i.) VERB WITH DEPENDENT CASES. The logical laW governing the position of a depen- dent case is easier to find with any part of speech than With the verb. Placed at the end of the sentence, the verb is particularly liable to be swayed by the laws of rhythm and euphony ;* and being, moreover, logically connected with the whole preceding period, it incurs the conflicting influences of all its various parts. The verb is regularly put at the end of the sentence in Ordinary steady-going speech. Under the recognised fundamental law this position is fully accounted for by the verb's importance to the whole, all the various pre- ceding parts of the sentence being either directly de- pendent, upon, or else indirectly associated with it (Quint. Inst. 9. 4, 29, 3o f). If, substantives, the names of * * Et in omni quidem corpore totoque ut, ita dixerim tractu numerus insertus est ; magis tamen et desideratur in clausulis et apparet.' Cic. Or. 63, and Quint. 9. 4, 93, &c., adduce vowels and metres suitable to forcible and melodious endings. * * Saepe tamen est, vehemens aliquis sensus in verbo ; quod si in media, parte sententiæ latet, transire intentionem et obscurari circumjacentibus solet : in clausula, positum assignatur auditori ; quale illud est Ciceronis Ut tibi necesse esset in conspectu populi Romani vomere postridie.” Transfer hoc ultimum, minus valebit. Nam totius ductus hic est quasi mucro, ut per se foeda, vomendi necessitas, jam nihil ultra, exspectantibus, hanc quoque adjiceret deformitatem, ut cibus teneri non posset pos- tridie,' &c. 262 ON THE POSITION AND ORDER OF independent entities, by the embodying order of words coalesce with other substantives into united and insepar- able notions, how much more will their complements be required to precede verbs 2 Involving mere potentiality, verbs emerge from the abstract state only by taking their object before them. Not to speak of the effects of euphony, the verb, however, is dispossessed of its terminal position by individual words demanding special emphasis, or by antithetical requirements affecting its location still more forcibly. Nevertheless, relations between the verb and cases governed have been considered sufficiently close to produce a prevailing order in the following few construc- tions:— (1) GENITIVE. Denoting relations only slightly affected by the verb, the genitive, the better to indicate its dependence, is the case least removed from it. Of the verbs of moral and mental emotion, ‘pudet, “piget, ‘poenitet,” “taedet,’ ‘miseret,’ ‘mise- reri,’ ‘miserescere,’ ‘pertaeSum est,’ ‘meminisse,’ ‘reminisci, ‘recordari,’ ‘oblivisci, ‘monere,' ‘commonere,’ ‘commone- facere,’ and ‘admonere, we may say that they have their objective genitive most usually in immediate juxtaposition to them, whether following or preceding. The verbs of charging and acquitting, ‘accusare,” “incusare,’ ‘ deferre,’ ‘postulare,’ ‘interrogare,” “agere, “arguere,” “coarguere,’ “tenere,’ ‘convincere,’ ‘damnare, ‘condemnare,” “solvere,’ ‘absolvere,’ ‘purgare, and “liberare, on the other hand, generally adhere to the inverted order. The genitive of possession with ‘esse,’ ‘fieri,’ ‘aestimare,’ “existimare,’ ‘habere,’ ‘ducere,’ ‘pendere,’ ‘putare, and their passives, together with ‘videri,’ very seldom separates from the verb, and much oftener precedes than follows it : ‘Omnia quae mulieris fuerunt, viri fiunt dotis nomine,’ Cic. Top. 4. 23 ; ‘Quam multi Sunt, qui Superstitionem imbecilli animi atque anilis putent, Cic. Div. 2. 60, I 25. JVORDS IN THE LATIN SENTENCE. 263 It is the same with the genitive attending verbs of estimation and assessment, of buying and sellimg (emo, vendo), of letting and hiring (conducere, locare), and of expense (stare, constare, venire, esse). In comparisom, this latter genitive is oftem removed from the verb to amother part of the sentence : * Emit Canius hortos tanti quanti Pythias voluit,' Cic. Off. 3. I 4, 59 ; * Est ulla res tanti aut commodum ullum tam expetendum, ut viri boni splendorem et nomen amittas,' Cic. Off. 3. 2o, 82. * Interest * and * refert ' have the genitive of value always before them, and, indeed, With very rare excep- tions, immediately before them ; the genitive of posses- sion they have either before or after, in the latter case always directly after them : * Quod permagni interest pro necessario sæpe habetur,' Cic. Part. 24, 84 ; * Magni ad honorem nostrum interest quam primum ad urbem me venire,' Cic. Fam. I 6. I, I ; * Cæsar dicere solebat non tam sua, quam reipublicæ interesse ut salvus esset,' Suet. Jul. 86 ; * Interest omnium recte facere,' Cic. Fam. 2. 22, 72. The ablative of possessive pronouns which represent the genitive of personal promouns With * in- terest ' and * refert ' always precede when alone ; but in connection with other genitives standing in the same relation to “interest ' they may also follow : * Sulla regi Βoccho patefecit faciendum aliquid quod Romanorum magis quam sua retulisse videretur,' Sall. Jug. I I I, I ; * Magni interest Ciceronis, vel mea potius, vel mehercule utriusque me intervenire discenti,' Cic. ad Att. I 4, 7. (2.) DATIVE. It is impossible to define the position of the dative with all the emdless verbs of material or immaterial approach. We must confine ourselves to the datives * commodi,' and *incommodi ' ; the dative Of aim, goal, and purpose with the verbs * esse,' * dare,' * accipere,' * mittere,' 264 ON THE POSITION AND ORDER OF ‘relinquere,’ ‘ire,’ ‘venire,’ ‘proficisci, ‘habere,’ ‘dicere,’ ‘ eligere,' ‘ destinare,’ ‘constituere,’ &c.; and the dative of valuation, with ‘dare,” “tribuere,’ ‘habere,’ ‘ vertere,’ ‘ducere,’ ‘accipere, in the signification of ‘to take as.’ These are very rarely found except immediately next the verb, generally preceding it : ‘Pisistratus quasi sibi non patriae vicisset, tyrannidem per dolum occupat,’ Just. 2. 8, 6; ‘Est mihi magnæ curae ut ita erudiatur Lucullus ut patri respondeat, Cic. Finn. 3, 2. On the other hand, “Pausanias venit Atticis auxilio, Nep. 8. 3, I. ‘Foenori dare,’ ‘religione habere,' ‘receptuicanere,’ are set phrases. (3.) ACCUSATIVE. As with the genitive, so with the accusative, the verbs whose transitive energy is least most urgently demand the local proximity of their object. Were the analytical order pursued where the logical tie is so slight, the sen- tence would seem to be falling to pieces. The follow- ing intransitive verbs when used as transitives scarcely allow of their object being placed anywhere but im- mediately before them : ‘Gaudere,’ ‘ridere,’ ‘laetari,’ ‘gratulari,’ ‘gloriari,’ ‘assentire,’ ‘lugere,’ ‘dolere,’ ‘maerere,’ ‘flere,’ ‘lacrimare,’ ‘plorare,’ ‘queri,’ ‘lamen- tari,’ ‘indignari,’ ‘aversari,’ ‘parere,’ ‘horrere,” “pallere,’ ‘trepidare, ‘ardere,’ ‘ calere,' ‘Sapere,” “recipere,’ ‘olere,’ ‘redolere,’ ‘sitire,’ ‘spirare,’ ‘anhelare,' ‘Sudare,’ ‘manare,’ “clamare,” “somare,’ ‘resonare,’ ‘vincere’ (causam, judi- cium). In the case of verbs ruling a double accusative, one of the two, as a rule, is placed close to the verb ; but in passive construction, the accusative becoming nominative is absolutely required to join the verb, and generally must precede the same. This occurs with the passive of verbs of calling and naming, “nominare,’ ‘nuncupare,’ ‘vocare,’ ‘appellare,’ ‘compellare,’ ‘praedi- WORDS IN THE LATIN SENTENCE. 265 care,’ ‘dicere,’ ‘legere,’ ‘eligere,’ ‘facere,” “efficere,’ ‘red- dere,’ ‘constituere,’ ‘ declarare, and ‘designare.’ The age always stands close by ‘matus.’ (4.) ABLATIVE. Here we encounter the same difficulty that besets the dependence of this case upon adjectives. Only a very few out of the mass of applications admit of being defined. The ablative with verbs of need and plenty, and with ‘uti,’ ‘ frui,’ ‘vesci,’ ‘fungi,’ and ‘potiri,’ is very rarely separated from its verb, and never except by a short subject: “Duobus vitiis diversis, avaritia et luxuria civitas laborat,’ Liv. 34, 4; ‘Vacat aetas muneribus is quae non pos- sunt sine viribus Sustineri,’ Cic. Sen. I I, 34 ; ‘Id est cujusque proprium quo quisque fruitur atque utitur,” Cic. Fam. 7. 30, 2; ‘Natura fecit ut is faveamus qui eaderm pericula quibus nos perfuncti Sumus ingrediantur,” Cic. Mur. 2, 4. The like applies to the many verbs of removal, both transitive and intransitive ; the verbs of Origin and descent, nasci,’ ‘gigni, ‘Oriri,’ ‘provenire,’ and ‘proficisci; and the verbs of subsistence, ‘composi- tum esse, concretum esse, constare, and ‘factum esse,' when governing the ablative without an intervening pre- position, whilst the ablative with a preposition (‘ab,’ ‘ex, “de,”) is at liberty to choose its place. 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