On principles and methods in Latin syntax

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I. Introductory and Historical 1-35

II

The psychology of speech ^ may be divided into two parts: first, the psychology of sound-production, which has to do with the reflex and unconscious action of the organs of speech, including the memory of such action by which sounds are repeated and in which they are associated and, so to speak, preserved ; and, second, the psychology of the train of thought which consciously accompanies utterance and which speech is felt to express. It is with the latter, of course, that syntax deals, though not with all of it. So far as words can be separated for scientific purposes from the sentences in which they are used, their meaning belongs to semantics. Syntax may claim as its special province ^ on the

1 The main points in this chapter have been anticipated by Wundt, Volkerpsi/chologie, I, 2, 234 ff., in pages which I read with mingled dismay and pleasure. But such unity as the papers in this book possess is dependent upon this chapter, and I have therefore left it substantially as it was written out some two years ago. Perhaps the fact that it is a venture of a philologist into the field of psychology will justify the repetition, as I had hoped that it would excuse the mistakes which I have no doubt made in an unfamiliar science.

2 I have not cared to discuss here or later the delimitation of syntax from semasiology, though the question of distinguishing the meaning of a word from its function as an inflectional form might come up below (Chap. IX). The matter has, indeed, been so clearly treated by Ries that it may be considered to be settled.

psychological side only those concepts which find expression in and through the combination of words, and the fundamental question for syntax is the question as to the nature of these concepts. In order to understand them it is necessary first to trace the mental processes which precede, accompany and follow the utterance of a group of words.

Both thought and utterance, going on at the same time, are so rapid as to seem almost automatic. So far as we give attention consciously to the process, it is ordinarily rather to the process of utterance, to the selection of words, than to the selection of concepts. A hindrance or obstacle to easy speech seems to be a difficulty in the finding of words rather than in the finding of ideas. But the fact that thought also calls for selection and arrangement is apparent enough upon a moment's reflection, especially when the thought is somewhat careful, as in writing upon a serious topic. In such a case we begin with the general subject, which lies in the mind in vague and general form. The first step is the directing of the attention upon some special aspect, which is one of many aspects suggested to the mind by association, and the separation of this from the rest. It is not, however, a complete separation, for the mind retains a sense of the relation of the special aspect to the general topic. Then, as a second step, either some other special aspect is brought before the attention, or the aspect first noticed is in its turn subjected to a like process. The mind again selects from the concepts which are suggested by association one to which the attention is given, and this also is viewed apart from others and yet at the same time in relation to the more general concept of which it formed a part. This process of arrangement, by successive analysis, will be carried far before the thought is sufficiently digested for expression in written words.

In this elaborate preparation of thought for speech three steps may be distinguished. First, there is an analysis of the germ-concept, by means of the fixing of the attention upon some single one of the concepts suggested by association. Second, the suggested concept is not so much separated from the germ as viewed in its relation to the germ ; the mind is always conscious of the relation, and it is because of the nature of the relation that the mind selects that particular concept rather than some other. Third, there is through the whole process a more or less conscious reference back to the original idea, a comparison of the analyzed group with the original unanalyzed germ in order to see how far the result of analysis has corresponded to the preconceived idea. These three steps go on simultaneously, though in a long analysis the third process may be somewhat intermittent.

In ordinary experience the arrangement of thought is of course less orderly than this. The association may be aided by accumulated notes which disturb the regularity of the process, or the subject may be one which requires little analysis, like a narrative of events already connected by the order of their occurrence. In the still more rapid processes of conversation, where the thought is constantly diverted by the suggestions of others, it is quite impossible to follow the action of the mind into details. The interaction of associations from within and from without, the variety in our modes of thinking under different conditions, and the differences which result from the subject of thought all result in great variations in the arrangement of ideas. But the essentials of the process, namely, the existence of the thought as a whole, as a germ-concept,^ and the immediate analysis of it, seem to remain the same, and may often be detected by observation of our own thought preceding speech. We may, for example, in listening to another person, believe that we detect an error in statement or a fallacy in reasoning. At the first instant this is entirely vague, scarcely more than would find expression in the exclamation "Wrong!" Then we may become conscious of the nature of the correction or the counter-argument in a like vague way, that is, as a whole, unanalyzed. If the circumstances make interruption permissible, an impulsive person will often break in while his own thought is as yet unanalyzed, and will find himself for an instant conscious of what he wishes to say and yet unable to say it. At such a moment one may detect in his own mind a kind of whirl of thought, almost a mental dizziness, as the swift process of analysis goes on. Then the thought begins to clear itself and to find expression in words. Or it may be, if interruption is not possible and we go on listening to the speaker, that the germ-concept is lost and, as the phrase is, we "forget what we were going to say." So when we see a child doing something dangerous or otherwise undesirable, the impulse to interfere is at first no more than a willed negative, ne without a verb; then the process of analysis begins, if clearness demands anything more than a prohibition like don't. The germ of a question is in like manner often to be detected before analysis, at first in the form of a mere desire for information excited by a suggestion from without, and then associated with the circumstances or the speech which excited it. Many questions need but slight analysis ; they consist of an interroga-

1 Gesammtvorstellung is the term used by Wundt. 39 tive sign and of a phrase which refers to the source that suggested the question. An interrogative sentence which contains more than this is something more than a question, involving also assertion or argument. A narrative, especially a short narrative, is remembered as a whole and may be so recalled by a single phrase, as "P's whistling story" or Livy's account of the destruction of Alba Longa. Just so a picture may be remembered as a whole. The analysis which precedes the telling of a story is particularly simple and easy to follow because the association is one of mere succession and the effort of the mind in fixing upon the order of events is a familiar one. Even the briefest remarks or comments, uttered in the midst of conversation, may frequently be caught by careful observation at the instant before analysis, and we may detect the germ-concept and may be aware of some rapid process of thought which must precede speech, though it may be impossible to follow it in all its details.

The process of analysis is dependent upon association. It is through association that the mind passes from the original germ-concept to the separate concepts. Among the concepts thus suggested the choice of the one upon which the attention shall settle is determined by its relation to the germ or its relation to the general course of thought. Each concept which is singled out from the germ for special attention stands, therefore, in a definite relation to the germ, a relation determined by the line of association. And because each is related to the original concept, each is also related to every other and a concept-group is thus constituted, bound together by a network of mutual relations. All the elements of such a group are held in consciousness at the same time, though the attention is not directed upon all at once. The group as a whole is consciously felt, with its relation to the preceding group and its associations reaching out toward the groups which are to follow. By them it is a member of a still larger group of groups. The separate concepts in which the analysis ends are also held in mind, and the attention is directed upon them in succession. And the relations also are present in consciousness, though less clearly and distinctly, serving to direct the analysis and to retain the sense of its unity.

If it be asked what brings the analysis to a close, the answer will be that speech may begin at almost any point in the process. The prohibition may be expressed by "Don't!" the question by "What?" or "Who?" The story may be introduced by " That reminds me," and in fact such phrases, which are attempts to speak before the analysis is complete, are very common in colloquial speech ; thus quid ? is used as an introductory question or quid agam ? quid faciam ? precedes a more detailed question. So a whole oration might be in an imperfect way expressed in a single sentence, " Catiline is dangerous," "Archias deserves citizenship." But ordinarily the process will go on until the analysis is complete enough to exhibit all that, to our thinking, was involved in the original germ. The aim and end are the same, the satisfaction of the desire to express in its details the concept which was originally in mind.

The process which I have been attempting to describe precedes speech. In its outline and in most of its details it must be completed before the words which are to suggest it to the hearer begin to be uttered. The effect of hurrjdng forward the words before the analysis is fairly complete is to make the sentence confused in its ending; this is one of the most frequent causes of confused and inaccurate sentence-structure. But when the analysis is completed, the fitting of sufficiently accurate words to the grouped concepts is almost automatic. Because thinking is so generally associated with words, the analysis is instinctively directed toward concepts which have been before associated with words. These are the natural ends toward which the analysis moves, and when the analysis reaches this point, the words are already suggested. The only thing necessary, therefore, during utterance is that the concepts, grouped by their relations, should pass in succession before the mind, or, more precisely, that the attention should be directed upon them in the succession which their grouping suggests. This operation is so nearly automatic that the conscious activity of the mind may at the same time call up the next group and perform upon it the necessary analysis.

After a group of words is uttered, a reverse process, one of recombination, begins. As soon as the attention is withdrawn from the distinct concepts, they begin, as it were, to sink back into the unanalyzed condition. The sentence which is in process of utterance is held until it is finished, but the sentence which had been uttered just before is held in the mind less distinctly and the preceding sentence is still less clear. If it is recalled by an effort of memory, the words will probably be called up first and the concepts will be recalled by means of the words, or the general group-concept will be recalled and analyzed a second time. In a long speech, lasting for several minutes, the speaker will remember what he has said only in the most general way. The thought will lie in his mind very much as it was before the analysis and utterance, except that the fact that the groups have been once analyzed will render a second analysis easier. It is in this unanalyzed or only partially analyzed form that any connected series of thoughts lies in the mind ready to be recalled. And as short sentences, prohibitions or brief questions, or short anecdotes or illustrations, may by a little self-examination be found to arise in the mind for an instant as wholes, so after they have been uttered in words they may for an instant be detected in the mind as wholes, undivided groups, accompanied by a sense of satisfaction, just as before utterance they were accompanied by a feeling of desire which called for satisfaction.

The three successive stages are therefore these : first, the group-concept is analyzed into a group of concepts with their connecting relations; second, the group in its analyzed form is clearly held in mind while the associated words are uttered ; third, the group of concepts immediately begins to fade back into its unanalyzed form.

The action of the hearer's mind most nearly resembles the second and third of these stages. The uttered words excite in his mind the associated concepts with all their suggestions and implications of relation, and these he instantly begins to combine into a group, which, if the whole operation is skilfully performed, will be essentially the same as the unanalyzed group in the mind of the speaker. This is done so immediately and unconsciously that, if the attention of the hearer is fixed upon the thought, he will often be quite unaware of the analyzed elements and be conscious only of the result of the recombination, the group-concept. It is the power of performing this process of recombination rapidly and unconsciously which enables a practised reader to grasp whole sentences or even whole paragraphs at a glance; he dispenses with the laborious analysis and by catching a word here and a word there is able to divine the group. Where the subject is unfamiliar or the language is foreign and only imperfectly known, the reader or hearer must perform the recombination slowly and carefully.

To some extent, also, the mind of a quick hearer or reader is at work upon the unexpressed thought, performing also, as does the mind of the speaker, an analysis ahead of the point of utterance and anticipating to some extent and tentatively the course of the speaker's thought. This enables the hearer to grasp the group of concepts, when it is suggested by words, to some extent as a whole, and still further lessens the amount of analysis necessary.

The psychology of speech has not hitherto ^ occupied a large space in the standard works on psychology, but some confirmation of these views, which are the result of an attempt to understand the basis of syntactical expression, may be had from the extremely interesting chapter in James's Psychology,^ entitled "The Stream of Thought." The fact is there stated and illustrated that two elements are present in the succession of concepts which follow each other in the mind. Of these the more obvious consists of the more definite and, so to speak, concrete concepts. When one attempts to arrest the stream of thought, as, for example, in answer to the question "What are you thinking about?" the attention is likely to be fixed upon some definite object, — a thing, a person, an institution, an event. This will be the case even when the definite object is really quite secondary, when the thought was really fixed upon a question of duty or expediency. But a closer

1 Before the appearance of "Wundt's Volkerpsychologie. ^ The Principles of Psychology, I, chap, ix, pp. 224 ff.

self-examination shows that such definite concepts are always connected by relations which form a part, and an important part, of the stream of thought. To these two elements James gives the names substantive and transitive. It is evident that the substantive concepts correspond in general to the separate and distinct concepts into which a germ-concept is analyzed, and that the transitive elements, which are also themselves concepts, correspond to the relations which bind the concepts into a group.

Speaking broadly, the substantive concepts, the separate concepts upon which the analysis comes to an end, are expressed in language by words , and the laws which govern their association with words make up the science of word-meanings. The science of word-combinations has to do with the meaning of the whole group and with the relations by which its parts are held together. The following papers will contain some illustrations of the ways in which these general characteristics of thought-structure are repeated in sentence-structure. Meanwhile some general observations are in place here, with reference to the emphasis which these facts may lead us to place upon certain general principles of syntactical investigation.

1. The unity of a concept-group is not something produced by the act of expressing it in words, nor is it in any way the result of the putting of words together. It is, on the contrary, antecedent to expression, and is an inherent element of thought. The various definitions of the sentence w^hich imply that a sentence expresses the completion of an act of combination define the process from the wrong end ; the sentence expresses the result of an analysis, and everything in it which binds the words together is the sign of the original unity, not the means of producing unity. This is true also of sentences or verbs in the paratactic structure (see Chap. VI) ; the relation is not created by putting the verbs together, but is the reason for combining them into one group. The principle of first importance in following the growth of syntactical expression is to recognize the fact that all that finds expression exists J first in thought and must be felt with some degree of distinctness before it can find any kind of expression.

All this justifies the use of the term semasiology and the application of semantic laws and methods to the association between the concepts of relation and the means of syntactical expression. But the semasiology of word-groups is more difficult than the semasiology of single words, both because the concepts are more shifting and evanescent, and because they are expressed by means so varied and complex as sentence-structure.

2. The importance of studying words in groups, which is often recognized, is further emphasized by what has been said in regard to the action of the mind of speaker and hearer. The isolation of a word for detailed study must be followed and corrected by a study of it in its true condition as part of a group. The fact that each concept exists for the sake of the group, that the speaker is endeavoring to express the group-concept and is using the analyzed group of concepts only for this purpose, makes it possible for him to use words with greater freedom ; meanings need not be precise, because they are limited by the other concepts of the group. This applies to inflectional forms as well as to words. The precision which they seem to have is often due to the rest of the group, and they can therefore be properly interpreted only when the limitations which surround them are taken fully into account.

3. The relations between the concepts are dependent upon the associations between them, and these, when they are not purely accidental, depend upon the nature of the concepts themselves. The relation of cause and effect can exist only between objects in the same sphere of causation, not, for instance, between a cloud and a house ; purpose implies personality, a time-relation implies a time-word. In other words, the meaning of words has much to do with syntactical expression. There is sometimes an apparent disposition to separate these two means of expression, single words with their meaning being put into one science, while syntax is treated as if inflection were independent of word-meaning, and as if the syntactical forms were shells which could be filled with any content without altering their character. This is, of course, the result of the perfectly proper effort to isolate syntactical expression in order to study it without the disturbance of anything foreign to it. But it is quite certain that syntax can be understood only when it is studied in the closest association with word-meaning and that a large field of work is opening out in this direction.

Ill

The means employed in language for the expression of the relations between concepts are in part the same as the means at the command of language for expressing the concepts themselves, and in linguistic discussions the two are often treated together without distinction. It is not, in fact, possible to draw a clear line of distinction. In general, single words correspond to distinct substantive concepts and the study of their association with such concepts belongs to lexicography and semantics. But when a relation, as a result of frequent use, comes to be clearly and vividly felt, it has itself become a concept, apparently much as any concept is formed from percepts, and may then be expressed by a single word — a preposition or conjunction — the study of which belongs alike to semantics and to syntax. Inflected words also have both meaning and function and, just as in Latin the stem is never found without an inflectional ending, so the meaning and the function always go together and are inseparable. Even the parts of speech have to do partly with word-meaning and partly with syntactical function, since the differentiation is brought about within the sentence in the effort to express relation. The verb does not differ from the noun in meaning onl}^, but also in use. The ordinary definition of the verb as a word which denotes action or state and of the noun as the name of a person or thing is evidently one-sided and defective, since a noun may denote action or existence and a verb-form may be the name of a thing. Another and truer distinction is based upon the use to which words are put in combination, and the differentiation of parts of speech is a means of expressing at the same time substantive concepts and concepts of rehition. No definite line, therefore, can be drawn between the means employed in language for suggesting concepts and those which are at the command of language for the expression of relations. But it is nevertheless worth while to group together those characteristics of speech which have been more distinctly appropriated to the expression of relation, as a preliminary to the consideration of the process by which they have been adapted to such expression.

The musical elements of speech have to do chiefly with emotion, not with the intellectual side of speech. But a change of tone, indicating primarily a change of emotional attitude, may also serve to suggest in a very general way the relation of that which follows to that which precedes the change. This is especially clear in the utterance of a parenthetic explanation or comment, where the lowered tone and perhaps quickened time aid in suggesting the parenthetic and unimportant character of the thought. A change of tone will also accompany and partially express a change from argument to narrative or the reverse, and may thus vaguely susfsrest even the nature of the relation between two groups of words. The tone in which a conditional clause is uttered differs from the tone of a causal clause.

The pauses between groups of words are more directly 4 49 contri'butory to an understanding of the grouping of concepts. They are in origin physiological, that is, they are due to the necessity of refilling the lungs. If it were possible to conceive of thought as a perfectly homogeneous stream, as unvarying in quality as it is unbroken in its continuity, the pauses would occur at substantially equal intervals. But as thought is continually varying in quality and concepts occur in groups, the pauses in speech have been accommodated to the suggestion of groupings and occur not regularly but at varying intervals, so as to mark the fact that one group of concepts is completed and another is about to begin. Further, the length of the pause may indicate the size and complexity of the group, especially in very deliberate speech when the pause is utilized by the speaker for the analj^sis of the next group. The slight pause at the end of a clause, such as is indicated in printed language by a comma, suggests in conjunction with the raised inflection of voice the conclusion of a small group which is part of a larger group ; the longer pause and falling inflection mark the close of a more fully completed group, and the end of a still larger group of groups is marked by a longer pause and a change of tone, as it is indicated in print by a new paragraph.

The pauses thus mark groups and suggest slightly the relations between them, though they do not indicate the relations within the group, and they illustrate well, in an elementary way, the process of adaptation ; in their origin they have nothing to do with speech as a means of expression, but are the result of physiological conditions, yet they become one of the most fundamental means of indicating the nature of the stream of thought.

The three most direct mccans of expressing relations are inflection, single words, and groupings of words.

A natural starting-point for considering the nature of inflection would be its origin and, if there were a satisfactory and generally accepted theory upon this important point, it would simplify some of the problems of syntax. But there is no such theory. The explanation of inflection as due entirely to a process of agglutination, once a part of the orthodox philology, is quite certainly no longer accepted without serious question as to its value. The grounds for this change of opinion it is not for a syntacticist to discuss, but in general the theory appears to lack a good psychological basis, to involve an appeal . to laws and forces other than those which are in operation in historic periods and to be too sweeping in its conclusions. Composition of some kind must be supposed to have taken place in order to account for some verb forms — e. g.^ for fueram or the imperfect in -ham — but composition can scarcely explain all the phenomena. At any rate, the acquiescence of morphologists in the agglutinative theory, so far as acquiescence exists, is dissatisfied and agnostic, the result mainly of the fact that no substitute has been proposed, and the attempts ^ that have been made within the last few years to explain Indo-Euroj)ean inflection look in other directions. If this view of current opinion seems too unhopeful, it must at the least be said that syntax has at present little to gain from the theories and speculations in regard to the general nature of in-

^ Bergaigne, de conjunctivi et optativi in Indoeuropaeis Unguis informatione et VI antiquissima ; E. W. Fay, Agglutination and Adaptation, Amer. Jonrn. of Philol., XV, 4, XVI, 1 ; Audouin, de la d^ch'nalson dans les langues Indoeurope'ennes, Paris, 1899; Greenough, in Harvard Studies in Classical Philology, X, 1.

flection. They are more likely to mislead than to furnish a substantial basis for syntactical work.

In these circumstances it is all the more desirable to get as broad and clear a view as possible of the nature of inflection as it appears in historical times. Looked at broadly, the most striking characteristic of Latin \ inflection is that it is not a system, but is on the contrary highly unsystematic. This statement may seem unnecessary, but the opposite opinion, held more or less consciously, underlies much of the recent syntactical work, especially in America. The impression of system comes, no doubt, from the way in which we learn the facts of inflection. For the purposes of teaching, the grammars very properly emphasize as much as possible such measure of system as Latin inflection permits, producing at the beginning of one's acquaintance with Latin the impression of a series of graded forms and meanings covering most accurately and completely the whole range of expression. But it is obvious that this is a false impression and, so far as we retain it, we are building upon a wrong foundation. Neither the forms nor the meanings are systematic. The perfect stem is not one, but is an irregular mixture of at least four different stems: the reduplicated (cecidi\ the lengthened (ueni), the s stem (dixi) and the -ui form (amaui). Of these a few verbs have two (^parsi, peperci) and the rest have one or another termination for reasons which are apparently phonetic and have nothing to do with the meaning either of the verb or of the termination. The subjunctive has two formations (dicam^ aynem') with a mixture of optative forms, also without distinction of meaning. Or, taking the tenses in order, the present stem has many variations in form, some of them significant, others apparently without meaning ; the imperfect indicative is an Italic formation ; the imperfect subjunctive is entirely different and is of unknown origin; the future is either an Italic formation (-60) or it is a modal form, different in the different persons (-a?n, -es). The personal endings are not more systematic; the fu-st and second singular may be connected with the pronouns, but the second and third plural are inexplicable. To these illustrations from verbal inflection must be added the irregularities of pronouns and of the third declension of nouns, the immense variety of word-building suffixes and all the irregularities which have been brought together by Osthoff in his paper on Suppletivwesen. But it is not necessary to heap up evidence on this paint. A glance at the facts of Latin morphology as they are presented in any full Latin grammar, or in Brugmann's Grundriss, or in Lindsay's "Latin Language," where large masses of facts which defy classification are brought together, furnishes convincing evidence that irregularity and absence of system are not merely occasional but are the fundamental characteristics of Latin form-building. It is the regularity that is unusual and exceptional.