CHAPTER XV.

CATEGORIES: PSYCHOLOGICAL AND GRAMMATICAL.

The divisions into which grammarians have distributed words, such as gender, number, and, in the case of verbs, voice and tense, are based upon the function which each word discharges in the sentence. Now, these functional differences rest ultimately upon psychological categories: that is to say, upon differences which depend upon the view taken by our mind of the natural grouping and classification of ideas. In other words, the divisions formed by grammarians depend ultimately upon the classification of the relations in which the ideas suggested by words stand to each other, as it appears to our imagination. Grammatical classification was, in fact, originally nothing but an attempt to express and group the order and connection of ideas as they were conceived of by the human mind. Immediately that this influence of imagination has made itself felt in the usage of language, it becomes a grammatical factor: and the groups which it forms become grammatical categories. But the action of the psychological category does not cease when it has thus produced the grammatical; and the difference between the two kinds is that, whereas the grammatical categories become, so to speak, stereotyped and fixed, those created by the imagination are ever changing; just as the human mind itself is ever changing its ideas. Besides this, changes in sound-groups are always occurring, and are constantly operating to prevent the grammatical categories coinciding with the psychological. Then, as a tendency makes itself felt to bring about a coincidence of the two categories, the grammatical category suffers a displacement, whence arise what we are accustomed to call grammatical irregularities. A consideration of the way in which these irregularities arise may help us to understand the origin of the grammatical categories, to which we now proceed.

GENDER.

The foundation of grammatical gender is the natural distinction between the sexes in mankind and animals. Fancy may endow other objects or qualities with sex; but sex, whether fanciful or real, has no proper connection with grammar. The truth of this may be well seen from the English language, in which we have in most cases discarded the use of grammatical gender. In order, therefore, to study the conditions of gender, we have to turn to languages more highly inflected than English.

The test whereby we now recognise the grammatical gender of a substantive is the _concord_ existing between the substantive and its attribute and predicate, or between it and a pronoun representing it--_Domus nigra est_, ‘The house is black;’ _Domus quam vidi_, ‘The house which I saw;’ _It is the moon; I ken her horn_ (Burns); etc. The rise, therefore, of grammatical gender is closely connected with the appearance of a variable adjective and pronoun. One theory to explain this is, that the difference in form, before it yet marked the gender, had become attached to a particular stem-ending: as if, _e.g._, all stems ending in _n-_ admitted the ending _-us_--as _bonus_, ‘good,’--and all those in _g-_ the ending _-ra_--as _nigra_, ‘black;’--and that the ending may have been an independent word which, while yet independent, had acquired a reference to a male or female.[144] Gender appears in English, in the first place, as an artificial and often arbitrary personification, as when the sun and moon are spoken of as _he_ and _she_ respectively, under the influence of the ideas attaching to Sol and Luna: Phœbus and Diana, etc.: and, again, as an expression of interest in objects or animals, it frequently occurs in the language of the people and of children; though it sometimes enters into the language of common life, as when a dog is referred to as _he_ and a cat as _she_, in cases where sex is not spoken of. (See Storm, die lebende Sprache, p. 418.)

In the pronoun, as in the adjective, the distinction of gender may appear in the stem-ending: as ‘un_e_’ (‘one,’ ‘a’); ‘qu_æ_,’ (‘which’). It may, however, also be expressed by distinct roots, such as _er_, _sie_; _he_ and _she_. It is, indeed, probably in substantive pronouns that grammatical gender was first developed, as in fact it has longest maintained itself; as in English, where, in adjectives and nouns, it has almost entirely disappeared.

Grammatical gender probably corresponded originally to natural sex. Exceptions to this rule must gradually have come about, partly through changes of meaning setting in,--as where a word is used metaphorically, like _love_ (neuter, abstract), _love_ (masc. or fem.--‘the beloved object’); or where it has ‘occasionally’ modified its meaning, like Fr. _le guide_, strictly ‘the guidance,’ and so used in Old French; _your fatherhoods_ (Ben Jonson). Consequently we find natural sex again influencing the genders as fixed by grammar. Thus, in German, _Die hässlichste meiner kammermädchen_ = ‘the ugliest of my chambermaids’ (Wieland), where the article _die_ is of the feminine gender, though the word _kammermädchen_, being a diminutive in _chen_ is, like all others of that class, neuter. In French, we have UNE (fem.) _brave enfant_, ‘a brave girl.’ The word _gens_, again, is, properly speaking, feminine, like the word _la gent_, which still survives in the restricted sense of ‘a race:’ but in combinations like ‘_tous_ les braves gens’ (‘all worthy people’) the grammatical gender is neglected; and this neglect is fostered by the use of such a word as _braves_, which in form might apply to either sex. On the other hand, in combinations like ‘les _bonnes_ gens,’ (‘good people’), where an adjective with a specifically feminine termination is joined to the substantive, the grammatical gender maintains itself. Cf., also, instances like ‘_un_ enseigne’ (‘an ensign’), ‘_un_ trompette’ (‘a trumpeter’); and, in Provençal, ‘_lo_ poestat,’ for ‘the magistrate’ (‘_il_ podestà’). In Latin and Greek, these so-called violations of the concord in gender are very common; we are familiar with them as constructions πρός σύνεσιν, i.e. _according to the sense_; cf. _Thracum auxilia_ (neuter) ... _cæsi_ (masc.) (Tac., Ann., iv. 48), ‘The Thracian auxiliaries were killed;’ _Capita_ (neut.) _conjurationis virgis cæsi_ (masc.) _ac securi percussi_ (masc.) (Livy, x. 1), ‘The heads of the conspiracy were slain and their heads cut off;’ _Septem millia_ (neut.) _hominum in naves impositos_ (masc.) (Livy, xl. 41), ‘Seven thousand men put on board ships;’ _Hi_ (masc.) _summo in fluctu pendent ... tres Notus abreptas_ (i.e. _naves_--fem.) _in saxa latentia torquet_ (Vergil, Æn., i. 106-8), ‘Some (of the ships) hang on the crest of the waves ...; three, swept away, the South wind whirls upon hidden rocks.’ In Greek, ὦ φίλτατ’, ὦ περισσὰ τιμηθεὶς (masc.) τεκνον (neut.) (Eur., Tro. 735), ‘O dearest, O much honoured child;’ τὰ τέλη (neut.) καταβάντας (masc.) (Thuc., IV. xv. 1), ‘The magistrates having descended:’ and similar instances frequently in Thucydides.

We next find cases where the grammatical gender has completely changed. Thus, in Greek, masculine designations of persons and animals are turned into feminines by simply referring them to female objects: thus, we have either ὁ or ἡ ἄγγελος (‘messenger’), διδάσκαλος (‘teacher’), ἰατρός, (‘healer’), τύραννος (‘ruler’), ἔλαφος (‘deer’), ἵππος (‘horse’ or ‘mare’), etc. In Christian times, a form ὁ παρθένος (‘an unmarried man’) was constructed (Apocal., xiv. 4), translated into Italian by _Vergine_. Neuter diminutives in German readily become masculine or feminine when the diminutive meaning has been obscured: as, _e.g._, the occasional construction _die Fräulein_, ‘the young lady;’ cf., also, in Latin, _Glycerium mea_, _Philematium mea_ (Plaut., Most., I. iii. 96), _mea Gymnasium_ (Plaut., Cist., I. i. 2). In English, there are a great number of words which would, in the first instance, be thought of as masculines, as containing a suffix commonly associated with masculine words. These are, however, very frequently used as feminines; and, in some cases, even when a feminine termination exists side by side with the masculine one--as, _She is heir of Naples_ (Shakespeare, Tempest, II. i.): others are _enemy_, _rival_, _novice_, _astronomer_, _beggar_, _teacher_, _botanist_, etc. Cf. _she is a peasant_ (Longfellow); _The slave loves her master_ (Lord Byron); _His only heir a princess_ (Temp., I. 2); _She is his only heir_ (Much Ado, I. i.); _The daughter and heir of Leonato_ (ibid., I. iii.); _She alone is heir to both of us_ (ibid., V. i.); etc.

If collectives or descriptions of qualities become descriptions of persons, the result may be a change of gender. The Fr. _le garde_ (‘the watchman’) was once identical with _la garde_ (‘the watch,’ _vigiliæ_); cf. further, in Spanish, _el cura_ (‘the priest’), _el justicia_ (‘the magistrate’): the Old Bulgarian _junota_ (‘youth’), as a masculine, means ‘a youth.’ The Russian _Golova_ means ‘a head,’ and, in the masculine, ‘a conductor.’ Portuguese furnishes numerous instances of this; as, _a bolsa_ (fem.), ‘the purse,’ ‘exchange;’ _o bolsa_ (masc.), ‘the treasurer:’ _a corneta_, ‘the cornet;’ _o corneta_, ‘the trumpeter:’ _a lingua_, ‘the tongue;’ _o lingua_, ‘the interpreter:’ etc.[145] In Italian, _podestà_ (‘magistrate’) is an instance of this. Feminine surnames, again, are frequently added to masculine personal names: cf. Latin _Alauda_, _Capella_, _Stella_; Ital. _Colonna_, _Rosa_, _Barbarossa_, _Malespina_, etc. So, in French, we find names like _Jean Marie_.

A word often takes a particular gender from the fact that it belongs to a particular category. The gender of the type of the species, in fact, fixes the gender for other members classed with it. Thus, in English, the word for _beast_ comes from the O.Fr. _beste_ (bête), which is feminine: but this word, and the names of beasts generally, are treated in poetry as masculines, because the Teutonic usage is to treat beasts generally as masculine. Cf. _The beast is laid down in his lair_ (Cowper); _And when a beste is deed he ne hath no peyne_ (Chaucer, Cant. Tales, 1321); _The forest’s leaping panther shall hide his spotted hide_ (Bryant). Numerous other instances are given by Mätzner.[146] It is probable that personification aids in fixing the gender in these cases. Similarly, in French, _été_ (‘summer’), from _æstatem_, has become masculine because the other seasons of the year were masculine. _Minuit_ (‘midnight’) has followed _midi_ (‘midday’); _val_ (‘valley’) has followed _mont_ (‘mountain’), _font_ (‘fount’) _fontaine_ (‘fountain’); _aigle_ (‘eagle’) is masculine because _oiseau_ (‘bird’) is masculine; _brebis_ (‘wether’) is feminine because _ovis_ (‘sheep’) is feminine; _sort_ (‘lot’) is masculine because _bonheur_ (‘happiness’) is masculine; _art_ (‘art’) is masculine because _métier_ (‘profession’) is masculine: _mer_ (‘sea’) is feminine because _terra_ (‘land’) is feminine. In German, again, the names of _Tiber_ and _Rhone_ have followed the model of most German river names, and appear as feminine. In Greek, many names of plants and trees have become feminine, following the model of δρῦς (‘tree’) and βοτάνη (‘grass’); cf. ὁ κύανος (‘steel’), ἡ κύανος (‘the corn-flower’), so called from a fancied resemblance between the plant and the metal. Towns, again, in Greek, show an inclination to follow the gender of πόλις, ‘a city:’ cf. ἡ Κέραμος, from ὁ κέραμος, ‘clay;’ ἡ Κισσός, from ὁ κισσός, ‘ivy;’ ἡ Μάραθος, from ὁ μόραθος, ‘fennel.’

In other cases _formal_ reasons have brought about a change in gender. We have a striking example of this in the feminine gender assumed by abstract nouns in _-or_ in the Romance languages, to which _flos_ (‘flower’) has also added itself. The fact was felt that most abstract substantives were feminine, _e.g._ those terminating in _-tas_, _-tus_, _-tudo_, _-tio_, _-itia_, _-ia_; and, especially, the feminine termination _-ura_ sometimes was employed as an alternative to _-or_; cf. _pavor_ (‘fear’), Ital. _paura_. Again, in Latin, words in _-a_, when these were not, like _poeta_, the names of males, were commonly feminine. Consequently, we find that Greek neuters in -μα appear in popular Latin as feminines, a gender which they have in many cases preserved in the Romance languages. Examples of this are seen in _schème_, _dogme_, _diademe_, _anagramme_, _énigme_, _épigramme_, etc. In the same way, in Modern Greek, the old Greek feminines in ος have in many cases became masculine, as ὁ πλάτανος, ὁ κυπάρισσος, ‘the plain,’ ‘the cypress.’

Sometimes the termination appears altered to suit the gender; thus the Lat. _socrus_ (‘a father-in-law’) produces the Spanish word _suegra_ (‘a mother-in-law’): and, again, sometimes the traditional was the natural gender; and this was an additional reason why the word should alter its termination, instead of being modified by the gender,--thus, in Greek, the α stems which have become masculine, like νεανίας (‘a youth’), have adopted the characteristic _s_ of the masculine nominative.

The way in which natural gender, as viewed by imagination, has affected grammatical gender may be well seen in English. The personal pronouns give the only real traces of grammatical gender left in English, _he_, _she_, _it_; _his_, _her_, _its_, etc. On the other hand, substantives are very commonly referred to one sex or another by writers, and to some extent personified. In these cases sometimes a faint tradition of their Anglo-Saxon gender seems to have lingered, as when, for instance, mammals and reptiles are in poetry spoken of as masculine; e.g., _Like the roe_ (A.S. _rá_, fem.) _when he hears_ (Longfellow); _I have seen the hyena’s_ (Lat. and Fr. fem.) _eyes of flame, and heard at my side his stealthy tread_ (Bryant). Birds, on the other hand, are treated very often as feminines, irrespective of the grammatical gender possessed by their Anglo-Saxon or French original; cf. _But the sea-fowl has gone to her nest_ (Cowper); _A bird betrays her nest by striving to conceal it_ (Byron); _Jealous as the eagle of her high aiery_ (ibid.); _The raven flaps her wing_ (ibid.); _A hawk hits her prey_ (Halliwell, s.v. ruff); _The swan rows her state_ (Milton).

We must mention one more point which ought not to be overlooked, though, owing to the scanty survival of grammatical gender in modern English, it cannot easily be illustrated by English examples. We have indicated some of the causes which have been active in producing a change of gender; but, besides these, there is a negative one, viz., the absence of impediment to such change, which, in a certain sense, may be said to have contributed to the same effect. The distinction in gender which is even yet marked in French and German by the different forms of the singular article (_le_, _der_, masc.; _la_, _die_, fem.; _das_, neut.) has long since disappeared in the plural. We find _les_, _die_ for all genders. And hence it is clear that such words as were most frequently used in the plural were least closely associated with a particular gender, and were therefore more especially amenable to the influence of any force tending to group them with words of a gender different from their own. For instance, most feminine nouns in German form their plural by adding _-en_ to the singular, while few masculine and only six or seven neuter nouns do the like; as a result of which many nouns, formerly masculine, are now feminine, and this especially applies to cases where the plural was in frequent use.

The neuter, the sexless, owes its origin as a grammatical category merely to the development and differentiation of the two other genders.

NUMBER.

As in the case of gender, so, before number passed into a grammatical category, concord must have been developed. Even in languages which, like English, would naturally express the plural by some plural termination, we find words denoting a plurality, and, indeed, a definite number, conceived and spoken of as a unity. Such are _a pair_, _a leash_, _a brace_, _a triplet_, _a trio_, _a quartette_, _a dozen_, _a score_.

We find similar cases in the most varied languages: cf. the Fr. _une dizaine_ (‘a collection of ten’), _une douzaine_ (‘a dozen’), _centaine_ (‘a collection of a hundred’), etc.; Ital. _una diecina_, _dozzina_, etc.; _trave_, in Danish, means ‘a _score_ of corn sheaves;’ _schock_, in German, means ‘sixty;’ _tchetvero_, in Russian, means ‘a set of four.’ We may add, the curious Latin word _quimatus_, ‘the age of five years.’

Thus, in like manner, so-called collective nouns are simply comprehensive singular designations of plurality. Now, the speaker or writer may choose to think of the collective of which he is speaking as a unity or as a plurality, and the way in which he chooses to regard it may affect the concord; nay, it may even affect the gender.

The most common case is where a plural verb follows a singular collective noun: as, ‘The whole nation _seem_ to be running out of their wits’ (Smollett, Humphrey Clinker); ‘The army of the Queen _mean_ to besiege us’ (Shakespeare, 3 Hen. VI., I. ii.);[147] cf. ‘Even until King Arthur’s _table_, man by man, had fallen in Lyonness about _their_ Lord’ (Tennyson, Idylls of the King); ‘_Pars perexigua_, duce amisso, Romam _inermes delati sunt_’ (Livy, ii. 14) = ‘A very small part, their leader lost, _were brought unarmed_ to Rome;’ ‘_Cetera classis_, prætoria nave amissa, _fugerunt_’ (Livy, xxxv. 26) = ‘The rest of the fleet, with the loss of the prætorian ship, fled (plur.).’ Sometimes there is a mixture of singular and plural, e.g. ‘_Fremit improba plebes_ (sing.) Sontibus _accensæ_ (plur.) stimulis’ (Stat., Theb., v. 488) = ‘The _impatient people murmur_ (sing.), _inflamed_ (plur. part.) etc.:’ cf. the following examples from the Greek--Μέρος τι (sing.) ανθρώπων οὐκ ἡγοῦνται (plur.) θεούς (Plato., Leg., 948) = ‘A portion of mankind do not believe in gods;’ Τό στράτευμα ἐπορίζετο (sing.) σῖτον, κόπτοντες (plur.) τοὺς βοῦς καὶ ονους (Xen., Anab., II. i. 6) = ‘The army provided itself with food (by) cutting up (plur. part.) the oxen and asses.’

In A.S., when _ðæt_ or _ðis_ is connected with a plural predicate by means of the verb ‘to be,’ the verb is put in the plural: ‘Eall _ðæt sindon_ micle and egeslice dæda’ (‘All _that_ are great and terrible deeds.’) Conversely, where we should say ‘each of those who _hear_,’ the idiom in Anglo-Saxon was to say ‘each of those who _hears_:’ as, ‘Ælc ðára ðe ðás míne word _gehyrð_’ (= ‘Each of those who _hears_ these my words’, where the verb is made to agree, not with _ðara ðe_, but with _ælc_. Cf. Sweet, Anglo-Saxon Reader, p. xci.).

We find many words so commonly combined with the plural, that we more naturally apprehend them as plural than as singular; such a word is the English ‘people,’ which we instinctively connect with a plural verb. In such cases, we sometimes even find that the grammatical form actually assimilates itself to the psychological number, as when we speak of _folks_; cf. also _sheeps_ in Shakespeare (Love’s Labour’s lost, II. i.); while from the French word _gent_, which was used in Old French with the plural, we find formed, in the same way, the word _gens_: in Italian we find _genti_ beside _gente_. In Anglo-Saxon, _-waru_ denotes ‘a nation,’ ‘a defence:’ the plural _-ware_, ‘citizens;’ as _Rómware_, ‘the men of Rome;’ _Cantwáre_, ‘the men of Kent,’ etc. In Gothic, there is a collective neuter _fadrein_, which we may illustrate or parallel, though not exactly translate, by the word ‘fathership.’ In the singular (genitive) it is used in the meaning of ‘race’ or ‘family’ (Eph. iii. 15), thus showing its original abstract and then collective sense; and again it is found (Luke viii. 56) still singular but with a plural verb: _jah usgeisnodedun fadrein izos_ = _and were-astonished fathership_ (i.e. PARENTS) _her_ = _and her parents were astonished_. We even find the singular noun with the _article_ (_i.e._ demonstrative pronoun) _in the plural_: _Andhofun ðan im ðai fadrein is jah qeðun_ = _Answered then to him those fathership his and said_ = _Then answered his parents and said_ (John ix. 20). It is, thus, this _plural meaning_ which caused the word to be used in the _plural form_, exactly as we use _folks_ quoted above, while the etymological meaning as abstract collective was overlooked. For example: _Ni auk skulun barna_ FADREINAM _huzdjan, ak_ FADREINA _barnam_ = _not eke shall bairns for_ FATHERSHIPS _hoard, but_ FATHERSHIPS _for bairns_, i.e. _For the children shall not hoard for the parents, but the parents for the children_ (2 Cor. xii. 14).[148]

The converse of this also happens. A plural expression receives the function of a singular when the parts thus indicated are thought of as a whole. Thus we can talk of _another sixpence_, _another hundred yards_; or even use phrases like _There’s not another two such women_ (Warren); _this seven year_ (Shakes., Much Ado, III. 3.); _What is six winters?_ (Rich. II., I. iii.). _Amends_, _gallows_, _sessions_, _shambles_ are plurals, but are generally treated as singulars; e.g., _a shrewd unhappy gallows_ (Love’s Labour’s lost, V. ii. 12). So, too, _works_, _scales_, etc.: e.g., _that crystal scales_ (Rom. and Jul., I. ii. 101); _Stoppage of a large steelworks_ (Weekly Times and Echo, August 19, 1888); _Fire in a Liverpool chemical works_ (Liverpool Daily Post, June 30, 1884, p. 7); _This is good news_; etc. Finally, such plurals become singular, not only in sense, but even in form, and are treated and declined as such. Thus, in English, we talk of _an invoice_ (Fr. envois, plur.). In Latin, _castra_ (plur.) sometimes formed a genitive of singular form, _castræ_:[149] the plural _litteræ_, in sense of ‘an epistle,’ has passed into the French _lettre_ as singular, with a new plural, _lettres_; the Latin plural _vela_, ‘sails,’ into French _une voile_: _minaciæ_ has become the French _menace_, ‘threat,’ and the Italian _minaccia_: _nuptiæ_, ‘nuptials,’ has become, in French, _noce_, ‘a wedding,’ as well as _noces_: _tenebræ_, ‘darkness’ has become, in Spanish, _tiniebla_, as well as _tinieblas_; _deliciæ_, ‘delights,’ in French, _délice_, as well as _délices_. _Pâques_, ‘Easter,’ _Athènes_, ‘Athens,’ are used as singulars.

Pronouns referring to abstract expressions stand sometimes in the plural; as, _Nobody knows what it is to lose a friend till_ THEY _have lost him_ (Fielding). Again, the predicate may stand in the plural;[150] as, _Quisque suos_ PATIMUR _manes_ (Verg., Æn., 743)--‘We each suffer our own ghostly punishment,’ where _quisque_ ‘each’ in singular, but the verb _patimur_ is plural. Similar are _uterque educunt_ (Cæs., C., iii. 30); _uter_ ERATIS (Plaut., Men., 1119); _neuter ad me_ IRETIS; _Every one of these letters_ ARE _in my name_ (Shakespeare, Twelfth Night, II. v.); _Neither of them_ ARE _remarkable_ (Blair); _Every one to rest_ THEMSELVES BETAKE (Rape of Lucrece, 125); _when neither_ ARE _alive_ (Cymb., IV. ii. 252). Most Indo-European languages possess pairs of pronouns, in each of which sets one properly denotes the singular, the other plurality; as in English _all_, _every_; or _each_, and _any_: and these are readily interchanged; e.g., _without all doubt_ (Shakes., Hen. VIII., IV. i. 113), _less attemptable than any the rarest of our ladies_ (Cymb., I. iv. 65). Thus, even in Latin, the singular _omnis_ is used where we should have expected _omnes_; as, _militat omnis amans_ (Ovid, Amor., I. ix. 1). _Tu pulses omne quod obstat_ (Hor., Sat. II., vi. 30). Thus _totus_ has passed into the French _tout_, ‘all.’ We find _both_ in Shakespeare, connected with the singular; _Both our remedies within thy help and holy physic lies_, i.e. _the remedy for us both_ (Rom. and Jul., II. iii. 51). Thus, also, _autrui_, ‘others,’ in French, really the oblique case of _autre_, is in fact a singular, but is looked upon as a plural; as, _la rigueur envers autrui_ (Massillon).

Number, in the sense of singular or plural, cannot, again, be properly predicated of the simple names of materials. We do not think of them as individuals, except in connection with form as well as matter,--in fact, till we think of substances as divided as well as divisible. Hence it is that the names of materials occur mostly in the singular number; the fact being that if there were a _neuter number_, i.e. a grammatical form expressive of neither plural nor singular, we should naturally employ it.

But the name of a material is readily used as that of an individual object, and, on the other hand, the name of an individual object may easily come to be the designation of a material. The imagination supplies or withdraws, as it may be, the form and definite shape which, as we have seen, is essential to number. Take such instances as _hair_, _grass_, _bloom_, _fruit_, _weed_, _grain_, _cloth_, _stone_, _wood_, _field_, _meadow_, _marsh_, _heath_, _earth_, _land_, _bread_, _cake_, etc. Similarly, when we talk of _fowl_ as a viand, we individualise and give form to a general conception; as, in French, when we talk about _du porc_, _du mouton_. In the same way, we have in Latin such expressions as _leporem et gallinam et anserem_ for ‘_the flesh of_ the hare, the fowl, and the goose;’ and _fagum atque abietem_ for ‘the beech tree and the fir-tree’ (Cæsar, Bell. Gall., v. 12). In the same way, we must explain the singular in cases like _The enemy is approaching_; _The Russian is within hail_. Similarly, Livy uses the singular, as _Romanus_ for ‘the Romans,’ _Poenus_ for ‘the Carthaginians,’ _eques_ for ‘the cavalry,’ _pedes_ for ‘the infantry,’ etc.; nay, he even goes as far as to combine _Hispani milites et funditor Balearis_ (xxvii. 2).

Thus, too, Horace ventures on the combination _miles nautæque_ (Sat. I., i.). Vergil has _plurima mortis imago_, ‘many an image of death’ (Æn., ii. 369); in Seneca, we even find _multo hoste_, ‘many an enemy.’

In German, the singular of many words stands constantly after numerals; as, _tausend mann_, ‘a thousand men,’ _zehn stück Pferde_, ‘ten head (lit. pieces) of horses.’ Similarly it was usual to write in English such expressions as _many score thousand_: _twenty score paces_.[151] The fact is, that there is no need for any special designation of plurality to follow a number; the plurality is already sufficiently denoted by the number itself.[152] We thus see that the form taken by such a word would naturally be _numberless_, or _absolute_, in fact, would be treated in the same way as it would have been treated before the rise of grammatical number.

TENSE.

It is the function of the various ‘tenses’ to express the temporal relation of an event, when considered with regard to a certain moment. At the outset, however, we must observe that the tenses actually existing in any given language do not by any means perfectly correspond to the varieties possible and logically distinguishable in these relations. We will first consider what would be indispensable to a logically complete system.

Any event whatever must necessarily be anterior, contemporary, or posterior, to the moment with respect to which it is considered; and this moment must itself be past, present, or future. Hence, according as the moment of comparison is varied, we get the following sets:--

I. _Moment of comparison_ PRESENT.

The event is stated as--

(_a__{1}) NOW _past_. (_b__{1}) NOW _present_. (_c__{1}) NOW _still to come_.

II. _Moment of comparison_ PAST.

The event is stated to have been--

(_a__{2}) THEN _already past_. (_b__{2}) THEN _present_. (_c__{2}) THEN _still to come_.

III. _Moment of comparison_ FUTURE.

It is stated that the event--

(_a__{3}) _will_ THEN _be past_. (_b__{3}) _will_ THEN _be present_. (_c__{3}) _will_ THEN _be still to come_.

The above nine subdivisions exhaust all possibilities as long as we employ but a single ‘moment of comparison’ in each case; and it is so important that this point should be fully realised, that, simple as it appears, we proceed to illustrate each division as follows:--

(_a__{1}) Cæsar once _said_, ‘Veni, vidi, vici.’ (_b__{1}) I now _believe_ that this is true. (_c__{1}) I expect that he _will come_. (_a__{2}) When I entered, he _had gone_. (_b__{2}) When I entered, he _was speaking_. (_c__{2}) When I entered, he _was going to speak_. (_a__{3}) On New Year’s day I _shall have completed_ my fiftieth year. (_b__{3}) I _shall_ then _receive_ a letter. (_c__{3}) I _shall_ then _be going to write_.

It is at once apparent here that in some of these cases we are forced to have recourse to periphrasis, and that in some we use tenses which might also serve in other divisions. This, for instance, may be seen by comparing _b__{2} and _a__{1}, or, at any rate, _c__{1} and _c__{3}. But before discussing these points we must pay a little more attention to the above scheme, not, indeed, as it actually exists, but as it might conceivably exist.

It is by no means inconceivable, and quite in accordance with logic, that we should wish to employ _two_ moments of comparison instead of _one_, especially in some of the cases falling under II. and III. In _c__{2}, for instance, the event might be _then_ still to come, but _now_ (α) past, (β) present, (γ) even yet to come.

This at first seems fanciful; but while the example we employed to illustrate _c__{2} does not necessarily convey as much, still most hearers would naturally interpret it as follows: “When I entered, his speaking was still in the future, but now (unless some hindrance, as yet unstated, has intervened) it belongs to the past.” Again, if, on the other hand, we take a sentence like _He has promised to do so_; in the first place, it is found to STATE that the promise was given in the past, when as yet the action of fulfilment belonged to the future; and, secondly, to IMPLY that this action of fulfilment belongs to the future _still_.

Further, it is logically possible, and often necessary, to make a statement about some event without any reference to time; when, for instance, a statement is true at any time, or at no time at all. The form employed in such cases ought, in strict agreement with our definition of ‘tense,’ to be called ‘tenseless’ or ‘absolute;’ but it is well known that, in English and all Indo-European languages, the ‘present’ is the tense employed. In _Man is mortal_ the copula _is_ cannot justly be called ‘present’ tense, for the statement is wholly abstract, and applies equally to past, present, and future; yet it is customary and convenient to apply the term ‘present’ even to the word _is_ as thus used.

This use of the present sometimes gives rise to a certain ambiguity. If, in speaking of a child, we say _He is very troublesome_, the statement may mean _He is at this moment very troublesome_, in which case the verb _is_ is _present_ tense proper; or it may mean _He is a troublesome child_, whence the sentence becomes _abstract-concrete_[153] and the verb _is_ tense _absolute_.

If, as in the case of grammatical gender and number, these distinctions of form are to be regarded as later developments in the case of the grammatical tenses of the verb, we must assume (i.) that the same form must once have served indifferently for all tense relations, and (ii.) expect that the tenses actually differentiated will (_a_) correspond only incompletely with the scheme of logical distinctions, (_b_) will in various languages show various deviations from the ideal scheme, and (_c_) will, in the same language at different periods of its history, show similar variations in those deviations.

i. Though the conclusion under head i. is actually inevitable, it seems, at first sight, improbable and doubtful; but, in addition to the use of the present tense discussed and exemplified above, there is much in modern English which may help to illustrate and enable us to realise it, while older languages afford much more material for the same purpose. A usage closely akin to that of the _present_ tense for tense _absolute_ occurs when the _present_ is used for the _future_, and more especially when some other word in the sentence definitely refers the event to the future. Thus, in _I am going to London to-morrow_, we actually employ that specially English periphrasis which is never used in the _absolute_ sense, but, as a rule, emphatically expresses that the action belongs to the present time.[154] Nay, where circumstances are sufficiently unequivocal to absolutely preclude the meaning of the present tense, the addition of such words as _to-morrow_, etc., is not even needed. If two friends, for instance, were speaking about some coming holidays, and the one had said, _I think I will go to Wales_, the other might answer, _I don’t care for Wales, I am going to London_; or, again, without such explanatory circumstances, or any special words, the _present_ in a subordinate clause can stand for a _future_ event, provided that the main clause grammatically expresses the future; e.g., _I will call you when he comes_.

We also sometimes use the PRESENT TENSE FOR THE PAST. This we do (_a_) where the event is equally true of the past as of the present; e.g., _I know that_ = _I know it, and knew it some time ago_--a case in which the present tense expresses past AND present together: or (_b_) where the event belongs, indeed, entirely to the _past_, but the result is represented as actually _present_. Of (_b_) these are instances: ‘Master _sends_ me to tell you,’ ‘He _tells_ me that he is going away,’ ‘I _hear_ he is better now.’ This usage approaches closely to a third (_c_), the so-called _Historic present_, which, however, we should probably not consider as a present tense expressing the past, but as a simple present, whose use is due to the vivid imagination of the speaker, when it leads him to regard the past as actually present.

We have said that the consciousness of the result of an action sometimes causes the use of a present tense for a past event. The same cause may also lead to an exactly opposite usage, viz., that of a past tense for an event in the present. Thus, as the result of _seeing_ is _knowing_, it came to pass that a form originally signifying _I have seen_ acquired the meaning _I know_; the Ger. _Ich weisz_ means ‘I know,’ but is derived from the same root as the Lat. _Video_, ‘I see.’ Thus, again, the root which we find in Lat. _gno-sco_ (= _I begin to learn_, _I get to know_) appears in the English _I can_, which, exactly as the Lat. _novi_ (for *_gnovi_, cf. _agnovi_ for _ad-gnovi_), meant _I have got to know_ (= _I know_), has developed its present meaning, I am able, from one expressive of something like _I have become able_, or _I have learned_. It is thus that arose the so-called ‘præterito-presentia,’ _can_, _must_, _will_, _shall_, etc., which still betray, one and all, their origin from a former grammatical past tense, by absence of _s_ as a characteristic termination of the third person singular--a termination which we add to the stem in the case of all other present tenses.

Logically, the relation between some tenses of the same verb, as, _e.g._, the present TENSE _cognosco_ (‘I get to know’) and the perfect TENSE _novi_ (‘I have got to know’), which is used as a present tense to express the result, is identical with that between many sets of verbs. In fact we might translate _cognosco_ by I LEARN, and _novi_ by I KNOW. Similar sets are _to step_, _to stand_; _to fall_, _to lie_; etc. But here, again, this distinction need not to be expressed, or, at least, is not always expressed; the same form may serve for both. Not to refer to dead languages or obsolete forms, it is sufficient to quote the well-known schoolboy’s expression, _He stood him on the form_, for _He made him stand on the form_. So, also, _He stood the candle on the floor_ (Dickens).[155]

Now, all this confusion of past for present, present for past, effect for cause, cause for effect, present for future, present for every relation, causes in practice, as we have already seen, little or no ambiguity. If we remember this, it becomes easy for us to realize how conversation and intelligible statement may once have been quite possible without further aid than that afforded by what we call the tense _absolute_, i.e. a form of the verb expressive of the action only, without any indication of its time. A glance at a tense system _very_ different from our own, will enable us to do this even more fully, and at the same time will to some extent illustrate our statement that, in different languages, the actually existing tenses correspond variously with the logical scheme. In Hebrew, the verb has three different forms, called respectively (_a_) imperative, (_b_) perfect, (_c_) imperfect; which terms, however, might be replaced for the occasion by (_a_) _command_ tense, (_b_) _finished_ tense, (_c_) _unfinished_ tense, lest they should mislead readers who have not studied Hebrew. Instead of ‘tense,’ we might as correctly call them ‘moods.’

The context is the sole guide as to whether the event spoken of belongs to past, present, or future. In narrative, the perfect and imperfect serve very much the same purposes as the tenses similarly named in Latin; but the _imperfect_, as tense or mood of _unfinished_ action, serves also for our present and future, while a future which is to represent something as _certainly_ expected, is supplied by the _perfect_ or _finished_ tense. Again, the imperfect serves for the optative (_wish_ mood), and also sometimes replaces the imperative, since the latter is essentially a mood of action as yet unperformed. In this latter use of the imperfect there is sometimes a slight differentiation of form.

ii. _a._ The fact that the grammatical tenses correspond very incompletely with the logical distinctions, has already been very fully illustrated by all we have said in this chapter, and it only remains to add a few words on what are termed in our grammars ‘the compound tenses.’ Strictly speaking, these are not tenses at all of the verbs to which they are said to belong: of tenses, _i.e._ forms derived from the verb itself, and expressive of definite relations of time, there are but two in English--the present, and the past or imperfect. The enumeration of the so-called compound tenses amongst the tenses proper is due to a confusion between logic and grammar, only slightly removed from the fiction which gave us the still lingering potential mood (_I can write_), or which might with equal correctness have given us an obligatory mood (_I must write_), a desiderative mood (_I like to write_), an obstinate mood (_I am determined to write_), etc., etc. In English we now employ various periphrases for all relations but the present and that indicated by the imperfect; and the line which separates a ‘future tense’ _I will write_, from a phrase like _I have the intention of writing_, is a perfectly arbitrary one.

ii. _b._ Our short and necessarily very incomplete discussion of the Hebrew tenses furnished an instance of what we stated under ii. _b_, p. 256; and there is no need to further illustrate this, especially as any reader acquainted with a foreign language knows how much care is requisite in translating the various English tenses in their different applications. Any student of, say, French or German will recognise this; while, in the case of those who know English alone, no amount of illustration of the point in question could raise their knowledge above mere acceptance on authority, or belief at second hand.

To illustrate ii. _c_, we shall only give a few instances of (α) the use in English (Modern English and Anglo-Saxon) of a present tense where we should now employ a future (which latter was then, as now, non-existent as a tense, the only difference being that the present periphrasis had not then yet become customary), and of (β) the use of a simple past tense where we should now employ the plu-perfect:--

α. _Æfter ðrím dagon ic áríse_ = ‘After three days I _arise_’ (Matt. xxvii. 63); _Gá gé on mínne wíngeard, and ic sylle eow ðæt riht bið_ = ‘Go ye into my vineyard and I _give_ (= _shall give_) you what right is’ (Matt. xx. 4).

β. _Hé mid ðám léohte his gást ágeaf ðam Drihtne ðe hine to his ríce gelaðode_ = ‘He with the light his spirit gave-up to the Lord who him to his Kingdom _invited_ (i.e., _had invited_)’ (Ælfric; cf. Skeat, Anglo-Saxon Reader, i., p. 86): _Hé ne grétte hi oð ðæt héo cende hyre sunu_ = ‘He not knew her until that she _brought forth_ (= _had brought forth_) her son.’

In our preceding remarks, we have had occasion to mention that, in Hebrew, the categories of tense and mood are scarcely differentiated. Similarly--to some extent--in Sanscrit, the distinction between what we call tenses and moods is less clearly defined than in, _e.g._, Latin or Greek. Of this confusion, or rather absence of distinction, we preserve some traces in modern usage. Thus, as the imperative is essentially significant of something still to come, we can understand how a future TENSE can come to be employed instead of an imperative MOOD. Such a phrase as _You will do that at once_, especially when aided by accent or emphasis, can be used for ‘You _shall_, etc.’ Nay, the future is occasionally used as OPTATIVE; e.g. _Sic me di amabunt_, = _So the gods will love me_, for _May the gods love me_: and even as DUBITATIVE, as in the Scottish _Ye’ll no be o’ this country, freend?_ (Scott, Mannering, ch. i.) = ‘You will not be of this country,’ _i.e._ ‘I suppose you are not, etc.’

VOICE.

We have seen that what in formal grammar appears as the ‘object’ of a verb is often, from a psychological point of view, the subject of a sentence (cf. Chap. VI.). The use of the passive voice enables us to do away with this incongruence: the object of the action becomes the subject of our sentence, and the grammatical construction is thus made to harmonise with the psychological instinct. For instance, if, in answer to the question _Whom does he prefer as companion?_ we say _John he would prefer_, we overcome, by a construction somewhat alien to the genius of the English language, the difficulty of expressing that John, the object of the verb to prefer, is in our mind the subject of a statement: _John is the person whom he would prefer_.

But such an inversion as _John he would prefer_ is not always possible; while such an extension as _John is the person whom he would prefer_, though, indeed, always a possible construction, would be felt as very awkward and needlessly lengthy. This difficulty is evaded by the use of the passive voice: and the use of this voice serves to give clearness and elegance to style.

It is, however, perhaps not superfluous to point out that, whether we employ the active or the passive voice, the ACTUAL relation existing between the subject and object of our sentence remains the same. Whether we say _John loves Mary_, or _Mary is loved by John_, the person _John_ is in either case described as the agent; the person _Mary_ is the object of the feeling expressed by the verb. It is the _form_ only of the two sentences which differs; it is the _syntactical_, and not the _real_ relation of subject and object which varies. Hence we may say that the distinction of voice in the verb is to some extent purely syntactical in its nature. It is, moreover, clear that the distinction implied in voice could not arise before the distinction between the grammatical subject and object had been established. Until such was the case, mere juxtaposition of substantive and verb must have served equally as the expression of the active and of the passive relation between subject and predicate.

A somewhat similar phenomenon, possibly a survival of this prehistoric stage, is observable in the nominal forms of the verb, which, though indeed already specialised in the earliest stages of those languages with which we are acquainted, contain nothing in their actual formation which can assign them to either voice. And, again, if we consider fully the Latin genitives known in grammar as _objective_ and _subjective_, we find a similar indefiniteness of expression prevalent as to relationship active or passive. _Amor patris_ (‘love, father’s’) can, according to the context, signify either the love which the father feels, or that which is felt for the father by some one else.

The present participle, now always called _active_, is even yet sometimes used in a passive meaning, and this use was formerly much more common. We hear, even at the present day, such phrases as _Do you want the tea making? I want my coat brushing_, etc.[156] Again, we have expressions like _One thing is wanting_, common now as in Shakespeare’s time;[157] _so much is owing_, etc. Other instances not less striking have become obsolete: as, _his unrecalling crime_ (Rape of Lucrece, l. 993) for _unrecalled_ = ‘not to be recalled;’ and _his all-obeying breath_ (Ant. and Cleop., III. xiii. 77) = his breath obeyed by all. We find, also, _Relish your nimble notes to pleasing ears_ (= pleased ears) in Rape of Lucrece, l. 1126.

In Gothic there is a remarkable and indeed unique instance of this use (Mark xv. 15): _Atgaf Jesu usbliggvands_, i.e. _(Pilate) gave Jesus scourging_ = _gave up Jesus to be scourged_, or _for being scourged_.

The so-called gerundives in Latin have commonly a passive meaning; thus, _amandus_ usually means ‘fit to be loved.’ But here, again, we meet with exceptional uses which prove that what is now regarded as the ‘regular’ meaning is in reality but accidental and adventitious. _Oriundus_ means ‘arising’ and, in somewhat older Latin, we find forms like _pereundus_, ‘perishing,’ _placendus_, ‘pleasing,’ etc.

Little as the distinction of voice is expressed in the _nomen actionis_, it is equally little inherent in the infinite. In such a sentence as _I gave him a good beating_, the meaning of _beating_ is active; in the sentence _He got a good beating_, it is decidedly passive. Similarly, in such a sentence as _I can read_, the infinitive is active, but this is owing to the context: for instance, in such a sentence as _This is not easy to read_, it is clearly passive. Yet no one would call these phrases ambiguous. We can therefore easily imagine that infinitives may have existed long before they were differentiated into separate forms to mark the two voices. We still employ many infinitives which might be called neuter, neither active nor passive: such as, for instance, ‘Is it better _to say_ yes or _to say_ no?’ ‘fair _to see_;’ ‘a marvel _to tell_.’

In Gothic, however, we find many instances of infinitives which, being commonly employed as actives, are conveniently considered as belonging to that particular voice; but which, in special sentences, have a very clearly defined passive sense. Thus, _qêmun ðan môtarjôs daupjan_ = _Came then publicans (to) baptise_ = _to be baptised_ (Luke iii. 12); _Untê sunus mans skulds ist atgiban in handuns mannê_ = _For (the) son (of) man due is (= must) deliver into hands (of) men_ = _shall be delivered into_. (Luke ix. 44); _Varð ðan gasviltan ðamma unlêdin jah briggan fram aggilum in barma Abrahamis_ = _(It) happened then (to) die (to) the beggar and (to) bring from (= by) angels into (the) bosom (of) Abraham_ = _It came to pass that the beggar died and was carried, etc._ (Luke xvi. 22); _du saihvan_ = _to see_ = _for being seen_ (Matt. vi. 1), etc.

Though, then, in these and similar cases we find infinitive forms with unquestionably passive meanings, it would not be quite correct to assign them in formal grammar to the passive voice.

A grammatical passive is only acknowledged in cases where that passive has been formed from the same stem as the active, and has been marked off from it by a special method of formation, as in such cases as _amo_, ‘I love,’ _amor_, ‘I am loved.’ The relation of an intransitive verb to its corresponding causative, resembles that of a passive to its active, as in such cases as _to fall_, _to fell_; _to drink_, _to drench_; _to sit_, _to set_: and the pairs from roots etymologically unrelated, _to make_, _to become_; _to kill_, _to die_. In the case of the intransitive verbs, however, as compared with that of the grammatical passive, we do not dwell so much in thought upon an operating cause as constituting the difference between active and passive. But this distinction is so slight, that we actually find intransitive verbs used with a sequence such as we should expect after a passive, as in _He died by the hand of the public executioner_; _He fell by his own ambition_. On the other hand, we can see the transition from the passive to the active in the case of the Russian--where the active form is employed to express a passive sense,--and of the so-called deponent verbs. We have to translate a form like the Latin _verti_ by ‘to turn,’ employing the middle voice. A case like _Jam homo in mercaturâ vortitur_, ‘The man is now busy with merchandise’ (Plautus, Mostellaria, III. i. 109) may serve to show how nearly allied is the middle or passive voice to the deponent proper. No doubt a true deponent differs from a verb used in the middle voice, by the fact that the deponent takes an accusative after it; but how nearly the two touch one another, may be gathered from such instances as that given above, by the side of _adversari regem_ (Tac., Hist., iv. 84,), ‘to oppose, or to oppose one’s-self to, the king.’

One of the most common ways, in which the passive takes its origin, is from the middle voice, which is sometimes seen to be formed from the composition of the active with the reflective pronoun. We have in English two examples of this method of formation, in the words _(to) bask and (to) busk_: _to bask_ means ‘to bathe one’s-self;’ _to busk_, ‘to prepare one’s-self,’ or ‘get ready.’[158] The _sk_ stands for _sik_, as it appears in Icelandic, the accusative case of a reflective pronoun of the third person. The Russian often, in like manner, employs a reflective form in _-sya_ instead of the passive, just as does the French; thus, _Tavárni prodáutsya, les hardes se vendent_, ‘The goods are sold,’ lit. ‘sell themselves:’ cf. _Rien ne s’y voyait plus, pas même des débris_ (De Vigny).[159] ‘Nothing more was to be seen, not even the ruined remains.’

In these cases, one element of the signification of the middle voice is discarded. The middle voice denotes that an action starts from a person, and returns to him. In _I strike myself_ the action ‘_strikes_’ starts from the speaker, but visits him again with its effects; in _I am struck_ the action is visited upon the subject, but does not originate therewith. There are some reflective combinations, even in English, where the consciousness of the activity of the subject has practically disappeared: as in _How do you find yourself? I bethought me; He found himself in an awkward position_: but these, it will be seen, approach more to the use of the simple intransitive, by means of the relationship which this bears to the passive; cf. _s’exciter_ with _être excité_; ‘to be excited:’ _moveri_, with _se movere_, ‘to move.’ There are certain uses of the verb, in French and German, in which the operation of the subject is almost effaced: as, _sich befinden_, in _Wie befinden sie sich_ (‘How are you?’); _cela se laisse dire_ (‘that may be said’).