Language Part 5

[Footnote 64: Except, of course, the fundamental selection and contrast necessarily implied in defining one concept as against another. "Man"

and "white" possess an inherent relation to "woman" and "black," but it is a relation of conceptual content only and is of no direct interest to grammar.]

[Footnote 65: Thus, the _-er_ of _farmer_ may he defined as indicating that particular substantive concept (object or thing) that serves as the habitual subject of the particular verb to which it is affixed. This relation of "subject" (_a farmer farms_) is inherent in and specific to the word; it does not exist for the sentence as a whole. In the same way the _-ling_ of _duckling_ defines a specific relation of attribution that concerns only the radical element, not the sentence.]

The nature of these four cla.s.ses of concepts as regards their concreteness or their power to express syntactic relations may be thus symbolized: _ Material _/ I. Basic Concepts Content _ II. Derivational Concepts _ Relation _/ III. Concrete Relational Concepts _ IV. Pure Relational Concepts

These schemes must not be wors.h.i.+pped as fetiches. In the actual work of a.n.a.lysis difficult problems frequently arise and we may well be in doubt as to how to group a given set of concepts. This is particularly apt to be the case in exotic languages, where we may be quite sure of the a.n.a.lysis of the words in a sentence and yet not succeed in acquiring that inner "feel" of its structure that enables us to tell infallibly what is "material content" and what is "relation." Concepts of cla.s.s I are essential to all speech, also concepts of cla.s.s IV. Concepts II and III are both common, but not essential; particularly group III, which represents, in effect, a psychological and formal confusion of types II and IV or of types I and IV, is an avoidable cla.s.s of concepts.

Logically there is an impa.s.sable gulf between I and IV, but the illogical, metaphorical genius of speech has wilfully spanned the gulf and set up a continuous gamut of concepts and forms that leads imperceptibly from the crudest of materialities ("house" or "John Smith") to the most subtle of relations. It is particularly significant that the una.n.a.lyzable independent word belongs in most cases to either group I or group IV, rather less commonly to II or III. It is possible for a concrete concept, represented by a simple word, to lose its material significance entirely and pa.s.s over directly into the relational sphere without at the same time losing its independence as a word. This happens, for instance, in Chinese and Cambodgian when the verb "give" is used in an abstract sense as a mere symbol of the "indirect objective" relation (e.g., Cambodgian "We make story this give all that person who have child," i.e., "We have made this story _for_ all those that have children").

There are, of course, also not a few instances of transitions between groups I and II and I and III, as well as of the less radical one between II and III. To the first of these transitions belongs that whole cla.s.s of examples in which the independent word, after pa.s.sing through the preliminary stage of functioning as the secondary or qualifying element in a compound, ends up by being a derivational affix pure and simple, yet without losing the memory of its former independence. Such an element and concept is the _full_ of _teaspoonfull_, which hovers psychologically between the status of an independent, radical concept (compare _full_) or of a subsidiary element in a compound (cf.

_brim-full_) and that of a simple suffix (cf. _dutiful_) in which the primary concreteness is no longer felt. In general, the more highly synthetic our linguistic type, the more difficult and even arbitrary it becomes to distinguish groups I and II.

Not only is there a gradual loss of the concrete as we pa.s.s through from group I to group IV, there is also a constant fading away of the feeling of sensible reality within the main groups of linguistic concepts themselves. In many languages it becomes almost imperative, therefore, to make various sub-cla.s.sifications, to segregate, for instance, the more concrete from the more abstract concepts of group II. Yet we must always beware of reading into such abstracter groups that purely formal, relational feeling that we can hardly help a.s.sociating with certain of the abstracter concepts which, with us, fall in group III, unless, indeed, there is clear evidence to warrant such a reading in. An example or two should make clear these all-important distinctions.[66] In Nootka we have an unusually large number of derivational affixes (expressing concepts of group II). Some of these are quite material in content (e.g., "in the house," "to dream of"), others, like an element denoting plurality and a diminutive affix, are far more abstract in content. The former type are more closely welded with the radical element than the latter, which can only be suffixed to formations that have the value of complete words. If, therefore, I wish to say "the small fires in the house"--and I can do this in one word--I must form the word "fire-in-the-house," to which elements corresponding to "small," our plural, and "the" are appended. The element indicating the definiteness of reference that is implied in our "the" comes at the very end of the word. So far, so good. "Fire-in-the-house-the" is an intelligible correlate of our "the house-fire."[67] But is the Nootka correlate of "the small fires in the house" the true equivalent of an English "_the house-firelets_"?[68] By no means. First of all, the plural element precedes the diminutive in Nootka: "fire-in-the-house-plural-small-the,"

in other words "the house-fires-let," which at once reveals the important fact that the plural concept is not as abstractly, as relationally, felt as in English. A more adequate rendering would be "the house-fire-several-let," in which, however, "several" is too gross a word, "-let" too choice an element ("small" again is too gross). In truth we cannot carry over into English the inherent feeling of the Nootka word, which seems to hover somewhere between "the house-firelets"

and "the house-fire-several-small." But what more than anything else cuts off all possibility of comparison between the English _-s_ of "house-firelets" and the "-several-small" of the Nootka word is this, that in Nootka neither the plural nor the diminutive affix corresponds or refers to anything else in the sentence. In English "the house-firelets burn" (not "burns"), in Nootka neither verb, nor adjective, nor anything else in the proposition is in the least concerned with the plurality or the diminutiveness of the fire. Hence, while Nootka recognizes a cleavage between concrete and less concrete concepts within group II, the less concrete do not transcend the group and lead us into that abstracter air into which our plural _-s_ carries us. But at any rate, the reader may object, it is something that the Nootka plural affix is set apart from the concreter group of affixes; and may not the Nootka diminutive have a slenderer, a more elusive content than our _-let_ or _-ling_ or the German _-chen_ or _-lein?_[69]

[Footnote 66: It is precisely the failure to feel the "value" or "tone,"

as distinct from the outer significance, of the concept expressed by a given grammatical element that has so often led students to misunderstand the nature of languages profoundly alien to their own. Not everything that calls itself "tense" or "mode" or "number" or "gender"

or "person" is genuinely comparable to what we mean by these terms in Latin or French.]

[Footnote 67: Suffixed articles occur also in Danish and Swedish and in numerous other languages. The Nootka element for "in the house" differs from our "house-" in that it is suffixed and cannot occur as an independent word; nor is it related to the Nootka word for "house."]

[Footnote 68: a.s.suming the existence of a word "firelet."]

[Footnote 69: The Nootka diminutive is doubtless more of a feeling-element, an element of nuance, than our _-ling_. This is shown by the fact that it may be used with verbs as well as with nouns. In speaking to a child, one is likely to add the diminutive to any word in the sentence, regardless of whether there is an inherent diminutive meaning in the word or not.]

Can such a concept as that of plurality ever be cla.s.sified with the more material concepts of group II? Indeed it can be. In Yana the third person of the verb makes no formal distinction between singular and plural. Nevertheless the plural concept can be, and nearly always is, expressed by the suffixing of an element (_-ba-_) to the radical element of the verb. "It burns in the east" is rendered by the verb _ya-hau-si_ "burn-east-s."[70] "They burn in the east" is _ya-ba-hau-si_. Note that the plural affix immediately follows the radical element (_ya-_), disconnecting it from the local element (_-hau-_). It needs no labored argument to prove that the concept of plurality is here hardly less concrete than that of location "in the east," and that the Yana form corresponds in feeling not so much to our "They burn in the east"

(_ardunt oriente_) as to a "Burn-several-east-s, it plurally burns in the east," an expression which we cannot adequately a.s.similate for lack of the necessary form-grooves into which to run it.

[Footnote 70: _-si_ is the third person of the present tense. _-hau-_ "east" is an affix, not a compounded radical element.]

But can we go a step farther and dispose of the category of plurality as an utterly material idea, one that would make of "books" a "plural book," in which the "plural," like the "white" of "white book," falls contentedly into group I? Our "many books" and "several books" are obviously not cases in point. Even if we could say "many book" and "several book" (as we can say "many a book" and "each book"), the plural concept would still not emerge as clearly as it should for our argument; "many" and "several" are contaminated by certain notions of quant.i.ty or scale that are not essential to the idea of plurality itself. We must turn to central and eastern Asia for the type of expression we are seeking. In Tibetan, for instance, _nga-s mi mthong_[71] "I-by man see, by me a man is seen, I see a man" may just as well be understood to mean "I see men," if there happens to be no reason to emphasize the fact of plurality.[72] If the fact is worth expressing, however, I can say _nga-s mi rnams mthong_ "by me man plural see," where _rnams_ is the perfect conceptual a.n.a.logue of _-s_ in _books_, divested of all relational strings. _Rnams_ follows its noun as would any other attributive word--"man plural" (whether two or a million) like "man white." No need to bother about his plurality any more than about his whiteness unless we insist on the point.

[Footnote 71: These are cla.s.sical, not modern colloquial, forms.]

[Footnote 72: Just as in English "He has written books" makes no commitment on the score of quant.i.ty ("a few, several, many").]

What is true of the idea of plurality is naturally just as true of a great many other concepts. They do not necessarily belong where we who speak English are in the habit of putting them. They may be s.h.i.+fted towards I or towards IV, the two poles of linguistic expression. Nor dare we look down on the Nootka Indian and the Tibetan for their material att.i.tude towards a concept which to us is abstract and relational, lest we invite the reproaches of the Frenchman who feels a subtlety of relation in _femme blanche_ and _homme blanc_ that he misses in the coa.r.s.er-grained _white woman_ and _white man_. But the Bantu Negro, were he a philosopher, might go further and find it strange that we put in group II a category, the diminutive, which he strongly feels to belong to group III and which he uses, along with a number of other cla.s.sificatory concepts,[73] to relate his subjects and objects, attributes and predicates, as a Russian or a German handles his genders and, if possible, with an even greater finesse.

[Footnote 73: Such as person cla.s.s, animal cla.s.s, instrument cla.s.s, augmentative cla.s.s.]

It is because our conceptual scheme is a sliding scale rather than a philosophical a.n.a.lysis of experience that we cannot say in advance just where to put a given concept. We must dispense, in other words, with a well-ordered cla.s.sification of categories. What boots it to put tense and mode here or number there when the next language one handles puts tense a peg "lower down" (towards I), mode and number a peg "higher up"

(towards IV)? Nor is there much to be gained in a summary work of this kind from a general inventory of the types of concepts generally found in groups II, III, and IV. There are too many possibilities. It would be interesting to show what are the most typical noun-forming and verb-forming elements of group II; how variously nouns may be cla.s.sified (by gender; personal and non-personal; animate and inanimate; by form; common and proper); how the concept of number is elaborated (singular and plural; singular, dual, and plural; singular, dual, trial, and plural; single, distributive, and collective); what tense distinctions may be made in verb or noun (the "past," for instance, may be an indefinite past, immediate, remote, mythical, completed, prior); how delicately certain languages have developed the idea of "aspect"[74]

(momentaneous, durative, continuative, inceptive, cessative, durative-inceptive, iterative, momentaneous-iterative, durative-iterative, resultative, and still others); what modalities may be recognized (indicative, imperative, potential, dubitative, optative, negative, and a host of others[75]); what distinctions of person are possible (is "we," for instance, conceived of as a plurality of "I" or is it as distinct from "I" as either is from "you" or "he"?--both att.i.tudes are ill.u.s.trated in language; moreover, does "we" include you to whom I speak or not?--"inclusive" and "exclusive" forms); what may be the general scheme of orientation, the so-called demonstrative categories ("this" and "that" in an endless procession of nuances);[76]

how frequently the form expresses the source or nature of the speaker's knowledge (known by actual experience, by hearsay,[77] by inference); how the syntactic relations may be expressed in the noun (subjective and objective; agentive, instrumental, and person affected;[78] various types of "genitive" and indirect relations) and, correspondingly, in the verb (active and pa.s.sive; active and static; transitive and intransitive; impersonal, reflexive, reciprocal, indefinite as to object, and many other special limitations on the starting-point and end-point of the flow of activity). These details, important as many of them are to an understanding of the "inner form" of language, yield in general significance to the more radical group-distinctions that we have set up. It is enough for the general reader to feel that language struggles towards two poles of linguistic expression--material content and relation--and that these poles tend to be connected by a long series of transitional concepts.

[Footnote 74: A term borrowed from Slavic grammar. It indicates the lapse of action, its nature from the standpoint of continuity. Our "cry"

is indefinite as to aspect, "be crying" is durative, "cry put" is momentaneous, "burst into tears" is inceptive, "keep crying" is continuative, "start in crying" is durative-inceptive, "cry now and again" is iterative, "cry out every now and then" or "cry in fits and starts" is momentaneous-iterative. "To put on a coat" is momentaneous, "to wear a coat" is resultative. As our examples show, aspect is expressed in English by all kinds of idiomatic turns rather than by a consistently worked out set of grammatical forms. In many languages aspect is of far greater formal significance than tense, with which the naive student is apt to confuse it.]

[Footnote 75: By "modalities" I do not mean the matter of fact statement, say, of negation or uncertainty as such, rather their implication in terms of form. There are languages, for instance, which have as elaborate an apparatus of negative forms for the verb as Greek has of the optative or wish-modality.]

[Footnote 76: Compare page 97.]

[Transcriber's note: Footnote 76 refers to the paragraph beginning on line 2948.]

[Footnote 77: It is because of this cla.s.sification of experience that in many languages the verb forms which are proper, say, to a mythical narration differ from those commonly used in daily intercourse. We leave these shades to the context or content ourselves with a more explicit and roundabout mode of expression, e.g., "He is dead, as I happen to know," "They say he is dead," "He must be dead by the looks of things."]

[Footnote 78: We say "_I_ sleep" and "_I_ go," as well as "_I_ kill him," but "he kills _me_." Yet _me_ of the last example is at least as close psychologically to _I_ of "I sleep" as is the latter to _I_ of "I kill him." It is only by form that we can cla.s.sify the "I" notion of "I sleep" as that of an acting subject. Properly speaking, I am handled by forces beyond my control when I sleep just as truly as when some one is killing me. Numerous languages differentiate clearly between active subject and static subject (_I go_ and _I kill him_ as distinct from _I sleep_, _I am good_, _I am killed_) or between transitive subject and intransitive subject (_I kill him_ as distinct from _I sleep_, _I am good_, _I am killed_, _I go_). The intransitive or static subjects may or may not be identical with the object of the transitive verb.]

In dealing with words and their varying forms we have had to antic.i.p.ate much that concerns the sentence as a whole. Every language has its special method or methods of binding words into a larger unity. The importance of these methods is apt to vary with the complexity of the individual word. The more synthetic the language, in other words, the more clearly the status of each word in the sentence is indicated by its own resources, the less need is there for looking beyond the word to the sentence as a whole. The Latin _agit_ "(he) acts" needs no outside help to establish its place in a proposition. Whether I say _agit dominus_ "the master acts" or _sic femina agit_ "thus the woman acts," the net result as to the syntactic feel of the _agit_ is practically the same.

It can only be a verb, the predicate of a proposition, and it can only be conceived as a statement of activity carried out by a person (or thing) other than you or me. It is not so with such a word as the English _act_. _Act_ is a syntactic waif until we have defined its status in a proposition--one thing in "they act abominably," quite another in "that was a kindly act." The Latin sentence speaks with the a.s.surance of its individual members, the English word needs the prompting of its fellows. Roughly speaking, to be sure. And yet to say that a sufficiently elaborate word-structure compensates for external syntactic methods is perilously close to begging the question. The elements of the word are related to each other in a specific way and follow each other in a rigorously determined sequence. This is tantamount to saying that a word which consists of more than a radical element is a crystallization of a sentence or of some portion of a sentence, that a form like _agit_ is roughly the psychological[79]

equivalent of a form like _age is_ "act he." Breaking down, then, the wall that separates word and sentence, we may ask: What, at last a.n.a.lysis, are the fundamental methods of relating word to word and element to element, in short, of pa.s.sing from the isolated notions symbolized by each word and by each element to the unified proposition that corresponds to a thought?

[Footnote 79: Ultimately, also historical--say, _age to_ "act that (one)."]

The answer is simple and is implied in the preceding remarks. The most fundamental and the most powerful of all relating methods is the method of order. Let us think of some more or less concrete idea, say a color, and set down its symbol--_red_; of another concrete idea, say a person or object, setting down its symbol--_dog_; finally, of a third concrete idea, say an action, setting down its symbol--_run_. It is hardly possible to set down these three symbols--_red dog run_--without relating them in some way, for example _(the) red dog run(s)_. I am far from wis.h.i.+ng to state that the proposition has always grown up in this a.n.a.lytic manner, merely that the very process of juxtaposing concept to concept, symbol to symbol, forces some kind of relational "feeling," if nothing else, upon us. To certain syntactic adhesions we are very sensitive, for example, to the attributive relation of quality (_red dog_) or the subjective relation (_dog run_) or the objective relation (_kill dog_), to others we are more indifferent, for example, to the attributive relation of circ.u.mstance (_to-day red dog run_ or _red dog to-day run_ or _red dog run to-day_, all of which are equivalent propositions or propositions in embryo). Words and elements, then, once they are listed in a certain order, tend not only to establish some kind of relation among themselves but are attracted to each other in greater or in less degree. It is presumably this very greater or less that ultimately leads to those firmly solidified groups of elements (radical element or elements plus one or more grammatical elements) that we have studied as complex words. They are in all likelihood nothing but sequences that have shrunk together and away from other sequences or isolated elements in the flow of speech. While they are fully alive, in other words, while they are functional at every point, they can keep themselves at a psychological distance from their neighbors. As they gradually lose much of their life, they fall back into the embrace of the sentence as a whole and the sequence of independent words regains the importance it had in part transferred to the crystallized groups of elements. Speech is thus constantly tightening and loosening its sequences. In its highly integrated forms (Latin, Eskimo) the "energy"

of sequence is largely locked up in complex word formations, it becomes transformed into a kind of potential energy that may not be released for millennia. In its more a.n.a.lytic forms (Chinese, English) this energy is mobile, ready to hand for such service as we demand of it.

There can be little doubt that stress has frequently played a controlling influence in the formation of element-groups or complex words out of certain sequences in the sentence. Such an English word as _withstand_ is merely an old sequence _with stand_, i.e., "against[80]

stand," in which the unstressed adverb was permanently drawn to the following verb and lost its independence as a significant element. In the same way French futures of the type _irai_ "(I) shall go" are but the resultants of a coalescence of originally independent words: _ir[81]

a'i_ "to-go I-have," under the influence of a unifying accent. But stress has done more than articulate or unify sequences that in their own right imply a syntactic relation. Stress is the most natural means at our disposal to emphasize a linguistic contrast, to indicate the major element in a sequence. Hence we need not be surprised to find that accent too, no less than sequence, may serve as the unaided symbol of certain relations. Such a contrast as that of _go' between_ ("one who goes between") and _to go between'_ may be of quite secondary origin in English, but there is every reason to believe that a.n.a.logous distinctions have prevailed at all times in linguistic history. A sequence like _see' man_ might imply some type of relation in which _see_ qualifies the following word, hence "a seeing man" or "a seen (or visible) man," or is its predication, hence "the man sees" or "the man is seen," while a sequence like _see man'_ might indicate that the accented word in some way limits the application of the first, say as direct object, hence "to see a man" or "(he) sees the man." Such alternations of relation, as symbolized by varying stresses, are important and frequent in a number of languages.[82]

[Footnote 80: For _with_ in the sense of "against," compare German _wider_ "against."]

[Footnote 81: Cf. Latin _ire_ "to go"; also our English idiom "I have to go," i.e., "must go."]

[Footnote 82: In Chinese no less than in English.]

It is a somewhat venturesome and yet not an altogether unreasonable speculation that sees in word order and stress the primary methods for the expression of all syntactic relations and looks upon the present relational value of specific words and elements as but a secondary condition due to a transfer of values. Thus, we may surmise that the Latin _-m_ of words like _feminam_, _dominum_, and _civem_ did not originally[83] denote that "woman," "master," and "citizen" were objectively related to the verb of the proposition but indicated something far more concrete,[84] that the objective relation was merely implied by the position or accent of the word (radical element) immediately preceding the _-m_, and that gradually, as its more concrete significance faded away, it took over a syntactic function that did not originally belong to it. This sort of evolution by transfer is traceable in many instances. Thus, the _of_ in an English phrase like "the law of the land" is now as colorless in content, as purely a relational indicator as the "genitive" suffix _-is_ in the Latin _lex urbis_ "the law of the city." We know, however, that it was originally an adverb of considerable concreteness of meaning,[85] "away, moving from," and that the syntactic relation was originally expressed by the case form[86] of the second noun. As the case form lost its vitality, the adverb took over its function. If we are actually justified in a.s.suming that the expression of all syntactic relations is ultimately traceable to these two unavoidable, dynamic features of speech--sequence and stress[87]--an interesting thesis results:--All of the actual content of speech, its cl.u.s.ters of vocalic and consonantal sounds, is in origin limited to the concrete; relations were originally not expressed in outward form but were merely implied and articulated with the help of order and rhythm.

In other words, relations were intuitively felt and could only "leak out" with the help of dynamic factors that themselves move on an intuitional plane.

[Footnote 83: By "originally" I mean, of course, some time antedating the earliest period of the Indo-European languages that we can get at by comparative evidence.]

[Footnote 84: Perhaps it was a noun-cla.s.sifying element of some sort.]

[Footnote 85: Compare its close historical parallel _off_.]

[Footnote 86: "Ablative" at last a.n.a.lysis.]

[Footnote 87: Very likely pitch should be understood along with stress.]

There is a special method for the expression of relations that has been so often evolved in the history of language that we must glance at it for a moment. This is the method of "concord" or of like signaling. It is based on the same principle as the pa.s.sword or label. All persons or objects that answer to the same counter-sign or that bear the same imprint are thereby stamped as somehow related. It makes little difference, once they are so stamped, where they are to be found or how they behave themselves. They are known to belong together. We are familiar with the principle of concord in Latin and Greek. Many of us have been struck by such relentless rhymes as _vidi ilium bonum dominum_ "I saw that good master" or _quarum dearum saevarum_ "of which stern G.o.ddesses." Not that sound-echo, whether in the form of rhyme or of alliteration[88] is necessary to concord, though in its most typical and original forms concord is nearly always accompanied by sound repet.i.tion.

The essence of the principle is simply this, that words (elements) that belong together, particularly if they are syntactic equivalents or are related in like fas.h.i.+on to another word or element, are outwardly marked by the same or functionally equivalent affixes. The application of the principle varies considerably according to the genius of the particular language. In Latin and Greek, for instance, there is concord between noun and qualifying word (adjective or demonstrative) as regards gender, number, and case, between verb and subject only as regards number, and no concord between verb and object.

[Footnote 88: As in Bantu or Chinook.]

In Chinook there is a more far-reaching concord between noun, whether subject or object, and verb. Every noun is cla.s.sified according to five categories--masculine, feminine, neuter,[89] dual, and plural. "Woman"

is feminine, "sand" is neuter, "table" is masculine. If, therefore, I wish to say "The woman put the sand on the table," I must place in the verb certain cla.s.s or gender prefixes that accord with corresponding noun prefixes. The sentence reads then, "The (fem.)-woman she (fem.)-it (neut.)-it (masc.)-on-put the (neut.)-sand the (masc.)-table." If "sand"

is qualified as "much" and "table" as "large," these new ideas are expressed as abstract nouns, each with its inherent cla.s.s-prefix ("much"