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 b2 and a1, or, at any rate, c1 and c3. 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 c2, 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 c2 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-concrete153 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.’
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’).
The reader who remembers and fully apprehends the wider meaning, which in Chapter VI. we assigned to the terms (Psychological) ‘subject’ and ‘predicate,’ must realise how comparatively seldom the grammatical categories of the same name coincide with the corresponding parts of the thought to which the sentence is to give utterance. We defined the subject as the expression for that which the speaker presupposes known to the hearer, and the predicate as that which indicates what he wishes the hearer to think or learn about it. Hence, as we saw, the sentence theoretically consists of two parts; but, as each of these parts may be extended, we get—if we indicate subject and predicate by the letters S and P respectively, and the extensions by a, b, c, etc.—the following scheme for a simple sentence: Sabc + Pdef.
Now, in such a sentence, the grammatical subject, with all its extensions, will correspond with the psychological subject, and the grammatical predicate and its extensions with the psychological predicate, only in case the extensions of the subject are really no more than additions made in order to specify the known or presupposed, and if the predicate contains nothing which serves any further purpose than to convey the thought about that subject. But as soon as to the subject-noun, for instance, an adjective is added which conveys new thought about the subject; or, again, as soon as the object is indicated by a noun accompanied by a similar ‘additional’ qualification, then these additions or extensions become ipso facto psychological predicates, and the sentence, grammatically simple, becomes a psychologically complex one. Thus, suppose a good Charles and a wicked Charles have been spoken of, and the latter is known to have done something with his thick stick to the speaker; then, and then only, can a sentence like The wicked Charles has beaten me with his thick stick be a psychologically simple one. In this sentence then, The wicked Charles is subject, has beaten is predicate, and with his stick extension, and the psychological and grammatical divisions coincide completely. But suppose that it was known that the same person had beaten the speaker, but that the instrument was not known; or that the action and the instrument were known, but not the recipient of the blows: in this case the sentence, though remaining a simple one, would at once cease to correspond in its grammatical parts to the psychological divisions of (a) Charles has beaten me (subject) + with his stick (predicate), or, (b) Charles has beaten with his stick (subject) + me (predicate). In fact, if we wished to make the grammatical form correspond to the divisions of that psychologically simple statement, we should have to adopt a form grammatically complex; such as The instrument with which Charles has beaten me is his thick stick, or, The person whom Charles has beaten with his thick stick is I, according to the circumstances of the case.
In any of the cases enumerated above, the psychological
subject and predicate were simple. But
suppose that the hearer was not aware that anything
had happened, nor could be supposed to have any predisposition
to call the individual in question ‘wicked.’
Then, though the sentence remains grammatically a
simple one, we really get the following complex
PSYCHOLOGICAL analysis:—
1. Subject: Charles
Predicate: is (in my opinion) wicked.
2. Subject: The wicked Charles
Predicate: has beaten.
3. Subject: The object of that beating
Predicate (with copula): is I.
4. Subject: The instrument with which that beating was inflicted upon me
Predicate (with copula): is a stick.
5. Subject: That stick
Predicate (with copula): is thick.
While, therefore, the scheme could grammatically be
symbolised aS + Pbc, we should have to symbolise
the psychological analysis somewhat as follows:—
At first sight this may seem far-fetched and uselessly refined, but the student will find that it is desirable to force himself in some such manner to fully realise the absolute inadequacy of our grammatical terms and distinctions when we apply them to psychological questions: and to realise, also, the vagueness with which long habit has taught us to be satisfied in our modes of expression, and in our constructions for various thoughts, differing essentially, though perhaps not always widely.160 It is the full conception of the somewhat haphazard nature of our constructions which will help us to understand how uncertain and how different in various speakers must, on the one hand, be the correspondence between the grammatical and psychological subject and predicate; and, on the other, how vague must often be the distinctions between the parts of our sentences, and how varying the grouping of these parts, as we more or less consciously conceive of them as connected or as ‘belonging together.’ All is here fluctuating and indefinite. Thus, as a rule, the word is in sentences like He is king, He is subject, is mere copula, and king the real predicate; though, when we utter the same words in order to state that he and no one else occupies the throne, he becomes psychologically predicate, and king, or rather is king, becomes subject, whatever the grammatical form of the sentence may seem to prove to the contrary. Again, in He IS king (i.e. now, and not only going to be so), he as king is subject, is (now) predicate.
Psychologically, the idea of the copula as mere link between subject and predicate is far more extensive than ordinary grammar admits. Thus, in What is the matter with him? He has got the toothache, the predicate of the latter sentence is the toothache, has got is copula.
In Will he be quick, do you think? Oh yes, he was running very quickly, the words was running are a mere copula, unless, emphasised by stress of accent, they are made to convey the specially desired statement that the person spoken of ran, and did not walk slowly or ride, etc., in which case they are a true predicate.
We have here illustrated how one of the means for distinguishing the predicate from the other parts of the sentence is found in accent or stress.
But we do not invariably thus emphasise our predicate. An interrogative pronoun, for instance, is always a psychological predicate. If we ask Who has done this? we usually lay our stress on done or on this, though these words, being mere expressions for the observed and known fact, contain the psychological subject, and the unknown person indicated by who is the predicate sought for by the questioner.
There exist other elements of speech which are regularly subjects or predicates; for instance, a demonstrative referring back to a substantive previously expressed and commencing a sentence, is necessarily a psychological subject, or part of it: I know those men are my enemies: them I despise. A relative pronoun, of course, has the same function: there is a man whom I respect highly. Again, every element of a sentence whose connection with the rest is denied by means of a negative particle is generally a psychological predicate; as, Yield not me the praise (Tennyson) = ‘The person to whom praise is due is not I.’ But not to me returns day (Milton, Par. Lost, iii. 41) = ‘Day returns to many, but among those is161 not I.’
This, of course, includes any words expressing the contrast with the negatived element: Give not me but him the praise = ‘The person to whom praise is due is not I, (but) he.’
Besides emphasis, we have, in so-called inverted constructions, the means of characterising any part of a sentence as subject or predicate. Thus: One thing thou lackest (Mark x. 21) = ‘One thing there is which thou hast not.’ ‘No pause of dread Lord William knew’ (Scott, Harold, v. 15) = ‘Not a pause of dread existed which Lord William knew’ = ‘Not a pause of dread was made by Lord William.’
A means of establishing correspondence between the grammatical and psychological predicate has been incidentally illustrated in the foregoing discussion. It is the periphrastic construction with is, of which instances are very numerous. It is to you, young people, that I speak; What I most prize in woman, is her affections, not her intellect (Longfellow); It is thou that robbest me of my Lord (Shakespeare, 2 Hen. VI., IV. ii.); It was not you that sent me hither, but God (Gen. xlv. 8).
This construction is quite common in many other languages: French—C’est a vous que je m’adresse (= ‘It is to you that I myself address’); German—Christen sind es, die das getan haben (lit. ‘Christians are it, that that done have’ = ‘It is (the) Christians that have done this’).
In English, another construction often serves the same purpose: As to denying, he would scorn it; As for that fellow, we’ll see about him to-morrow. Or (with the psychological subject simply in the nominative, without any verbal indication of its connection with what follows), Husband and children, she saw them murdered before her very eyes; My life’s foul deed, my life’s fair end shall free it (Shakespeare, Rape of Lucr.); The prince ... they will slay him (Ben Jonson, Sejanus, III. iii.); That thing, I took it for a man (Lear, IV. vi. 77). Antipholus, my husband ... this ill day a most outrageous fit of madness took him (Com. of Errors, V. i. 138). When, in this construction, the words which head the sentence stand for the same thing as the subject pronoun of the following clause, the result, of course, is not a readjustment of the parts, but an (often useless) emphasis: cf. John, he said so; The king, he went, etc. When the psychological subject would, in the simpler constructions appear as a genitive, this is indicated by the pronoun standing, in that case, e.g., ’Tis certain every man that dies ill, the ill is upon his head (Henry V., IV. i. 197). That they who brought me in my master’s hate, I live to look upon their tragedy (Rich. III., III. ii. 57); And vows so born, in their nativity all truth appears (Mid. Night’s Dream, III. ii. 124).
In Chapter VI. we have discussed the point that in reality an adjective is psychologically a predicate: an expression like The good man containing, in fact, a statement that the man is good. There is a construction, however,—and one, too, not unfrequent,—in which the adjective contains the psychological and logical subjects; e.g., The short time at my disposal prevented me from calling upon him—‘The shortness of the time prevented,’ etc. Though this construction may perhaps be due to a contamination between, say, The shortness of the time prevented and The short time did not allow, it still remains certain that in the construction, as it stands, a displacement has occurred.
It might a priori be expected that all this uncertainty and vagueness would cause parts of a sentence which grammatically belong together to cohere but loosely, and eventually to get separated, whilst other grammatical connections, which at first did not exist, would thereby arise. It is clear, for instance, that in the sentence I sit on a chair, the preposition on is as closely connected with the verb to sit as with the noun a chair. Nay, it may be said that the ties which connect it with the noun in this and similar cases must once have been, and perhaps in the linguistic consciousness of some speakers still are, stronger than those between the preposition and the verb. This would appear from the fact that the various prepositions used to govern in English—as they still do in German, for instance—various cases, while these ties would be strengthened by the common occurrence of the preposition with a noun, unaccompanied by any verb; e.g., That book there on the chair; The man in the garden, etc. It is, however, evident in many constructions that the noun has separated from the preposition, and that the latter has entered into closer connection with the verb. We owe to this, e.g., the Latin and German ‘compound verbs,’ as excedere, ‘to go out from,’ anliegen, ‘to be incumbent on,’ etc., which used to govern, or still do govern the case which would have followed the preposition if used immediately before the noun and detached from the verb. In English, this or a similar displacement has given rise to such constructions as And this rich fair town we make him lord of (K. John, II. i. 553); a place which we have long heard of; Washes of all kinds I had an antipathy to (Goldsmith); Logic I made no account of (Smollett, Rod. Random, 6); This house I no more show my face in (She stoops to conquer, IV.); The false paiens stood he by (P. Langtoft).
A careful study of the above examples will show that in these and several of the following, the construction has the effect and is most likely due to a desire of bringing the psychological subject to the head of the sentence. It is at present chiefly employed in relative and interrogative clauses, and in sentences in the passive voice: The intended fire your city is ready to flame in (Coriolanus, V. 2); An idle dare-devil of a boy, whom his friends had been glad to get rid of (Green, Short History, p. 732); Stories of the lady, which he swore to the truth of (Tom Jones, bk. xv., ch. 9); He was such a lover, as a generous friend of the lady should not betray her to (ibid., xiii. 2); A pipe in his mouth, which, indeed, he seldom was without (ibid., ii. 2): The eclipse which the nominal seat of Christianity was under (Earle, Anglo-Saxon Liter., p. 25); Such scruple of conscience as the terrors of their late invented religion had let them into (Puttenham, Arte of Poesie, Arber’s reprint, p. 24); An outrage confessed to on a death-bed (Liv. Daily Post, Aug. 1, 1884, p. 5, col. a.); He was seldom talked of, etc. What humour is the prince of? (Hen. IV., II. iv).162
In the sentence I will never allow you to read this book, there is no doubt that every speaker feels this book as object of read, and read this book as object of allow. If, however, in order to make this book if it is psychological subject, appear also as the grammatical subject, we say This book I shall never allow you to read, we can very well understand how a speaker’s linguistic sense may come to connect this book directly as object with the entire group allow to read, nay more, with the verb allow; as if it stood for I will never allow you this book to read. This may arise all the more easily that, in a clause like I have to read this book, the words this book are historically the object of have and not of the infinitive to read, and that, in the form this book I have to read, the noun is in close proximity to its historical government I have. Hence, such transference of government from the infinitive to the group finite verb + infinitive and finally to the finite verb has occasionally really taken place, as can be shown by the way in which such clauses have sometimes been turned into the passive voice. A sentence like The judge allowed them to drop the prosecution can, strictly speaking, be turned into the passive only in one or other of the following ways: They were allowed to drop the prosecution, or, The judge allowed that the prosecution should be dropped; in each of which cases, the object of the verb has become the subject of the same verb in the passive voice. If, however, aided by such constructions as The prosecution which the judge allowed them to drop, the object (prosecution) of the verb to drop becomes, first, object of the syntactical combination allow to drop, and, finally, in the illogical thinker’s consciousness or linguistic sense, object of the verb to allow,—there may arise a passive construction something like the following: The prosecution which was allowed to be dropped. This construction is indeed incorrect in English, but its parallel may be occasionally heard from careless speakers, and a careful study of it will illustrate and make intelligible such phrases as the German, Hier ist sie zu spielen verboten, literally = ‘Here is she (i.e., Minna v. Barnhelm, i.e., the play of that name) to play forbidden’ = ‘Here it has been forbidden to play her (sc. it),’ as passive of ‘They have forbidden to play it here;’ Die stellung des fürsten Hohenlohe wird zu untergraben versucht = ‘The position of the Prince Hohenlohe is to undermine attempted’ = ‘An attempt is being made to undermine the position, etc.;’ or again, the Greek χιλίων δράχμων ἀπορρηθεισῶν λαβεῖν (Demosthenes), lit. ‘One thousand drachms having been agreed to receive’ = ‘It having been agreed that I should receive one thousand drachms.’ Similarly, the Latin Librum legere cœpi = (‘I begin to read the book’) is turned into the passive, Liber legi cœptus est = (‘The book to be read has been begun’), the perfect parallel of our somewhat fictitious English example.
In our examples, ‘He has got the toothache,’ etc., we saw that the grammatical predicate often has, in reality, no other psychological function than that of mere copula, or, as it is often called, connecting word. The regular and constant use of certain words in that manner has led some grammarians to group these together as a separate grammatical category, a grouping or distinction to which many others vigorously object. The view which one takes in this question is mainly influenced by (a) what we call a ‘connecting word,’ and (b) a clear distinction between the grammatical form and the function of a word. Now, a connecting word is a word which serves to indicate the connection between two ideas or conceptions, and which accordingly can neither stand alone, nor have any definite sense if placed with only one such conception. Such a connecting word between subject and predicate we have in the verb to be, the copula, in most of its uses. It is said by some that the word is never has any other function than that of true predicate, and that the predicatival adjective or noun is always to be considered a determinant of the predicate. This, whilst true as to grammatical form, is certainly incorrect as to function. In the first place, we have already discussed (Chap. VI.) how sentences like Borrowing is sorrowing, contains no less, but also no more than Borrow sorrow, in which the latter word contains the true psychologic predicate. Further, if we were to attribute to the word is in such sentences the same force as, for instance, in God is, i.e., God exists, we should necessarily have to explain a sentence, This is impossible, as ‘This exists as something impossible;’ which every one will at once perceive to be nonsense.
We must recognise in sentences like Borrow sorrow an original construction, by the side of which there sooner or later arose clauses truly denoting existence, such as God is, or even God is good, in which, at first, is had its full meaning of exists, and good had consequently such the function of an adverb. When once, in the latter and similar sentences, a displacement and redistribution of the function began to take place, and the adjective good (or, e.g., the noun king in He is king) acquired the force of a true logical predicate, the fuller construction with the copula is more and more frequently ousted the shorter one, which had no such link between subject and predicate. The reluctance of some grammarians to admit this is perhaps partially due, also, to the fact that the copula has always retained the full inflectional forms of a true predicatival verb. Hence they did not so easily realise the displacement which had occurred—a displacement which, in other sentences, where the part thereby affected is flectionless, is easier to demonstrate.
We shall first discuss one more instance of how a displacement affects inflected parts of speech, and then one or two in which the words concerned have no longer any inflection to connect them with other forms, and to protect them from isolation and change of function.
In the sentences I make him and I make a king, we have two accusatives of slightly different functions: the one indicating the OBJECT of the action (him), and the other indicating the RESULT of the action (a king). If the two statements be now combined, then, applied as they are to convey to the hearer the two distinct pieces of information as to the object and as to the results of the action, both of which were previously unknown to him, we have undoubtedly one verb with two distinct and equipoised accusatives. But assuming that either the object of the action or the result is already known, it is then only the other member of the pair which has the full predicatival force, whilst the former inevitably enters into a closer relationship with the verb. The member which retains the full force of a predicate becomes predicate to the group; nay, even—as in our example, where the verb cannot be taken in its literal meaning—the one noun becomes almost a predicate to the other, I make him king being very similar in meaning to He becomes king through my agency. If this is the correct explanation of the origin of similar constructions, we must perhaps consider the use of an adjective as second accusative as due to analogy with this use of the noun. We must not forget, however, that the line of demarcation between adjective and noun was once very much more vague and indefinite than it is now.
In a similar way, the sentence I teach him to speak and I declare him to be an honest man must be a combination, with consequent displacement of relation, of two independent clauses—the one with a noun, or the equivalent thereof, and the other with an infinite as object. It is thus we explain the origin of the Latin accusative with infinitive.
An example of displacement, or re-arrangement of relations, is next furnished by the origin and history of our correlatives either, or, both, and. Either means originally (A.S. ægðer, contracted from æghwæðer = á + ge + hwæðer) one of two, so that either he or you is really = one of the two; you or he, where the word either, as it were, sums up or comprehends the whole of the following enumeration. It stands, therefore, in syntactical relation to both the members of the clause which are connected (or contrasted) by or; but is now usually felt as connected with the first only, the sentence being divided as either he + or you. Similarly, both means two together. Hence both you and I originally had the full force of the two together, i.e., you and I. The word which stood in syntactical relation with the pair has therefore, as in the former case, become co-ordinate with the word and, which once formed part of the group it governed, and we now feel and explain expressions like our examples as consisting of the two groups, both you + and I.
In the last two examples the words are now flectionless, and have become, when used in such constructions, connecting words, a change entirely owing to such displacement of relationship between the parts of the sentence as we have been studying in this chapter.
In the discussion of our example on page 270 we noticed how even a grammatically simple clause might in reality be a logically complex one. Vice versâ, a clause logically simple may be expressed by a grammatically complex sentence. I asked him after his health, as an answer to What were you asking him? is a psychologically and grammatically simple sentence.163 The answer might, however, without in the least degree altering the thought expressed, have been cast in the form I asked him how he was—a grammatically complex sentence.
Again, logical independence and grammatical co-ordination do not by any means necessarily go together—a sentence like He first went to Paris, whence he proceeded to Rome, where he met his friend being in form complex with main and subordinate clauses; in meaning, however, equivalent to an aggregate of three co-ordinate ‘main’ clauses: He went + from there he proceeded + there he met.
Nay, it occasionally happens that syntactical form and logical function are in direct opposition. Thus, e.g., in Scarcely had he entered the house, when his mother exclaimed, There is John! what is logically the main clause has the grammatical or syntactical form of a subordinate one.
It cannot now, therefore, seem strange that in syntax we also meet with the parallel of the process which gave birth to such words as adder, orange, newt, and nickname. Adder, cf. Ger. natter, Icelandic naðr, was in Anglo-Saxon nædre. Similarly, orange, derived from the Persian nâranj, was originally preceded by an n. In the combination with the indefinite article a or an (the older form) this n was thought to belong to the article only, and the sound-groups anorange, anadder were wrongly split up into an + orange, an + adder. On the other hand, the groups anekename (really an + ekename) and anewt (really an + ewt) were erroneously broken up into a + newt, a + nickname.164
A precisely similar occurrence in syntax has given us our conjunction that. I know that (= ‘I know this thing’) + he can sing, when combined into the group of subject I, predicate know, object (double, the one part being explanatory of the other) that and he can sing, gradually became divided, or divisible for the linguistic consciousness, into I know + he can sing, with the conjunction that for connecting word.
In some cases the correspondence between psychological and grammatical distribution is so incomplete, the subordinate and main clauses are so interwoven in the grammatical form, that it becomes impossible to separate the parts in our ordinary analysis. This happens more especially when a part of the grammatically subordinate clause really contains the psychological subject, and when, consequently, that part, with a construction similar to that discussed on page 274 is put at the head of the clause. When, in the sentence I believe that something will make you smile, the word something expressed the psychological subject, Goldsmith emphasised this fact by writing, Something, that I believe will make you smile; cf. Milton’s Whereof I gave thee charge thou shouldst not eat; With me I see not who partakes, etc. This arrangement, then, places the main clause between parts of what is grammatically the subordinate one. In not a few cases confusion or uncertainty may, then, arise as to whether the words which head the sentence must be considered as belonging to the subordinate clause or as governed by the verb of the main clause. If we say The place which he knew that he could not obtain, we may hesitate as to whether place is really object to knew or to obtain. We can, and often do, avoid this ambiguity and intermixture of main and subordinate clauses by a kind of double construction, like The place, of which he knew that he could not obtain it.
In inflectional languages, words relating to the same thing in the same way are commonly made to correspond formally with each other. This correspondence we call grammatical concord. Thus we find concord in gender, number, case, and person subsisting between a substantive and its predicate or attribute, or between a substantive and a pronoun or adjective representing the latter. Similarly we find a correspondence in tense and mood within the same period, or complex of sentences. This concord can hardly be said to be the necessary result of the logical relation of the words; the English collocation, the good father’s child, where no formal concord is established between ‘the good’ and ‘father’s,’ seems as logical as des guten vater’s kind, where the article and the adjective have their respective genitive forms as well as the noun. Concord seems to have taken its origin from cases in which the formal correspondence of two words with each other came about, not owing to the relation borne by the former to the latter, but merely to the identity of their relation to some other word. Thus we should have an example of primitive concord in fratris puer boni, if felt by the speaker’s linguistic consciousness something like of (my) brother (the) child of (the) good (one), i.e., the child of (my) brother, the good, i.e., the child of (my) good brother.
After such correspondence began to be regularly conceived of as concord, i.e., as a habit natural to language, we must suppose that, owing to the operation of analogy, it extended its area to other cases to which it did not logically belong. We shall be confirmed in our theory that such was the procedure, if we examine certain cases in which the extension of concord can still be historically followed.
In the first place, let us take such a case as Ce sont mes frères. In English we translate this by Those are my brothers. The subject, however, in this case merely directs attention to something unknown until the predicate states what has to be known: the English pronoun, therefore, should strictly speaking stand in the neuter singular, as, indeed, it habitually did in A.S. ðæt sindon, etc., and as it does in Modern German to the present day—Das sind meine brüder. Even in Modern English we have cases like It is we who have won; ’Twas men I lacked; Is it only the plebeians who will rise? (Bulwer, Rienzi, i. 5); but commonly, in Modern English and elsewhere, it appears brought into concord with the predicate, as These are thy glorious works (Milton): in Italian—È questa la vostra figlia? = ‘Is this (fem.) your daughter?’ Spanish—Esta es la espada = ‘This (fem.) is the sword’ (fem.): in Greek—Αὕτη τοι δίκη ἐστι θεῶν (Homer) = ‘This (fem.), then, is the judgment (fem.) of the gods:’ and in Latin this use is extremely common; as, Eas divitias, eam bonam famam, magnamque nobilitatem, putabant (Sall., Cat., 7),165 = ‘These (fem. plur.) they considered riches (fem. plur.), this (fem. sing.) a good name (fem.), and great nobility (fem.);’ i.e., ‘This they looked upon as true riches; by such means they strove for fame; that was what they thought conferred true rank:’ Patres C. Mucio agrum dono dedere quæ postea sunt Mucia prata appellata (Livy, ii. 13) = ‘The fathers (senate) gave to C. Mucius a field as a present which (neut. plur.) afterwards were called the Mucian fields (neut. plur.).’
On the other hand, we find instances like Sabini spem in discordia Romana ponunt: eam impedimentum delectui fore (Livy, iii. 38) = ‘The Sabines base their expectations on the domestic quarrels of the Romans; (they hoped) that this (fem. sing. agreeing with spem) would be a preventative (neut. sing.): and so Si hoc profectio est (Livy, ii. 38) = If this (neut.) is a setting-out (fem.).’ It seems that, in the former cases, the subject has been made to agree with the predicate just as the predicate in other cases conforms to the subject.
We sometimes find, in Latin, words which commonly occur in the singular only, placed in the plural when connected with words used in the plural only; as, summis opibus atque industriis (Plautus, Mostellaria, 348) = ‘with the greatest means (exertions) and zeals (for zeal):’ neque vigiliis neque quietibus (Sallust, Cat., 15) = ‘neither during watchings nor during rests (for rest):’ paupertates—divitiæ (Varro,166 Apud Non.) = ‘poverties (for poverty)—riches.’ Similarly, we find She is my goods, my chattels (Shakespeare, Tam. of Shrew, III. ii.), where the singular would be the natural form for chattel; but good in the singular would have a different meaning from goods, and chattels is made to conform to goods.
The so-called predicatival dative in Latin seems to have started from cases like quibus hoc impedimento erat = ‘to whom this was for a hindrance:’ Mihi gaudio fuit = ‘It was for a joy to me:’ etc.
It was felt that the ordinary predicate was put in the same case as its subject, and the concord was analogically extended to the dative. Thus Cicero (Dom., 3) writes Illis incuria inimicorum probro non fuit = ‘To them (dat.) the negligence of their enemies was not (for a) reproach’ (dat.), i.e., ‘was no reproach,’ as contrasted with tuum scelus meum probrum esse = ‘that your wickedness (acc.) should be my reproach (acc.).’
In a sentence like They call him John the name John ought strictly speaking to have no case; the simple stem should stand: and we might even expect the vocative to occur after verbs of naming, as it actually does sometimes in Greek; as, Τί με καλεῖτε κύριε; (Luke vi. 46), translated, in the Vulgate, Quid vocatis me domine?167 and in the authorised version, Why call ye me lord, lord? Thus in Latin, too: Clamassent ut litus Hyla, Hyla, omne sonaret (Vergil, Eclogue vi. 43), ‘They were shouting so that the whole shore was echoing Hylas! Hylas!’ (voc.); Matutine pater seu Jane libentius audis (Hor., Sat. II., vi. 10), ‘O Father Matutinus, or Janus, if thou givest readier ear thus addressed.’ But the most common usage at the present day is the accusative; which is already found at least once in the few remnants of Gothic literature which we possess: in Luke iv. 13, we read: Jah gavaljands us im tvalib, ðanzei jah apaustuluns namnida = ‘and choosing out (from) them twelve whom also apostles (acc. plur.) (he) named.’ This accusative seems to be an analogical transference from such cases as the common construction, Izei ðiudan sik silban taujið = Qui regem se facit = Who king himself makes.
In cases like He bears the name John, the pure stem, or the nominative which most nearly represents it, should stand; as it does in the instance given. In English, we often use phrases like ‘the name of John,’ after the analogy of ‘the city of Rome,’ etc. In Latin, we find merely exceptionally such cases as Lactea nomen habet (Ovid, Metam., i. 168) = ‘It (the Milky Way) has the name milky,’ where milky is nominative. In classical Latin, concord is observed by placing the nominative side by side with nomen when this word stands in the nominative; as, Cui nomen Arethusa est (Cicero, Verr., iv. 53) = ‘Whose name is Arethusa;’ Ei morbo nomen est avaritia (Cicero, Tusc. Disp., iv. 11) = ‘To that malady the name is avarice.’ But we not uncommonly find in Latin that, while the word nomen is in the nominative, the name itself is made to agree with the noun or pronoun expressing the person who bears it; as, Nomen Mercurio est mihi (Plautus, Amph., Prol. 19) = ‘The name is Mercury (dat.) to me (dat.),’ i.e. ‘My name is Mercury;’ Puero ab inopia Egerio inditum nomen (Livy, i. 34) = ‘To the boy (dat.) from his poverty Egerius (dat.) was given the name,’ i.e. ‘The name of Egerius was given to the boy from his poverty.’ Nay, we find a similar vacillation in concord where nomen is in the accusative case; as, Filiis duobus Philippum et Alexandrum et filiæ Apamam nomina imposuerat (Livy, xxxv. 47) = ‘To his two sons he had given the names Philip and Alexander, and to his daughter, Apama.’ In this sentence, we have nomen in the accusative plural and the names Philip, etc., also in the accusative, though singular; so that the latter agree in case with nomen, and not with the datives (filiis duobus and filiæ) of the persons bearing them. In the following instance the reverse is the case: Cui Superbo cognomen facta indiderunt (Livy, i. 49) = ‘To whom (dat.) Superbus (dat.) the name (acc.) his deeds have given,’ i.e. ‘To whom his deeds have given the name Superbus.’ This very vacillation proves that the speakers recognised no logical necessity for employing one case rather than another; but, in default of an absolute stem, chose a case which seemed to tally with some existing principle of concord already prevailing in language.
A similar vacillation occurs in cases of the predicatival noun or predicatival attributive with an infinitive, as in It suited him to remain unknown.
In English no doubt could arise, as the adjectives maintain an absolute form; but even in German, where the adjectives when used as predicates have different forms from those which they bear when used as epithets, it is correct to say, Es steht dir frei als verständiger mann zu handeln = ‘It stands thee free as sensible man to act,’ i.e. ‘You are free to act as a man of sense,’—in which case we find the declined nominative ‘verständiger,’ used as it is whenever the adjective is followed by a noun, and when, consequently, according to the rules of German grammar, the undeclined form cannot be employed.
In Latin the nominative stands if it can be connected with the subject of the governing verb: as, Pater esse disce (‘Learn to be a father’); Omitto iratus esse (‘I cease to be angry’); Cupio esse victor (‘I desire to be victor’). In poetry we find expressions like ait fuisse navium celerrimus (Catullus, iv. 2) = ‘Says that it was the fastest of ships,’—a construction copied by Milton in ‘And knew not eating death’ (Par. Lost, ix. 792:) ‘Sensit medios delapsus in hostes’ (Vergil, Æn., ii. 377) = ‘He perceived that he had fallen into the midst of enemies.’ In these cases, celerrimus and delapsus are nominative, instead of the usual accusative; and similarly, in Greek, we find the nominative coupled with the infinitive used substantively, though this may be in another case: as, Ὁπόθεν ποτὲ ταύτην τὴν ἐπωνυμίαν ἔλαβες τὸ μανικὸς καλεῖσθαι, οὐκ οἶδα ἔγωγε (Plato, Symp., 173 D), ‘Whence ever thou didst take this name the-to-be-called mad (nom. sing. masc.), I don’t know;’ Ὀρέγονται τοῦ πρῶτος εκαστος γίγνεσθαι (Thucydides, ii. 65), ‘They wish for the (gen.) first (nom.) each (nom.) to become (gen.),’ i.e. ‘They all wish to become first.’ Nay, in Greek, it is possible to connect with the infinitive even a genitive or dative depending on the governing sentence; as in Εὐδαίμοσιν ὑμῖν ἔξεστι γίγνεσθαι (Demosthenes, Dem. iii. 23), ‘It is permitted you (dat.) to become happy (dat.);’ Ἐδέοντο Κύρου ὡς προθυμοτάτου γενέσθαι (Xenophon, Hell., I. v. 2), ‘They were begging Cyrus (gen.) to show himself as energetic-as-possible (gen.).’
In Latin we find the connection with a dative, though not so widely as in Greek: as, Animo otioso esse impero (Terence, Phorm., II. ii. 26) = ‘Mind (dat.) easy (dat.) to be I command (myself—dative understood),’ i.e. ‘I order my mind to be at ease;’ Da mihi fallere, da justo sanctoque videri (Hor., Ep. I. xvi. 61), ‘Grant me to deceive, grant me (dat.) to seem just and holy (dat.);’ Vobis necesse est fortibus viris esse (Livy, xxi. 44), ‘It is necessary for you (dat.) to be brave men (dat.);’ and commonly with licet (‘it is allowed,’) as in Republica mihi neglegenti esse non licet (Cicero, ad Att., i. 17), ‘In politics I dare not be indifferent.’168 To take this last example, for instance, we have (1) the governing sentence Non mihi licet (‘It is not lawful for me,’ dat.), (2) the infinitive esse (‘to be’), and (3) the dative (depending on the governing sentence, and connected with the infinitive), neglegenti (‘indifferent’).
There are a few exceptions to this customary usage.169 The accusative is sometimes found after licet, as in the passage Si civi Romano licet esse Gaditanum, etc., ‘If it is allowed a Roman Citizen (dat.) to be a citizen of Gades (acc.).’ This use depends on the fact that the accusative is the ordinary case of the subject with the infinitive, e.g. Permitto civem Romanum esse Gaditanum,170 ‘I permit a Roman Citizen (acc.) to be a citizen of Gades (acc.).’
There are, again, other cases in which no concord is expressed; in which concord, indeed, is almost incapable of being carried out. In these cases, in default of the pure stem which—were it possible to employ it—would be the only natural form to employ, the place has been supplied by the nominative. In English, for instance, we are familiar with such phrases as My profession as teacher, his position as advocate. In Latin we find such constructions as Sempronius causa ipse pro se dicta damnatur (Livy, iv. 44.), ‘Sempronius is condemned, his cause having been defended (abl. abs.) himself (nom.);’ Omnes in spem suam quisque acceptis prœlium poscunt (Livy, xxi. 45), ‘All they having been accepted after their own hopes, each demand battle’ (here omnes (‘all’) is nominative, while acceptis (‘having been accepted’) is ablative absolute); Flumen Albin transit longius penetrata Germania quam quisquam priorum (Tacitus, Annals, iv. 45), ‘He crosses the river Elbe after penetrating Germany further than any of his predecessors,’ lit. ‘Germany having been penetrated (abl. abs.) further than any (nom.) of his predecessors (i.e. had penetrated it).’ In these cases, no doubt ipse and quisquam, ‘himself’ and ‘any,’ depend, grammatically speaking, on the subject of the finite verb, but they belong logically to the ablative absolute only, with which they cannot be brought into concord.
Variation of concord exists between two parts of the same sentence in various languages, as in the case of ‘What is six winters?’ (Shakespeare, Rich. II., I. iii.), as against ‘What are six winters?’ ‘Such was my orders,’ as against ‘Such were my orders;’ ‘She is my goods;’171 ‘What means these questions?’ (Young, Night Thoughts, iv. 398). Bacon (Advancement of Learning, II. ii. 7) has ‘A portion of the time wherein there hath been the greatest varieties.’ The original rule was that the copula, like every other verb, followed the number of the subject, as in the first-named instances; and as, again, in French, in such cases as C’est eux, ‘It is they;’ Il est cent usages, ‘There is hundred usages;’ C’était les petites îles, ‘It was the little islands.’ In Latin, also, Nequam pax est indutiæ (A. Gellius), ‘A truce (lit. truces) is a bad peace;’ Contentum rebus suis esse maximæ sunt divitiæ (Cicero, Pro. Ar., vi. 3), ‘To be content with one’s circumstances are the greatest riches.’ In these cases it is indifferent which substantive be considered the logical subject.