Chapter III: Part 3

The phonetic habits of a given language are not exhaustively defined by stating that it makes use of such and such particular sounds out of the all but endless gamut that we have briefly surveyed. There remains the important question of the dynamics of these phonetic elements. Two languages may, theoretically, be built up of precisely the same series of consonants and vowels and yet produce utterly different acoustic effects. One of them may not recognize striking variations in the lengths or "quantities" of the phonetic elements, the other may note such variations most punctiliously (in probably the majority of languages long and short vowels are distinguished; in many, as in Italian or Swedish or Ojibwa, long consonants are recognized as distinct from short ones). Or the one, say English, may be very sensitive to relative stresses, while in the other, say French, stress is a very minor consideration. Or, again, the pitch differences which are inseparable from the actual practice of language may not affect the word as such, but, as in English, may be a more or less random or, at best, but a rhetorical phenomenon, while in other languages, as in Swedish, Lithuanian, Chinese, Siamese, and the majority of African languages, they may be more finely graduated and felt as integral characteristics of the words themselves. Varying methods of syllabifying are also responsible for noteworthy acoustic differences. Most important of all, perhaps, are the very different possibilities of combining the phonetic elements. Each language has its peculiarities. The _ts_ combination, for instance, is found in both English and German, but in English it can only occur at the end of a word (as in _hats_), while it occurs freely in German as the psychological equivalent of a single sound (as in _Zeit_, _Katze_). Some languages allow of great heapings of consonants or of vocalic groups (diphthongs), in others no two consonants or no two vowels may ever come together. Frequently a sound occurs only in a special position or under special phonetic circumstances. In English, for instance, the _z_-sound of _azure_ cannot occur initially, while the peculiar quality of the _t_ of _sting_ is dependent on its being preceded by the _s_. These dynamic factors, in their totality, are as important for the proper understanding of the phonetic genius of a language as the sound system itself, often far more so.

We have already seen, in an incidental way, that phonetic elements or such dynamic features as quantity and stress have varying psychological "values." The English _ts_ of _fiats_ is merely a _t_ followed by a functionally independent _s_, the _ts_ of the German word _Zeit_ has an integral value equivalent, say, to the _t_ of the English word _tide_. Again, the _t_ of _time_ is indeed noticeably distinct from that of _sting_, but the difference, to the consciousness of an English-speaking person, is quite irrelevant. It has no "value." If we compare the _t_-sounds of Haida, the Indian language spoken in the Queen Charlotte Islands, we find that precisely the same difference of articulation has a real value. In such a word as _sting_ "two," the _t_ is pronounced precisely as in English, but in _sta_ "from" the _t_ is clearly "aspirated," like that of _time_. In other words, an objective difference that is irrelevant in English is of functional value in Haida; from its own psychological standpoint the _t_ of _sting_ is as different from that of _sta_ as, from our standpoint, is the _t_ of _time_ from the _d_ of _divine_. Further investigation would yield the interesting result that the Haida ear finds the difference between the English _t_ of _sting_ and the _d_ of _divine_ as irrelevant as the naïve English ear finds that of the _t_-sounds of _sting_ and _time_. The objective comparison of sounds in two or more languages is, then, of no psychological or historical significance unless these sounds are first "weighted," unless their phonetic "values" are determined. These values, in turn, flow from the general behavior and functioning of the sounds in actual speech.

These considerations as to phonetic value lead to an important conception. Back of the purely objective system of sounds that is peculiar to a language and which can be arrived at only by a painstaking phonetic analysis, there is a more restricted "inner" or "ideal" system which, while perhaps equally unconscious as a system to the naïve speaker, can far more readily than the other be brought to his consciousness as a finished pattern, a psychological mechanism. The inner sound-system, overlaid though it may be by the mechanical or the irrelevant, is a real and an immensely important principle in the life of a language. It may persist as a pattern, involving number, relation, and functioning of phonetic elements, long after its phonetic content is changed. Two historically related languages or dialects may not have a sound in common, but their ideal sound-systems may be identical patterns. I would not for a moment wish to imply that this pattern may not change. It may shrink or expand or change its functional complexion, but its rate of change is infinitely less rapid than that of the sounds as such. Every language, then, is characterized as much by its ideal system of sounds and by the underlying phonetic pattern (system, one might term it, of symbolic atoms) as by a definite grammatical structure. Both the phonetic and conceptual structures show the instinctive feeling of language for form.[25]

[Footnote 25: The conception of the ideal phonetic system, the phonetic pattern, of a language is not as well understood by linguistic students as it should be. In this respect the unschooled recorder of language, provided he has a good ear and a genuine instinct for language, is often at a great advantage as compared with the minute phonetician, who is apt to be swamped by his mass of observations. I have already employed my experience in teaching Indians to write their own language for its testing value in another connection. It yields equally valuable evidence here. I found that it was difficult or impossible to teach an Indian to make phonetic distinctions that did not correspond to "points in the pattern of his language," however these differences might strike our objective ear, but that subtle, barely audible, phonetic differences, if only they hit the "points in the pattern," were easily and voluntarily expressed in writing. In watching my Nootka interpreter write his language, I often had the curious feeling that he was transcribing an ideal flow of phonetic elements which he heard, inadequately from a purely objective standpoint, as the intention of the actual rumble of speech.]

IV

FORM IN LANGUAGE: GRAMMATICAL PROCESSES

The question of form in language presents itself under two aspects. We may either consider the formal methods employed by a language, its "grammatical processes," or we may ascertain the distribution of concepts with reference to formal expression. What are the formal patterns of the language? And what types of concepts make up the content of these formal patterns? The two points of view are quite distinct. The English word _unthinkingly_ is, broadly speaking, formally parallel to the word _reformers_, each being built up on a radical element which may occur as an independent verb (_think_, _form_), this radical element being preceded by an element (_un-_, _re-_) that conveys a definite and fairly concrete significance but that cannot be used independently, and followed by two elements (_-ing_, _-ly_; _-er_, _-s_) that limit the application of the radical concept in a relational sense. This formal pattern--(b) + A + (c) + (d)[26]--is a characteristic feature of the language. A countless number of functions may be expressed by it; in other words, all the possible ideas conveyed by such prefixed and suffixed elements, while tending to fall into minor groups, do not necessarily form natural, functional systems. There is no logical reason, for instance, why the numeral function of _-s_ should be formally expressed in a manner that is analogous to the expression of the idea conveyed by _-ly_. It is perfectly conceivable that in another language the concept of manner (_-ly_) may be treated according to an entirely different pattern from that of plurality. The former might have to be expressed by an independent word (say, _thus unthinking_), the latter by a prefixed element (say, _plural[27]-reform-er_). There are, of course, an unlimited number of other possibilities. Even within the confines of English alone the relative independence of form and function can be made obvious. Thus, the negative idea conveyed by _un-_ can be just as adequately expressed by a suffixed element (_-less_) in such a word as _thoughtlessly_. Such a twofold formal expression of the negative function would be inconceivable in certain languages, say Eskimo, where a suffixed element would alone be possible. Again, the plural notion conveyed by the _-s_ of _reformers_ is just as definitely expressed in the word _geese_, where an utterly distinct method is employed. Furthermore, the principle of vocalic change (_goose_--_geese_) is by no means confined to the expression of the idea of plurality; it may also function as an indicator of difference of time (e.g., _sing_--_sang_, _throw_--_threw_). But the expression in English of past time is not by any means always bound up with a change of vowel. In the great majority of cases the same idea is expressed by means of a distinct suffix (_die-d_, _work-ed_). Functionally, _died_ and _sang_ are analogous; so are _reformers_ and _geese_. Formally, we must arrange these words quite otherwise. Both _die-d_ and _re-form-er-s_ employ the method of suffixing grammatical elements; both _sang_ and _geese_ have grammatical form by virtue of the fact that their vowels differ from the vowels of other words with which they are closely related in form and meaning (_goose_; _sing_, _sung_).

[Footnote 26: For the symbolism, see chapter II.]

[Footnote 27: "_Plural_" is here a symbol for any prefix indicating plurality.]

Every language possesses one or more formal methods or indicating the relation of a secondary concept to the main concept of the radical element. Some of these grammatical processes, like suffixing, are exceedingly wide-spread; others, like vocalic change, are less common but far from rare; still others, like accent and consonantal change, are somewhat exceptional as functional processes. Not all languages are as irregular as English in the assignment of functions to its stock of grammatical processes. As a rule, such basic concepts as those of plurality and time are rendered by means of one or other method alone, but the rule has so many exceptions that we cannot safely lay it down as a principle. Wherever we go we are impressed by the fact that pattern is one thing, the utilization of pattern quite another. A few further examples of the multiple expression of identical functions in other languages than English may help to make still more vivid this idea of the relative independence of form and function.

In Hebrew, as in other Semitic languages, the verbal idea as such is expressed by three, less often by two or four, characteristic consonants. Thus, the group _sh-m-r_ expresses the idea of "guarding," the group _g-n-b_ that of "stealing," _n-t-n_ that of "giving." Naturally these consonantal sequences are merely abstracted from the actual forms. The consonants are held together in different forms by characteristic vowels that vary according to the idea that it is desired to express. Prefixed and suffixed elements are also frequently used. The method of internal vocalic change is exemplified in _shamar_ "he has guarded," _shomer_ "guarding," _shamur_ "being guarded," _shmor_ "(to) guard." Analogously, _ganab_ "he has stolen," _goneb_ "stealing," _ganub_ "being stolen," _gnob_ "(to) steal." But not all infinitives are formed according to the type of _shmor_ and _gnob_ or of other types of internal vowel change. Certain verbs suffix a _t_-element for the infinitive, e.g., _ten-eth_ "to give," _heyo-th_ "to be." Again, the pronominal ideas may be expressed by independent words (e.g., _anoki_ "I"), by prefixed elements (e.g., _e-shmor_ "I shall guard"), or by suffixed elements (e.g., _shamar-ti_ "I have guarded"). In Nass, an Indian language of British Columbia, plurals are formed by four distinct methods. Most nouns (and verbs) are reduplicated in the plural, that is, part of the radical element is repeated, e.g., _gyat_ "person," _gyigyat_ "people." A second method is the use of certain characteristic prefixes, e.g., _an'on_ "hand," _ka-an'on_ "hands"; _wai_ "one paddles," _lu-wai_ "several paddle." Still other plurals are formed by means of internal vowel change, e.g., _gwula_ "cloak," _gwila_ "cloaks." Finally, a fourth class of plurals is constituted by such nouns as suffix a grammatical element, e.g., _waky_ "brother," _wakykw_ "brothers."

From such groups of examples as these--and they might be multiplied _ad nauseam_--we cannot but conclude that linguistic form may and should be studied as types of patterning, apart from the associated functions. We are the more justified in this procedure as all languages evince a curious instinct for the development of one or more particular grammatical processes at the expense of others, tending always to lose sight of any explicit functional value that the process may have had in the first instance, delighting, it would seem, in the sheer play of its means of expression. It does not matter that in such a case as the English _goose_--_geese_, _foul_--_defile_, _sing_--_sang_--_sung_ we can prove that we are dealing with historically distinct processes, that the vocalic alternation of _sing_ and _sang_, for instance, is centuries older as a specific type of grammatical process than the outwardly parallel one of _goose_ and _geese_. It remains true that there is (or was) an inherent tendency in English, at the time such forms as _geese_ came into being, for the utilization of vocalic change as a significant linguistic method. Failing the precedent set by such already existing types of vocalic alternation as _sing_--_sang_--_sung_, it is highly doubtful if the detailed conditions that brought about the evolution of forms like _teeth_ and _geese_ from _tooth_ and _goose_ would have been potent enough to allow the native linguistic feeling to win through to an acceptance of these new types of plural formation as psychologically possible. This feeling for form as such, freely expanding along predetermined lines and greatly inhibited in certain directions by the lack of controlling types of patterning, should be more clearly understood than it seems to be. A general survey of many diverse types of languages is needed to give us the proper perspective on this point. We saw in the preceding chapter that every language has an inner phonetic system of definite pattern. We now learn that it has also a definite feeling for patterning on the level of grammatical formation. Both of these submerged and powerfully controlling impulses to definite form operate as such, regardless of the need for expressing particular concepts or of giving consistent external shape to particular groups of concepts. It goes without saying that these impulses can find realization only in concrete functional expression. We must say something to be able to say it in a certain manner.

Let us now take up a little more systematically, however briefly, the various grammatical processes that linguistic research has established. They may be grouped into six main types: word order; composition; affixation, including the use of prefixes, suffixes, and infixes; internal modification of the radical or grammatical element, whether this affects a vowel or a consonant; reduplication; and accentual differences, whether dynamic (stress) or tonal (pitch). There are also special quantitative processes, like vocalic lengthening or shortening and consonantal doubling, but these may be looked upon as particular sub-types of the process of internal modification. Possibly still other formal types exist, but they are not likely to be of importance in a general survey. It is important to bear in mind that a linguistic phenomenon cannot be looked upon as illustrating a definite "process" unless it has an inherent functional value. The consonantal change in English, for instance, of _book-s_ and _bag-s_ (_s_ in the former, _z_ in the latter) is of no functional significance. It is a purely external, mechanical change induced by the presence of a preceding voiceless consonant, _k_, in the former case, of a voiced consonant, _g_, in the latter. This mechanical alternation is objectively the same as that between the noun _house_ and the verb _to house_. In the latter case, however, it has an important grammatical function, that of transforming a noun into a verb. The two alternations belong, then, to entirely different psychological categories. Only the latter is a true illustration of consonantal modification as a grammatical process.

The simplest, at least the most economical, method of conveying some sort of grammatical notion is to juxtapose two or more words in a definite sequence without making any attempt by inherent modification of these words to establish a connection between them. Let us put down two simple English words at random, say _sing praise_. This conveys no finished thought in English, nor does it clearly establish a relation between the idea of singing and that of praising. Nevertheless, it is psychologically impossible to hear or see the two words juxtaposed without straining to give them some measure of coherent significance. The attempt is not likely to yield an entirely satisfactory result, but what is significant is that as soon as two or more radical concepts are put before the human mind in immediate sequence it strives to bind them together with connecting values of some sort. In the case of _sing praise_ different individuals are likely to arrive at different provisional results. Some of the latent possibilities of the juxtaposition, expressed in currently satisfying form, are: _sing praise (to him)!_ or _singing praise, praise expressed in a song_ or _to sing and praise_ or _one who sings a song of praise_ (compare such English compounds as _killjoy_, i.e., _one who kills joy_) or _he sings a song of praise (to him)_. The theoretical possibilities in the way of rounding out these two concepts into a significant group of concepts or even into a finished thought are indefinitely numerous. None of them will quite work in English, but there are numerous languages where one or other of these amplifying processes is habitual. It depends entirely on the genius of the particular language what function is inherently involved in a given sequence of words.

Some languages, like Latin, express practically all relations by means of modifications within the body of the word itself. In these, sequence is apt to be a rhetorical rather than a strictly grammatical principle. Whether I say in Latin _hominem femina videt_ or _femina hominem videt_ or _hominem videt femina_ or _videt femina hominem_ makes little or no difference beyond, possibly, a rhetorical or stylistic one. _The woman sees the man_ is the identical significance of each of these sentences. In Chinook, an Indian language of the Columbia River, one can be equally free, for the relation between the verb and the two nouns is as inherently fixed as in Latin. The difference between the two languages is that, while Latin allows the nouns to establish their relation to each other and to the verb, Chinook lays the formal burden entirely on the verb, the full content of which is more or less adequately rendered by _she-him-sees_. Eliminate the Latin case suffixes (_-a_ and _-em_) and the Chinook pronominal prefixes (_she-him-_) and we cannot afford to be so indifferent to our word order. We need to husband our resources. In other words, word order takes on a real functional value. Latin and Chinook are at one extreme. Such languages as Chinese, Siamese, and Annamite, in which each and every word, if it is to function properly, falls into its assigned place, are at the other extreme. But the majority of languages fall between these two extremes. In English, for instance, it may make little grammatical difference whether I say _yesterday the man saw the dog_ or _the man saw the dog yesterday_, but it is not a matter of indifference whether I say _yesterday the man saw the dog_ or _yesterday the dog saw the man_ or whether I say _he is here_ or _is he here?_ In the one case, of the latter group of examples, the vital distinction of subject and object depends entirely on the placing of certain words of the sentence, in the latter a slight difference of sequence makes all the difference between statement and question. It goes without saying that in these cases the English principle of word order is as potent a means of expression as is the Latin use of case suffixes or of an interrogative particle. There is here no question of functional poverty, but of formal economy.

We have already seen something of the process of composition, the uniting into a single word of two or more radical elements. Psychologically this process is closely allied to that of word order in so far as the relation between the elements is implied, not explicitly stated. It differs from the mere juxtaposition of words in the sentence in that the compounded elements are felt as constituting but parts of a single word-organism. Such languages as Chinese and English, in which the principle of rigid sequence is well developed, tend not infrequently also to the development of compound words. It is but a step from such a Chinese word sequence as _jin tak_ "man virtue," i.e., "the virtue of men," to such more conventionalized and psychologically unified juxtapositions as _t'ien tsz_ "heaven son," i.e., "emperor," or _shui fu_ "water man," i.e., "water carrier." In the latter case we may as well frankly write _shui-fu_ as a single word, the meaning of the compound as a whole being as divergent from the precise etymological values of its component elements as is that of our English word _typewriter_ from the merely combined values of _type_ and _writer_. In English the unity of the word _typewriter_ is further safeguarded by a predominant accent on the first syllable and by the possibility of adding such a suffixed element as the plural _-s_ to the whole word. Chinese also unifies its compounds by means of stress. However, then, in its ultimate origins the process of composition may go back to typical sequences of words in the sentence, it is now, for the most part, a specialized method of expressing relations. French has as rigid a word order as English but does not possess anything like its power of compounding words into more complex units. On the other hand, classical Greek, in spite of its relative freedom in the placing of words, has a very considerable bent for the formation of compound terms.

It is curious to observe how greatly languages differ in their ability to make use of the process of composition. One would have thought on general principles that so simple a device as gives us our _typewriter_ and _blackbird_ and hosts of other words would be an all but universal grammatical process. Such is not the case. There are a great many languages, like Eskimo and Nootka and, aside from paltry exceptions, the Semitic languages, that cannot compound radical elements. What is even stranger is the fact that many of these languages are not in the least averse to complex word-formations, but may on the contrary effect a synthesis that far surpasses the utmost that Greek and Sanskrit are capable of. Such a Nootka word, for instance, as "when, as they say, he had been absent for four days" might be expected to embody at least three radical elements corresponding to the concepts of "absent," "four," and "day." As a matter of fact the Nootka word is utterly incapable of composition in our sense. It is invariably built up out of a single radical element and a greater or less number of suffixed elements, some of which may have as concrete a significance as the radical element itself. In, the particular case we have cited the radical element conveys the idea of "four," the notions of "day" and "absent" being expressed by suffixes that are as inseparable from the radical nucleus of the word as is an English element like _-er_ from the _sing_ or _hunt_ of such words as _singer_ and _hunter_. The tendency to word synthesis is, then, by no means the same thing as the tendency to compounding radical elements, though the latter is not infrequently a ready means for the synthetic tendency to work with.

There is a bewildering variety of types of composition. These types vary according to function, the nature of the compounded elements, and order. In a great many languages composition is confined to what we may call the delimiting function, that is, of the two or more compounded elements one is given a more precisely qualified significance by the others, which contribute nothing to the formal build of the sentence. In English, for instance, such compounded elements as _red_ in _redcoat_ or _over_ in _overlook_ merely modify the significance of the dominant _coat_ or _look_ without in any way sharing, as such, in the predication that is expressed by the sentence. Some languages, however, such as Iroquois and Nahuatl,[28] employ the method of composition for much heavier work than this. In Iroquois, for instance, the composition of a noun, in its radical form, with a following verb is a typical method of expressing case relations, particularly of the subject or object. _I-meat-eat_ for instance, is the regular Iroquois method of expressing the sentence _I am eating meat_. In other languages similar forms may express local or instrumental or still other relations. Such English forms as _killjoy_ and _marplot_ also illustrate the compounding of a verb and a noun, but the resulting word has a strictly nominal, not a verbal, function. We cannot say _he marplots_. Some languages allow the composition of all or nearly all types of elements. Paiute, for instance, may compound noun with noun, adjective with noun, verb with noun to make a noun, noun with verb to make a verb, adverb with verb, verb with verb. Yana, an Indian language of California, can freely compound noun with noun and verb with noun, but not verb with verb. On the other hand, Iroquois can compound only noun with verb, never noun and noun as in English or verb and verb as in so many other languages. Finally, each language has its characteristic types of order of composition. In English the qualifying element regularly precedes; in certain other languages it follows. Sometimes both types are used in the same language, as in Yana, where "beef" is "bitter-venison" but "deer-liver" is expressed by "liver-deer." The compounded object of a verb precedes the verbal element in Paiute, Nahuatl, and Iroquois, follows it in Yana, Tsimshian,[29] and the Algonkin languages.

[Footnote 28: The language of the Aztecs, still spoken in large parts of Mexico.]

[Footnote 29: Indian language of British Columbia closely related to the Nass already cited.]

Of all grammatical processes affixing is incomparably the most frequently employed. There are languages, like Chinese and Siamese, that make no grammatical use of elements that do not at the same time possess an independent value as radical elements, but such languages are uncommon. Of the three types of affixing--the use of prefixes, suffixes, and infixes--suffixing is much the commonest. Indeed, it is a fair guess that suffixes do more of the formative work of language than all other methods combined. It is worth noting that there are not a few affixing languages that make absolutely no use of prefixed elements but possess a complex apparatus of suffixes. Such are Turkish, Hottentot, Eskimo, Nootka, and Yana. Some of these, like the three last mentioned, have hundreds of suffixed elements, many of them of a concreteness of significance that would demand expression in the vast majority of languages by means of radical elements. The reverse case, the use of prefixed elements to the complete exclusion of suffixes, is far less common. A good example is Khmer (or Cambodgian), spoken in French Cochin-China, though even here there are obscure traces of old suffixes that have ceased to function as such and are now felt to form part of the radical element.

A considerable majority of known languages are prefixing and suffixing at one and the same time, but the relative importance of the two groups of affixed elements naturally varies enormously. In some languages, such as Latin and Russian, the suffixes alone relate the word to the rest of the sentence, the prefixes being confined to the expression of such ideas as delimit the concrete significance of the radical element without influencing its bearing in the proposition. A Latin form like _remittebantur_ "they were being sent back" may serve as an illustration of this type of distribution of elements. The prefixed element _re-_ "back" merely qualifies to a certain extent the inherent significance of the radical element _mitt-_ "send," while the suffixes _-eba-_, _-nt-_, and _-ur_ convey the less concrete, more strictly formal, notions of time, person, plurality, and passivity.

On the other hand, there are languages, like the Bantu group of Africa or the Athabaskan languages[30] of North America, in which the grammatically significant elements precede, those that follow the radical element forming a relatively dispensable class. The Hupa word _te-s-e-ya-te_ "I will go," for example, consists of a radical element _-ya-_ "to go," three essential prefixes and a formally subsidiary suffix. The element _te-_ indicates that the act takes place here and there in space or continuously over space; practically, it has no clear-cut significance apart from such verb stems as it is customary to connect it with. The second prefixed element, _-s-_, is even less easy to define. All we can say is that it is used in verb forms of "definite" time and that it marks action as in progress rather than as beginning or coming to an end. The third prefix, _-e-_, is a pronominal element, "I," which can be used only in "definite" tenses. It is highly important to understand that the use of _-e-_ is conditional on that of _-s-_ or of certain alternative prefixes and that _te-_ also is in practice linked with _-s-_. The group _te-s-e-ya_ is a firmly knit grammatical unit. The suffix _-te_, which indicates the future, is no more necessary to its formal balance than is the prefixed _re-_ of the Latin word; it is not an element that is capable of standing alone but its function is materially delimiting rather than strictly formal.[31]

[Footnote 30: Including such languages as Navaho, Apache, Hupa, Carrier, Chipewyan, Loucheux.]

[Footnote 31: This may seem surprising to an English reader. We generally think of time as a function that is appropriately expressed in a purely formal manner. This notion is due to the bias that Latin grammar has given us. As a matter of fact the English future (_I shall go_) is not expressed by affixing at all; moreover, it may be expressed by the present, as in _to-morrow I leave this place_, where the temporal function is inherent in the independent adverb. Though in lesser degree, the Hupa _-te_ is as irrelevant to the vital word as is _to-morrow_ to the grammatical "feel" of _I leave_.]

It is not always, however, that we can clearly set off the suffixes of a language as a group against its prefixes. In probably the majority of languages that use both types of affixes each group has both delimiting and formal or relational functions. The most that we can say is that a language tends to express similar functions in either the one or the other manner. If a certain verb expresses a certain tense by suffixing, the probability is strong that it expresses its other tenses in an analogous fashion and that, indeed, all verbs have suffixed tense elements. Similarly, we normally expect to find the pronominal elements, so far as they are included in the verb at all, either consistently prefixed or suffixed. But these rules are far from absolute. We have already seen that Hebrew prefixes its pronominal elements in certain cases, suffixes them in others. In Chimariko, an Indian language of California, the position of the pronominal affixes depends on the verb; they are prefixed for certain verbs, suffixed for others.

It will not be necessary to give many further examples of prefixing and suffixing. One of each category will suffice to illustrate their formative possibilities. The idea expressed in English by the sentence _I came to give it to her_ is rendered in Chinook[32] by _i-n-i-a-l-u-d-am_. This word--and it is a thoroughly unified word with a clear-cut accent on the first _a_--consists of a radical element, _-d-_ "to give," six functionally distinct, if phonetically frail, prefixed elements, and a suffix. Of the prefixes, _i-_ indicates recently past time; _n-_, the pronominal subject "I"; _-i-_, the pronominal object "it";[33] _-a-_, the second pronominal object "her"; _-l-_, a prepositional element indicating that the preceding pronominal prefix is to be understood as an indirect object (_-her-to-_, i.e., "to her"); and _-u-_, an element that it is not easy to define satisfactorily but which, on the whole, indicates movement away from the speaker. The suffixed _-am_ modifies the verbal content in a local sense; it adds to the notion conveyed by the radical element that of "arriving" or "going (or coming) for that particular purpose." It is obvious that in Chinook, as in Hupa, the greater part of the grammatical machinery resides in the prefixes rather than in the suffixes.

[Footnote 32: Wishram dialect.]

[Footnote 33: Really "him," but Chinook, like Latin or French, possesses grammatical gender. An object may be referred to as "he," "she," or "it," according to the characteristic form of its noun.]

A reverse case, one in which the grammatically significant elements cluster, as in Latin, at the end of the word is yielded by Fox, one of the better known Algonkin languages of the Mississippi Valley. We may take the form _eh-kiwi-n-a-m-oht-ati-wa-ch(i)_ "then they together kept (him) in flight from them." The radical element here is _kiwi-_, a verb stem indicating the general notion of "indefinite movement round about, here and there." The prefixed element _eh-_ is hardly more than an adverbial particle indicating temporal subordination; it may be conveniently rendered as "then." Of the seven suffixes included in this highly-wrought word, _-n-_ seems to be merely a phonetic element serving to connect the verb stem with the following _-a-_;[34] _-a-_ is a "secondary stem"[35] denoting the idea of "flight, to flee"; _-m-_ denotes causality with reference to an animate object;[36] _-o(ht)-_ indicates activity done for the subject (the so-called "middle" or "medio-passive" voice of Greek); _-(a)ti-_ is a reciprocal element, "one another"; _-wa-ch(i)_ is the third person animate plural (_-wa-_, plural; _-chi_, more properly personal) of so-called "conjunctive" forms. The word may be translated more literally (and yet only approximately as to grammatical feeling) as "then they (animate) caused some animate being to wander about in flight from one another of themselves." Eskimo, Nootka, Yana, and other languages have similarly complex arrays of suffixed elements, though the functions performed by them and their principles of combination differ widely.

[Footnote 34: This analysis is doubtful. It is likely that _-n-_ possesses a function that still remains to be ascertained. The Algonkin languages are unusually complex and present many unsolved problems of detail.]

[Footnote 35: "Secondary stems" are elements which are suffixes from a formal point of view, never appearing without the support of a true radical element, but whose function is as concrete, to all intents and purposes, as that of the radical element itself. Secondary verb stems of this type are characteristic of the Algonkin languages and of Yana.]

[Footnote 36: In the Algonkin languages all persons and things are conceived of as either animate or inanimate, just as in Latin or German they are conceived of as masculine, feminine, or neuter.]

We have reserved the very curious type of affixation known as "infixing" for separate illustration. It is utterly unknown in English, unless we consider the _-n-_ of _stand_ (contrast _stood_) as an infixed element. The earlier Indo-European languages, such as Latin, Greek and Sanskrit, made a fairly considerable use of infixed nasals to differentiate the present tense of a certain class of verbs from other forms (contrast Latin _vinc-o_ "I conquer" with _vic-i_ "I conquered"; Greek _lamb-an-o_ "I take" with _e-lab-on_ "I took"). There are, however, more striking examples of the process, examples in which it has assumed a more clearly defined function than in these Latin and Greek cases. It is particularly prevalent in many languages of southeastern Asia and of the Malay archipelago. Good examples from Khmer (Cambodgian) are _tmeu_ "one who walks" and _daneu_ "walking" (verbal noun), both derived from _deu_ "to walk." Further examples may be quoted from Bontoc Igorot, a Filipino language. Thus, an infixed _-in-_ conveys the idea of the product of an accomplished action, e.g., _kayu_ "wood," _kinayu_ "gathered wood." Infixes are also freely used in the Bontoc Igorot verb. Thus, an infixed _-um-_ is characteristic of many intransitive verbs with personal pronominal suffixes, e.g., _sad-_ "to wait," _sumid-ak_ "I wait"; _kineg_ "silent," _kuminek-ak_ "I am silent." In other verbs it indicates futurity, e.g., _tengao-_ "to celebrate a holiday," _tumengao-ak_ "I shall have a holiday." The past tense is frequently indicated by an infixed _-in-_; if there is already an infixed _-um-_, the two elements combine to _-in-m-_, e.g., _kinminek-ak_ "I am silent." Obviously the infixing process has in this (and related) languages the same vitality that is possessed by the commoner prefixes and suffixes of other languages. The process is also found in a number of aboriginal American languages. The Yana plural is sometimes formed by an infixed element, e.g., _k'uruwi_ "medicine-men," _k'uwi_ "medicine-man"; in Chinook an infixed _-l-_ is used in certain verbs to indicate repeated activity, e.g., _ksik'ludelk_ "she keeps looking at him," _iksik'lutk_ "she looked at him" (radical element _-tk_). A peculiarly interesting type of infixation is found in the Siouan languages, in which certain verbs insert the pronominal elements into the very body of the radical element, e.g., Sioux _cheti_ "to build a fire," _chewati_ "I build a fire"; _shuta_ "to miss," _shuunta-pi_ "we miss."

A subsidiary but by no means unimportant grammatical process is that of internal vocalic or consonantal change. In some languages, as in English (_sing_, _sang_, _sung_, _song_; _goose_, _geese_), the former of these has become one of the major methods of indicating fundamental changes of grammatical function. At any rate, the process is alive enough to lead our children into untrodden ways. We all know of the growing youngster who speaks of having _brung_ something, on the analogy of such forms as _sung_ and _flung_. In Hebrew, as we have seen, vocalic change is of even greater significance than in English. What is true of Hebrew is of course true of all other Semitic languages. A few examples of so-called "broken" plurals from Arabic[37] will supplement the Hebrew verb forms that I have given in another connection. The noun _balad_ "place" has the plural form _bilad_;[38] _gild_ "hide" forms the plural _gulud_; _ragil_ "man," the plural _rigal_; _shibbak_ "window," the plural _shababik_. Very similar phenomena are illustrated by the Hamitic languages of Northern Africa, e.g., Shilh[39] _izbil_ "hair," plural _izbel_; _a-slem_ "fish," plural _i-slim-en_; _sn_ "to know," _sen_ "to be knowing"; _rmi_ "to become tired," _rumni_ "to be tired"; _ttss_[40] "to fall asleep," _ttoss_ "to sleep." Strikingly similar to English and Greek alternations of the type _sing_--_sang_ and _leip-o_ "I leave," _leloip-a_ "I have left," are such Somali[41] cases as _al_ "I am," _il_ "I was"; _i-dah-a_ "I say," _i-di_ "I said," _deh_ "say!"

[Footnote 37: Egyptian dialect.]

[Footnote 38: There are changes of accent and vocalic quantity in these forms as well, but the requirements of simplicity force us to neglect them.]

[Footnote 39: A Berber language of Morocco.]

[Footnote 40: Some of the Berber languages allow consonantal combinations that seem unpronounceable to us.]

[Footnote 41: One of the Hamitic languages of eastern Africa.]

Vocalic change is of great significance also in a number of American Indian languages. In the Athabaskan group many verbs change the quality or quantity of the vowel of the radical element as it changes its tense or mode. The Navaho verb for "I put (grain) into a receptacle" is _bi-hi-sh-ja_, in which _-ja_ is the radical element; the past tense, _bi-hi-ja'_, has a long _a_-vowel, followed by the "glottal stop"[42]; the future is _bi-h-de-sh-ji_ with complete change of vowel. In other types of Navaho verbs the vocalic changes follow different lines, e.g., _yah-a-ni-ye_ "you carry (a pack) into (a stable)"; past, _yah-i-ni-yin_ (with long _i_ in _-yin_; _-n_ is here used to indicate nasalization); future, _yah-a-di-yehl_ (with long _e_). In another Indian language, Yokuts[43], vocalic modifications affect both noun and verb forms. Thus, _buchong_ "son" forms the plural _bochang-i_ (contrast the objective _buchong-a_); _enash_ "grandfather," the plural _inash-a_; the verb _engtyim_ "to sleep" forms the continuative _ingetym-ad_ "to be sleeping" and the past _ingetym-ash_.

[Footnote 42: See page 49.]

[Transcriber's note: Footnote 42 refers to the paragraph beginning on line 1534.]

[Footnote 43: Spoken in the south-central part of California.]

Consonantal change as a functional process is probably far less common than vocalic modifications, but it is not exactly rare. There is an interesting group of cases in English, certain nouns and corresponding verbs differing solely in that the final consonant is voiceless or voiced. Examples are _wreath_ (with _th_ as in _think_), but _to wreathe_ (with _th_ as in _then_); _house_, but _to house_ (with _s_ pronounced like _z_). That we have a distinct feeling for the interchange as a means of distinguishing the noun from the verb is indicated by the extension of the principle by many Americans to such a noun as _rise_ (e.g., _the rise of democracy_)--pronounced like _rice_--in contrast to the verb _to rise_ (_s_ like _z_).

In the Celtic languages the initial consonants undergo several types of change according to the grammatical relation that subsists between the word itself and the preceding word. Thus, in modern Irish, a word like _bo_ "ox" may under the appropriate circumstances, take the forms _bho_ (pronounce _wo_) or _mo_ (e.g., _an bo_ "the ox," as a subject, but _tir na mo_ "land of the oxen," as a possessive plural). In the verb the principle has as one of its most striking consequences the "aspiration" of initial consonants in the past tense. If a verb begins with _t_, say, it changes the _t_ to _th_ (now pronounced _h_) in forms of the past; if it begins with _g_, the consonant changes, in analogous forms, to _gh_ (pronounced like a voiced spirant[44] _g_ or like _y_, according to the nature of the following vowel). In modern Irish the principle of consonantal change, which began in the oldest period of the language as a secondary consequence of certain phonetic conditions, has become one of the primary grammatical processes of the language.

[Footnote 44: See page 50.]

[Transcriber's note: Footnote 44 refers to the paragraph beginning on line 1534.]

Perhaps as remarkable as these Irish phenomena are the consonantal interchanges of Ful, an African language of the Soudan. Here we find that all nouns belonging to the personal class form the plural by changing their initial _g_, _j_, _d_, _b_, _k_, _ch_, and _p_ to _y_ (or _w_), _y_, _r_, _w_, _h_, _s_ and _f_ respectively; e.g., _jim-o_ "companion," _yim-'be_ "companions"; _pio-o_ "beater," _fio-'be_ "beaters." Curiously enough, nouns that belong to the class of things form their singular and plural in exactly reverse fashion, e.g., _yola-re_ "grass-grown place," _jola-je_ "grass-grown places"; _fitan-du_ "soul," _pital-i_ "souls." In Nootka, to refer to but one other language in which the process is found, the _t_ or _tl_[45] of many verbal suffixes becomes _hl_ in forms denoting repetition, e.g., _hita-'ato_ "to fall out," _hita-'ahl_ "to keep falling out"; _mat-achisht-utl_ "to fly on to the water," _mat-achisht-ohl_ "to keep flying on to the water." Further, the _hl_ of certain elements changes to a peculiar _h_-sound in plural forms, e.g., _yak-ohl_ "sore-faced," _yak-oh_ "sore-faced (people)."

[Footnote 45: These orthographies are but makeshifts for simple sounds.]

Nothing is more natural than the prevalence of reduplication, in other words, the repetition of all or part of the radical element. The process is generally employed, with self-evident symbolism, to indicate such concepts as distribution, plurality, repetition, customary activity, increase of size, added intensity, continuance. Even in English it is not unknown, though it is not generally accounted one of the typical formative devices of our language. Such words as _goody-goody_ and _to pooh-pooh_ have become accepted as part of our normal vocabulary, but the method of duplication may on occasion be used more freely than is indicated by such stereotyped examples. Such locutions as _a big big man_ or _Let it cool till it's thick thick_ are far more common, especially in the speech of women and children, than our linguistic text-books would lead one to suppose. In a class by themselves are the really enormous number of words, many of them sound-imitative or contemptuous in psychological tone, that consist of duplications with either change of the vowel or change of the initial consonant--words of the type _sing-song_, _riff-raff_, _wishy-washy_, _harum-skarum_, _roly-poly_. Words of this type are all but universal. Such examples as the Russian _Chudo-Yudo_ (a dragon), the Chinese _ping-pang_ "rattling of rain on the roof,"[46] the Tibetan _kyang-kyong_ "lazy," and the Manchu _porpon parpan_ "blear-eyed" are curiously reminiscent, both in form and in psychology, of words nearer home. But it can hardly be said that the duplicative process is of a distinctively grammatical significance in English. We must turn to other languages for illustration. Such cases as Hottentot _go-go_ "to look at carefully" (from _go_ "to see"), Somali _fen-fen_ "to gnaw at on all sides" (from _fen_ "to gnaw at"), Chinook _iwi iwi_ "to look about carefully, to examine" (from _iwi_ "to appear"), or Tsimshian _am'am_ "several (are) good" (from _am_ "good") do not depart from the natural and fundamental range of significance of the process. A more abstract function is illustrated in Ewe,[47] in which both infinitives and verbal adjectives are formed from verbs by duplication; e.g., _yi_ "to go," _yiyi_ "to go, act of going"; _wo_ "to do," _wowo_[48] "done"; _mawomawo_ "not to do" (with both duplicated verb stem and duplicated negative particle). Causative duplications are characteristic of Hottentot, e.g., _gam-gam_[49] "to cause to tell" (from _gam_ "to tell"). Or the process may be used to derive verbs from nouns, as in Hottentot _khoe-khoe_ "to talk Hottentot" (from _khoe-b_ "man, Hottentot"), or as in Kwakiutl _metmat_ "to eat clams" (radical element _met-_ "clam").

[Footnote 46: Whence our _ping-pong_.]

[Footnote 47: An African language of the Guinea Coast.]

[Footnote 48: In the verbal adjective the tone of the second syllable differs from that of the first.]

[Footnote 49: Initial "click" (see page 55, note 15) omitted.]

[Transcriber's note: Footnote 49 refers to Footnote 24, beginning on line 1729.]

The most characteristic examples of reduplication are such as repeat only part of the radical element. It would be possible to demonstrate the existence of a vast number of formal types of such partial duplication, according to whether the process makes use of one or more of the radical consonants, preserves or weakens or alters the radical vowel, or affects the beginning, the middle, or the end of the radical element. The functions are even more exuberantly developed than with simple duplication, though the basic notion, at least in origin, is nearly always one of repetition or continuance. Examples illustrating this fundamental function can be quoted from all parts of the globe. Initially reduplicating are, for instance, Shilh _ggen_ "to be sleeping" (from _gen_ "to sleep"); Ful _pepeu-'do_ "liar" (i.e., "one who always lies"), plural _fefeu-'be_ (from _fewa_ "to lie"); Bontoc Igorot _anak_ "child," _ananak_ "children"; _kamu-ek_ "I hasten," _kakamu-ek_ "I hasten more"; Tsimshian _gyad_ "person," _gyigyad_ "people"; Nass _gyibayuk_ "to fly," _gyigyibayuk_ "one who is flying." Psychologically comparable, but with the reduplication at the end, are Somali _ur_ "body," plural _urar_; Hausa _suna_ "name," plural _sunana-ki;_ Washo[50] _gusu_ "buffalo," _gususu_ "buffaloes"; Takelma[51] _himi-d-_ "to talk to," _himim-d-_ "to be accustomed to talk to." Even more commonly than simple duplication, this partial duplication of the radical element has taken on in many languages functions that seem in no way related to the idea of increase. The best known examples are probably the initial reduplication of our older Indo-European languages, which helps to form the perfect tense of many verbs (e.g., Sanskrit _dadarsha_ "I have seen," Greek _leloipa_ "I have left," Latin _tetigi_ "I have touched," Gothic _lelot_ "I have let"). In Nootka reduplication of the radical element is often employed in association with certain suffixes; e.g., _hluch-_ "woman" forms _hluhluch-'ituhl_ "to dream of a woman," _hluhluch-k'ok_ "resembling a woman." Psychologically similar to the Greek and Latin examples are many Takelma cases of verbs that exhibit two forms of the stem, one employed in the present or past, the other in the future and in certain modes and verbal derivatives. The former has final reduplication, which is absent in the latter; e.g., _al-yebeb-i'n_ "I show (or showed) to him," _al-yeb-in_ "I shall show him."

[Footnote 50: An Indian language of Nevada.]

[Footnote 51: An Indian language of Oregon.]

We come now to the subtlest of all grammatical processes, variations in accent, whether of stress or pitch. The chief difficulty in isolating accent as a functional process is that it is so often combined with alternations in vocalic quantity or quality or complicated by the presence of affixed elements that its grammatical value appears as a secondary rather than as a primary feature. In Greek, for instance, it is characteristic of true verbal forms that they throw the accent back as far as the general accentual rules will permit, while nouns may be more freely accented. There is thus a striking accentual difference between a verbal form like _eluthemen_ "we were released," accented on the second syllable of the word, and its participial derivative _lutheis_ "released," accented on the last. The presence of the characteristic verbal elements _e-_ and _-men_ in the first case and of the nominal _-s_ in the second tends to obscure the inherent value of the accentual alternation. This value comes out very neatly in such English doublets as _to refund_ and _a refund_, _to extract_ and _an extract, to come down_ and _a come down_, _to lack luster_ and _lack-luster eyes_, in which the difference between the verb and the noun is entirely a matter of changing stress. In the Athabaskan languages there are not infrequently significant alternations of accent, as in Navaho _ta-di-gis_ "you wash yourself" (accented on the second syllable), _ta-di-gis_ "he washes himself" (accented on the first).[52]

[Footnote 52: It is not unlikely, however, that these Athabaskan alternations are primarily tonal in character.]

Pitch accent may be as functional as stress and is perhaps more often so. The mere fact, however, that pitch variations are phonetically essential to the language, as in Chinese (e.g., _feng_ "wind" with a level tone, _feng_ "to serve" with a falling tone) or as in classical Greek (e.g., _lab-on_ "having taken" with a simple or high tone on the suffixed participial _-on_, _gunaik-on_ "of women" with a compound or falling tone on the case suffix _-on_) does not necessarily constitute a functional, or perhaps we had better say grammatical, use of pitch. In such cases the pitch is merely inherent in the radical element or affix, as any vowel or consonant might be. It is different with such Chinese alternations as _chung_ (level) "middle" and _chung_ (falling) "to hit the middle"; _mai_ (rising) "to buy" and _mai_ (falling) "to sell"; _pei_ (falling) "back" and _pei_ (level) "to carry on the back." Examples of this type are not exactly common in Chinese and the language cannot be said to possess at present a definite feeling for tonal differences as symbolic of the distinction between noun and verb.