Productivity and Creativity: Studies in General and Descriptive Linguistics in Honor of E. M. Uhlenbeck 9783110806946, 9783110162172

Table of contents :
Preface
E. M. Uhlenbeck: A personal appreciation
Section 1. General linguistics
The catalytic function of markedness
The sign gravitates to the word
The language of thought revisited
Foreign- and second-language learning and teaching: Will the twain ever meet?
Answers to questions put to an FSP theorist by Professor E. M. Uhlenbeck
Some puzzles that arise from the assumption that to learn a language is to construct a grammar
Ordering of valency slots from a communicative point of view
On the obvious ability of people to speak
Should we believe in UG?
Epistemology and linguistics: Anatomy of an approach
Why it is so important to care about language in early stages of education
Against the establishment: Sidelines on Henry Sweet
On divergent perspectives and controversial issues in studies of language and mind
Is language a virus? Reflections on the use of biological metaphors in the study of language
Morphology and meaning: From Bopp to Bob, before and after
On complementarity
Word, sentence, and discourse
The morpheme in Bloomfield’s Language
La linguistique entre psychologie et sociologie
Section 2. Javanese and Indonesian
A royal birthday in nineteenth century Java
Between brackets: On “vocabulary building” in Batavia ca 1930
The verbal auxiliary padha in contemporary Javanese
Communicative salience in Old Javanese
A note on relative markers in Javanese
Adversative-passive verbs in standard Javanese
An Old Javanese poem on chronogram words
Adaptation of loan-words ending in -is/-ik in Indonesian
Section 3. Pacific and Amerindian languages
The name of the sweet potato: A case of pre-conquest contact between South America and the Pacific
Reduplication in Southeast Asian languages: Differences in word structures
Switch reference in Haruai: Grammar and discourse
The morphological status of partial reduplication: Evidence from Lushootseed and Lillooet
On the Japanese particle ο
Proto-Austro-Tai *pl, pr: Eggs Benedict or “Benedict’s Egg”?
Language endangerment and death in the central and southwestern Pacific, with notes on the western
Section 4. Indo-European and Afro-Asiatic languages
“Creatures great and small”: Some cross-linguistic parallels
Vowel reduction, tone and nominal declension in D’irayta
Grammaticalization and typological change: The clitic cline in Inner Asia Minor Greek
Zum Genitivattribut im Deutschen
Vocative case and pronoun in Ancient Greek and Latin
La construction de ἄρχεσθαι “commencer” avec l’infinitif aoriste dans les Septante: Un solécisme dans le grec judaïque d’Alexandrie
The dialect of Volendam – fifty years after van Ginniken: Preliminary data
Cases of cross-over between finite verb forms and nouns in Armenian

Citation preview

Productivity and Creativity

W G DE

Trends in Linguistics Studies and Monographs 116

Editor

Werner Winter

Mouton de Gruyter Berlin · New York

Productivity and Creativity Studies in General and Descriptive Linguistics in Honor of Ε. M. Uhlenbeck

edited by

Mark Janse with the assistance of

An Verlinden

Mouton de Gruyter Berlin · New York

1998

Mouton de Gruyter (formerly Mouton, The Hague) is a Division of Walter de Gruyter & Co., Berlin.

© Printed on acid-free paper which falls within the guidelines of the ANSI to ensure permanence and durability.

Library

of Congress

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Productivity and creativity ; studies in general and descriptive linguistics in honor of Ε. M. Uhlenbeck / edited by Mark Janse with the assistance of An Verlinden. p. cm. - (Trends in linguistics. Studies and monographs ; 116) Includes bibliographical references. ISBN 3-11-016217-2 1. Linguistics. I. Janse, Mark, 1959II. Verlinden, An. III. Uhlenbeck, Ε. M„ 1913- . IV. Series. P26.U37P76 1998 410-dc21 98-37493 CIP

Die Deutsche Bibliothek

-

Cataloging-in-Publication-Data

Productivity and creativity : studies in general and descriptive linguistics in honor of Ε. M. Uhlenbeck / ed. by Mark Janse with the assistance of An Verlinden. - Berlin ; New York : Mouton de Gruyter, 1998 (Trends in linguistics : Studies and monographs ; 116) ISBN 3-11-016217-2

© Copyright 1998 by Walter de Gruyter GmbH & Co., D-10785 Berlin All rights reserved, including those of translation into foreign languages. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher. Printing: Werner Hildebrand, Berlin. Binding: Lüderitz & Bauer, Berlin. Printed in Germany.

Preface Mark Janse

To μέγα βιβλίον ϊσον τώ μεγάλω κακώ Callimachus (fr. 465 Pfeiffer) When the great Greek poet and scholar Callimachus of Cyrene (3rd c. B.C.) wrote that "a big book equals a big evil", I'm pretty well sure he was not referring to Festschriften. Yet this particular Festschrift is not only a μέγα βιβλίον, but it has also been a μέγα κακόν at various stages of its production—which explains why it was published after the 85th birthday of my dear friend Bob Uhlenbeck on 9 August 1998 instead of before. To be sure, this Festschrift should have been published a long time ago—perhaps in 1979, when Bob retired as Professor of General Linguistics from the University of Leyden, or in 1983, when he retired as Professor of Javanese Language and Literature from the same university at the age of 70. 1 I already knew him personally at that time, but I was not at all in a position to edit a Festschrift for him then. In 1988 and 1993, when he celebrated his 75th and 80th birthday respectively, I was too much absorbed in my own projects to even consider the possibility of such a huge undertaking, so I decided that 1998 had to be the year. As I said, this Festschrift has at times been a μέγα κακόν, but this has, of course, nothing to do with Bob. A succession of hard- and software problems has resulted in six months of constant irritation, frustration and despair. Working with different appliances and especially working with different versions of what is probably the best advertised Word processor did not turn out to be great fun. For those of you who have always believed that Times = Times, no matter which version you use: forget it! The Times they are a-changing with every upgrade you purchase. Each new version turned out to have its own internal logic, resulting in the loss of special characters, diacritics, style definitions and, worse, minuscule changes in character spacing and layout generally. Consequently, every text had to be checked and re-checked up to four times before a final printout could be envisaged. Prefaces are for thanking the people who have made it all happen and this one is no exception. I would like to start with Eric De Vocht, Luc Schepens and Sonja Lauwers of ComputerWare Belgium and

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Mark Janse

Bruno Sermon of Apple Benelux who have done what they could to enable me to continue work on this volume. Thanks are also due to my colleagues Sijmen Tol and especially Inge Angevaare for indirect and direct support and assistance. To Katja Huder, Heide Addicks and Anke Beck of Mouton de Gruyter for editorial support and patience. To Mariette Uhlenbeck-Winkel for general support and secrecy. To my children, Cleo and Jason, for endurance and patience. To my wife, An Verlinden, γυναικι καλή τε και μεγάλη τε και άγλαά έργα ίδυνη, for technical, editorial, material, moral and other types of support. If this book looks what it looks like, it's thanks to her patience and skill. And last but definitely not least to Bob Uhlenbeck, magistro amicoque, without whom this Festschrift would not have existed. Happy birthday, Bob! Gent, 9 August 1998 Note 1.

A special issue of the Dutch journal Forum der Letteren on "Productivity in morphology" was dedicated to Bob in 1981.

Ε. Μ. Uhlenbeck: a personal appreciation Mark Janse

My first encounter with Bob Uhlenbeck took place on 6 January 1981.1 I had just graduated in classics from the University of Gent and at that time the prospects for finding a job in Belgium appeared not to be particularly good if you were of Dutch extraction. My M.A. thesis dealt with the structure of the noun phrase (or nominal group, as Bob would say) in the Greek and Latin versions of the Gospels. Not having had any formal training in one particular school of linguistics, I had started reading my way into linguistics with Saussure, Bloomfield, Chomsky and a few others. Then one day I happened across Bob's Critical comments on transformational-generative grammar (Uhlenbeck 1973). His common sense and astute criticism had a lot of appeal to me and I soon found myself in the camp of the Dutch structuralists with whom, apart from Bob's name, those of Albert Willem de Groot (1892-1963) and Anton Reichling (1898-1986) are most commonly associated (cf. Uhlenbeck et al. 1963; Uhlenbeck 1988). Being a Dutch structuralist was not particularly fashionable at that time, but then linguistics is about languages, not about fashions. Having decided to write a dissertation, I wanted to seek the advice of Bob who, unknowingly, had already taught me so much about language and linguistics. I remember being extremely excited when I received his first letter inviting me to come to Leiden to discuss things with him. I also remember quite vividly asking the porter if the name was pronounced ['utombek] or ['ylambek], for I didn't want to make a fool of myself. It was Wednesday, 6 January 1981, and it was going to change the course of my life dramatically. The idea was, initially, to ask Bob's advice as to who would be a suitable candidate to act as supervisor of my dissertation. Two years ago, Bob had retired from the chair of General Linguistics, but he still held the chair of Javanese Language and Literature. The idea was, of course, to find a classicist with a linguistic background (preferably congenial with Bob's—and mine), but somehow this never worked out. Instead I found myself preparing drafts for Bob who was going to be my supervisor as far as I was concerned. I remember Bob trying to convince me that it would be best for me to find a younger and more fashionable candidate to help me on, but to no avail.

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Mark Janse

In the meantime, I had obtained a (very) temporary appointment as a staff member of the Department of Classics at the University of Gent—things do change, even if you're Dutch. Afterwards, Bob was instrumental in helping me get a scholarship from the Dutch Ministry of Education and Science, the result being that I was now more convinced than ever that I was going to prepare my dissertation under Bob's supervision and no-one else's. Then one day in the early summer of 1982, Bob asked me if I knew about Bibliography Linguistique—which of course I did, as I had been using BL from the time I was a graduate student for my own research. It turned out that Bob was at that time Secretary-General of the Permanent International Committee of Linguists and as such supervisor of BL, which was published by the Committee under the auspices of the International Council for Philosophy and Humanistic Studies. It so happened that Bob was looking for an assistant editor to join the editorial board of BL and apparently, I had passed the test without even having been aware that there had been one. Obviously, this was a major challenge for me and I devoted more time to BL and less to my dissertation, much to Bob's dissatisfaction who urged me not to give up my original intention. Yet things were not about to change overnight, especially not when on Saturday, 9 July 1983, Bob announced that he had arranged a permanent appointment as editor of BL. It was my wedding day and I don't recall having received a better wedding gift that day—apart from my beloved wife, of course. The result was, however, that I got more and more absorbed in my job, especially after my predecessor Johannes Jurrian Beylsmit (1921-1986) had died on 19 February 1986 (cf. Janse 1986). In the meantime, I had obtained a degree in Linguistics from the University of Ghent, where I also studied Biblical Hebrew for two years. Although there was an obvious connection with my dissertation, I felt that it was especially important for BL to specialize in Linguistics and Hebrew (being a HamitoSemitic language and hence belonging to a family thus far unknown to me, but which I had to cover bibliographically for BL). The net result was, as far as Bob was concerned, that my dissertation was again delayed by several years. In the meantime, however, we had become good friends. Of crucial importance was Bob's remark, one day, that I shouldn't be calling him "Professor Uhlenbeck" any longer, just "Bob". I think it must have been something of a shock to me at first, for to me Bob or, rather, Professor Uhlenbeck, was one of the leading figures in Linguistics in the Low Countries. And now I should call him just "Bob"—which didn't seem to make sense anyway if your initials are E.M., but that's another story. I got used to calling him "Bob" allright

Ε. Μ. Uhlenbeck: A personal appreciation

ix

and I have to admit that I was very proud of it, because it reminded me that he was not just my supervisor and teacher but also my friend. Since Bob was Secretary-General of the Permanent International Committee of Linguists and I was editor of BL, we met very often in my office in The Hague where he also kept his files after his retirement from the University of Leiden in 1983. So we would be discussing BL matters, but most of the time we would talk linguistics and especially dissertation. I have very fond memories of these regular meetings where I learnt more about language and linguistics than I had when I was doing linguistics at the university. I remember Bob telling me one day that supervising a Ph.D. student is the highest form of teaching. I think all of Bob's former Ph.D. students, most of whom are represented in this volume, will agree on that. This is why he never had too many Ph.D. students at the same time: it would have been impossible for him to supervise them properly. Bob took his job seriously, very seriously, as everybody who has been in my position will agree. Bob was the devil's advocate of his Ph.D. students and, worse, their bad conscience at that. As for myself, I knew that what I had written down was far from perfect, but Bob always knew exactly what was wrong and why. There was no way escaping him and more than often his handwritten remarks, comments and questions took up more space than my typewritten text. It wasn't easy, especially if you had considered yourself a promising Ph.D. student in a not too remote past and all of a sudden had gotten the feeling that you "didn't know nothing". This was, of course, the big challenge and I have always clung to the idea that there had to be something, anything, about me that made Bob invest so much time in criticizing my attemps at doing linguistics properly. This feeling is perfectly expressed in the words of Jan Mulder, another former student of Bob's: "I cannot really remember that he "taught" us linguistics, at least not in the way one teaches a language, or history, or physics. ... What Uhlenbeck did do was teach us to think. And even more than that, he taught us, by discussing everything at length and in great detail, to think about what we were thinking about. He trained us to think about linguistic issues "once removed" and to think with self-criticism" (Mulder 1998: 119f.). It was a hard lesson, but the best I could have got. Unfortunately, when it all started to dawn on me, Bob had lost his ius promovendi, so he couldn't be my supervisor anymore, at least not officially. As for myself, I had almost given up hopes of ever finishing my dissertation. Instead, I started publishing parts of it in journals and conference proceedings. I always found writing hard labour (and I still do) and this is because Bob taught us to be as critical as possible. His teaching was proven succesful, once you became your own worst

χ

Mark Janse

critic, your own devil's advocate. There was a time (and I'm still living in it), when there was only one man whose compliments really mattered to me, no matter what all the others said, and that was Bob Uhlenbeck. And I still feel very sorry that, by the time I obtained my Ph.D. at the University of Ghent in 1995, Bob was sitting in the audience and not in the jury, where he should have been—although maybe I was also a tiny little bit relieved at not being exposed to my master's voice. Dear Bob, this volume is for you, in recognition of all you have done for me and for generations of other students who have benefitted from your teaching. In recognition also of everything you have done to make linguistics an established science in The Netherlands and abroad. And in recognition of the numerous other things you have accomplished—I am thinking in particular of the Permanent International Committee of Linguists, Bibliographie Linguistique, Lingua, the Royal Institute of Linguistics and Anthropology, the Netherlands Institute of Advanced Studies. 2 The title of this volume contains two of the central concepts in your theoretical work which I believe also apply to your life and define your personality: Productivity and Creativity. Thanks for being a teacher, but above all, thanks for being a friend. Ad multos annos! Notes

1 2

As the title indicates, this is not a biographical notice for which see Janse— SWiggers (1996). This is the "statesman-like role" referred to by Grace (1998: 78).

References Grace, George W. 1998 "Some puzzles that arise from the assumption that to learn a language is to construct a grammar", this volume, 69-81. Janse, Mark 1986 "Johannes Jurrian Beylsmit (1921-1986)", Historiographica Linguistica 13: 469-471. Janse, Mark—Pierre Swiggers 1996 Ε. M. Uhlenbeck: bio-bibliographical notice. Followed by Prof. Uhlenbeck's address: "Javanese linguistics: a retrospect and some prospects". Leuven: Centre international de Diabetologie generale.

Ε. Μ. Uhlenbeck: a personal appreciation

xi

Mulder, Jan W. F. 1998 "Epistemology and linguistics: anatomy of an approach", this volume, 115-160. Uhlenbeck, Ε. M. 1973 Critical comments on transformational-generative grammar, 19621972. The Hague: Smits. 1988 "Anton Reichling: Nijmegen 9 juli 1898—Amsterdam 25 mei 1986", Jaarboek van de Maatschappij der Nederlandse Letterkunde te Leiden 1986-1987: 110-120. Uhlenbeck, Ε. M. et al. 1963 "Albert Willem de Groot: 13 Jan. 1892—14 Dec. 1963", Lingua 12: 229-232.

Contents

Preface Mark Janse Ε. Μ. Uhlenbeck: Α personal appreciation Mark Janse Section 1 General linguistics The catalytic function of markedness Mohamed Sami Anwar The sign gravitates to the word Byron W. Bender The language of thought revisited Flip G. Droste Foreign- and second-language learning and teaching: Will the twain ever meet? Arthur J. van Essen Answers to questions put to an FSP theorist by Professor Ε. M. Uhlenbeck Jan Firbas Some puzzles that arise from the assumption that to learn a language is to construct a grammar George W. Grace Ordering of valency slots from a communicative point of view Eva Hajicovä On the obvious ability of people to speak Walter Hirtle

xiv

Contents

Should we believe in UG? Peter Matthews

103

Epistemology and linguistics: Anatomy of an approach Jan W. F. Mulder

115

Why it is so important to care about language in early stages of education PetrPit'ha

161

Against the establishment: Sidelines on Henry Sweet Robert Henry Robins

167

On divergent perspectives and controversial issues in studies of language and mind Ragnar Rommetveit

179

Is language a virus? Reflections on the use of biological metaphors in the study of language Reinier Salverda

191

Morphology and meaning: From Bopp to Bob, before and after Henk Schultink

211

On complementarity Hansjakob Seiler

231

Word, sentence, and discourse Petr Sgall

243

The morpheme in Bloomfield's Language Pierre Swiggersentre La linguistique psychologie et sociologie Wiecher Zwanenburg

251 265

Section 2 Javanese and Indonesian A royal birthday in nineteenth century Java Clara Brakel-Papenhuyzen

281

Contents

xv

Between brackets: On "vocabulary building" in Batavia ca 1930 C. D. Grijns

297

The verbal auxiliary padha in contemporary Javanese Katrina Hayward

317

Communicative salience in Old Javanese BerendJ. Hoff

337

A note on relative markers in Javanese A. K. Ogloblin

349

Adversative-passive verbs in standard Javanese D. Edi Subroto

357

An Old Javanese poem on chronogram words A. Teeuw

369

Adaptation of loan-words ending in -is/-ik in Indonesian J. W. de Vries

393

Section 3 Pacific and Amerindian languages The name of the sweet potato: A case of pre-conquest contact between South America and the Pacific Willem F. Η. Adelaar

403

Reduplication in Southeast Asian languages: Differences in word structures Natalia F. Alieva

413

Switch reference in Haruai: Grammar and discourse Bernard Comrie

421

The morphological status of partial reduplication: Evidence from Lushootseed and Lillooet Jan P. van Eijk

433

On the Japanese particle ο Kazuko Inoue

449

xv i

Contents

Proto-Austro-Tai *pl, pr : Eggs Benedict or "Benedict's Egg" W. Wilfried Schuhmacher Language endangerment and death in the central and southwestern Pacific, with notes on the western Stephen A. Wurm Section 4 Indo-European and Afro-Asiatic languages "Creatures great and small": Some cross-linguistic parallels W. Sidney Allen Vowel reduction, tone and nominal declension in D'irayta Richard J. Hayward Grammaticalization and typological change: The clitic cline in Inner Asia Minor Greek Mark Janse Zum Genitivattribut im Deutschen Odo Leys Vocative case and pronoun in Ancient Greek and Latin Gerard Mussies La construction de άρχεσθαι "commencer" avec l'infinitif aoriste dans les Septante: Un solecisme dans le grec judai'que d'Alexandrie C. J. Ruijgh The dialect of Volendam—fifty years after van Ginniken: Preliminary data Sijmen Tol Cases of cross-over between finite verb forms and nouns in Armenian Werner Winter

Section 1 General linguistics

The catalytic function of markedness Mohamed Sami Anwar

1. Introduction The notion of markedness covers a number of disparate and semiindependent linguistic phenomena (cf. Battistella 1996). This paper will survey some of the main trends in this area and propose that markedness may have a catalytic function in the grammar toward achieving regularity of paradigms and productivity of rules. I will also show that although markedness may be level-sensitive, its effects may appear on other levels. In other words, its "rippling" effects may feed rules at earlier or later levels of the grammar. The paper will also show that economy and motivation may be the main competing factors behind markedness. The motivation is that language tries to avoid markedness through diverse mechanisms which aim at functional discreteness. An attempt will also be made to evaluate current criteria used for establishing hierarchies of markedness to show that in fact judging one level of the grammar may not be enough since marked forms and processes may draw on data from other levels of the grammar.

2. Previous studies on markedness The concept of markedness started with the Prague School of Linguistics (cf. Vachek 1966). Nicolai Trubetzkoy and Roman Jakobson differentiated sounds by using binary phonological features. For example, ρ is [-voice] while b is [+voice]; also b is [-nasal] while m is [+nasal]. Thus b is marked for voice while m is marked for nasality. Trubetzkoy (1939) noted that the unmarked value of a feature occurs in cases of internally conditioned neutralization, as the occurrence in Russian of the voiceless consonants ρ t s in word-final position. He also noted that unmarked categories are more frequent than marked ones. Thus voiceless stops are more frequent than voiced ones, orals than nasals, etc. Jakobson (1932) transferred the concept of markedness to morphological oppositions among forms. Then the concept went a step further when Jakobson (1941) presented the idea of the implicational laws of phonology by drawing on data from language acquisition, aphasia, and phonological systems.

4

Mohamed Sami Anwar

Although the term "markedness" is not explicitly used in Jakobson (1941), it is clear that the concept is implied in the different analyses provided by him. A major contribution to the concept was made by Chomsky and Halle (1968) who outlined a formalized theory of phonological markedness. This theory spurred a lot of controversy among linguists. Stampe (1972) and Bailey (1973) offered another framework for the analysis of markedness, viz. natural (generative) phonology. This theory suggests that all phonological rules are natural processes motivated by the principle of least effort. Naturalness has also been invoked in morphology by natural morphologists (cf. Dressler et al. 1987). They examine markedness relations among corresponding linguistic entities. To them, the natural process is to add a marker to a form which is thus considered "marked". A more marked process is to modify the stem; this process of modification is one step more marked than the "marked" form. 1 The most marked process according to the natural morphologists is subtraction, as in the Russian genitive plural, e.g. slovo "word" > slov (genitive plural). This is how natural morphologists classify markedness relations among the corresponding grammatical entities. In brief, subtractive category markers are more marked than modificatory ones, and modificatory markers are more marked than additive ones. They also invoke the "implicational law", first stated by Jakobson (1941), and believe that the existence of (more) marked grammatical entities in a language system implies the existence of their less marked/unmarked counterparts. According to Wurzel (n.d.): (i)

(more) marked grammatical entities are replaced by their less marked/unmarked counterparts in language change. (ii) (more) marked grammatical entities are acquired before their less marked/unmarked counterparts in first-language learning. (iii) (more) marked grammatical entities get lost before their less marked/unmarked counterparts in aphasia. (iv) (more) marked grammatical entities are more likely to undergo slips of the tongue than their less marked/unmarked counterparts. The concept of naturalness has also been extended to syntax. Haiman (1985) believes that iconicity can be posited as a motivation for markedness and that the variety of a grammatical form is purposeful and motivated. Purposefulness may be related to the emic principle and motivated may mean non-arbitrary. Haiman (1985: 18) also believes that "... the tendencies to maximize iconicity and to

The catalytic function of markedness

5

maximize economy are two of the most important competing motivations for linguistic forms in general ..." He adds that economy may be paradigmatic and syntagmatic: Paradigmatic economy ... economizes on the inventory of signs within a system. It... allows us to account for the asymmetry between synonymy and homonymy in human languages. This kind of economy is more than compatible with iconicity and is explicitly identified with the tendency to establish isomorphism between form and meaning ... Economizing on lexical inventory preserves isomorphism inasmuch as no two distinct forms will have the same communicative function. The same economy also contributes to motivation ... inasmuch as the circumlocution, periphrases, and definitions in languages of a relatively reduced vocabulary are invariably more perspicuous than the words they paraphrase in a lexically elaborated register.

The presence of a marker in a form does not necessarily imply that a form is marked. Syntacticians use other criteria such as stylistic variation or deviation from a general rule as a sign of markedness. Quirk et al. (1985: 155) base their analysis of markedness on functional criteria. The form boy (sing), for instance, is unmarked and boys is marked with -5 for plural. However, to them boy and boys are unmarked for case since they show the common case as compared to the marked genitive case boy's-boys'. Markedness may also be judged according to contextual distribution: the form which is used more is unmarked and the form which is restricted in distribution is marked: old, deep and far are unmarked in the following examples as compared to young, shallow and near. (1)

old *young

b. The water is two metres { I

* (feel? *shallow

} }

c.

How Ί I

old * *young

|

d. u

How {^

far J "near

a.

He is twenty years |

is he ?

I is the village?

Quirk et al. observe that "in specific contexts, either of two pairs of adjectives like heavy/light, long/short can be considered unmarked. The choice of term is determined by our point of orientation" (1985: 472). The following example is quoted for illustration:

6

Mohamed Sami Anwar

(2)

His last javelin throw was a few inches short.

Another example is the use of and as a marker for coordination. To Quirk et al. (1985: 918), syndetic coordination with and is unmarked, as compared to asyndetic coordination without and, when the latter is used for dramatic intensification as in: (3)

Mrs. Varley sold sweets, chocolates, toffees, apples ... anything a child could desire.

Quirk et al. (1985: 918) add that "syndetic coordination is the more usual form ..." and is therefore considered unmarked. Other cases where a form is considered marked although no marker is used is the subjunctive. To Quirk et al. (1985: 155) the subjunctive in Modern English is a "stylistically somewhat marked variant of other constructions". They give the following reason: "Except with BE, where the subjunctive form be is distinct from the indicative form am, is, and are, the subjunctive is distinct only in the third person singular". So in (4) the subjunctive is marked because there is no overt marker for agreement: (4) v 7

TheyJ insisted that he

i I

go/*goes

J

i

there

So Quirk et al. consider the subjunctive and asyndetic coordination marked, not in the sense that a marker is present (the 3rd person singular present agreement in the former and and in the latter) but in terms of what is usual in a certain use. To conclude this section, studies on markedness vary in the following respects: (a)

(b)

The notion of markedness seems to vary according to the level of analysis. Thus two forms may be considered marked or unmarked depending on: (i) the presence of an overt marker: boy-boys; (ii) the opposition between them: fruitful vs. fruitless (both have the markers -ful and -less·, the first is "normal" and so is unmarked); (iii) both forms may not have markers: good-bad (the former is unmarked as it is the positive member of the pair). Another criterion of markedness is distribution; the form which is used less is marked, such as young vs. old: in (1).

The catalytic function of markedness

(c) (d) (e)

7

There seems to be an agreement that markedness "should be examined in a matrix" and that "unmarked values do not contribute to complexity" (Chomsky—Halle 1968: 402). Some linguists set up degrees of markedness. To Wurzel, as said above, substraction is more marked than modification which, in turn, is more marked than addition. The evidence used so far varies between the functional criteria of iconism and the processes of language acquisition, change, slips of the tongue and aphasia.

3. Markedness and adequacy In the following sections I will argue that markedness can best be examined within the overall adequacy of the system of grammar. It is not merely a matter of opposition, distribution or function. More than one such variable may be used in the system of grammar in order to achieve adequacy. Thus, different techniques may be motivated not only by economy but also by feeding a certain rule (as will be shown below). Moreover, a marked form may be a default form (or an input) to other rules and thus its presence in the system is required to make the system normal. Thus, it contributes toward the regularity of the system. To give an example, the form scientifical is not an English form. However, to form the adverb scientifically from the root science, we need to form scientifical. This form is limited in use although it fills a gap in the system: (5)

fantasy science

fantastic scientific

fantastical + ly *scientifical + ly

However, markedness may be higher if a base form looks similar to another form as in: (6)

economy

economic economic

*economical + ly economical + ly

Such a base form—posited only to feed another marker—creates opacity with a natural form that already exists in a paradigm. In (6) the stem economical in economically may be interpreted as economical (thrifty)—a form which exists in the paradigm—or as * economic which is formed only to feed -al, the adverb marker. 2 This example shows that when we look at a certain process, in this case adding -al, we may need to examine earlier levels of the grammar. This implies that grammatical processes should be examined in toto. In other

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Mohamed Sami Anwar

words, the level of the process, its input, its output, and the relation of that output to the paradigm or related paradigms should be taken into consideration. This has implications for economy which have to be looked at not in terms of "saving" certain forms—an approach adopted by Haiman (1985) as shown above—but in terms of the overall adequacy of the system. This point will be elaborated on below. The above examples of marked base forms help fill in gaps and achieve regularity of grammatical patterns. There are other cases where the "negative" or the "positive" form of a pair is posited only to feed other markers. This base form may not exist in the language. In Anwar (1996) the following examples of base forms exist only to derive participles (7) and adjectives (8) with the marker un~: (7)

*undefeat *unpromise *unexpect

undefeated defeat unpromising promise unexpected expect

(8)

*unsatisfy *bendable *speakable

unsatisfied unbendable unspeakbale

defeated promising expected

So, un- may be attached to derived participles and adjectives but not to their corresponding underlying verbs and adjectives. The above base forms are marked on their own since they are limited in distribution as they are posited only to feed other levels in the grammar. However, they add to the productivity and regularity of the system, which implies that markedness occurs at an "earlier" level of the grammar. However, the opposite may be true. Markedness (or "narrowing", for that matter) may occur at a higher level, as shown in Anwar (1984: 245): [R]ules apply in a directional way, i.e. they begin at the basic prototypical semantic level and move on to the different components of the grammar. This implies that rules look forward, i.e. the rules of a higher grammatical component cannot block or efface the rules of an earlier component. However, the applicability of rules in one component of the grammar can affect the applicability of rules in a later component by way feeding or bleeding, ä la Kiparsky.

An example is the verb drink which combines with the set liquids at the prototypical level:

The catalytic function of markedness

(9)

drink

9

water tea coffee wine

However, the derived adjective drunk is marked in the sense that it narrows in meaning and becomes limited to wine only. A form may even yield forms that are more "specialized" and are thus "marked" for this matter. For example, the form hang yields hanged and hung for semantic purposes. Such markedness may be costly as one form may take the place of the other or the meaning of a certain form may change as it is the case with uninterested and disinterested which are derived from interest. In recent years, as Romaine (1994: 86) says: some English speakers have complained that many people use disinterested incorrectly to mean 'uninterested'. Their decision to condemn this as incorrect is based on the fact that formerly it meant 'impartial' and this is still the meaning recorded in most dictionaries. Nearly all the members of the usage panel of The American Heritage Dictionary (1975), for instance, who include authors, critics, publishers, and academics, reject the new meaning of disinterested as non-standard.

In this case the adequacy of the system is upset as one form takes the place of another one which may be dropped out of usage. To conclude this section, the above examples have dealt with the process of addition which may be fed by forms that may or may not exist in the language and how this process may affect forms of an earlier or later level of the grammar. It has also been shown that the process of addition is not mechanical: it is subject to constraints from within the paradigm. In what follows it will also be shown how the constraints may involve more than one paradigm. Sometimes a form tries to achieve its discreteness by establishing relation with other paradigms. In this case a marker is reinterpreted and as such may be dropped, as in the American usage of flammable instead of inflammable. The prefix in- is an example of the interaction between different paradigms. In a word like invaluable it has a positive meaning, priceless: As Follet (1980: 336) notes: If one wants to say without value, one must say valueless or worthless; and for the literal sense of lacking a price one must say unpriced, because without price has also come to connote high value.

In the case of the word flammable, the marker in- was deleted:

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Mohamed Sami Anwar

It was found that more and more people took the word inflammable to mean not capable of burning. They were reasoning by analogy from the many words in in- in which the prefix means not and forgetting the smaller number in which it either means in or serves as an intensive (or locative) particle— inhere, infect, inspire, incarcerate ...

Such a process may create more markedness in the system as the deletion may not be general. The prefix in- is still used in forms such as inflammatory and inflamed. Moreover, the change to flammable does not cover the metaphorical use of inflammable, as Follet (1980: 336) correctly observes: The figurative use of inflammable (= easily aroused) will remain unaffected by the practical change. Novelists and biographers will continue to speak of an inflammable temperament, rather than a flammable one.

This shows that two different processes may apply within one paradigm as in- is added/subtracted in different forms. However, addition should not be regarded the reverse of subtraction (as will be shown in the next section).

4. Markednes and morphological processes Natural morphologists give the impression that subtraction is the opposite of addition in the sense that a certain marker is deleted instead of being added. In fact, the grammar may delete formatives other than those added. Moreover, the processes of adding, modifying and subtracting may interact in one form. To show that subtraction is not the reverse of addition, consider the following examples where tele- is added to other forms: television, telecast, telecommunication, telefilm, telegram, etc. When such forms are shortened, the form tele- which is added may not be subtracted. It may even be the only form retained as in British English telly. Moreover, the process of modification may apply as in the form Τ. V. It is also necessary to remember that such rules are levelsensitive. Other derived forms resist such rules as in derived verbs and agents: televise-televisor. The same applies to other forms with tele-. In some cases addition may involve a form that does not exist in the language:

The catalytic function of markedness

(10) tooth *dent

*toothal dental

11

*toothist dentist

Each of these roots serves as an input to a different paradigm: (11) tooth: teeth, (to) teeth, teether, teething In this particular case the adjective with -al and the noun with -ist are excluded. Dent, on the other hand, feeds the adjective dental and the noun dentist. Dental in turn serves as an input to other forms such as dental floss (hygiene, implant, etc.). And, finally, tooth serves as an input to tooth ache (brush, fairy, powder, etc). This type of markedness creates a system within the system. Such polysystemic features add to the complexity of the grammar. Foreign learners of English face the problem of differentiating among these forms and tend to use one regular form such as dental brush, dental ache, etc. There may be an intermediate stage between addition and subtraction, viz. the non-addition of a certain marker or what is known in the literature as blocking. Instances of blocking may lead to markedness as different forms try to achieve iconicity and thus tend to be specialized. An example is the agentive -er as in writer. It does not add to steal because English has thief with the same meaning. However, it may not add to a verb like cook because the agentive meaning is conveyed by the converse noun cook, and when -er is added to the verb cook, the result is an instrumental: cooker, -er may be even locative as in sleeper. It may also denote removing the action expressed by the root as in duster. Wurzel (n.d.) considers modification as an intermediate degree of markedness between addition and subtraction. In this section I will give examples in which modification interacts with addition and subtraction in the same form. In other words, one form may undergo the three processes of modification, addition, and deletion. Examples will be drawn from broken plurals in Arabic. There are two kinds of plurals in Arabic: the sound or perfect plural (pluralis sanus) and the broken plural (pluralis fractus) (cf. Wright 1967: 191-192). The masculine pluralis sanus is formed by adding -uun to the root: mudarris "teacher (masculine singular)", mudarrisuun "teachers (masculine plural)". The feminine pluralis sanus is formed by adding -aat\ mudarrisaat "teachers (feminine plural)" The broken plural may apply the three processes of addition, subtraction and modification. Moreover, they apply to singular forms which may be masculine or feminine. Following are some examples where modification of the root occurs in all categories:

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(12) a.

Subtraction (+Addition) Singular Plural Masculine Feminine ?aSamm ?aswad ?aSfar

Sammaa? sawdaa? Safraa? Ϋαγη

Summ suud Sufr Tuyuun

(12) b. Addition (+ Subtraction) Singular Plural Masculine Feminine shaah shiyaah saxiyy saxiyyah ?asxiyaa? balad buldaan xaliifah xulafaa? baHO buHuuO labHaaQ3

'mute' 'black' 'yellow' 'eye*

'sheep' 'generous' 'country' 'successor' 'research (paper)'

These examples show that the three processes of addition, subtraction and modification interact. They create a high degree of markedness because: (a) (b) (c)

in the resulting plural form the gender is neutralized since there is no marker for it; the pattern of the plural does not correspond to either the singular masculine or feminine form; the two processes entail each other, i.e. if there is substitution, it should be followed by addition, and vice versa.

Arabic is also marked in another respect. The plural form of any foreign noun that is borrowed into the language is formed by adding -aat, the feminine plural marker, and not -uun, the masculine plural marker, regardless of the gender of the singular: (13)

Addition (+ Subtraction): Singular Plural Masculine Feminine baasha tilifizyuun baaS sister

bashawaat tilifizyunaat baSSaat sistaraat

'Pasha' 'television' 'bus' 'nurse'

The catalytic function of markedness

13

5. Conclusion The above discussion has been an attempt to show that markedness is level-sensitive and that its effects may appear at earlier or later levels of the grammar. As a result, a better technique for analyzing this phenomenon is to deal with it at the maximal domain of the grammar. This may help redress some of the shortcomings of current approaches to markedness which limit their techniques to variables of bi-uniqueness, binary features and the relation between a marker and its function. As has been shown, grammatical processes interact with each other and may cause marked forms to appear at different levels of the grammar. Notes 1.

2. 3.

Languages have many types of modification such as broken plurals in Arabic which has—according to some analyses—44 patterns. An example is rukbah "knee" > rukab "knees", qaryah "village" > quraa "villages" etc. The term "broken" is used to designate the structural change applied to the root. Webster's New World Dictionary (1966) lists economically as meaning "1. in an economical manner. 2. from the viewpoint of economics". In the last form, the pattern CVCVVC is a form for "plural of abundancy" and the form CVCCVVC is for "plural of paucity" (between three and ten).

References Anwar, Mohamed Sami 1984 "Pragmatic semantics and lexical prototypes: A modular approach", in: Gisele Doccos—Sorin Stati (eds.), 243-247. 1996 "The case of un-", Acta Linguistica Hungarica 34: 3-17. Bailey, Charles-James N. 1973 Variation and linguistic theory. Arlington, TX: Center for Applied Linguistics. Battistella, Edwin L. 1996 The logic of markedness. New York: Oxford University Press. Chomsky, Noam—Morris Halle 1968 The sound pattern of English.. New York: Harper & Row. Gisele Doccos—Sorin Stati (eds.) 1984 Actes du XI° colloque international de linguistique fonctionnelle. Padova: Clesp. Dressier, Wolfgang—Willi Mayerthaler—Oswald Panagl—Wolfgang U. Wurzel 1987 Leitmotifs in natural morphology. Amsterdam: Benjamins.

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Follet, Wilson 1980 Modern American usage. New York: Avenel Books. Haiman, John 1985 Natural syntax, iconicity and erosion. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Jakobson, Roman 1932 "Zur Struktur des russischen Verbums", in: Charisteria Guilelmo Mathesio quinquagenario oblata, 74-84. Prague: Cercle Linguistique de Prague. [1971] [Reprinted in: Selected writings. II. Word and language, 328-401. The Hague: Mouton.] 1941 Child language, aphasia and phonological universals. The Hague: Mouton. Quirk, Randolph—Sidney Greenbaum—Geoffrey Leech—Jan Svartvik 1985 A comprehensive grammar of the English language. London: Longman. Romaine, Suzanne 1994 Language in society. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Stampe, David 1972 How I spent my summer vacation. [Unpublished Ph.D. dissertation, University of Chicago.] Trubetzkoy, Nicolai S. 1939 Grundzüge der Phonologie. Prague: Cercle Linguistique de Prague. [1958] [Reprinted Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht.] [1969] [English version, transl. C. A. M. Baltaxe, Principles of Phonology, Berkeley: University of California Press.] Vachek, Josef 1966 The Linguistic School of Prague. Bloomington: Indiana University Press. Wright, W. 1967 A grammar of the Arabic language. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Wurzel, Wolfgang U. n.d. On markedness. [Unpublished MS.]

The sign gravitates to the word Byron W. Bender

1. Introduction The title comes from Aronoff (1976: 14), who was the first among generative grammarians to identify the morpheme as something other than the minimal unit of meaning and to call for a word-based morphology. 1 Much the same point had been made earlier by Robins (1959), while defending the word-based Word and Paradigm (WP) model of grammatical description, but the full force of that paper went largely unappreciated in North America. 2 Says Robins (1959: 118-119): The salient difference between WP and both the other two models is the centrality it accords to the word as a fundamental unit in the grammar as a whole and as the basic unit of syntactic structure. IA and IP both start from the morpheme as the minimal grammatical element and also the basic syntactic unit, passing through the word as relatively unimportant, and consequently regarding the traditional division between morphology and syntax as unnecessary or even misleading.

2. Morphemes as formatives A formalized version of WP must recognize the morpheme as the minimal grammatical (not semantic!) unit of a language, but it makes the word the unit that carries in its paradigmatic and syntagmatic associations the main weight of grammatical description (Robins 1959: 119).

The minimal grammatical unit is here differentiated from the minimal semantic unit, but also from "the unit that carries ... the main weight of grammatical description." What is the nature of this unit, and what is the meaning of "grammatical" when applied to it?

2.1. Building blocks of the primary articulation Morphemes are the building blocks of the primary articulation, recurring in various functions. To be certain of Robins's intent, we do

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best to look at his examples of these "minimal grammatical units," which he gives for Sundanese, Japanese, Latin, Greek, German, and English. To cite here just one from the last mentioned, we can note the -er suffix that functions as comparative inflection on adjectives and agentive suffix on verbs (to mention just two of its multiple functions). For Robins, one and the same -er morpheme is to be found in both poorer and doer, but with quite different functions. Recognizable elements such as this, that do not necessarily have a unitary meaning, are what others have called "formatives" (Matthews 1991: 127). Thus, from a WP point of view, and to illustrate its word-centered nature, one might identify poorer and worse as the comparatives associated with poor and bad, respectively, while also recognizing that their status as comparatives is independent of whether or not they contain the -er morpheme. I believe that when Robins refers to morphemes as "minimal grammatical units," he is using "grammatical" to refer one of the two levels of patterning to be found in language, the primary level (sometimes also called the "primary articulation of language"). Thus, whereas phonemes can be seen as the building blocks of the secondary level, morphemes play a parallel role at the primary (grammatical) level.

2.2. Aids to memory Morphemes help us cope with the memory burden. How important is this role? Comrie has observed that a language that was completely suppletive, in which no word resembled any other word, would be impossible, especially if it were also highly synthetic (where the word approaches the sentence in size), and sentences therefore did not resemble each other either. His reasoning is as follows (1981: 4546): Here, we can take agglutination as the norm: clearly segmentable and invariant morphemes, and define the index of fusion as deviation from this norm. The extreme deviation from this norm would thus be suppletion, where there is absolutely no segmentability and no invariance, as with English went as the past tense of go. Thus a language [that] represented the ideal fusional type would have all of its morphology in terms of suppletion; if it also had an ideally high index of synthesis, then each sentence would simply be totally and unsegmentably distinct from every other sentence of the language. Given that a language consists of an infinite number of sentences, this is clearly a practical impossibility, which means in practice that as the index of synthesis gets

The sign gravitates to the word

17

higher, the ratio of agglutination to fusion must also increase; more radically stated, there can be no such thing as an ideal fusional polysynthetic language.

If he is right, we do need—in all but the most analytic of languages —for an appreciable number of our words to have recognizable, recurring parts. Further, our knowledge of these parts in such languages (languages with an appreciable degree of morphological complexity) would seem to be crucial, even on an everyday basis— not just for coining new words, or understanding those not part of our prior experience. To see how dependent we are on such recurring parts, it is instructive to attempt to come up with nonsense words orally, and note how the vast majority are made up of such partials recombined—or, on the other hand, to note how difficult it is to coin multi-syllabic words that do not include the same.

2.2.1. A favorite English disyllabic pattern Even when morphemes do not help us at all with meaning, they can still be of great help in coping with and remembering the form of a word, especially longer and more complex words. It can be instructive to look at a favorite English pattern for two-syllable words, those with a stressed first syllable, and a weak, unstressed second syllable occupied by a single syllabic sonorant: /r, 1, m, n, y, w/—in their usual spellings, -er, -le, -om, -en, -y, -ow} When we thought of morphemes as being necessarily units of meaning, we were not led to look at these entities as a group, except where meaning clearly intersected, as it sometimes does, especially with -er, -en, and -y. But freed of the meaning requirement, and in quest of "favorite formatives," new vistas open up for the study of morphology. To cite just a few, here are some verbs in -er: meander, offer, pander, plunder, ponder, pucker, quiver, quaver, shudder, sunder, thunder, wander, wonder; nouns in -er: antler, bladder, boulder, brother (sister, father, mother), chowder, cider, dither, ember, finger, gander, glimmer, grocer, hammer, ladder, lather, manger, member, murder, order, paper, powder, shoulder, soccer, soldier, spider, tiger, timber, water, etc. Verbs in -le: bustle (cf. busy [?]), cobble, finagle, fondle (cf .fond), haggle, heckle, hustle (cf. hurry [?]), jostle (var. justle) (cf. joust), meddle, rustle (cf. roust [?]), sidle (cf. side), topple (cf. top), trundle, wrestle (cf. wrest), wriggle; nouns in -le/-el/-al:4 buckle, bundle (cf. bind, bound), cable, channel, cripple, cymbal, dial, duel, funnel, gaggle, handle (cf. hand), hassle, huddle, hurdle, ladle (cf. lade), people, rascal, rival, treacle, tunnel, turtle; adjectives in -le/-al:

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dismal, dual (trial), frugal, humble, fickle, oral, purple, supple, single (double, treble, triple, etc.), etc. Words of various classes in -am/-om/-em/-m: anthem, atom, balsam, blossom, bosom, bottom, buxom, chasm, -cosm, custom, diem, fathom, ism, plasm (cf. plastic), poem (cf. poet), rhythm, seldom, spasm (cf. spastic), system, totem, etc. Words in -en/-eon/-on: barren (cf. bare), bludgeon, burden, chicken, dozen, dungeon, even, falcon, garden (cf. yard), glisten, haven, heaven, kitchen, listen, mason, often, oven, person, pigeon, platen, raven, season, seven, virgin, wagon, warden (cf. ward), etc. Words in -y: any, bevy, city, copy, cozy, curry, ditty, dizzy, duty, happy, hurry, many, party, penny, putty, tiny, worry, etc. Words in -ow: arrow, barrow (cf. bear), burrow, fallow, fellow, follow, furrow, hallow, harrow, hollow, meadow (cf. mead), morrow, narrow (cf. near), pillow, shadow (cf. shade), shallow, sorrow, sparrow, widow, willow, window, etc. In the preceding paragraphs, instances are given of these six morphemes (in the Robins [WP] sense) without functions—except where a related word is cited occasionally. Instances in which the same morphemes have found functions include the following: -er with agentive function: baker, *butcher, doer, lover, reader, etc.; -er with comparative function: richer, poorer, wider, narrower,5 upper, lower, etc.; -er with "article of clothing" function: blazer, bloomer(s), jumper, pullover, sweater, trouser(s), etc.; -er with "resident of" function: Hoosier, islander,6 Londoner, Michigander, New Yorker, etc.; -er with reiterative function: 7 chatter, flutter, quiver, shimmer, shudder, totter, waver, etc; -le with "repetition of small movements" function: dazzle (cf. daze), dribble, drizzle, paddle, sparkle, twinkle, waddle (cf. wade), wriggle, etc.; -le with "repetitive sound" function: babble, cackle, crackle, giggle, grumble, mumble, prattle (cf. prate), rattle, tinkle, whistle, etc.; -le with diminutive function: hackle, heckle, speckle, spindle, spittle, etc.; -al with nominal function: burial, signal, rental, trial, etc.: -al with adjectival function: bridal, brutal, global, tidal, tribal, etc.; -en with participial function: broken, chosen, proven, taken, etc.; -en with "denoting material" function: earthen, golden, leaden, oaken, wooden, woolen, etc.; -en with transitive causative function: greaten, harden, lighten, tighten, etc.; -y with denominal adjectival function: bloody, cloudy, guilty, juicy, milky, nosy, risky, soapy, stormy, syrupy, thirsty, watery, etc.; -y with deverbal adjectival function: (un)wieldy, droopy, fidgety, floppy, shiny, squeaky, sulky, tottery, etc.; -y with distributive function: achy (headachy), angry, bluey, crispy, dusky, feathery, flowery, goody, hungry, leathery, moisty, purply, silvery, watery, etc.

The sign gravitates to the word

19

Note that of the six syllabic consonants cited above, productive functions are given for all but two (-om and -ow). My attention was attracted to these particular morphemes with multiple functions initially by -er, and my exploration of that particular morpheme proved so fruitful that I decided to extend it to this particular phonotactic and prosodic type as a whole. I have included as much detail as I have, hoping to make my point, which is that in any language words of any complexity are composed not only of recurring phonemes but of such recurring morphemes as well. Because in the phonemicization I have been using, each morpheme consists of a single phoneme, some might ask to which of the two levels of patterning these units belong. 8 I maintain that it is to the primary articulation. When functions can be identified, there can be no doubt; when there are no obvious semantic (or "grammatical") functions, they are still functioning to make the words more manageable— helping us cope with the memory burden.

2.2.2. T h e -ing m o r p h e m e Here is an example of a morpheme clearly composed of more than one phoneme, the -ing morpheme. There is general agreement as to its function in the formation of gerunds ("Parting is such sweet sorrow") and of present participles ("A rolling stone gathers no moss"). Some would see a third function in the formation of the progressive aspect ("The stone is rolling down the hill"), while others count this as an instance of the present participle with be. There comes a point at which some present participles become lexicalized as adjectives, as attested by their use with intensifiers ("I've had a very trying day") and in the comparative or superlative degree ("... but it was probably no more trying than yours"), although such tests do not always give clear-cut results (Matthews 1991: 54-60). Whether we have here as few as two or as many as four separate deverbal functions for -ing, we have only begun to scratch the surface. More are revealed when we turn to nouns, some of which are deverbal, and some of which are not. There are "products" such as clipping(s), shaving(s), paring(s), peeling(s), painting(s), building(s), writing(s), earning(s), meaning(s), spelling(s), marking(s), darning·, "ingredients": making(s), fixing(s), seasoning(s), leavening, whitening, bluing, frosting·, "accommodations": heating, lighting, seating, covering·, "softer materials": bagging, basting, batting, belting, binding, carpeting, clothing (bunting, stocking[s], leggingfs], kilting, dressing), felting, lacing, netting, packing, padding, quilting, wadding·, "harder materials": boxing, coping,

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curbing, enameling, fencing, flooring, glazing, moulding, piling, planking, rigging, scaffolding, siding, tooling, trussing, walling, wiring; "locations": crossing, mooring, footing, inning', "events": christening, gathering, happening, meeting, outing, wedding·, "utter defeats": beating, lacing, lambasting, licking, pasting, shellacking, spanking, thrashing, trouncing, walloping, whipping; "diminutives" (with -/-): (animals) chickling, duckling, weanling, (plants) seedling, sapling, rooting, (humans) foundling, earthling, sibling, weakling; "fauna": bunting, herring, starling, lemming·, "monetary units": farthing, shilling. While most of these nouns in -ing have recognizable word bases, those in the last two groups do not. Others may include batting (from beat?), ceiling, cunning, morning, pudding. What is the point of all these examples? The morpheme viewed in this way, as a unit of form, typically has multiple functions. More complex words, as combinations of such familiar recurring entities, are made more manageable by employing them.

2.3. Subtleties of meaning The instances of syllabic-sonorant weak second-syllables and of the -ing morpheme listed in the preceding sections are given only as examples, and are just the beginning of what remains to be uncovered when we approach the study of "formative morphemes" as part of morphology. These examples include other enticing leads. Note the possible p/b accretions to the -le of double, triple, treble and (going beyond two syllables) multiple, leading to the -uple of quadruple, quintuple, sextuple, etc. We can pursue further the alternations of single/singular and couple/copular, not to mention table/ tabular, circle/ circular, vehicle/vehicular, title/titular, angle/ angular, and so forth. (Although these last examples may be Latinate in origin, they are today integrated into the broader English morphology.) The -ing morpheme is not without its own accretions. Note especially the -ling morpheme of the diminutives duckling, chickling, suckling, dumpling, lordling, princeling, the plant terms seedling, sapling, rootling, and the human terms sibling, earthling, foundling, weakling, hireling. We know the meaning of each of the quantifiers such as single, double, triple, ... multiple as words, but what help, if any, do we get from their -leAble/ -pie parts? This leads directly to the matter of phonesthemes and their contribution to word meaning. The instances of accretion noted in the preceding paragraph involve a certain fuzziness of segmentation. There is also a certain semantic fuzziness that attends many of the examples in which a recurring function can be identified for one part

The sign gravitates to the word

21

of a word, but not for the other. Thus, -le recurs in babble, cackle, giggle, etc. with a "repetitive sound" function, but the remainders of these words (babb-, cack-, and gigg-, respectively) do not—here the crack of crackle is an exception. This is true of phonesthemes generally, that while one portion of the word recurs with semantic connotation, the other does not. This prevented earlier linguists, who were still searching for morphemes that were everywhere meaningful, from segmenting such words, and required that they coin a special term such as "phonestheme" (some term other than "morpheme") for the single meaningful part. In this connection, please see what Bender (1994) has to say about "Paradox No. 7: Universal aspects of the arbitrary sign."

2.4. Clues as to the part of speech The -er morpheme is not of much help in determining part of speech in English: poorer is an adjective; doer is a noun, as are sweater and jumper; wander and meander are verbs; over and under are prepositions. But other morphemes are more helpful in this regard. The -able/ -ible morpheme, for example, consistently points to adjectives, whether its bases are verbs (doable, eatable, compärable "able to be compared"), nouns (comfortable, fashionable), or something less than full words {probable, possible, comparable "equal") (Aronoff 1976: 120ff.). 2.5. Further clues as to meaning Morphemes may sometimes go beyond phonesthemes in giving us clues as to the meaning of a word, getting us further into the ballpark semantically. English words in re-, many of which are loans from French or Latin, often include a meaning element of either "back" or "again." Some of those with "again" may be fairly compositional, so that they can be characterized simply as "to V again," as for example, re-cover "to cover anew" or re-count "to count again," while others include additional connotations that make them no longer purely compositional: reconsider "to consider again, especially with intent to alter or modify a previous decision," redistribute "to reallocate," and so forth. Even so, the re- of these latter at least gets us into the "again" ballpark, although the situation is muddied further by the existence of a competing "back" ballpark: return, repay, refund, rejoin, and so forth. Note that each of these latter examples has a compositional "again" counterpart, at least potentially: re-turn "turn

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Byron W. Bender

again," re-pay "pay again," re-fund "put up money for again," re-join "join again"; while others like remand and remember do not.

2.6. Full information as to derived meaning Some words are compositional, at least in their outer layers. English nouns in -ness are a good example. It is an open question as to whether any of these nouns needs to be listed in the lexicon—so regular are they semantically, and so productive is the class (Aronoff 1976: 40ff.). The adjectives that cannot add -ness with predictable results are extremely rare. As I have pointed out elsewhere (Bender 1994), «ess-nouns are as regular, across-the-board, and predictable as participles and gerunds, and should perhaps, together with them, be considered to be inflections of a category-changing variety. That then would remove them from the domain of word-formation, and the necessity of appearing in the lexicon as lexemes. It is interesting to note that some dictionaries already treat them in this manner. The American Heritage Dictionary, for example, does not have a separate entry for "badness", but lists it (together with "bad n. ... That which is bad: weighing the good against the bad") as a noun form of "bad" within the entry for "bad" adj. But it may not be just those across-the-board morphemes such as -ness that not only give us clues as to a word's meaning, but take us unequivocally that last compositional mile. This is true of the reprefix (1) in its pure "to V again" sense, as in re-cover "to cover anew" or re-count "to count again1; but not (2) when there have been additional accretions of meaning, as in reconsider 'to consider again, especially with intent to alter or modify a previous decision,' or in redistribute 'to reallocate'; and certainly not (3) when it has "back" senses, as in return, repay, refund, rejoin, or in relapse, remand, or remember. But how are we to know which of these re- s we are dealing with in a given word? This brings us full circle to the title of this article. It is the words that are the signs, and the morphemes they contain sometimes give support and confirmation—albeit circular— to their meaning.

3. Conclusion Although Robins drew attention forty years ago to the fact that individual morphemes as units of form are to be found widely distributed across more than one major lexical category and with a variety of functions in many languages, most linguists continue to treat such

The sign gravitates to the word

23

instances as accidental identities of form (the - Z j , -Z2, and -Z3 of English, for example) and have not as yet faced up to the question as to why such accidents should be so prevalent. In so doing, they have been depriving the field of morphology of much of the richness that still lies in store. Both the primary and secondary articulations of language can be profitably viewed as providing recurring units with little or no correlation to meaning, which nevertheless perform a vital function by enabling our limited memories to retain and operate with a vastly expanded inventory of signs. Notes 1.

This paper is drawn from a larger work in progress that attempts to convey my understanding of a model of morphological description that has sometimes been proposed as an alternative to both the IA or IP models (Hockett 1954). In this context it has been referred to as "Word and Paradigm" (WP). Those to whom I am most indebted for this understanding include Robins (1959) and Matthews (1974, 1991), and less directly, Uhlenbeck (1953, 1992), Aronoff (1976), Starosta (1993), and Ford et al. (1997). Others whose ideas have helped me are mentioned at particular places. Some of my sources address the WP model per se; others (who may not wish to have their names associated with that model) are guilty only of helping me understand other aspects of morphology that made it all come together. I bear sole responsibility for the interpretation given to all ideas here. I am especially pleased to have this paper included in this volume, for it was insights gained from Professor Uhlenbeck's writings on Javanese morphology (1953) that started me on my trek beyond received wisdom.

2.

Aronoff does not include Robins (1959) among his references, but I would not want to imply that he failed to note a key source. Both the trans-Atlantic rift and the transformational-structural rift were wide in those days, and it is quite understandable to me that Aronoff could have been unaware of Robins's work, just as I must confess I was then. See Householder 1957, 1962 on -y as syllabic /y/, and -ow as syllabic /w/. In this exercise, it matters not that the origins of these forms are often disparate, as sometimes revealed in their spelling. This should not prevent us from seeing their contemporary unity of form. Note the chance sequence here of the -ow and -er morphemes. Sequences are sometimes more systematic, as for example the -ery of crockery, finery, greenery, pottery·, debauchery, forgery, lechery, slavery; bakery, bindery, cannery, eatery, hatchery, printery, tannery·, winery, nursery, nunnery, etc. I will not explore such combinations further in this paper. Examination of this function takes us beyond disyllables.

3. 4.

5.

6.

24 7. 8.

Byron W. Bender I wish to acknowledge my indebtedness to Marchand (1969) for many of these examples of functions. There are other phonemicizations that analyze four of these morphemes as consisting of two phonemes each, by including a schwa before the final liquid and nasal elements.

References Aronoff, Mark 1976 Word formation in generative grammar. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press. Bender, Byron W. 1994 "Morphological paradoxes" (Background paper for guest lecture to class taught by George W. Grace (Ling 615, The Nature of Language), University of Hawai'i, Fall Semester 1994.) Available at http:// www2.hawaii.edu/~bender/paradox.html. Comrie, Bernard 1981 Language universals and linguistic typology. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Ford, Alan— Rajendra Singh— Gita Martohardjono 1997 Pace Pänini: Towards a word-based morphology. New York: Lang. Hockett, Charles F. 1954 "Two models of grammatical description", Word 10: 210-231. [1958] [Reprinted in: Martin Joos (ed.), Readings in Linguistcs, 386-399. New York: American Council of Learned Societies.] Householder, Fred W. 1957 "Accent, juncture, intonation, and my grandfather's reader", Word 13: 234-245. 1962 "The distributional determination of English phonemes", Lingua 11: 186-191. Marchand, Hans 1969 The categories and types of present-day English word-formation: A synchronic-diachronic approach. 2nd ed. München: Beck. Matthews, Peter H. 1974 Morphology: An introduction to the theory of word-structure. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. 1991 Morphology. 2nd ed. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Robins, Robert Henry 1959 "In defence of WP", Transactions of the Philological Society 1959: 116-144. [1970] [Reprinted in Diversions of Bloomsbury: Selected writings on linguistics, 47-77. Amsterdam: North-Holland.]

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Starosta, Stanley 1991 "No more boundaries, no more phemes", Paper presented to the Tuesday Seminar, Department of Linguistics, University of Hawai'i, May 5. Uhlenbeck, Ε. M. 1953 "The study of word classes in Javanese", Lingua 3: 322-354. 1992 "General linguistics and the study of morphological processes", Oceanic Linguistics 31: 1-11.

The language of thought revisited Flip G. Droste

1. A view of the past The question whether we think in natural language, our own language, or in a logical language, basic to natural language but not identical to it, is as old as European civilisation. The two opposing views can be found in the works of Plato and Aristotle respectively. When asked by Theaetetus how to describe the process of thinking, the former makes Socrates answer: "As a discourse the mind carries out with itself about any subject it is considering. [...] When the mind is thinking, it is simply talking to itself, asking questions and answering them" (Theaetetus 189e-190a). Aristotle defends the opposite position (De lnterpretatione 16a): "Spoken words are the symbols of mental experience and written words are the symbols of spoken words. Just as all men do not have the same writing, all men do not have the same speech sounds, but the mental experiences which they directly symbolize are the same for all" (cf. Vendler 1977: 29). The discussion re-emerges in mediaeval grammatical theorizing. Whereas the so-called Realists adhere to the Aristotelian view, the Nominalists seem to incline to the approach defended by Plato. Our century, concentrating on logical as well as psychological theories, has dug up the problem and a unanimous solution seems as far away as in the past. In the first decades the debate seemed to be solved by the observations and subtle conclusions of Bronislaw K. Malinowsla (1923 [1972]: 148ff.) and, more specifically, Lev S. Vygotsky. The latter tried to define the cohesion as well as the differences between speaking and thinking, arguing that "from the viewpoint of psychology, the meaning of every word is a generalization or a concept" (1934 [1962]: 120). However, his prudence also results in statements that make his theory as a whole rather vague. On the one hand, we read that "[w]ord meaning is a phenomenon of thought only in so far as thought is embodied in speech, and of speech only in so far as speech is connected with thought and illuminated by it" (1934 [1962]: 120). On the other hand, thinking seems fully subordinated to language where it is held that "[t]hought is not merely expressed in words; it comes into existence through them" (1934 [1962]: 125).

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Only in 1956 a definite solution seemed to be reached in the work of Benjamin Lee Whorf, in the wake of Edward Sapir. His comparison of the ideas expressed in SAE, standard average European, on the one hand and the Uto-Aztec language Hopi on the other hand, led him to the seemingly irrefutable conclusion "that the forms of a person's thoughts are controlled by inexorable laws of pattern of which he is unconscious. The patterns are the unperceived intricate systematizations of his own language" (1956: 252). With his observations on verbal categories in Hopi, the relation between thinking and behaviour, the differences of the categories "living" and "dead" in Hopi and the European languages, Whorf appeared to have adduced definite proof for what had been posed before him by his predecessor Sapir: "We see and hear and otherwise experience very largely as we do because the language habits of our community predispose certain choices of interpretation" (cf. Whorf 1956: 134). Whorf's ideas have proved short-lived, due to the (at that time) immature thesis in transformational theorizing that the so-called deep structures of language-specific surface sentences were universally valid and thus had to be considered the LL, the logical language of thought. Adherents of Chomsky's theory, more specifically Katz and Fodor (1964), then tried to develop a semantic theory fitting in with this conception. Their theory of universally valid semantic primes, however, had to be abandoned when it became clear that it laboured under the weakness of all metaphysics: shifting the fundament to an unproven a priori. Another contribution by Fodor, this time well-founded and clearly argued, was his provocative book The Language of Thought, published in 1975. It reopened the debate and appeared to subscribe to the Aristotelian view: man thinks in a universal LL of which NL, natural language, is no more than a particular translation. Recently, this thesis was frontally attacked by Carruthers (1996), who holds that NL is essential to higher-order thinking and especially to reflexive thinking as in the process of consciousness. A third contribution to the problem, NL or LL, can be found in the study by Levelt (1989) in which a less extreme version is argued: neither an independent LL of which NL is no more than a reflex, nor an NL is the guiding mechanism of higher-order thinking but a propositional system of pre verbal structures with universal quality. Before seeking our path in the jungle of conflicting ideas we will try to sketch the position of the latter three scientists. What arguments do they forward, where do their theories collide?

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2. Three competing theories Two preliminary remarks before we start our research. We will concentrate exclusively on those forms of thinking that are expressed in language: it will be called linguistic thinking. Secondly, we will use the term "denotation" for the process of sign-giving; we thus avoid, at least initially, the overburdened term "meaning". In Fodor's psychologically founded theory it is argued that man does not think in natural language, more specifically in his mother tongue, but in a distinct language of thought, a kind of natural logic that is often denoted as Mentalese. Essential to language use as well as other thinking activities is the propositional attitude of belief, statement, etc.: "To have a certain propositional attitude is to be in a certain relation to an internal representation" (1975: 198). This internal representation is an LL, "not unlike natural language but not identical with it". Identification of the two is rejected with the argument that there are also non-verbal organisms that think, and that children, just like animals, already think in a preverbal phase. Learning a language implies having prior access "to some representational system in which the properties of predicates are expressed". Learning a language thus boils down to learning its truth definitions; this is only possible on the basis of a private language different from NL (1975: 79ff.). As to the thought processes in Mentalese, it is argued that cognition operates with models in a computational way and is carried out in an internal language. The semantic properties of NL predicates— remember the semantic markers and distinguishers in the Katz-Fodor theory (1964)—are learned on the basis of the innate properties of the private language. Understanding a message, on the other hand, means translating it from NL into the system of the logical language, LL. The strongest arguments against Mentalese, according to Carruthers, are not only the necessity of redoubling mental processing, namely in NL as well as in LL, but also a failing explanation for consciousness and self-reflecting processes. In order to account for thought processes of a higher order—implying consciousness and self-reflection—it must be assumed that they are carried out in NL in so far as they are expressed in that medium. Language is not meant primarily as a means to facilitate communication but to further the process of thinking. Carruthers does not restrict his argumentation, as is usual, to speaking and thinking, but also involves consciousness. In relation to the latter, he concentrates on reflexive thinking and observes that it is characteristic of the human species, the only species in full possession of a language. In order to be accessible to

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consciousness, thought structures must have a manipulative, i.e. concrete form; only in this way is it possible to develop second and third order levels of thinking. In the architecture of human thinking five components are distinguished: introspection (1), the reflexive thinking theory of consciousness (2), a theory of the mind (3), imagination (4) and natural language (5). Essential to thought processes is this: when thinking in a conscious way we evoke sentences in a NL and trains of thought consist of manipulations of such concrete structures (1996: 228). Consciousness demands a vehicle of organisation, but also a fullfledged algebra to describe the vehicle of organisation itself; therefore, it cannot do without the means that NL offers: a clearly elaborated and well-defined system of syntactic, morphological and phonological data (cf. Droste 1997). Is Carruthers' approach proof that human beings think in NL, more specifically in their mother tongue as Whorf has argued, and that NL is a necessary condition for linguistic thinking as manifested in argumentative texts, scientific treatises and the like? Perhaps this conclusion puts too much weight on one scale of the balance. But Fodor's LL, independent of NL and operating independently of the latter, seems no longer acceptable as a model for higher-order thinking. An alternative: no NL, no Mentalese, but preverbal information processing attuned to the ultimate realisation in a particular language is defended by Levelt (1989). The realisation in a grammatical code is language specific, whereas the former, the construction of a preverbal message, is universal. Is not the latter a variant of Fodor's LL and is not the language-specific grammar akin to Fodor's inputoutput device? Before answering this question it is worth mentioning that Levelt wants to distinguish different thought systems besides the prelinguistic system. There is no single language of thought, but there are at least three and perhaps more processing systems in the brain, namely a spatial system, a kinaesthetic system and a linguistic system. One can move from one code system to another (from vision to speaking, the other way around, etc.), but if the intention is to speak, the spatial or other image must be transferred to the prelinguistic system in order to be translated into a propositional structure that can be mapped onto a language specific sign. Essential to what we call linguistic thinking is the propositional representation system that generates preverbal messages: "A message is a semantic representation that is cast in the propositional language of thought but that, at the same time, meets conditions that make it expressible in natural language" (1989: 73).

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As regards higher-order thinking, there are different representational systems but only the propositional one is essential to linguistic thoughts. Output of the latter system are semantic representations of a universal nature. These can be entered into a language-specific Formulator, whose output are the well-formed formulae of a particular language. Levelt is aware that his propositional language of thought may be "very much like natural language" (1989: 74). However, what is essential is its universal nature, which makes it explicitly suited to be the foundation of sentences in every kind of NL. In other words, since every language naturally operates with the propositional principle, there is ample reason to consider it a language universal, innately given with every NL. Levelt's preverbal language operates with concepts as defined in psychological literature, more specifically categories for persons, objects, events, etc. They are propositionally encoded in network representations as in Jackendoff (1987): function-argument structures on the one hand, head-modifier structures on the other hand. The conceptual structure underlying the sentence Peter is in the tree thus looks as follows (where the subscript 17 indicates that it is a particular token tree): STATE

Peter

in

THING

tree

17

Several importants profits are to be gained from Levelt's theory. To begin with, his universal syntax with its function-argument and headmodifier structures can be mapped straightforwardly onto the expressions and sentences of specific languages. Whether a NL has the order SOV, SVO or VSO, it can have the universal propositional structure as its base. Moreover, as will be argued below, the linguistic concepts with which the underlying language operates are semantic entities whose preverbal function must be understood in the

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sense that they have a certain independence of the language-specific words they are mapped upon in the Formulator, the NL grammar. This involves the refutation of the Saussurean word definition, in which form and function, "le signe acoustique" and "le signe conceptuel" form an indissoluble entity. A problem not yet solved, neither by Fodor and Carruthers nor by Levelt, concerns the exact nature of the semantic concepts. Are they universal in the sense that the syntactic principles are and can they be translated indiscriminately into synonymous words in different languages? Is TREE in the LL formed on innate categorization principles whose translation into tree, arbre, boom, etc. only has to be learned in the acquisition of the respective mother tongues? 3. Signs and sign functions In order to answer these questions we think it necessary to make some remarks on signs and their function in a larger frame-work than that of NL, namely in the general frame-work of semiotics. There are innumerable signs in innumerable semi otic fields; indeed, "[t]he entire universe is perfused with signs, if it is not composed exclusively of signs" (Peirce 1958: 5.448n). Since neither linguistic signs nor the linguistic sign-system hang in the void, but clearly relate to other semiotic systems, we have to give a brief survey of this complicated network, on which not only human but all life seems to rest. Slightly simplifying the system we have presented elsewhere (1996: 15ff.), we here distinguish a hierarchy of semiotic layers, going from fundamental (in its restricting but also in its basic sense) to highly complicated: (i) material communication (ii) symbolic systems (iii) language and derived systems All sign-giving has its basis in the material world. Nature, not only animal societies, makes use of signals to further vegetative processes as well as purely chemical and electro-chemical processes within living organisms. Thus vegetable growth, germination, formation of fruits, etc. are causally dependent on the combination of light, warmth, humidity: a combination that functions as a signal. And in the sensory processes of human and animal alchemy a typically material sign-giving is essential to the creation of different types of observation. Light stimulus, e.g., resulting in a visual image, depends on an internally related series of signs, just as the activation of such

The language of thought revisited

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an image is a sign for the categorization of phenomena in the world. On the basis of the material communication a symbolic function has been developed in the animal world. No longer unidirectional traffic as with the material signals, but a forward and backward movement of symbols among members of the same species. The signs are part of a code that is common to all the members of the specific communities. Thus the female thrush understands the lovesong of the male: clearly the melody corresponds to the same concept in both animals. Animal signs are discrete entities whose value is fixed and is restricted to a delimited field of use. They are bound to an invariant concept, can hardly be extended in number, are typical of the species. The human animal also disposes of rather simple signsystems such as greeting, dining, marriage, clothing, but in contrast with those of real animals they can easily be extended, changed, replaced. The problem here is that most of these sign-systems can only be developed by intelligent beings, which implies that they are ultimately dependent on intelligent, i.e. thinking behaviour. As regards the latter, there may be a relation to the symbolic interaction in the different animal species, but the linguistic sign-system has broken out of the limits of animality. And the fundamental break is in the propositionality: language as a sign-system does not operate with words but with texts, and the standard entity of sign-giving is the sentence. Only the sentence (or utterance; we use the terms indiscriminately for the moment) can be confronted with an event, situation, general idea, and then evaluated on its truth-value. The linguistic sign in its fundamentally complex structure has become the paramount means of thinking. And yet, the relation with lower-order sign-giving exists. For notwithstanding the myriads of signs and sign-systems, there are only two sign-functions. Those functions are Isolation and Classification. In the verbal lexicon, the list of linguistic sign-potentials, we only see isolating and classifying elements. Thus in Mary sleeps, Mary is an isolating and sleep is a classifying term. And in head-modifier structures (big trees) the head isolates and the modifier classifies. However, the distinction is valid on each level and within every field of semiotics. Isolating functions are: deixis, the engagement presents between birds, the dot on a geographical map, the cry of a babyelephant for its mother and vice-versa, a picture, the outward appearance of a person, etc. Classifying functions are: sex symbols, a warning cry, a bridal bouquet, setting the table, the colours in a mediaeval painting, a badge, a modern interior, a metaphor, verbs and adjectives, etc. In order to understand the inherent qualities of linguistic concepts and their role in higher-order thinking, it seems

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essential to be aware of their conformity to other signs on the one hand and their distinctive and particular functioning on the other hand. 4. Words and concepts An apple is recognized as an apple through the intermediary of an apple concept: a visual sign, stored somewhere in the visual memory. For convenience sake such a sign can be represented as a kind of geographical map, as has been suggested by Hubel and Wiesel (1979: 130). Is the concept to which the word apple relates the same as the visual symbol on the visual cortex? That the denotation of the word apple has some kind of relation with the visual concept need not be denied. But that the two kinds of concept, the visual and the linguistic one, are identical or should overlap fundamentally is highly dubitable. The majority of words operating in higher-order thought processes do not have a sensory concept to relate to for the simple reason that it does not exist. Words such as neither, ethics, suppose, sad, in virtue of, convenience, etc. have a denotation, are related through that denotation to a concept, but this concept has no correspondent sign in the non-linguistic or non-propositional system in which thinking may operate. As a consequence, it seems hardly conceivable that abstract linguistic concepts should consist independent of language, more specifically independent of the formal aspects of NL. Since there does not exist an object in reality—as is the case with the apple concept—to which a thing like a "convenience" concept can refer, and since a "convenience" concept can only float on the buoy of the formal sign convenience, there is ample reason to hold that all formal signs or words denote an exclusively linguistic concept. In how far and in what way such concepts have a relation to the sensory reflexes of observable phenomena in the outside world is irrelevant here. Once more, such a relation is not to be denied, since it may be necessary to refer to the visual reality with linguistic expressions such as Do peel me this apple, please. Before we try to define the linguistic concept (possibly in opposition to the sensory concept), it is necessary to make a distinction between the sign and its use. A word, element of a lexical list, denotes a concept whose borders are wide and fuzzy. Thus words like book, horse, walk, idea can be described, as regards their "contents', as predicates, representing a large category of things. We therefore hold that words—and words are signs in isolation, members of the lexicon—are denotative potentialities. However, when used in an actual situation and in their natural environment,

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words become terms and the meaning potential becomes meaning. Thus, in This book on horse-training contains interesting ideas, book no longer relates to a broad conceptual field going from "story" to "linen-bound volume" and "paperback", but to a specific subdomain, namely "treatise" or "essay". In this case the term or rather the expression This book has a referent in reality. Since we have assumed that linguistic concept and sensory concept do not coincide—and we are supported in our thesis by Levelt's distinction with his different representational systems and their particular outputs (1989: 73)—the referential relation has to pass the intermediate station of visual representation. For the term This book in the above statement this results in the following structural relations:

value meaning

SIGN

reference

DENOTATION

OBJECT

We have rebutted the type of definition defended by Katz and Fodor (1964) as well as that by Carnap (1952): neither an analysis in universal semantic primes nor an analysis by means of meaning postulates defines the limits of the linguistic concept; they only reduce one concept to a series of other concepts. Nonetheless, both theories indicate in what direction a solution is to be looked for. Since a concept can not be delimited with the help of phenomena in the outside world, only one way is open: linguistic concepts are defined by means of other linguistic concepts. According to Saussure thoughts can not be delimited without the support of words: "abstraction faite de son expression par les mots, notre pensee n'est qu'une masse amorphe et distincte ... une nebuleuse ou rien n'est necessairement delimite" (1916 [1955]: 155). The consequences for the definition of the LL are far-reaching. If indeed the form of the sign is essential to the range of the concept, NL has at least a certain impact in the thought process. Linguistic concept formation no doubt is a universal and innate quality in the sense that the propositional principle is, but the characteristic properties of each individual concept are culturally and language-specifically developed.

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One example may illustrate the above thesis. In the theory of normative sciences developed by Peirce, there are three subdomains, namely logic, ethics and aesthetics. As to the subject-matter of the three doctrines, it is said that "aesthetics considers those things whose ends are to embody qualities of feeling, ethics those things whose ends lie in action, and logic those things whose end is to represent something" (1958: 5.129; cf. also Stuhr 1994: 5). It is clear that the concepts to which the three formal signs relate can only be defined in their mutual relation, and their psychological limits can only be determined by means of descriptions in a language. That language cannot but make use of descriptive elements that can be manipulated, contrasted, combined, etc.—they must be tangible and concrete in order to function as a kind of landmarks. At this point two questions relating to our former chapter remain open. Is the functional difference of word and term also valid on a higher level of denotation, i.e. for complex linguistic signs? And, secondly, how does this distinction fit in with the two functions of signs we pointed out, namely isolation and classification? On the syntactic level the sentence, just like the word, is a potentiality without meaning in its everyday sense. Thus He will be elected shortly can function as a model for a thousand situations, as long as the latter concerns elections, male candidates and the like. Only when used in a given model, where the subjects as well as the circumstances are known, does the structure acquire a specific meaning (or a truth-value in model semantics). A uniquely denoting expression of this type is an utterance, comparable in its functionality to a term. As regards the two sign functions, isolation and classification, it must be clear that a sentence has only a classifying function and an utterance an isolating function: this can easily be worked out for the above sentence. The situation for word and term is a bit more complicated. Word-concepts are classifying over the full set of elements they represent; thus, horse relates to a concept that has the typical horse properties everyone is acquainted with. The only exceptions are proper names: as "rigid designators"—the term is Kripke's (1972: 269)—they can only have an isolating function. The other words, when used in their proper surroundings, i.e. as terms, have an isolating or a classifying function, but a large class can function either in the one or in the other sense: cf. This horse (is an Arab) and (That is) a horse as well).

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5. Concept and conceptualization As we have seen words relate to general concepts whose fuzzy borders are designed by the borders of other concepts through the intermediary of the said words, whereby the latter function as formal "definientia" for mental "definienda". Within the limits of the general concepts, there is a colony of sub-concepts that are defined by what we call terms. Usually a context (situation, etc.) is needed in order to understand which subconcept has been activated. A comparable difference can be noted between sentence and utterance. The conceptual structure (= conceptualization) a sentence relates to is a proposition. Propositions are often represented in standard logical formulae such as ((x)ARAB) for χ = HORSE. The conceptualization of an utterance relates to a subdomain of the sentence, in a sense comparable to that of the term. We call it: a state of affairs. In our theory a state of affairs is not, as is is in Wittgenstein (1961: 2.0272), a situation in reality; that, in our model, is the referent or the intended object. To us a state of affairs is a conceptualization in the sense a proposition is. However, since it relates to an utterance, it must be regarded as a particular and unique mental structure. We have accepted that propositionality is the universal structural principle that underlies the linguistic sign, the sentence, and the linguistic thought expressed by that sentence. As has been argued in many psychological theories on the functioning of the brain, all information processing of the cortex is propositional: this goes for the linear process of reasoning as well as for imaging in the visual system (cf. Anderson 1983). This leads to the question in how far the typically linguistic procedures are based on a deeper layer of mental structuring or, one layer deeper still, on material communication in the bodily existence of man and animal alike. According to Jakobson "the universal architectonic design of the verbal code is undoubtedly a molecular endowment of every Homo sapiens". He then ventures that "perhaps the foundations of the overt linguistic patterns superimposed upon molecular communication have been modeled directly upon its structural principles" (1970: 440). The thesis does not seem contrary to the proposals by Levelt (1989), or rather, it corroborates the universality of the syntactic thought-structures. Does this also sustain Fodor's suggestion: "It may be that the resources of the inner code are rather directly represented in the resources of the codes we use for communication" (1975: 156)? No, this assumption is to be refuted for two reasons: it makes the formal apparatus totally dependent on and peripheral to the conceptual apparatus (1), and it denies the interaction between form and function in the development of logical thought processes (2).

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The interplay between form and content becomes manifest in metalinguistic use as well as in consciousness. For the latter we refer once more to Carruthers who convincingly argues that, when we think in a conscious way, we think by imaging sentences of natural language and by manipulating such images (1996: 228). It seems that in metareferential expressions also the pre-existence of linguistic expressions is a natural prerequisite. Compare, e.g., the well-known paradox This sentence is not true and "This sentence is not true" is a paradox. For the acquisition of linguistic signs and linguistic concepts—both processes involve linguistic thinking—one has to operate with concrete elements that can be manipulated. One has to pass, in other words, through the gate of NL: No, you should not call it "a lie" but "an oversight". The other form of meta-use, the metaphor, is also a play in which formal aspects of language have a part. Although we do not deny the thesis of cognitive linguistics (Lakoff—Johnson 1980) that concepts of observable phenomena have a model function for the concepts of non-visible phenomena, we think that they underestimate the role of formal linguistic aspects in thinking processes. Creating a metaphor implies a syntactic process in which not only concepts are involved, but the linguistic signs relating to them as well. In the transfer from the sensory field to that of abstract imaging it is not only the concept that fills in the conceptual gap, but the procedure as such is executed on an overt syntactic level. A term with its own lexical and syntactic value operates as a predicate with a variable—a nameless sign—in its reach, where the variable represents the conceptually empty place that has to be filled in. The resulting sign, the metaphor, comes into being when the term of the language involved, with its own conceptual object, replaces the variable and gives content to what did not exist conceptually and lexically before. The same goes, in its own way, for wordplay, punning and the like. The thinking process also operates with the sign itself, makes it part of the conceptual game and seems to suppress the difference between form and function. It is interesting to note that the two sign-functions, isolation and classification, also divide the meta-linguistic domain. Metareferential expressions are without exception isolating terms, referring to one well-defined entity. Metaphors, on the other hand, exert a classificatory function. In expressions such as He was "deeply" hurt the term "deep" classifies over an emotion for which no term existed so far—for that reason we have also spoken of "the predicating function of metaphor" (Droste 1982). A final remark on the subject. It has been proved time and again that we often use whole expressions, pieces of conversation, fixed structures to communicate (Uhlenbeck 1972: 76ff.). This implies that

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the preverbal message (the conceptual structure) can only function in close cooperation with the complex signs on the formal level. A proverb such as One swallow does not make a summer is stored as a whole and functions semantically as a whole. Clearly, the formal aspects of NL have their impact on the processing of complex ideas.

6. Textuality and discourse procedures Although a word is a minimal sentence and a sentence is a minimal text, it is only in the text that higher-order thinking becomes manifest. In the text a model of the world, real or imaginary, is offered. And once more the question arises: is it the text, the languagespecific sequence of utterances, that guides linguistic thinking, or is this carried out in discourse, the sequence of preverbal conceptualizations? In Peirce's semiotic theory "the purpose of signs— which is the purpose of thought—is to bring truth to expression". More specifically "The law under which a sign must be true is the law of inference" (1958: 2.444n). It should be kept in mind that Peirce's semiotics wants to develop a theory of the human mind. The truth-seeking activity, thus, is a complex process whose goal, reality, can only be reached in a series of successive steps. Therefore Ormiston (1977: 220) can define the process as follows: "The signrelation process forms an infinite continuity of thought". In a way the whole thinking activity, according to Peirce, is a process of causation. Two things seem necessary to this process: a step by step development and a well-defined delimitation of the elements involved. Before we elaborate on the two qualities, another major characteristic of text and discourse should be mentioned. Both text and discourse follow what might be called a linear pattern. This linearity results directly from the natural restriction ruling linguistic communication: oral interaction can only present one item after the other. The implication is that arguments in a line of reasoning also follow the linear axis; the next argument thus rests upon the former argument or arguments. A formalization of the inferential structure of discourse has been convincingly elaborated in so-called discourse representation theory by Kamp and Reyle (1993). In their theory, so it seems, the thought-process does not operate on a textual level, but on the level of discourse. And yet. Thought-processes in which argument is built upon argument in order to arrive at a far removed goal, require a firm grip on the preceding ideas. If the truthseeking activity only operated on discourse level, concatenating conceptual idea to conceptual idea, a clear means of control, i.e. control of the preceding basis, would be missing. The search for reality would soon

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become wandering through a misty area, not unlike the "nebuleuse" Saussure mentions. An argument in linguistic thinking may be conceived on the level of preverbal propositional structure, but can only become an instrument of persistent reasoning when acquiring a concrete, measurable form. Linguistic thinking as manifest in a text is a combined action of conceptualization and formal sign-giving. Two things contribute to this subtle interplay. Firstly, signs have an essential role in the limitation and circumscription of conceptual domains and subdomains. Secondly, universals only come to life in language-specific realisations: the search for truth, moving along the propositional line of concepts, is not only embedded in the textual format, but it needs this format as a persistent means of control in linguistic thinking. Truth-seeking, in other words, is a forward-backward movement from discourse to text, from text to discourse.

7. S u m m a r y The question whether linguistic thinking is guided by NL or is carried out on a purely conceptual level, a so-called language of thought, has received a complicated answer. The first conclusion to be drawn is that universal principles only work within a system of use, just as linguistic competence can only function within the framework of linguistic performance. Although linguistic thinking follows patterns that are the same in all natural languages, the thinking activity itself not only relates to formal means of expression, but is in constant interaction with them. The conceptual processes need the unremitting control of the concrete signs: discourse, to put it differently, requires the rigid laws of text to result in linguistic thinking. The principles underlying the formal realisation of reasoning, argumentation, causal and inferential deliberation are linearity (1), propositionality (2) and concept formation (3). The language-specific contribution is in the delimitation of conceptual domains and subdomains (1), in meta-linguistic use (2) and in the controlling function of measurable elements (3). Essential in the whole process of linguistic thinking is the interaction of sign and denotatum: the sign only becomes a sign through its relation to the concept, the concept needs the support of the concete sign to be reasonably delimited.

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References Anderson, John R. 1983 The architecture of cognition. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Carnap, Rudolf 1952 "Meaning postulates", Philosophical Studies 3: 65-73. Carruthers, Peter 1996 Language, thought and consciousness. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Droste, Flip G. 1982 "Metaphory as a paradigmatic function", Poetics 11: 203-211. 1996 Teken, taal en werkelijkheid. 's-Gravenhage: Sdu Uitgeverij. 1997 "Review of Carruthers 1996", Linguistics 35: 786-792. Fodor, Jerry A. 1975 The language of thought. Hassocks: Harvester Press. Hubel, David H.—Torsten Ν. Wiesel 1979 "Brain mechanisms of vision", Scientific American 241: 130-144. Jackendoff, Ray 1987 Consciousness and the computational mind. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press. Jakobson, Roman 1970 "Linguistics", in: Thomas A. Sebeok (ed.), Main trends of research in the social and human sciences. I. Social sciences, 419-463. The Hague: Mouton. Kamp, Hans—Uwe Reyle 1993 From discourse to logic. Dordrecht: Kluwer. Katz, Jerrold J.—Jerry A. Fodor 1964 "The structure of a semantic theory", in: Jerry A. Fodor—Jerrold J. Katz (eds.), The structure of language, 479-518. Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice Hall. Kripke, Saul 1972 "Naming and necessity", in: Donald Davidson—Gilbert Harman (eds.), Semantics of natural language, 253-355. Dordrecht: Reidel. Levelt, Willem J. M. 1989 Speaking: From intention to articulation. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press. Malinowski, Bronislaw K. 1923 "The problem of meaning in primitive languages", in: C. K. Ogden— I. A. Richards (eds.), The meaning of meaning. Suppl. 1. New York: Harcourt Brace. Malinowski, Bronislaw K. (cont.) [1972] [Reprinted as "Phatic communication" in: John Laver—Sandy Hutcheson (eds.), Communication in face to face interaction, 146-152. Harmondsworth: Penguin.] Ormiston, Gayle L. 1977 "Peirce's categories: Structure of semiotics", Semiotica 19: 209-232.

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Peirce, Charles Sanders 1931-58 Collected papers. Charles Hartshorne—Peter Weiss—Arnold W. Burks (eds.)· Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Saus sure, Ferdinand de 1916 Cours de linguistique generale. Lausanne—Paris. [1955] [Reprinted Paris: Payot.] Stuhr, John J. 1994 "Rendering the world more reasonable: The practical significance of Peirce's normative science", in: Herman Parret (ed.), Peirce and value theory, 3-16, Amsterdam: Benjamins. Uhlenbeck, Ε. M. 1972 Critical comments on transformational-generative grammar 19621972. The Hague: Smits. Vygotsky, Lev S. 1934 Myslenie i rec'. Moskva. [1962] [Ed. & transl. by Eugenia Haufmann—Gertrude Vakar as Thought and language. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press/New York: Wiley & Sons.] Whorf, Benjamin Lee 1956 Language, thought & reality. John B. Carroll (ed.). Cambridge, MA: MIT Press. Wittgenstein, Ludwig 1961 Tractatus logico-philosophicus. Transl. D. F. Pears—B. F. McGuinness. London: Routledge & Kegan Paul.

Foreign- and second-language learning and teaching: Will the twain ever meet? Arthur J. van Essen

Introduction Throughout his professional life Ε. M. Uhlenbeck has shown a concern for language education, both native and foreign (e.g. Uhlenbeck 1958; 1968; 1970). For this reason it is my aim in this paper to honour him by shedding some light on two key notions in language education, namely foreign language and second language and, by extension, on foreign- and second-language learning/teaching. For as the following account will make clear, there is a great deal of fuzziness about these terms and, consequently, a shifting borderline between them. As it turns out, much of the imprecision is due to a lack of definition and to the diverse practices, conditions, and settings to which they refer. As we go along the term "mother tongue" will also be touched upon.

1. Terminological distinctions 1.1. "Mother tongue" and "foreign language" Just about a century ago linguists and educators only used the terms "mother tongue" and "foreign language". The term "mother tongue" was considered straightforward enough, while the term "foreign language" was thought to sufficiently cover all other languages that were either new or foreign to a learner. Indeed, most languageteaching Reformers of the day saw no reason for any further refinement of the terminology, as they held the view that, if any foreignlanguage learning was to be successful, it was to follow the pattern of mother-tongue acquisition. This is how a leading first-generation Reformer, Henry Sweet, put it in 1899: "Everything therefore points to the conclusion that in learning foreign languages we should follow the natural order in which we learn our own language", that is the spoken language first, followed by the written language (1899:52). So, if we are to gain an impression of what interpretations were actually assigned to the term "foreign language" we have to look at

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the various practices adopted by the leading language pedagogues of the day. 1.2. Foreign-language (learning/teaching) While the wellknown Danish linguist, Otto Jespersen, still upheld the view that, no matter whether a learner pursued purely receptive mastery of the foreign language, a productive command should go hand in hand with it (Jespersen 1904: 188), opinions among other Reformers gradually began to shift. Reformers of the second generation, some of whom with much international teaching experience, began to realise that the "natural order", might not, after all, be all that natural. The possession of the mother tongue, the age, aims and motivation of the learner, all these factors caused foreign-language learning to differ significantly from mother-tongue acquisition. The fact that a learner already knew a language—her/his own— was a source of constant interference. This fact was explicitly acknowledged even by Sweet (1899: 76) and Jespersen. This is how the latter phrased the problem: "The reason why we cannot attain the same confidence in all departments of the foreign language that we feel in our native language is of course partly because the conditions are not so favourable, and partly because our mother tongue acts as a hindrance on account of the tendency it has to intrude on all occasions and mislead us to construct sentences after its pattern" (Jespersen 1904: 117f.—italics original). So Reformers made every effort to ensure that the impact of the mother tongue was minimised. Thus the aid of pictures, gestures, and the histrionic talents of the teacher were enlisted to convey the meaning of a given language unit, while the learners ought to be trained in "direct observation" and conscious awareness. The systematic use of translations was virtually banned from the classroom. The age factor in particular, while not neglected in Jespersen (1904), was addressed in 1917 by the British language pedagogue Harold E. Palmer (1917 [1968]: 25): Obviously the whole question of study is profoundly affected by the age of the student. The treatment which would suit a child ten years old will be most unsuitable for an adult student, and vice versa. The reasoning faculties of the adult will help him to overcome with ease many problems of an intellectual nature, and at the same time, according to the dictum that a little learning is a dangerous thing, will create for him all sorts of artificial difficulties and false analogies. The adult will perceive dangerous analogies which will lead him

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astray. The child, whose reasoning faculties are comparatively undeveloped, will not fall into these traps.

Note that Palmer talks, not of language-specific, but of general cognitive capacities, developed in the adult, still underdeveloped in the child. Dutch Reformers, working during the interbellum, expressed serious misgivings about the naturalistic, direct approach to the foreign language. Thus S. Rombouts maintained that it would be futile to attempt preventing the mother tongue from breaking in on the learner's use of the foreign language: in a linguistic fix the mother tongue would always be uppermost in the learner's mind (Rombouts 1937: 62). The learner simply would not be able to get away from his/her native language. Rombouts also addressed the issue of learner objectives. He argued that since the Reform movement had been rightly criticised for its dogmatic exclusion of the mother tongue from the foreign-language classroom and for its fixation upon learning to speak another language whereas the majority of European learners would never speak but read and/or write it, it was time for a reconsideration of priorities in the language curriculum (Rombouts 1937: 130f.). Another Dutchman, J. H. Schutt, held the view that up to a point learning a foreign language had always something artificial about it, in that the context of living use, omnipresent in our use of the mother tongue, was wanting. A mere replication of mother-tongue acquisition was therefore to be ruled out. Besides, Schutt went on to argue, acquiring a foreign language to perfection meant acquiring a totally different system of thought. And that possibility he regarded as highly unlikely (Schutt 1933: 16ff.). De Leve, writing four years after Schutt, was of the opinion that in foreign-language learning, inasmuch as it was different from naturalistic mother-tongue acquisition, drill could not altogether be avoided. At the same time he called for the use of authentic texts to provide for a context of use and a greater awareness on the part of the learners of what they were doing in their language assignments, in the hope of thus enhancing their language capacities (de Leve 1937). Van der Meer, in a paper on the role of linguistics in foreignlanguage education, regarded the possession of the mother tongue as a liability for foreign-language learners (as Jespersen and Sweet had done). Following Sapir (1921), van der Meer argued that, as native speakers of a language had come to view the world in a particular way, and since this view was tied up with the forms of the language

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they spoke, it would be hard for them to divest themselves of these habits in learning another language (van der Meer 1938: 14f.). The Dutch Anglicist Etsko Kruisinga, like Palmer, distinguished between beginners and advanced learners. Beginners would benefit from a direct approach, making the most of intuitive, spontaneous learning, whereas advanced learners would gain from a more conscious, contrastive approach, which took the characteristic features of both the native and the foreign language into account (cf. van Essen 1983: 232-250). What this brief survey makes clear is that even within the ranks of the Reformers individual educators held rather different views as to how foreign-language instruction was to proceed and how the role of the native language was to be viewed. In mainland Europe rather more emphasis was placed on the learner's mother tongue either as an intrinsically negative factor that cannot be eliminated (Rombouts) or, at a more advanced level, a potentially positive force, given an appropriate linguistic pedagogy (Kruisinga). On the whole, the Continental tradition of foreign-language teaching was firmly anchored in the contrastive tradition in the sense that the teachers themselves had been through the process of learning another language to a fairly high degree of proficiency, and that they shared their pupils' mother tongue. As such mainland European foreign-language teaching clearly stood apart from foreign-language education in the Englishspeaking countries, where unilingualism was the preferred, if not favoured, societal norm. What all Reformers implicitly agreed on—and this is crucial—was that foreign-language learning as they conceived it was a comparatively artificial operation—for all their claims about the naturalness of their direct method—taking place as it did in the institutional setting of (mostly) secondary schools, to older age groups than in the primary schools, to learners used to an altogether more conscious approach to learning, and with the mother tongue as the out-ofschool vehicle of communication for the whole of the community and the target language having no nation-internal communication function whatsoever. The vicissitudes of foreign-language education in the United States and, as a result, the position of the modern foreign languages in that country constitute a different story from that of either the UK or mainland Europe. In this instance we have two books by Leonard Bloomfield (1914; 1933 [1935]), Rombouts's book (1937), as well as a recent survey by Spolsky (1996) to go by. In both his books Bloomfield devoted a separate chapter to foreign-language education in his country, drawing attention to its sorry plight. He showed himself to be familiar with the works by Sweet, Palmer, and Jespersen

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mentioned above. Prior to World War I, American foreign-language teachers had either favoured the direct method of the Reformers or had not been altogether averse to it. But after the war—which, if anything, had put large numbers of American soldiers in contact with European languages—the educational authorities turned against it, the argument being that too few teachers were qualified to put it into practice (Carroll 1953: 17If.). When in the ensuing years a Federal Commission made the regrettable if realistic recommendation that the four language skills be reduced to the reading ability, this fitted in with the ethnocentrist and isolationist philosophy of the US after World War I (Spolsky 1996: 324f.). So when World War II broke out, the Americans faced a tremendous shortage of recruits who could actually speak and understand a foreign language. To fill the gap that the neglect of a more comprehensive approach to foreign-language teaching had left and that the exigencies of war had exposed, the (American) Army Specialised Training Programme (ASTP) was set up. (Recent re-evaluations of the programme suggest that it may actually have hampered the war effort, but that is not relevant here; cf. Spolsky 1996.) Many famous structural linguists, including such leaders as Bloomfield and Bloch, contributed to the programme, among other things by providing written guidelines for the practical study and linguistic analysis of foreign languages (Bloomfield 1942; Bloch—Trager 1942). As there was no "new" methodology of teaching the oral skills, Bloomfield had to fall back on Sweet, Jespersen, and Palmer for his direct approach. The "native informant" and the "trained linguist" in the programme were not as novel as many people in our profession have made them out be: both derive from Sweet (1899). A report put out in 1944 (quoted by Spolsky 1996: 327) concluded that for trainees for whom this was the first exposure to the foreign language in question, the results "while by no means miraculous, were definitely good". This was in large measure due to the intensive nature of the courses taught, which, on the whole, comprised small groups of students and a large number of contact hours in the foreign language per week, a dramatic difference from the old 3 to 5 hours a week. The presence of a native speaker and of a trained linguist to guide both course and native speaker likewise contributed to the success of the programme. In these respects the ASTP definitely had the edge over the European Reformers' fairly traditional, school-bound, whole-class method of teaching. After the war the work begun by the US Army for the reform of foreign-language instruction was carried on by three major centres for language study in the US, in the face of much opposition from the majority of more traditional language teachers. All in all, the

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effect of the ASTP was limited, both in terms of student achievement and in terms of its spread to regular college teaching of the major foreign languages. In the words of Spolsky, "its most important effect was in reasserting the emphasis, strong in 1913 but weakened after 1930, on the teaching of the spoken language, and thus reasserting the emphasis on face-to-face interaction which is usually associated with the communicative goal of language teaching" (1996: 331). As may be gathered from the description just given, the "army" or "mim-mem" method, and its more sophisticated successor of the 1950s and 60s, the "audio-lingual method", came nearest to what would today be called "second-language learning" on account of its near-native context of use and the environmental support it received throughout the course, but the leading professionals of the day did not call it that. And to the extent that their successors did, they used "second" and "foreign" interchangeably (Carroll 1953: 168ff.; Lado 1964: 37). For this reason a look at the history of the terms "second language" and "second-language learning/teaching" is now in order.

1.3. Second-language (learning/teaching) The origin of the term "second language" can be traced back to the 1920s. The British language pedagogue, Michael West, working in India, used it in 1926 to refer to the use of English in the bilingual situation prevailing in Bengal at the time (Howatt 1984: 215). Situations like these occurred throughout the colonies of Britain, France, The Netherlands, Portugal, and Spain. The common feature of such situations was that the language being taught and learnt was not indigenous to the country in question (incidentally, this is not unlike the foreign-language learning situation), but that it does have a wide range of nation-internal functions, chiefly in the areas of art, business, commerce, government (i.e. the legal, administrative, and educational systems), medicine, science, and technology (Kachru 1985: 211; Chaudhary 1998). More often than not the linguistic situation in the colonies was not just bilingual but multilingual. In many such situations it proved politically advantageous to adopt a non-indigenous language (mostly the language of the former colonisers) as the official national language after independence. This happened in India, but not in Burma, in South Africa, but not in Indonesia. The institutionalised second languages very often have a long history of acculturation in new geographical, social, and cultural contexts and have evolved nativised varieties of the second language with their own features of vocabulary, grammar, and pronunciation (Kachru 1985; Chaudhary 1998).

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As Wilkins pointed out it is just because the second language in these countries has many non-educational functions that it has a place in education at all. If the other functions could be fulfilled by some local language, the arguments for using a non-indigenous language as a medium for instruction would fall to the ground. The more widespread the use of the second language the earlier it is likely to be introduced in the primary school as the medium of instruction. As Wilkins put it: "In states where the L2 has a major function, those who have to develop an education policy are perpetually torn between the general desirability of educating children in their mother tongue and the need to produce very high levels of proficiency in the second language so that learning at the higher stages is made more effective. In all such countries the second language will at the very least be taught as a subject in the primary school. The question is whether and when it should become the medium, and this question will not be resolved in terms of what is psychologically and physiologically the best age to learn a foreign language, as it tends to be in situations where the language is a foreign language." (1972: 151—italics original). The question of whether primary school children should receive their instruction in the national but non-indigenous second language has always aroused some controversy. A common contention was that early second-language instruction retards the child's cognitive development and that the child's knowledge of the mother tongue also suffers. The Dutchman Rombouts, writing in 1937, clearly had these objections in mind when he reviewed the position of Dutch as a second language in the Dutch East Indies: "all these arguments together have caused most colonial systems to give in and to allow instruction to commence with the mother tongue and not to introduce the language of the mother country until much later" (Rombouts 1937: 53—translation mine). But while in most anglophone countries, under the British, local native languages were used as the medium of instruction during the first years of primary school, there has been a tendency since independence to introduce English as the medium. By contrast, in the francophone countries of Africa, where under French rule all instruction was in French, there has since been a move towards introducing the native language in primary education. In Indonesia Dutch as a second language was supplanted by the Bahasa Indonesia after independence in 1950. So far our discussion has focused on second languages as national, non-indigenous languages. But since decolonisation and the subsequent migration of large numbers of people to the former mother country (e.g. Indians to Britain) as well as the arrival of migrant workers (e.g. Mexicans to the U.S.) and refugees the term "second

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language" has come to include the "host language", i.e. the national language of the new host country. It is obvious that the languagelearning situation here is crucially different from that in the former colonies: apart from the home the second language is now also the language of the out-of-school environment, so that a lot of spontaneous acquisition can take place. For the child the learning of a second language is now rather like acquiring the mother tongue, whereas for the adult learner the situation is essentially a secondlanguage situation, not grossly different from that of the foreigner attending a language school abroad. Both categories of adult learners require a good deal of formal instruction and other support measures compensating for the loss of the plasticity that is characteristic of the child, and both are exposed to the new language constantly outside the classroom as well. Despite the tendency in some quarters of policy-makers (cf. Phillipson 1992) and second-language acquisition researchers to apply "second-language learning" to the learning of any other language but the native (cf. Dulay et al. 1982: 10; Stern 1982: 12), it would be ill-advised for language pedagogues (and researchers) to discard the distinction between second and foreignlanguage learning. This point will be taken up in the last section.

2. Second- and foreign-language learning: A case of mistaken identity? Whatever "second" and "foreign" language may have meant in the past, most language educators today agree that a distinction is to be made between a non-native language used and learnt within one country and a non-native language used and learnt with reference to a speech community outside national or territorial boundaries (Stern 1982: 16). To the former the term "second language", to the latter the term "foreign language" has been applied. The two situations differ radically in a number of respects. Not only does a second language often have an official status within a country that a foreign language has not, the aims of learning another language are often different too. The second language is often the official language within a country or one of several recognised languages and is consequently required for full participation in the life of the nation and/or the language of education. Foreign languages, on the other hand, are often learnt for the purpose of gaining access to other literatures and cultures, travelling abroad, communicating with native and non-native speakers of the other language, more often than not for limited, special purposes. Most crucial is the difference in the amount and type of support for learning the other language derived from the environment and the

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degree to which the learner's mother tongue is supported outside the home (Phillipson 1992: 243). As a result the needs of the two groups of learners are totally different and teaching materials and pedagogical procedures should be a reflection of this. Unfortunately, the research climate created by the upsurge of Chomskyan ideas in the 1960s and early 1970s has not been conducive to the recognition of the difference between second- and foreign-language learning/teaching. In effect some researchers went so far as to claim that instruction could have little or no effect on the acquisition process. Some studies conducted since suggest, however, that instruction, especially if it incorporates elements of conscious attention to language forms and functions, does make a difference. Scant though the evidence still is, it does indicate that the rate of acquisition and the ultimate level of achievement are positively affected by instruction (for a review of these studies, see Larsen et al. 1991). In view of the pressing societal and linguistic problems caused by the influx of large numbers of immigrants, the emphasis over the past decades has been on second- rather than foreignlanguage learning research. But if the citizens of the developed nations of the West are not to lag behind in competence in foreignlanguages (and this is viewed as a top priority in the European Union) more and further research in this area is equally necessary. Recent neurological research involving the use of brain scans hints at a different functional organisation of the brain for native and secondlanguage use on the one hand and for foreign-language use on the other. The age at which the languages are learnt proves to be a decisive factor here (Kim et al. 1997). Admittedly, functional use does not tell us anything as to how the functions were acquired. But it does imply at least one caveat: with the present state of our knowledge glossing over the differences between foreign and secondlanguage learning is definitely premature. Until the two processes of acquisition are proven analogous (and there is some evidence to that effect; cf. Larsen et al. 1991) the twain must be kept apart.

References Bloch, Bernard—George L. Trager 1942 Outline of linguistic analysis. Baltimore, MD: Linguistic Society of America Bloomfield, Leonard 1914 An introduction to the study of language. London: Bell. 1933 Language. New York: Holt. [1935] [Reprinted London: Allen and Unwin.]

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Bloomfield, Leonard (cont.) 1942 Outline guide for the practical study of foreign languages. Baltimore, MD: Linguistic Society of America. Carroll, John B. 1953 The study of language: A survey of linguistics and related disciplines in America. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Chaudhary, S. 1998 "English in India", IATEFL Newsletter 140: 14-15. Dulay, Η.—M. Burt—S. Krashen 1982 Language two. Oxford: Oxford University Press. van Essen, Arthur J. 1983 E. Kruisinga: A chapter in the history of linguistics in the Netherlands. Leiden: Nijhoff. Howatt, Anthony P. R. 1984 A history of English language teaching. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Jespersen, Otto 1904 How to teach a foreign language. London: Allen and Unwin. Kachru, Braj B. 1985 "Attitudes and usage: English in the world context", in: Sidney Greenbaum (ed.), The English language today, 207-232. Oxford: Pergamon. Kim, Κ. H. S.—N. R. Relkin—K.-M. Lee—J. Hirsch 1997 "Distinct cortical areas associated with native and second languages", Nature 388: 171-174. Lado, Robert 1964 Language teaching: a scientific approach. New York: McGraw-Hill. Larsen-Freeman, Diane—Michael H. Long 1991 An introduction to second language acquisition research. London: Longman. de Leve, M. D. E. 1937 Psychologie en taalonderwijs [Psychology and language teaching]. Groningen: Noordhoff. van der Meer, Η. J. 1938 De betekenis van de taalwetenschap voor de methodiek van het vreemde-talenonderwijs [The importance of linguistics for the methodology of foreign-language teaching]. Groningen: Noordhoff. Palmer, Harold E. 1917 The scientific study and teaching of languages. London: Harrap. [1968] [Reprinted Oxford: Oxford University Press.] Phillipson, Robert 1992 Linguistic imperialism. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Rombouts, Sigebertus 1937 Waarheen met ons vreemde-talenonderwijs? Tilburg: R.K. Jongensweeshuis. Sapir, Edward 1921 Language. New York: Harcourt, Brace and World.

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Schutt, J. H. 1933 Taalonderwijs en wetenschap [Language teaching and science]. Groningen: Noordhoff. Spolsky, Bernard 1996 "The impact of the Army Specialized Training Programme: A reconsideration", in: Guy Cook—Barbara Seidlhofer (eds), Principle and practice in applied linguistics: Studies in honour of H. G. Widdowson, 323-334. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Stern, Η. H. 1982 Fundamental concepts of language teaching. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Sweet, Henry 1899 The practical study of languages. London: Dent. Uhlenbeck, Ε. M. 1958 "Traditionele zinsontleding en syntaxis" [Traditional parsing and syntax], Levende Talen 193: 18-30. 1968 "Taalonderwijs en taalonderzoek" [Language teaching and linguistic research], Forum der Letteren 9: 65-80. 1970 "Taalwetenschap en taalonderwijs" [Linguistics and language teaching], Forum der Letteren 11: 94-99. Wilkins, David A. 1972 Linguistics in language teaching. London: Arnold.

Answers to questions put to an FSP theorist by Professor Ε. M. Uhlenbeck Jan Firbas

Not many linguists have gone down to history both as outstanding researchers opening new vistas through their magnificent work and revealingly weighing topical issues raised in the quest for linguistic knowledge, and as organizers of research on a truly world-wide scale unselfishly devoting their time to the benefit of others. Professor Ε. M. Uhlenbeck is one of the few who come under this heading. As a former fellow of NIAS, the Netherlands Institute for Advanced Studies, I have chosen to pay tribute to Professor Uhlenbeck, recalling him as Founder and President of this prestigious institution. I gratefully remember that, during my stay at NIAS in the academic year of 1973-74, my research into FSP (functional sentence perspective) attracted the attention of Professor Uhlenbeck, who invited me for discussions in the Leyden Linguistic Circle and provided a sheet of questions for these discussions. His questions (adduced in smaller type in the present paper) were admirably to the point and have not lost their topicality. In token of gratitude I present my answers to them here in a way based on my enquiries into FSP started in the mid fifties and still carried on. For a more detailed treatment of the concepts dealt with in the present paper, I beg the reader to refer to Firbas (1992) and to the other writings of mine mentioned in my answers. (1)

FSP ( - functional sentence perspective) is defined as "the distribution of various degrees of CD (= Communicative Dynamism) over the elements within a sentence", while this distribution is said to be "the outcome of an interplay of three factors: context, semantic structure, and linear arrangement". By a degree or amount of CD carried by a linguistic element is understood "the relative extent to which the element contributes to the development of the communication".

Let me just add here that the three factors mentioned operate in an interplay both in written and in spoken language. A fourth factor— intonation—joins the interplay in spoken language. In the current version of the definition of a degree of CD, a linguistic element is followed by the qualification of any rank.

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Jan Firbas In relation to these definitions the following notions may come up for further discussion: (a) element of a sentence, (b) linear arrangement, (c) semantic structure, (d) the role of sentence intonation (intonation centre), (e) contextual dependency, (f) means of FSP, (g) degree of CD.

(a) In the act of communication, any linguistic element that conveys some meaning contributes to the development of the communication and serves as a carrier of a degree (an amount) of CD. "Element" is to be understood here in a wide sense of the word. A linguistic element can be implemented through, or merely linked with, different forms and perform different functions in language. When merely linked with some form, it does not have a particular form of its own. For instance, in the sentences I did not phone him, but you did, the pronouns I and you convey the semantic feature of contrast. This semantic feature conveys an additional piece of information and raises the degrees of CD carried by I and you. Seen in this light, even semantic features act as linguistic elements carrying degrees of CD. As language is a system, elements serving as carriers of CD are hierarchically organized; see the answer to (c). (b) In the act of communication, linearity is not an inactive linguistic phenomenon. Inspired by Dwight Bolinger (1952), I speak of "linear modification". As I see it, it is a force that in the direction from the beginning to the end of the sentence produces a gradual rise in degrees of CD provided it is permitted to do so by the other FSP factors. If in Professor Uhlenbeck went with some colleagues to a session of the Linguistic Circle and Professor Uhlenbeck went to a session of the Linguistic Circle with some colleagues only Professor Uhlenbeck conveys information retrievable from the immediately relevant context (see the following section), the sentences show a gradual rise in CD, being perspectived to to a session of the Linguistic Circle and with some colleagues, respectively. It follows that the signals yielded by linear modification are the very positions of the elements in the actual linear arrangement. Linear modification, however, does not operate independently of the other FSP factors. The actual linear arrangement does not, therefore, invariably display a gradual rise in CD. (e) [sj'c] Having referred to context, I find it necessary to turn my attention to the operation of the contextual factor. It operates through a section of context that has been accounted for as follows. It has been established that in regard to the actual act of communication, at which a sentence is uttered and/or perceived, it is a narrow section of context—the immediately relevant context, verbal and situational—that is of paramount importance (Firbas 1966: 246-247; 1992: 22-25, 2931). What matters in this connection is the retrievability or irre-

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trievability of a piece of information from this section of context. In regard to the immediately relevant communicative step to be taken, a piece of information gradually loses its retrievability if not re-expressed in the flow of communication. The stretch of text during which a piece of information remains retrievable (in the narrow sense indicated) without re-expression constitutes its retrievability span (Firbas 1995). Enquiries have established that the length of this span is very short. Results based upon analyses of fiction prose point to the length covering seven through nine sentences. These analyses suggest that the immediately relevant context is constituted by all the retrievability spans that are open (i.e. live, not closed) at the moment of utterance and/or perception. An exact line of demarcation between the immediately relevant context and the rest of context can hardly be drawn because of the existence of a borderline between the two sections. Sentence elements conveying information retrievable from the immediately relevant context are regarded as context-dependent (in the narrow sense of the word). Elements conveying retrievable information naturally carry lower degrees of CD than elements conveying irretrievable information. They do so irrespective of position in the actual linear arrangement. If the notions of "Professor Uhlenbeck" and "some colleagues" are context-dependent, the elements expressing them carry the lower degrees of CD irrespective of sentence position: Professor Uhlenbeck/He went with some colleagues/them to a session of the Linguistic Circle, He went to a session of the Linguistic Circle with them. The actual presence of a piece of information in the immediately relevant context and its re-expression, or in fact its absence from it, precluding re-expression, are signals yielded by the contextual factor. (c) The third factor operating both in written and in spoken language is the semantic factor. First, a word on semantic structure. According to Mathesius (1975), a sentence comes into existence through the processes of naming (denomination) and syntactic structuration. The naming elements, which convey their meanings and have their forms, are organized and combined through syntax into sentences. Syntactic structuration does not merely combine forms (cf. Reichling 1961: 1). It effects a semantic connection, i.e. a connection of meanings (cf. Danes 1968: 55); it reflects the semantic structure. A linguistic element conveying some meaning names (denominates) and at the same has a grammatical status. How does it function in the act of communication? Its function is determined by the interplay of FSP factors. As for the semantic factor, it operates through the character of the semantic content of a linguistic element and the character of the semantic relations into which it enters. These are the signals yielded by it.

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The operation of the semantic factor in the interplay of the FSP factors can be illustrated with the following two contextual applications of the sentence structure Professor Uhlenbeck has come to the session of the Linguistic Circle. If the adverbial is context-dependent and the rest context-independent, the sentence structure is perspectived towards the subject, Professor Uhlenbeck. If, on the other hand, the subject is context-dependent and the rest context-independent, the sentence structure is perspectived away from the subject towards the adverbial, to the session of the Linguistic Circle. The contextdependent elements carry the lowest degrees of CD and do so irrespective of position in the actual linear arrangement. As for the context-independent elements, their degrees of CD are determined by the semantic factor. Let me recall at this point that owing to its semantic character the verb does not complete the development of the communication and carry the highest degree of CD in the presence of context-independent elements acting as what has been called its successful competitors (Firbas 1992: 41-85; for comments on the semantic character of come, see Section 5.2 below). In the contextual applications of the sentence structures under discussion, the roles of such competitors are played by the context-independent subject in the first application, and the context-independent adverbial in the second. It follows that the first application is perspectived towards the subject and shows a gradual fall in CD. The second is perspectived away from the subject towards the adverbial and shows a gradual rise in CD. In the former case, linear modification is counteracted by both the contextual and the semantic factors; in the second all three factors operate in the same direction. This reflects the hierarchy of the three factors. The dominating role is played by the contextual factor. If not prevented from doing so by the contextual factor, the semantic factor either permits or does not permit linear modification to assert itself. (Linear modification is permitted to assert itself in determining the degrees of CD of the two successful competitors of the verb—with some colleagues and to a session of the Linguistic Circle—in the two contextual applications of the sentence structure discussed under (e) above.) (d) In spoken language the interplay of FSP factors is joined by intonation (Firbas 1992: 143-221). It operates through degrees of prosodic prominence (PP), represented by a scale covering absence of stress (zero prominence), degrees of non-nuclear stress and degrees of nuclear stress. The prosodic features described here in terms of stress are the signals yielded by intonation. As a factor of FSP, intonation does not operate on its own independently of the other factors. The distribution of degrees of PP either perfectly reflects the distribution of degrees of CD as determined by the interplay of the non-prosodic

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factors or deviates from it. The deviations are functional, creating prosodic intensification and raising the degrees of CD. Acting as reflector or intensifier of the degrees of CD as determined by the nonprosodic factors, intonation constantly provides a running commentary on the attitudes of the speaker to the content of his/her utterances. Intimating attitudes, it conveys information sui generis, which participates in the development of the communication. This subjective commentary is indeed a special type of information. In fact, it is an integral part of oral communication (cf. Uhlenbeck 1983: 17). Strictly speaking, this additional running commentary is not present in written language. This is because written language is a language norm implemented by graphic substance, while spoken language is a language norm implemented by phonic substance (Vachek 1989: 103). The prosodic attitudinal commentary is added to the written sentence when it is intoned. When a piece of written language is intoned by different speakers, the running attitudinal commentaries offered by them naturally differ more or less (Firbas 1993). In order not to misrepresent the communicative purpose of the writer, the differences must respect the laws of the interplay of the FSP factors. (f) The means of FSP are the signals yielded by the four FSP factors. The distribution of degrees of CD, determining the functional perspective, is the outcome of an interplay of FSP factors, which is reflected by an interplay of the signals yielded by these factors. (g) Degrees of CD. By a degree of CD carried by a linguistic element of any rank I understand the relative extent to which this element contributes towards the development of the communication. Degrees (amounts) of CD are not multiples of some basic unit or quantity of information. They are to be understood in terms of the mutual relations of elements in regard to the development of the communication within a distributional field. A hierarchy of distributional fields of degrees of CD is provided by syntactic structuration. The highest rank is held by the distributional field provided by the sentence. Its syntactic constituents (subject, object, etc.) act as communicative units, carrying degrees of CD (cf. Svoboda 1968). In its turn, a communicative unit implemented by a subordinate clause, semiclause (non-finite clause) or noun phrase provides a distributional subfield. Each field has its communicative units, reflects the development of communication and functions in a perspective. Seen in this light, every communicative unit is a CD carrier, but not every linguistic element serving as a CD carrier acts as a communicative unit. It follows that the rank of a linguistic element serving as a CD carrier is determined by its place in the hierarchy of distributional fields. A degree of CD carried by a linguistic element indicates the place occupied by the element in the development of the communication. At

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this point it is important to note that the development of the communication is not invariably reflected by the actual linear arrangement. It is reflected by the interpretative arrangement. This arrangement orders the elements in accordance with a gradual rise in CD. These arrangements may, but need not, coincide. Languages differ in regard to the relationship between the two arrangements. (3)

It is stated that the basic distribution pattern of CD is the sequence theme—transition—rheme, with further distinction between theme and theme proper, transition and transition proper, and rheme and rheme proper.

Unless further qualified, "basic distribution of CD", is not understood as a language specific term. It conveniently denotes a gradual rise in CD spreading over a distributional field and reflecting unhampered operation of linear modification. The FSP functions arranged in the sequence theme [Th]—non-theme [N-Th] (constituted by transition [Tr] and rheme [Rh]) reflect a gradual rise in CD. Enquiries into FSP have expanded the scale of FSP functions: Theme Proper [ThPr], ThPr oriented [Thpr-o], Diatheme oriented [DTh-o], DTh, TrPr, Trpr-o, (Ordinary) Tr, (Ordinary) Rheme, RhPr (cf. Svoboda 1983). The FSP functions are not position-bound. It follows that the distribution of degrees of CD over the sentence by no means invariably shows a gradual rise in CD. (See the above note on the relationship between actual linear arrangement and interpretative arrangement.) The only FSP functions that must be invariably present are those of TrPr and RhPr. In themeless sentences, the lowest degree of CD is carried by transition proper. Question (1). Is the threefold basic pattern a universal pattern or is only the distinction between theme and rheme a universal one?

It follows from the above that the transition and the rheme operate in the non-theme. The theme and the non-theme reflect bipartition, which is regarded as the fundamental division. Apart from this, theme, transition and rheme reflect tripartition. Taking different thematic, transitional and rhematic functions into account reflects pluripartition. It can be expected that these types of partition reflecting FSP functions are universal. Languages can differ in their syntactic implementation. Question (2). Is it necessary to assume that in all sentences (with the exception perhaps of one-word sentences) a distinction in theme-transition-rheme can be made, or is it conceivable that in many-word sentences all elements are on a par conveying the same amount of information?

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The first part of the question has been answered in the introductory part of the present section (3). As for the second, concerning the amounts (degrees) of CD, the following is to be said. Strictly speaking, any element conveying some meaning participates in the development of the communication and has its position in this development. It does not share its degree of CD with another element. Question (3). What is the relation between verb and transition?

Whereas the notional component of the verb shows a strong tendency to be transitional, occasionally being rhematic and comparatively rarely thematic, the categorial exponents of the verb invariably perform the function of transition proper. They do so through the categorial exponents of tense and mood (the TMEs). They simultaneously link the subject with the predicate, the theme with the nontheme, and establish a link between the speaker/writer, the content of the sentence and the extralinguistic reality, includig the addressee. In this way they play a central role both in syntactic structure and in FSP (Firbas 1992: 70-73). Question (4). How does one determine the degree of CD carried by an element within the sentence? By means of the intonation centre or by a combination of other factors?

As has been stated above, the degrees of CD are determined through the interplay of FSP factors, reflected by the signals they yield. An interpreter knowing the laws of the interplay goes by the signals yielded by it. As intonation does not operate independently of the other factors, the intonation centre is one of the signals yielded by the interplay. Occurring on an element determined as non-rhematic (thematic or transitional) by the non-prosodic FSP factors, the intonation centre creates a highly marked re-evaluating prosodic intensification. Question (5). What is the place of FSP in a full description of a language?

Perspectiving the distributional fields to their rhemes proper (conveying the high points of the message within the fields), FSP both fulfils and conveys the communicative purpose of the language user. Through the interplay of the factors, reflected by the interplay of the signals they yield, FSP constitutes a system that is hierarchically superior to other systems of language. This is borne out by the fact that one and the same semantic and syntactic sentence structure can function in different perspectives.

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It is perhaps profitable to pay attention to the analysis of the following sentences (i) He was cross, or John found a hat (as examples which display the basic pattern: theme-transition-rheme).

The basic pattern is displayed by the two sentence structures if their subjects are either context-dependent or context-independent and their remaining sections context-independent. Under different contextual conditions, the sentence structures display different perspectives. Any of their constituents can carry the highest degree of CD and act as rheme (proper). (5)

(ii) The door opened and a girl came into the room vs. The door opened and the girl came into the room (role of the definite article in relation to FSP).

As signals of FSP which operate in an interplay, the definite and the indefinite articles do not operate on their own irrespective of other signals. True enough, the definite article does co-signal thematicity and the indefinite article rhematicity, but each does so only under certain (favourable) conditions. It follows that the definite article cannot invariably be linked with thematicity, nor the indefinite article with rhematicity. This requires a note on "old" and "new" information, frequently linked with thematicity and rhematicity, respectively. The vast stock of common knowledge shared by the sender and the addressee can certainly be regarded as old or known. The entire stock, however, cannot be expressed in the immediately relevant context. In regard to the immediately relevant communicative step to be taken, only such an item of common knowledge is considered old or known information as is expressed in the immediately relevant verbal context or has its referent in the immediately relevant situational context. If this is the case, an item of knowledge is retrievable from the immediately relevant context and in this narrow sense context-dependent, and hence old or known information. On the other hand, an item of knowledge irretrievable from the immediately relevant context is, in this narrow sense, contextindependent, and hence new or unknown information. Enquiries into the interplay of factors, reflected by the interplay of the signals they yield, have shown that whereas rhematic elements are always contextindependent, thematic elements are not necessarily always contextdependent. Context-dependent elements are always thematic, thematic elements can be either context-dependent or context-independent. Provided that in A girl came into the room the adverbial into the room is context-dependent or context-independent and the subject A

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girl context-independent, the verb came participates in perspectiving the sentence structure towards A girl. This is the most natural contextual application of this structure. Under the same contextual conditions, the sentence structure The girl came into the room functions in the same perspective. It is perspectived towards the subject, The girl. This is by no means an unusual contextual application of this sentence structure even if it is perhaps more commonly perspectived towards into the room, the subject The girl being context-dependent and both the verb, came, and the adverbial, into the room, being contextindependent. In that case the verb participates in perspectiving the structure away from the subject. Apart from these common or fairly common contextual conditions, others less common can be thought of. For instance, either structure could be perspectived towards context-independent came, both the subject, A/The girl, and the adverbial, into the room, being context-dependent. Such perspective could serve to emphasize, for instance, that the person has not been brought into the room but managed to walk into it. Another communicative purpose would perspective the message to the piece of information conveyed by positive polarity: This would be achieved by expanding the structure with the auxiliary did and perspectiving the structure to it: A/The girl did come into the room. It is worth noticing that, in regard to the development of the communication and the communicative purpose to be fulfilled, different perspectives modify the information conveyed. When the sentence structure is perspectived to the adverbial into the room, the adverbial completes the development of the communication and conveys the high point of the message. In consequence the sentence structure is perspectived away from the subject, A/The girl. If the sentence structure is perspectived towards the subject, the adverbial conveys mere background information. It does not complete the development of the communication, but opens it. In the two contextual applications it performs two different functions. As such functions operate in the dynamics of the communication, they have been termed dynamic semantic functions (DSFs). Opening the development of the communication, the adverbial performs the DSF of expressing a Setting (Set); closing it, it performs the DSF of expressing a Specification (Sp). The concept of DSF attempts to capture the way the semantic content of a syntactic constituent of a distributional field functions in regard to the development of the communication. It has been conceived of at the level of abstraction of a syntactic constituent. The operation of DSFs has been accounted for in Firbas (1992, especially Chapter 5) and amply illustrated by text analyses there and in other places (for instance, Firbas 1986).

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In the two contextual applications under discussion, even the verb and the subject perform different DSFs. If the sentence structure is perspectived towards the subject, A/The, the verb, came, performs the DSF of Presentation (Pr) and the subject, A/The, the DSF of expressing the Phenomenon to be presented (Ph). It is important to note that the information conveyed by the subject completes the development of the communication within the field. Within it, nothing further is said about this piece of information conveyed by the subject. The DSFs of the subject and the verb are different if the sentence structure is perspectived away from the subject. In that case, something is said about the information conveyed by the subject. The verb, came, performs the DSF of expressing a Quality (Q), and the subject, A/The, the DSF of expressing the Bearer of quality (B). The DSFs are important indicators of thematicity and nonthematicity. The theme (foundation) is constituted by the following (foundation-laying, thematic) constituents: a context-dependent or context-independent Setting and/or a context-dependent or contextindependent Bearer of quality and/or any other element that is contextdependent. The dynamic semantic status of such a context-dependent constituent has in fact been reduced to that of a Setting. Constituents performing the remaining DSFs form the non-theme (core). They are non-thematic (core-constituting). These are the non-thematic DSFs: Presentation, Phenomenon to be presented, (mere) Ascription of Quality (AofQ), Quality, Specification and Further Specification (FSp). If under the conditions stipulated the sentence structure The girl came into the room is perspectived away from the subject, the following DSFs are in operation: The boy (B, Th) came (Q, N-Th) into the room (Sp, N-Th). If under the conditions stipulated the sentence structure A/The girl came into the room is perspectived towards the subject, the following DSFs are in operation: A/The girl (Ph, N-Th) came (Pr, NTh) into the room (Set, Th). Bearing in mind that in the development of communication the TMEs start building up the non-theme (core) upon the theme (foundation), and that, in the presence of successful competitors, the verb, or rather its notional component, acts as transition and the successful competitor acts as rheme, we can offer refined interpretations (the transitional function of the TMEs is indicated by the "+" sign, standing for a link between the theme and the nontheme): The girl (B, Th) came (+; Q, Tr) into the room (Sp, Rh); A/The girl (Ph, Rh), came (+; Pr, Tr) into the room (Set, Th). Let me add the perspectives of the two less frequent contextual applications adduced above. Apart from the context-independent came (on account of its transitional TMEs and its notional component) in the first application, and apart from context-independent did (on account of its transitional TMEs, and its feature of positive polarity) in the second,

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the rest of the constituents of the sentence structures are contextdependent. A/The girl (B, Th) came (+; Q, Rh) into the room (Set, Th); A/The girl (B, Th) did (+; Q, Rh) come (+; Set, Th) into the room (Set, Th). An important note must be added on the dynamic functioning of came. In the contextual application in which the sentence structure examined is perspectived towards the subject, the semantic character of come and the character of the semantic pattern in which it occurs permit the verb come to express the appearance on the scene, the adverbial the scene, and the subject the person appearing on the scene. This is not the case when the structure is perspectived away from the subject. This perspective is linked with another interpretation. Participating in perspectiving the sentence structure away from the subject, the semantic character of come and the semantic pattern in which it occurs foreground the notions of motion and the goal of motion. Under the different contextual conditions stipulated, the constituent expressing the person appearing on the scene in the former case and the constituent expressing the goal of motion in the latter act as successful competitors of the verb. The preceding note recalls the importance of the type of verbal semantic content that under favourable conditions expresses appearance/ existence on the scene explicitly or with sufficient implicitness. As has been demonstrated, the favourable conditions are the presence of a context-independent subject and the absence of another successful competitor of the verb. Under these conditions, the verb capable of expressing appearance/existence on the scene operates in full harmony with the strong tendency for the verb to be transitional. Under the circumstances it is transitional in performing the Pr-function. It participates in perspectiving the sentence towards a subject that expresses a new notion solely meant to be presented. As has already been indicated, this points to an important role played by a nonthematic (rhematic) subject. The qualification of sufficient implicitness (see above) takes borderline cases into account. They potentially permit the interpreter to tip the scales in perspectiving the sentence either towards the subject or away from it. It is, however, not only weakly signalled sufficient implicitness of the meaning of appearance/existence that opens the door to potentiality, but contrary to it also the strong tendency for the verb to be transitional. If merely suggesting a trace of the notion of appearance/existence, a verb can still be regarded as performing the Prfunction, but because of the weakness of the suggestion, it can be regarded by another interpreter as performing the Q-function. On the other hand, the strong tendency towards rendering the verb transitional may even induce the interpreter to consider a verb to perform the

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Pr-function in spite of its not suggesting appearance/existence at all. This seems to be especially the case if the notion expressed by the non-thematic (rhematic) subject is re-expressed in the immediately relevant following context. Potentiality can occur if under the circumstances described both the subject and the verb are contextindependent. There is no equivocalness about the sentence structure The door opened, if the subject, The door, is context-dependent and the verb, opened, context-independent. In that case, the sentence structure is unequivocally perspectived towards opened: The door (B, Th) opened (+; Q, Rh). If the reverse is the case, the structure is unequivocally perspectived towards the subject: The door (Ph, Rh) opened (+; Set, Tr). Because of the potentiality described, however, the scales can be tipped either towards the subject, or away from it if both the subject and the verb are context-independent.: The door (B, Th) opened (+; Q, Rh) or The door (Ph; Rh) opened (+; Pr, Tr). Like language itself, FSP is not a rigidly closed system. It has its centre and its periphery. Points of potentiality in the system are the cause of possible different interpretations. (6)

(iii) The detective went up to the window (for explanation of the concept of narrow scene).

The concept of narrow scene mentioned by Professor Uhlenbeck refers to the communicative situation created (set) in the flow of communication by the immediately relevant context at the moment a sentence is to be produced and/or perceived. This is what is actually meant by the metaphor "narrow scene", for instance, in Firbas (1966: 246f.). If the communicative purpose of the narration is to disclose the detective's choice and attainment of a point towards which he has decided to move, the window conveys a piece of information irretrievable from the immediately relevant context. This naturally holds good even if the notion of "window" itself happens to be retrievable. If this is the case, the window conveys information that is heterogeneous in regard to retrievability/irretrievability. As the specification of the point to be reached (goal of motion) constitutes the high point of the message, the window conveys additional predominating irretrievable information. The case exemplifies a type described as conveying an irretrievable result of a selection (1995: 22). Taking the continuous flow of communication into consideration, a distinction could actually be made between the narrow scene created just before the immediately relevant communicative step to be taken and the narrow scene implemented by this communicative step, that is the scene created (set) by the sentence at the moment of utterance and/or perception.

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References Bolinger, Dwight L. 1952 "Linear modification", Publications of the Modern Language Association of America 67: 1117-1144. Danes, Frantisek 1968 "Some thoughts on the semantic structure of the sentence", Lingua 1: 55-69. Firbas, Jan 1966 "Non-thematic subjects in contemporary English", Travaux Linguistiques de Prague 2: 239-56. 1986 "On the dynamics of written communication in the light of the theory of functional sentence perspective", in: Charles R. Cooper—Sidney Greenbaum (eds.), Studying writing: Linguistic approaches. Vol. 1: 40-71. Beverly Hills: Sage. 1992 Functional sentence perspective in written and spoken communication. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. 1993 "Can the functional perspective of a spoken sentence be predicted from that of its written counterpart?", Brno Studies in English 20: 23-49. 1995 "Retrievability span in functional sentence perspective", Brno Studies in English 21: 17-45. Mathesius, Vilem 1975 A functional analysis of present-day English on a general linguistic basis. Ed. by Josef Vachek & transl. by Libuse Duskovä. Prague: Academia. Reichling, Anton 1961 "Principles and methods of syntax: Cryptoanalytical formalism", Lingua 10: 1-17. Svoboda, Ales 1968 "The hierarchy of communicative units and fields as illustrated by English attributive constructions", Brno Studies in English 7: 49-85. 1983 "Thematic elements", Brno Studies in English 15: 49-85. Uhlenbeck, Ε. M. 1983 Linguistics: Neither psychology nor sociology. Wassenaar: NIAS. Vachek, Josef 1989 Written language revisited. Amsterdam: Benjamins.

Some puzzles that arise from the assumption that to learn a language is to construct a grammar George W. Grace

Introduction In a talk that I gave in 1994 (Grace 1997b), I spoke of how my perception of the problems of the field of Austronesian linguistics had changed over the years that I had been involved in it.1 In doing so I was obliged to admit to having held a number of what I now see as misconceptions and false assumptions. Of course, what misconceptions I may or may not have had would hardly be of interest to anyone if they had been mine alone. My reason for thinking that they might be of some interest was that I believed that others—in fact, most other linguists—had the same misconceptions. That, at least, was what their words and actions led me to believe. What I want to do here is talk about just one of the misconceptions that I mentioned in that talk and consider some of the puzzles that it gave rise to which are to a greater or lesser extent resolved by its removal. In a few cases it led me to make assertions in print that I have subsequently had to retract. The misconception concerned the way language works. I assumed a language to be a system for encoding information. I imagined it to be made up of a lexicon and a syntactic system. The role of the individual lexical items was to encode objects, states, acts, etc. while the role of the syntactic structures was to encode relations among (the referents of) lexical items. Such a system is often referred to as a "grammar". In this conception, then, the grammar authorizes the construction of certain sentences and warrants the meaning(s) of each sentence so authorized. I believe such a conception to have been quite common. To speak using such a language, I supposed that what one did was to select (from the grammar) lexical items that encoded appropriate objects, acts, etc., and, by applying appropriately-selected rules of the syntax, to combine the lexical items in such a way as to encode the relations that one wanted to attribute to (the referents of) these lexical items. 2 In order to become able to use such a language, then, I supposed that the child must construct a grammar on the basis of the examples provided by the speech of more mature speakers, and that that grammar would have to be in all its essentials like those of all of

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the other speakers of that language. (In fact, it has been customary to speak as if all of these grammars were instantiations of a single superorganic entity—THE language as a sort of ambient entity which is "acquired" by successive generations of children). What I now see as wrong with this conception is that it confuses two quite independent phenomena: (1) the structure revealed by an analysis of the output of speech (usually in the form of written text or a written transcription of speech) and (2) what an individual must know in order to be able to use language. Of course, analysis of the output of speech does indeed reveal rich inventories of lexical items and complex and sophisticated syntactic structures. However, that's not the same thing as saying that such structures exist in the minds of the speakers or that the speakers draw upon them in order to speak or interpret the speech of others. 3 The point is that there is no reason to believe that the language itself—that which exists in the people who are its speakers—has the same form as the artifacts of its use. Although I don't intend to imply that what may be learned from the output of speech has no relevance at all to the question of what the speaker needs to know, we don't understand much about the nature of its relevance, and we would have no basis at all for claiming that a description of the first constitutes anything like a description of the second. But if the knowledge required to speak a language doesn't take the form of a grammar, what form does it take? That is certainly an important question, but one that I'm unable to answer in any detail. 4 Unfortunately, no detailed answer is necessary for what I want to talk about here. However, what Widdowson describes in the following quotation (1989: 135) under the label "communicative competence" corresponds closely enough to my own ideas of what the speaker must know to serve as a guide to the extent that one is needed: [CJommunicative competence is not a matter of knowing rules for the composition of sentences and being able to employ such rules to assemble expressions from scratch as and when occasion requires. It is much more a matter of knowing a stock of partially pre-assembled patterns, formulaic frameworks, and a kit of rules, so to speak, and being able to apply the rules to make whatever adjustments are necessary according to contextual demands. Communicative competence in this view is essentially a matter of adaptation, and rules are not generative but regulative and subservient.

In any event, the essential point is that speakers do not generally compose their utterances from scratch—assembling sentences out of individual words by applying syntactic rules—and that the language, as it exists in their "minds", is much more a patchwork and much less

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a single highly integrated system than my misconception would have had it. And what I want to talk about here are some of the consequences of looking at the world of language anew without this misconception. This account will necessarily be a quite personal one, but I hope that my misconception was not so idiosyncratic that it will have no relevance to others. Although I think it's fair to say, as I do in my title, that the five puzzles that I'll be discussing "arise from" this particular misconception, all of them do in any case reflect questions of some relevance to understanding the nature of human language. However, each of these questions appears in a quite different light in the absence of that assumption. In the case of two of the five, I have actually made assertions in print under the influence of my misconception that I subsequently had to retract. In the other three cases the misconception led rather to puzzlement than to wrong-headed conviction; I don't remember having made any assertions about them that require retracting. The five puzzles don't seem to fall into any logical order. Maybe the puzzle of "unlearnable" languages is a good place to begin since it was probably my reaction to such languages that set me to wondering in the first place if our conception of linguistic competence wasn't wrong.

Puzzle 1: Some languages have the appearance of being unlearnable, but people obviously learn them. How can that be? By saying that these languages seem "unlearnable" I mean that it's difficult for me to imagine anyone being able to achieve normal fluency in them. My problem was, of course, that (because of my aforementioned misconception) I imagined that a speaker had to be able to compose words and sentences from scratch in real time. The languages that I had particularly in mind were those with very complex morphology and with large numbers of morphologicallyconditioned allomorphs. Although it may have been when I was looking at an Algonlaan language that the enormity of this task first struck me, there are many other languages that present similar problems (and, for example, I'd been told by someone that Harry Hoijer had said that he had no hope of ever being able to speak any Apachean language [although I can't vouch for the truth of that report]). Furthermore, some linguists today are suggesting that all languages tend to develop such ("unlearnability") characteristics if they're not interfered with—i. e., if there's no contact with other languages. 5

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Thurston (1987) suggests that the contact, if it is to prevent this kind of development, must involve lingua franca use of the language. Trudgill (1989) suggests that the key factor is post-adolescents learning and using the language. Anyway, with these views the plot is further thickened; now it comes to appear that it's a normal thing for a language steadily to increase what I would have seen as its unlearnability. My initial feeling, then, was that to speak such a language by composing words and sentences from scratch in real time had to be impossible. Various things have subsequently confirmed the validity of that feeling. I should make particular mention of the paper by Andrew Pawley and Frances Syder (1983) in which they show that, even in English, people speaking fluently are not composing from scratch (nor, for that matter, are people who are speaking idiomatically—i. e., sounding like true members of their speech community). Of course, there now exists a very extensive literature on speech formulas, idioms, cliches, catchwords, grammatical constructions, schemata, etc. 6 But how, in fact, are these seemingly "unlearnable" languages learned? One part of the answer appears to be provided by work of Ann Peters (see especially Peters 1977; 1983), who pointed out that some children begin their language "acquisition" not with single words, but with holistically-known sentence-like units. And her example came not from one of the languages with extensive morphologically-conditioned allomorphy, but from English, and not from an environment where the caregivers were ignorant of the linguistic ideology of modern civilization, but from the U.S.A. Another part of the answer is found in observations of language learning in Papua New Guinea. Don Laycock, who reported one of the cases, this one from the upper Sepik basin, commented (1979: 92), "But it seems likely that this method of teaching by whole sentences of potential use—the phrase-book method—is the normal one in Papua New Guinea; my own informants commonly adopted this method during eliciting." In another case, William R. Thurston (1987) reports that when the people of Northwestern New Britain (roughly 500 miles from Laycock's site) undertake to teach their languages to outsiders, speakers of all of the nine languages of the region conduct the instruction according to a single, unvarying plan. And, although Thurston was not aware of Laycock's report, the plan that he describes sounds essentially identical to Laycock's. The suggested answer to how the languages in question can be learned, then, seems to be that what is learned is not a grammar but rather something more along the lines of a phrasebook. In fact, these studies at least raise the possibility that the phrasebook method of

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teaching and learning languages may be the normal one except where a linguistic ideology such as that of Western civilization interferes. Puzzle 2: How can it be that we can't say how many languages there are and what each consists of? One thing that was particularly puzzling to me (laboring under the misconception in question) was that there was no non-arbitrary answer to such questions as how many languages there are in the world (or in this or that geographical area), or which utterances are in the same language (as, for example, in the case of utterances recorded at various places in a dialect chain). This indeterminacy meant that we would never be able to specify more than approximately what grammatical system governed a particular utterance or which speakers had their speech governed by the same system. It seemed at first that the governing system assumption might be salvaged by the hypothesis that a given language actually comprised not one grammar but a number of very similar grammars. The speech of each individual would be governed by one of these—at first the hypothesis was that it would be the grammar of the speaker's particular dialect, and then (when that had proved unsatisfactory) that of his/her "idiolect". The objective of this hypothesis was twofold: to have the speech of each individual governed by a proper governing system—i. e., a system that was uniform enough and self-consistent enough to specify just which sentences were possible and just what each one of the possible sentences meant—and at the same time to permit the different individuals who counted as speakers of the same language to understand one another. What was to make the understanding possible was that the different systems employed by the different individuals who counted as speakers of the language would be similar enough to one another that they would generate much the same output and, to the extent that the output overlapped, understanding would be possible. However, it has eventually become apparent that the idiolect—the language as known by the individual—lacks the characteristics required of a governing system. It is itself not systematic, but may combine materials attributable to different dialects (not to mention different languages). In sum, no locus for these supposed governing systems can be found. However, once the misconception in question is abandoned—i. e., once the knowledge employed by speakers is seen as less system-like and more inventory-like—it becomes much easier to understand how the knowledge possessed by different individuals can overlap in

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varying degrees and in varying ways and how different portions (ranging from nearly all to none at all) of one person's utterances can be recognized or made sense of by a given other person. Puzzle 3: How can speakers mix languages? I'm now convinced that people mix different languages in ways that I once believed theoretically impossible. In fact, in Grace 1965 I went so far as to assert that language mixture of such a sort "that the number of elements from A and from Β is approximately equal and that the range of structural and semantic roles played by the set of elements from A and by the set of elements from Β is substantially equivalent" did not exist. In addition to making the ill-advised assertion that there were no known examples of such mixture, I also asserted that there was a theoretical ground for denying their existence, viz., "a language does not consist simply of an inventory of elements, but is more essentially a system. Elements in different systems are in a sense incomparable, and for that reason are not readily intersubstitutable." As chance would have it, I took English and German as examples and went on, "However, it would be much more difficult to design a series of sentences such that it was impossible to determine in the case of each construction (e.g., phrase, clause, sentence, etc.) in which of the two languages it was cast ..." (quotations from Grace 1965: 3). Since I wrote those words, I've been faced with a large amount of evidence that I was wrong. I personally felt particularly challenged by Forman (1973), Scollon (1975), and Wurm (1978). Wurm in fact gave examples of English-German mixing that very effectively contradicted precisely what I had asserted using those two languages as examples (I should point out that the applicability of his examples to my claim was coincidental—he made no reference to it). Consequently, I've retracted the essentials of my original statements (especially in Grace 1987b). Of course, I don't intend to suggest that once this particular misconception about the nature of (the individual's knowledge of) language is abandoned, all questions about the way that language mixing works have been resolved. Quite the contrary. All I mean is that we're now free to describe what actually happens without being trapped in the problem of finding ways to interpret it that accord with what was deemed to be theoretically possible.

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Puzzle 4: How do we decide what to say? This is a question that only gradually grew to worry me. I had, of course, been assuming that the grammar constituted the knowledge required for using a language and that what the speaker did with this knowledge was to encode (and decode) messages. But I gradually came to feel that this assumption ignored a serious problem: where do the messages come from? In other words, how does the prospective speaker decide what to say, or for that matter, whether or not to speak at all? At the beginning I had just assumed that that had nothing to do with linguistics, that linguistic knowledge only came into play when it was time to encode a message that had already been decided upon. The problem with that picture of the process is that it seemed to require two quite separate mental roles—as if the mind were divided into two distinct components, each working independently of the other. The component that possessed linguistic knowledge played the role of encoder. However, all it seemed to be able to do was to encode messages provided to it by the other component and to decode those received via ears or eyes—presumably transmitting the results to the other component. The other component was the thinker. It seemed to be a pretty complete reasoning machine, a pretty complete human mind, except for its one big deficiency: it wasn't able to encode and decode messages. It didn't have access to language. Thus, this "thinker" component, whatever it was, was assumed not to have anything to do with language—it was something linguists didn't have to worry about. It was somebody else's responsibility. The problem with that idea was that it was hard to imagine how the thinker component could do its work without any idea of the linguistic resources available to the encoder—how decisions about what utterances to make could really be made with no regard whatever to the resources afforded by the language to be used. It would be like trying to communicate in a strange language through an interpreter. In fact, I can't imagine how decisions about what (if anything) to say could be made without some ability to consider potential speech acts as wholes. In making such a decision one surely must be able on occasion to contemplate quite specific speech acts: something like "suppose I use such-and-such words, delivered with such-and-such intonation, and possibly even with such-and-such accompanying gesture or facial expression; how might that sound [to the intended audience]?" Such ability would be quite impossible without access to knowledge of the particular language to be employed. (I might add, for that matter, that I also find it impossible to understand how the encoder component could function effectively without

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some knowledge of the purpose of the speech act, but I won't pursue that further here.) At any rate, it now appears to me that the knowledge at the command of the thinker component—the knowledge required in order to decide whether or not to speak and (if to speak) to decide what to say —needs to include something like the entire "communicative competence" described by Widdowson (see above). But it also seems that once the thinker component has this knowledge, the need for any other component or any other kind of knowledge ("competence") has disappeared. One consequence of this conclusion, then, is that the question of how the speaker decides whether or not to speak and what to say, is not linguistically irrelevant. This question falls at least in part into the domain for which linguistics must assume responsibility because only linguistics is equipped to investigate the knowledge of language on which such decisions depend. Finally, I need to acknowledge that this matter is also one on which I took an early position that I've since had to retract. The question of whether determining what to say, on the one hand, and determining how to say it (designing the expression), on the other, are (or can be) separate activities is just an aspect of the more general question of whether what-is-said can be separated from the-way-it-is-said. I have claimed quite explicitly that they could be (Grace 1981: 36, 57-63). A few years later I found it necessary to assert, equally explicitly, that they could not (Grace 1987a: 10). Puzzle 5: How can language have evolved when our closest relatives show no evidence of even a rudimentary grammatical system? If we analyze the assumptions lying behind this question—i. e., the assumptions that made it make sense to me—they were something like the following: (1) (2)

(3)

Our species is the only one that has language. Language consists of systems (languages) in which speakers compose their utterances by combining lexical items according to the rules of a syntactic system. (Of course, this is the misconception that we've been discussing). Not even the most closely related other species possess (or seem capable of learning) even a rudimentary grammatical (i. e., compositional) system.

On the assumption that to learn a language is to construct a grammar

(4) (5)

(6) (7) (8)

77

Thus, nothing that looks like a credible antecedent for human language can be identified in any of those species. Therefore, if the species that was our last common ancestor had any identifiable antecedent of human language, it must have disappeared without a trace in each of the other species descended from that ancestral species. But that would be very unlikely (all the more so if these antecedent traits were useful ones, as would seem likely). Therefore, it's very unlikely that the species which was our common ancestor had any identifiable antecedent of human language. Therefore, the changes in humans which provided them with the capacity for language must have been surprisingly large ones for such a short (in evolutionary perspective) time (the sort of thing that is sometimes spoken of as a change of kind rather than of degree).

This line of reasoning leaves one with either a miracle or what Gould and Vrba (1982) call "exaptation"—the serendipitous adaptability for one function (in this case, language) of traits that were originally selected for unrelated ones. Exaptation in this case would amount to a null hypothesis with regard to the role of natural selection in the evolution of language. It would suggest that the evolutionary process would be very difficult to reconstruct. However, as can be seen, the entire question is fundamentally altered once assumption 2, which contains the key misconception, is removed. (Ironic as that may seem, it's likely that our inability to come up with a good hypothesis about the main outlines of the evolution of language has been due more to our lack of an accurate conception of the nature of the human language faculty than to the limitations on our knowledge of the behavior of other species.)

Conclusion In this paper I've attempted to show how widely the consequences of a single assumption can ramify and, if the assumption is misconceived, how much confusion it can create in a variety of issues. I think that all of the five "puzzles" that I've discussed here still represent questions of some interest to linguistics (although a couple of the questions require re-wording). However, once my misconception is removed, each of the questions assumes a quite different aspect. Puzzle 1 was "Some languages have the appearance of being unlearnable, but people obviously learn them. How can that be?" We

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might revise that to: "Question 1: How do people learn languages?" Once my misconceived idea of what a speaker must be able to do is abandoned, there's no basis for speaking of an "appearance of being unlearnable". However, of course the question of how we learn language remains an important one. Puzzle 2 was "How can it be that we can't say how many languages there are and what each consists of?" I think we can leave the original wording of this one alone for the time being. This question might at first blush appear to lose its raison d'etre when the assumption of the governing-system role of the language is removed. However, the validity of the concept of "a language" ' and the assumption that language in its natural state was divided up into languages still need to be seriously examined. Puzzle 3 was "How can speakers mix languages?" Again, I think we might let the original wording stand for the time being. This question certainly remains of interest even if it ceases to be puzzling without the assumption of the governing-system role of the language. It might prove profitable to study it in conjunction with Question 2. Puzzle 4 was "How do we decide what to say?" I see no need to revise the original wording. This question has always been neglected, but I'm confident that a serious attempt to answer it could play a very central role in advancing our understanding of the nature of human language. It stands to benefit greatly f r o m a more open-minded approach to the question of what knowledge underlies the ability to use language. Puzzle 5 was "How can language have evolved when our closest relatives show no evidence of even a rudimentary grammatical system?" We might reduce that to: "Question 5: How did human language evolve?" This question seems certain to be of continuing interest. In fact, when the question of how language evolved finally comes to receive serious study without being constrained by misconceptions about what it is that evolved—i. e., about the nature of human language— I'm quite optimistic that we'll see very rapid and exciting results. In fact, I believe there's reason to be optimistic that the present generation of linguists will live to see significant progress toward answering all of these questions.

Notes 1.

It's a pleasure to participate in a volume honoring Bob Uhlenbeck. I've valued my discussions with him as well as his scholarly work. But I've also particularly appreciated and admired the statesman-like role that he's played in the

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2.

3. 4.

5 6.

7.

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profession of linguistics where he has continually sought out ways to make things work and to make good sense prevail. And of course understanding the speech of others was understood to be essentially a decoding operation. One identified the lexical items and identified the syntactic relations holding among them, and the result of this analysis was an understanding of the "meaning" of the linguistic expression in question. On this point see, for example, Paul Hopper's discussion of "Emergent grammar" (Hopper 1987). Right now, I would not even try to predict which present lines of research are most likely to produce more information on what knowledge underlies the ability to use language. However for what it may be worth, those who have access to the World Wide Web can find somewhat more extensive speculation about the form of that knowledge in Grace (1993a; 1993b; 1997a). See, for example, Bailey (1982), Thurston (1987), Trudgill (1989). To give just a few examples: Pawley (1985; 1991) on speech formulas, Makkai (1972) on idioms, Lakoff (1987) on grammatical constructions, Tyler (1987: 105-114) on schemata. See especially the works of Robert Le Page (e.g., Le Page—Tabouret-Keller 1985, Le Page 1989).

References Bailey, Charles-James N. 1982 On the Yin and Yang nature of language. Ann Arbor, MI: Karoma. Forman, Michael L. 1973 "Philippine languages in contact: Honolulu radio station K.I.S.A.", University of Hawaii Working Papers in Linguistics 5 (10): 137-51. Gould, Stephen J.—Elisabeth S. Vrba 1982 "Exaptation: A missing term in the science of form", Paleobiology 8: 4-15. Grace, George W. 1965 "On the scientific status of genetic classification in linguistics", Oceanic Linguistics 4: 1-14. 1981 An essay on language. Columbia, SC: Hornbeam Press. 1987a The linguistic construction of reality. London: Croom Helm. 1987b "Genetic classification revisited", in: Donald C. Laycock—Werner Winter (eds.), A world of language: Papers presented to Professor S. A. Wurm on his 65th birthday, 221-26. Canberra: Australian National University, Department of Linguistics, Research School of Pacific Studies. 1993a. "What is the language faculty?", Ethnolinguistic Notes, Series 3: 44. Printout. Available at http://www2.hawaii.edu/~grace/eln44.html. 1993b "What are languages?". Ethnolinguistic Notes, Series 3: 45. Printout. Available at http://www2.hawaii.edu/~grace/eln45.html.

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Grace, George W. (cont.) 1997a "Linguistic change: 5. The individual's knowledge of language", Ethnolinguistic Notes, Series 4: 6. Printout. Available at http://www2. hawaii.edu/~grace/elniv6.html. 1997b "On the changing context of Austronesian historical linguistics", in: Cecilia Ode—Wim Stokhof (eds.), Proceedings of the seventh international conference on Austronesian Linguistics, 15-32. Amsterdam: Rodopi. Hopper, Paul 1987 "Emergent grammar", Proceedings of the Thirteenth Annual Meeting of the Berkeley Linguistics Society, 139-57. Lakoff, George 1987 Women, fire, and dangerous things: What categories reveal about the mind. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Laycock, Don 1979 "Multilingualism: Linguistic boundaries and unsolved problems in Papua New Guinea", in: Stephen A. Wurm (ed.), New Guinea and neighboring areas: A sociolinguistic laboratory, 81-99. The Hague: Mouton. Le Page, Robert B. 1989 "What is a language?", York Papers in Linguistics 13: 9-24. Le Page, Robert B.—Andre Tabouret-Keller 1985 Acts of identity: Creole-based approaches to language and ethnicity. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Makkai, Adam 1972 Idiom structure in English. The Hague: Mouton. Pawley, Andrew 1985 "On speech formulas and linguistic competence", Lenguas Modernas 12: 84-104. 1992 "Formulaic speech", in: William Bright (ed.), International Encyclopedia of Linguistics, Vol. 2: 22-25. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Pawley, Andrew—Frances Hodgetts Syder 1983 "Two puzzles for linguistic theory: Nativelike selection and nativelike fluency", in: Jack C. Richards—Richard W. Schmidt (eds.), Language and communication, 191-226. London: Longman. Peters, Ann M. 1977 "Language-learning strategies: Does the whole equal the sum of the parts?" Language 53: 560-573. 1983 The units of language acquisition. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press Scollon, Suzanne 1975 "What is it that who speaks to whom", Term Paper for Linguistics 640S, University of Hawaii. Thurston, William R. 1987 Processes of change in the languages of north-western New Britain. Canberra: Australian National University, Department of Linguistics, Research School of Pacific Studies.

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Trudgill, Peter 1989 "Contact and isolation in linguistic change", in: Leiv Egil Breivik— Ernst Häkon Jahr (eds.), Language change: Contributions to the study of its causes, 227-237. Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter. Tyler, Stephen A. 1987 The unspeakable: Discourse, dialogue, and rhetoric in the postmodern world. Madison, WI: University of Wisconsin Press. Wurm, Stephen A. 1978 "Reefs-Santa Cruz: Austronesian, but ...!", in: Stephen A. Wurm— Lois Carrington (eds.), Second international conference on Austronesian Linguistics: Proceedings. Fascicle 2: Eastern Austronesian, 969-1010. Canberra: Australian National University, Department of Linguistics, Research School of Pacific Studies.

The ordering of valency slots from a communicative point of view Eva Hajicovä

1. Linguistic meaning European structural linguistics offers a suitable starting point for a systematic inquiry into the relationships between syntax and semantics, since it has never excluded the notion of meaning from linguistic investigations, and has found an appropriate way how to handle the relationship between human cognition and the patterning of meaning in individual languages. 1 The linguistic structuring of meaning, contrasted by de Saussure, Hjelmslev, Coseriu as well as by the Praguian scholars with the ontological or cognitive content and substantiated with a deep insight into the matters of linguistic meaning by Professor Ε. M. Uhlenbeck (see e.g. Uhlenbeck 1980), may be understood on the one hand as the underlying structure of the sentence (representing, to a certain degree, a counterpart both to Chomskyan D-structure and to Logical Form, LF), and on the other hand as one element of the series of explicata necessary for the presystemic notion of meaning. This member of the series belongs to the system of language, while the others (one of which combines the linguistic meaning with the specification of reference, others belonging to the layers of intension and extension) pertain to the interdisciplinary domain of semantic interpretation. In the present contribution I would like to demonstrate on one specific issue, namely the way in which the information on valency slots can be enriched by adding information on their communicative weight, that the level of meaning conceived in the above mentioned way, should also capture those aspects of the communicative function of language that are encoded by the grammar of the given language.

2. Valency frames and the ordering of valency slots It is matter of more or less general agreement nowadays that some kind of information on the valency of individual lexical units is an inevitable component part of a lexical entry in the lexicon, be it in

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the traditional form of a (printed or CD-ROM) dictionary or in a modem electronic form of some sort of a database designed to serve various applicational purposes. In this contribution, I would like to concentrate on additional important information the valency frames can provide and encode, namely the so-called systemic ordering underlying a rather strong hypothesis about the (deep) ordering of the complementations of the verb in the focus part of the sentence (Section 3), to indicate and briefly summarize the psycholinguistic experiments used to determine this ordering (Section 4) and to point out the appropriateness and usefulness of such an information for a procedure generating sentences and identifying the topic-focus articulation of sentences (Section 5).

3. Systemic ordering of complementations The concept of a fundamental ordering of the different kinds of complementations, i. e. of 'arguments' and 'adjuncts', is understood in our approach (for a more detailed discussion see Hajicovä—Sgall 1987; Sgall—Hajicovä—Panevovä 1986) as partly determining the underlying word order, or communicative dynamism (CD) in individual sentences; if a complementation A precedes another one, B, under the systemic orering (SO), then the order A < Β is unmarked in the hierarchy of CD (and, in prototypical cases, also in the surface word order). The marked order Β < A (with Β less dynamic than A) can occur only if Β is contextually bound. SO may be illustrated by the asymmetry in (la) and (lb) below. In (la) the/ram-group is in the topic in some readings, in the focus in others; on the other hand, in (lb) the io-group can only be in the topic. This asymmetry can be accounted for on the basis of SO, if (i) in English, SO determines the order from < to, rather than to < from as the unmarked order, and if (ii), in general, a departure from SO marks what is displaced to the left as part of the topic. This means that within the focus the scale of CD always is in accordance with SO. (1)

a. b.

They flew from Chicago A < They flew to Boston Β

distinctive

function

(in grammar)

I

have i

PHONOLOGICAL FORM I

is a class of

1 (ALLO)PHONES

have

— >

distinctive

function

(in phonology)

I

have i PHONETIC FORM I

is a class of I

SOUND IMAGES

that have

intuitive

similarity

I should now like to say a few things about the semantic subtheory. In it the notions "utterance" and "denotation" are most important. The first has already been defined above, but Hervey has also introduced two of his own definitions which are different but equivalent to mine. They are 1) Member of a signum (as a class) such that it is a model for a single realization (in actual communication) of that signum. And, more analytically, 2) Conjunction of a unique form and a unique reference. "Form" for "image (see above) in its capacity of having the particular distinctive function appropriate to a particular signum". "Reference" for "grammatically distinctive function in its capacity of being the particular grammatically distinctive function

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of a particular image". The relations between "signum", "utterance" and "denotation" can be illustrated by the following scheme (after Mulder—Hervey 1972):

SIGN

corresponds to a

CLASS OF DENOTATA

I is instanced an infinite number of times by an

is instanced an infinite number of times by a

I

4

UTTERANCE

denotes a single —>

DENOTATUM

Hervey's definitions: "denotatum" for "denotable denoted by utterances". "Denotable" for "actually or potentially ostensible entity capable of being expressed by the realization of at least one index". "Index" (my own definition) for "item or class of items with information value". "Denotation" for "correspondence with a particular "denotation class". "Denotation class" for "the set of all and only the denotata denoted". "Denote" for "refer to by virtue of specific conventions". It is further specified that the entities referred to in the definition of "denotable" may be objects, qualities, processes, relations or complex circumstances. Furthermore, these may be "real" entities, "candidates for reality", or purely abstract or fictional. This I find particularly fortunate as it cuts out the inconsistency to be encountered in some approaches in which, copying formal logic (where of course it is appropriate), one has a special class of "words" without denotation, sometimes referred to as being purely grammatical or as "operators". An example is "and", which would then establish a relation of "coordination" between "words" or larger linguistic items. For us, "and" does not establish a relation between linguistic items, but between entities (in the above sense) denotedby these items. We have no difficulty in assigning the property of denotation to "prepositions", "relative pronouns", genitive's, "conjunctions", "conjunctives" ( i . e. "and", "or" and "but"; these belong to an entirely different syntactic distribution class from ordinary "conjunctions"), the comparative "than", and even "to be" as a real "copula", or "to be" in aspect position (the so-called "progressive"). 20

Epistemology

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5. Going back in time again, in April 1958 I finished my studies in Chinese and Japanese, with Korean and Anthropology as "minors", at the University of Leiden. Immediately afterwards I drew up a plan for writing a thesis. Because of my background, I was practically obliged to take a topic in connection with Chinese. I then planned to build the thesis around a Prague-school-based description of the phonology of the dialect of Peking. But it was also my intention to extend this into some theory-building, because I had often been disappointed by the amount of amateurism tolerated in the profession. I began my work in a fairly inductivist way by plotting on a huge piece of paper all attested syllables of the Chinese dialect of Peking to see whether I could find some patterns. For instance, which syllables were more readily connected with certain tones than others. One of my sources, Li Fang-kuei, had stated that one of the characteristics of the "Indo-Chinese family of languages" is the tendency towards monosyllabism, i. e. that "a single syllable is a phonological unit, the structure of which is rigidly determined by the phonological rules of the language". This put me on the track of my search for a phonologically based "distributional unit" (Li Fang-Kuei 1946). I found Li's statements to be basically correct for Chinese, and they turned out also to be basically correct for Thai, which I studied several years later. Also Jakobson was of a similar opinion: "the elementary pattern underlying any grouping of phonemes is the syllable". Unfortunately, the syllable as such is not inherently a phonological entity, but a phonetic one. It depends on petitio principii: if and only if the phonetic syllable coincides with the unit of phonematic distribution, is it (also) the form of a phonological entity. However, this has to be decided separately for every language. Indeed there are scores of languages such as English where this is not the case. However, because a phonetic syllable is the minimal sound form that we are capable of uttering, we may on logical grounds assume that the syllable is the smallest phonetic entity that can coincide with a distributional unit. The first informal definition I launched for "distributional unit" was "a unit within which the distribution of phonemes can be described completely and exhaustively". That is to say that a lesser unit should in some cases be insufficient, but no phoneme outside such a unit should be able to have influence on the occurrence of phonemes inside the unit, nor vice versa. For ontological reasons this should be a phonological unit. It was to become, apart from "distinctive function", the most important notion of the phonological part of the theory, later to be extended, mutatis mutandis, to grammar as well.

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Uhlenbeck was at that time firmly in favour of Jakobson's phonological theory, including his distinctive feature theory, as opposed to Trubetzkoy's. I do not know whether this is still the case. I have always liked Trubetzkoy's method better, in the first place because I was more comfortable with the articulatory approach, over which I had somehow some control, than with the acoustic one, for which I did not see much use without sophisticated equipment. I did, however, beaver on with Jakobson's system for at least a year, attempting in vain to find in it a general principle which would also be usable in grammatical description. In order to do this, I was altering Jakobson and adapting it so much for my own purposes that in the end I tied myself in knots. I then tore up that version of my thesis. Later I saw that Chomsky had found a way of adapting the principles of Jakobson's distinctive feature theory to syntax, for which I had to admire him, but it was not an example to follow. It was at about this stage that I went twice to Paris to study with Martinet for a while, and made useful contacts with other scholars and students there. Sometimes things happen just by chance. One evening we were with a little group discussing some phonological problems. One of the persons present was a student of mathematics. He did not take much part in the discussion, but when I was explaining how I thought the principle of "distinctive function" and of "commutation" should be applied he suddenly said, with some surprise in his voice, "Mais c'est la theorie des ensembles!" Afterwards, I spoke with him about it, and this turned out to be a turning point. I bought some books, dug myself into set theory and the intended title of the thesis became there and then: Sets and relations in phonology. Martinet's La description phonologique (1956) could be brought into almost complete agreement with the tenets of set theory, and so could Stuart (1957), which had used Martinet (1956) as a model. I then wrote a chapter called "The phonemes of Pekingese and their realizations" (Chapter IV in the published work), according to the same model. I had, however, to make some adaptations, which had for the most part to do with sticking to the main requirements of set theory, and with avoiding "category mistakes", which at that time I had not yet heard of, although I understood that it was logically wrong to mix phonology with phonetics, or, even worse, with grammar. But Jakobson's phonemes, though clearly purely functional, had phonetic entities as distinctive features, i. e. an ontologically impossible type of constituent. I also wrote, somewhat later, an article called "Some operations with sets in language" (Mulder 1965), because I was afraid that someone might plagiarize some of my ideas. The development of the theory had begun. I abandoned Jakobson because his approach did not fit in with my plans.

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Uhlenbeck's preference for Jakobson had much to do with his being in favour of "realism". Basically, I had no difficulty with that. I did not picture Jakobson as an extreme realist or even as more of a realist than Martinet, though he was definitely more of a realist than myself. In so far as I am a realist I have, ever since I started thinking about these things, been a "relative realist". I regard it as obvious that one's perceived reality is determined by many different factors. Not only "biological" and "intellectual" but also "evolutionary" factors determine how reality is experienced. Such an analysis is incompatible with the God's Truth doctrine which Uhlenbeck also leaned towards at that time. In my opinion, it was perfectly possible to agree, as Jakobson did, with Eli Fischer-J0rgensen's statement "on tient compte de la substance ä toute etape de l"analyse" and still not be a "God's truth" partisan. Especially if one agrees at the same time with Jakobson that "Like musical scales, phonemic patterning is an intervention of culture into nature, an artefact imposing logical rules upon the sound continuum". Such a stance does not necessarily point to "hocus pocus" (the contrary of "God's Truth") either, as this is in my opinion what phonology (as opposed to phonetics) is all about. At times he even showed himself to be very much a functionalist, as when he said "All phonemes denote nothing but mere otherness" (Jakobson—Halle 1956)—which is quite in accord with Saussure's "Dans la langue il n'y a que des differences". The categorial distinction which I maintain between "theory" and "description" a priori neutralizes any such a dichotomy in my own work. I do not in fact believe that the controversy still plays an important role. I mention it only because for a while it had a negative (i. e. anti-realist) influence on my thinking. This was the situation when I left Leiden to take a job in Oxford. That was in September 1961.1 decided to write first the larger part of my thesis, and only then to see if I could find a supervisor sufficiently interested in it. This was mainly in order to avoid being persuaded to write things I did not agree with. In 1964 I showed the work to David Hawkes, Professor of Chinese. He liked the Chinese part and was willing to supervise it. But, he added: "As to the rest, I understand nothing of it. All I shall be able to do is to change a comma here and there." This was all I could ever want—to write a thesis in complete freedom. The thesis was presented and examined in 1966, and published in 1968. In the same year I was appointed at St. Andrews, Scotland. Publishing a D.Phil thesis is not compulsory in Britain, nor even customary. It contained a theoretical and methodological introduction followed by a chapter called "some basic principles and grammatical background". Together this covered about half of the

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work. After that came practically the whole of my phonological theory (almost as it is now) and some excursions into the application of set theory to phonology. The phonological part could, as I said, be left more or less alone, but the program now became to improve and extend what was written into the first half of the work and get a consistent grammatical theory out of it. It had to become a complete systemology (i. e. phonology and grammar) fully integrated and built upon the same principles that the phonology had been based on. My situation had changed to the extent that at last I could devote myself completely to linguistics. After about one year, Hervey joined the staff at St. Andrews, and we could discuss things. When we began to have more and more students, and a few more staff, developments began to accelerate. By 1974 we had joined an international group of (mainly French) linguists, under the guidance of Andre Martinet, and we became very active internationally. In 1976 this group became the Societe Internationale de Linguistique Fonctionnelle, of which I was elected president (which I remained for seven years). From that time onwards we became known in France, as well as in Switzerland and Quebec, as "L'Ecole de St. Andrews". With the aid of the "European Communities", we also established a link with the Albert-LudwigsUniversität in Freiburg im Breisgau, even offering joint programmes. I shall devote the remainder of this article to a sketch of the main aspects of the systemology. However, first there are some methodological considerations which logically follow from the nature of the material. 6. The key notion for the most important aspects of the systemology is "distinctive function" and the method to asses "distinctive function" is "commutation" (cf. Mulder 1990a). In the postulates "commutation" is defined as "alternation (or choice) between semiotic entities (or "zero" and semiotic entities) in functional opposition as immediate constituents in a given context". "Immediate constituents" for "constituents that are not constituents of constituents within the combination in question". "Functional opposition" can be taken as synonymous with "distinctive function". In set-theoretical symbols it is A ~ { B u C u D } which states the distinctive function of A, in the case where the set of oppositions A enters into is { A ~ B , A ~ C , A ~ D } and no other. In fact, A ~ {B u C u D ) = {A ~B} u {A ~C} u {A ~D}. This means that the identity of A is that it is none of the others. I especially wish to stress here that it is always "immediate constituents" that are used in assessing distinctive function. Mistakes and wrong conclusions often occur at exactly this point. For instance, it would be wrong to

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conclude from "his support for the proposal", where "for" does not commute with anything (not even with "zero") that "for" has no distinctive function. One can probably find for any grammatical entity a context wide enough to prevent commutation of that entity. In the quoted case "for" commutes with "zero", as well as with other prepositions within the syntagm of which it is an immediate constituent, i. e. " f o r the proposal". It is also important to make sure one is dealing with a real grammatical structure in the first place, not with (fossilized) "phrase-words" such as "go in for", "put up with" or "in accordance with" (Rastall 1995: 113-125). Both phonology and grammar have a structural and a realizational aspect. In "phonology" the realizational aspect is called "allophony", and in "grammar", "allomorphy". We have dealt with this already but it reappears in the systemology in a different way because phones and morphs are phonological and grammatical entities respectively, i. e. members of phonological/grammatical forms from which the latter derive their distinctive function. In "allophony" we establish a relation with "phonetics", and in "allomorphy" with "phonology". These relations are not of a structural nature, but of a comparative one. The structural parts of both phonology and grammar are divided as follows: (a) (b)

(c)

an inventory of minimum, not further divisible, entities, i. e. the "distinctive features" in phonology, and that of "monemes" (roughly "morphemes") in grammar. the combination of these into complex entities, the immediate constituents of which stand in a relation of simultaneity (functionally speaking a non-ordering relation), i. e. the "phonemes" in phonology, and the "pleremes" (roughly "words") in "grammar". In "phonology" the combinatory system is called (by us) "phonematics", and in "grammar" it is "morphology" (but remember that we do not include "allomorphy" within "morphology"). the ordered combination of "phonemes" into so-called "phonotagms" in phonology, and of "pleremes" into "syntagms", or of "syntagms", or of "pleremes" and "syntagms" together, into more complex syntagms, in "grammar" (Mulder—Hervey 1980: 73-87). In phonology this is called "phonotactics" and in grammar "syntax".

In phonology we do not have complexes of phonotagms, except in the next compartment, but then in combination with "prosodic" features. That compartment deals with entities in combination with "accent" or "tone",21 called para-phonotactic entities, and in grammar

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there is a compartment dealing with the sentential level. For reasons of space I cannot discuss these here. Already at this point we see that we can recognize an almost perfect parallelism between phonology and grammar. "Distinctive features" and "monemes" can only be described structurally in terms of how they combine into more complex entities. They do not have an analytic aspect. However, phonemes and pleremes have both an analytic and a synthetic aspect (and so have syntagms, as we shall see). They are combinable as well as analyzable. This leads to double definitions for both "phoneme" and "plereme". Whereas "distinctive feature" and "moneme" are simply defined as "minimum phonological" and "minimum grammatical" entity respectively, "phoneme" stands for "self-contained (by definition simultaneous) bundle of one or more distinctive features as its immediate, and at the same time ultimate, constituents", as well as for "minimum syntagmatic entity in phonology". "Syntagmatic" for "the ordering aspect of semiotic entities". "Plereme" stands for "selfcontained (by definition simultaneous) bundle of one or more monemes as its immediate, and at the same time ultimate, constituents", as well as for "minimum syntagmatic entity in grammar". "Phonotagms" and "syntagms" have only an analytic aspect, except where a syntagm is, as a commutant, equivalent to a plereme. As we shall see "pleremes" and "syntagms" commute with one another. The only plereme I can think of in English that does not seem to commute with a syntagm is "genitive 's". It is also the only one that cannot in spoken language be realized separately because its realization does not coincide with a free syllable. The definition of "phonotagm" is "instance of a self-contained bundle of positions in phonology". That of "syntagm" is "instance of a self-contained bundle of positions in grammar". "Positions" for "divisions within a tactic construction, such that in every such division an entity, as an immediate constituent of such a construction, can stand and alternate (i. e. commute) with other entities or with "zero". Alternative definition: "divisions within a construction corresponding to immediate constituents as relata in tactic relations". The way in which we describe how "distinctive features" combine into "phonemes", and how the latter have "distinctive features" as their immediate constituents, is mainly by setting up "phoneme tables". Also here we use strict and logical methods. This involves presenting all the phonemes of the language in question in terms of their distinctive features. At the same time we show by the arrangement within the tables the proportionality of the phonemes vis-a-vis one another, i. e. showing their relative differences and similarities. This, then, takes care of both the distinctive features and

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the phonemes and we only have to deal further with the phonotagms. Here follow first a few examples of phoneme tables: 22

Occlusive

Fricative

Nasal

Voiced

Unvoiced

Voiced

Unvoiced

b

Ρ

V

f

δ

θ

Labial Dental

d

Hissing

t

Hushing Dorsal

g

Ζ ν Ζ

η

s S

ν

k Table 2: English

m

(χ)

q

consonants

The consonants /h/ and /I/ are outside this system, as they consist of only one distinctive feature each, i. e. /h-ness/ and /1-ness/ respectively. The phoneme Ixl is the dorsal fricative at the end of Bach and loch in Scottish and Irish pronunciations.

Spread

Rounded

Open

e

0

a

Close

i

U

r

Table 3. English vowels and

Neutral

semi-vowels

The phonemes /e, o, a/ are vowels. They can only occur in nuclear position. The phonemes /i,u,r/ are semi-vowels. They can stand in both nuclear and peripheral positions. The terms "vowel", "semivowel", and "consonant" are "phonological", not "phonetic" terms. The realizations of Irl in peripheral positions are: [j] prevocallically, which includes "between two vowels" (as in "the law of the land"), [s] after /i/, /u/ and /e/, and "lengthening of the preceding vowel", i. e. [:], after /a/, /o/, and Irl. In nuclear position the realization is [A], or its unstressed or underarticulated variant [a]. Our treatment of /r/ is of course scarcely in agreement with Jones's "families of sounds", or with any other system based on phonetics.

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Occlusive

Fricative

voiced

unvoiced

Labial

b

Apical

d

Ρ t

voiced

k

Dorsal

Table 4. Dutch

unvoiced

nasal

V

f

m

Ζ

s

η

g

X

q

consonants

Outside the system, because they consist of only one distinctive feature each: /h, 1, r/.

Unaspirated

Aspirated

Fricative

Nasal

P' t'

f

m

Dental

Ρ t

Hissing

c

c'

s

η

V

c

c'

V

Hushing Dorsal

k

k'

h

Labial

Table 5. Chinese (Beijng)

s q

consonants

There are three archiphonemes, i. e. /C, C \ S/, representing a neutralization of opposition between hissing, hushing and dorsal for /c, c \ s/, /c, c', s/, and /k, k', h/ in the context "before /i/ or /y/". Outside the system are /l, r/. The latter usually has a fricative type of realization in initial position. The notions "neutralization" and "archiphoneme", which we can employ in many languages, including English, German, and Dutch, are little understood. Most linguists find them superfluous, because they are determined by distribution, and that is described elsewhere anyway. This is correct, but what they do not seem to see is that it is not distribution of phonemes, but of distinctive features that is involved. Distribution of phonemes is described within phonotagms, because phonemes are the immediate constituents of phonotagms, but the distribution of distinctive features has to be described within phonemes, because distinctive features are the immediate constituents of phonemes.

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Open

short

long

short

long

short

long

Spread

i

3

i

i:

e

e:

ε

ε:

Medium

y9

y

y··

3

a:

a

a:

Rounded

u3

u

u:

0

o:

0

D:

Table 6. Thai vowels

All these diphthongs and vowels, long ones as well as short ones, commute with one another in nuclear position. Consequently it is more economical to regard the long vowels as single phonemes, i. e. to establish for them a correlation of length, rather than to regard them as successions of two identical phonemes. 7. Phonemes and pleremes can be classified in two ways, namely in terms of their phonematic/morphological construction and in terms of their distribution. The phonematic classification in terms of construction is done automatically in the phoneme tables. For the morphological classification, plereme-categories (in Uhlenbeck's terminology probably "word-categories") have to be set up. Mixing morphological criteria with syntactic criteria, and both with semantic criteria is, I am afraid, not rare at all, but even worse is using semantic or semi-semantic arguments or terminology (inherited from traditional grammar) in grammatical description. This seemingly incorrigible practice is totally absurd. Semantic structure and grammatical structure are different and not even parallel. The only significant relations that can be established between the two are of a bilateral teleological nature. Attempts to operate on any other basis usually beg the question, and are always having to resort to moving the goal posts. Is this perhaps one of the things Joe had in mind? If, for example, one were to set up a purely morphological category for "verbs" in English, one should, to begin with, list all items that can be connected with the past tense moneme. This list should include indiscriminately the "main" verbs as well as the auxiliaries, i. e. the "modals" (with the exception of "must", "ought to" and "used to"), the item in (syntactic) tense position "to have", the items in aspect position, which includes "to be", as well as "to keep on", etc., the semi-modal "to do", used in questions and negations, and the copulas, i. e. all verb-type items together in one class. Note that the

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copulas are not "auxiliaries", but nuclei of copulative syntagms, which latter commute with "main verbs". Only for the "modals" might there have to be a sub-class, as their past tense form is in most cases a homonym of a sort of "subjunctive". However, if we were to set up a syntactic class for the above items, we would have: separate classes of a) "modals", within which "to do" would constitute a sub-class for distributional reasons, b) the auxiliary "to have", c) auxiliaries occurring in "aspect" position, d) the copulas, and e) "main" verbs. The class of main verbs (and commuting predicatives) intersects with the class of copulas (e.g. "to become", "to remain" etc.), and with that of "aspect" auxiliaries (e.g. "to keep on", "to continue", etc.). The same is true for the class of modals, except that in that case there is a realizational "to" after the form (e.g. "to have to", "to be able to", etc.). These "quasipredicative" auxiliaries, and "semi"-copulas, constitute at least three extra sub-classes, because they retain some predicative-like qualities. For instance, unlike ordinary modals, as "infinitives" they have "to" before their "base-form", they can, in the case of auxiliaries, in their turn be determined by auxiliaries (which makes the pattern recursive), and, unlike ordinary modals, they attract an idiomatic "to do" in the case of simple negation (except if there is a form of "to be" involved, see below). Also "to be" itself is special, as it generates sub-categories in all its capacities (auxiliary, copula, main verbs (at least two types), or syntagms containing a form of "to be"). In all those capacities (except in the case of "imperatives") it precludes the use of "to do" in negations (cf. Mulder 1996b). Syntactic classification is structurally very powerful, as it mirrors in a straightforward manner syntactic structure itself. This is because both are based purely on commutation, without regard for peripheral factors such as form and meaning. It can also be regarded as a consistency check in respect of the independently established syntactic structures, and vice versa. These two have to be consistent on every point, though actual occurrence also depends on idiom or contextual (semantic) compatibility. For instance, if and only if something commutes with another copula is it itself a copula. If it commutes with a main verb or an item in aspect position is it one of those two. If "to be" in Jane is beautifiil and Jane is a housewife is a copula, then "to be" in Jane is working cannot be one, let alone, as I have said, "to be" in Jane is in London, where is commutes with resides, lives, etc. The structure of the latter is that of a "complementary intransitive", of the type:

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Jane in London

143

is

"To be" in is working is an auxiliary. It commutes with "to keep on", and is not in exclusive distribution with copulative syntagms, vide "he is (auxiliary) being (copula) naughty". The "copulative syntagm" is "being naughty". The "-ing" form is automatic, because of an auxiliary in "aspect" position (Mulder 1996b). That it is usually not seen that "to be" in Jane is beaten is also a copula, is understandable, as unlike the syntagms Jane is beautiful and Jane is a housewife, Jane is beaten is not an ordinary intransitive syntagm like Jane sleeps. It is an "instrumental intransitive" of the type: (E)P(S)

The square brackets indicate that the item is a so-called "expansion", i. e. that it commutes with "zero". The formula (E)P(S) stands for "(extended) predicative (syntagm)". It means in nontechnical language simply "verbal or copulative syntagm, with or without auxiliaries". The "nucleus" is the item the arrow points to. The items before the vertical bar are peripheral items. "Nucleus" or "governing entity" for "in a relation of subordination, the identity element for the tactic functions of the other elements". To come back to the copula, it is defined by Swan, for instance, as "used simply to link a subject to its complement" (Swan 1980). 23 Example: My mother is in Jersey (sic). "Complement" is then defined as "a part of a sentence that gives more information about the subject (after be, seem and some other verbs), or in some structures about the object". One of the examples then given for "complement" is: The president appointed Bristow his confidential advisor. A term such as "complement" is, of course, not used as a categorial term. It cannot stand for a semantic category, nor for a syntactic one. It stands rather for a multitude of syntactic position classes, and its meaning should either be clear, or defined every time the term is used, or, for instance, it should be given a name such as "complement of the copula", etc. Of the latter type, which has nothing in common with the previous example, it is said: "it does also have a grammatical meaning" (whatever this may mean). It is said "... for instance in the sentence The room was dirty, the adjective dirty is the complement of the room" (sic). One of several examples of what Swan calls "participle clauses" as "object complements" is I saw a little girl

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standing in the goldfish pond. I wonder what Joe would have made of all this "thinking". 8. Organizationally speaking, I should probably deal with the "realizational" section, i. e. with "allophony/allomorphy" after the whole of the structural part has been dealt with. However, as the discussion of the realizations of items usually revolves around the realization of distinctive features and phonemes in phonology and around that of monemes, or to a lesser extent around that of pleremes, in grammar, it seems in practice more appropriate to deal with it at this point. I shall not say much about the phonological side, which involves phonetic description. Not that this is very simple, but it can be tackled in so many different ways that one hardly knows where to begin, even if one were a competent phonetician. Of course, I too find it necessary to make statements about the realizations of phonemes and distinctive features, for which I employ expressions like those used by traditional linguists. I would not, however, go much further than listing, for instance, the phonemes of English on one side, and stating that the realization of, say, /b/, voiced, labial, occlusive, is basically [b], i. e. voiced lenis bi-labial occlusive. Of /p/, unvoiced, labial, occlusive, in explosive position, I would say that it is [p'], i. e. aspirated unvoiced fortis bi-labial occlusive, before "vowels", in stressed syllables, and I might add: except after [s], where it is less fortis, and not aspirated. Though this is all fairly rough, I believe that what I do is sufficient for describing the distinctive function of phonological entities realizationally. One also sees that I establish the distinctive entities first, and then state their realizations. Others, especially in Britain, do it the other way round, and give priority to Daniel Jones's "families of sounds". This implies an entirely different type of approach, not compatible with strict assessment of "distinctive function" by "commutation". An example is Barbara Strang (1972), who arrives at forty-four phonemes. 24 Basing myself on distinctive function, I arrive at only twenty-five phonemes for English, or twenty-six if one includes the dorsal fricative of "loch" and the name "Bach" in Scottish and Irish speech. These are both sufficient and necessary to account for all functional distinctions. Still, to occasionally go well beyond simple articulatory assessment and use sophisticated instruments can be a sobering experience. I have twice stayed in Freiburg for a year, and once for a shorter period, as a visiting professor. During my stay I had the opportunity to join several small excursions to the phonetics laboratory in Strasbourg, which was under the direction of Pela Simon. I saw on

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the print-outs of the sophisticated machine all kinds of traces which demonstrated that "accent" is not just a matter of "amplitude", but that there are simultaneously several different factors involved, which can be "clearer articulation of vowel and/or adjacent consonants", "length of vowels and/or consonants", "frequency conditions and changes", etc., as well as "amplitude contrasts". All these different realizational factors are heard by us as just "accent", which we would probably interpret as relative loudness, but it is in fact not just that. Another thing I noticed very early on—but which was reinforced by frequent talks with my friends (Herbert Pilch, Professor of English, linguist, and phonetician, and Joachim Thurow, Head of the Language Laboratory, both in Freiburg) was that phonetic segmentation into alphabet-like entities is completely fictional. If we had not been conditioned to using an alphabet we would not be able to discern smaller segments than syllables, perhaps plus glides. The alphabet itself is a purely "instrumentalist" device, and its connection with real language a fiction. And so is everything connected with it, including a notion such as "phoneme". Nevertheless, not many people would say that it is not useful, even indispensable to linguistics as things stand at present. But if we accept this, then logically speaking the smaller the set of phonemes is—it need not be more than just enough to account for all distinctive forms encountered—the more it serves its real purpose: to lead to a smooth, simple, consistent, and adequate way of overcoming the difficulties that lie in our path. Why accept forty-four when twenty-six are enough? "Allomorphy" is an entirely different kettle of fish. Here one stays entirely within linguistics proper, and need not pay attention to phoneticians' whims. It is here in particular that one has to keep Saussure's dictum that "dans la langue il n'y a que des differences" in mind, as otherwise one might have to fall back on the "phlogiston" of linguistics—the Bloomfieldian notion "morphophoneme". Establishing morphs as "entities" can often (but not always) be done, and it is based on a simple set-theoretical principle, i. e. {1, 2, 3} - {2, 3} = {1}. For example the allomorph of the plural of ox in English: joksn} ~ {oks} = {n}". Officially {oks}" means "the complement of {oks}", but for linguistics one can read it as "opposed to", or even as "and not", or "minus". The notion "distinctive function" is, as I have already said, pure set theory, but probably neither the inventors of "distinctive function" nor those of set theory knew this. It is just a lucky accident, as it allows us Axiomatic Functionalists to argue the case in an entirely logical fashion.

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One of the most convenient, and at the same time interesting examples of how to deal with allomorphy is to make a description of the allomorphs of the English plural. It is not too complicated, and it shows all the possible pitfalls. I shall first present this for spoken English, and then for written English, so that we can also see the necessity of regarding spoken and written English as separate semiotic systems. There are certain conventions for the representation of linguistic (and phonetic) entities, [x], /x/ and "x" are usually used respectively for entities at the phonetic level, the phonological level and "signs". However, the notation "x" also has several other uses. In French publications is used. I shall here, for the purpose of allomorphic representations, use the latter, i. e. for the sign level. Combining some of these, we can represent "phone" by /[x]/, and "morph" by . These can intuitively be read as "phonetic form of a phonological entity" and "phonological form of a grammatical entity" respectively. There are at least fourteen allomorphs of the plural in spoken English. The largest pattern has (/Z/ is an archiphoneme) or after the form of the singular. 25 There is (in houses).26 Further, there is (in about a dozen pleremes, e.g. wives, knives, (in about eight pleremes of the type paths), (in oxen), = (in children), (in brethren), (in men), (in women), (in feet), (in geese), (in mice), (in sheep). The at least eleven allomorphs of the plural in Written English are: , (as in kisses), (in about a dozen pleremes, e.g. wives, knives), (loaves, leaves, scarfs, etc.), {staff as a homomorph of staff in staffs-staff, there is here multiple homomorphy involved, and one also has the singular stave),21 (in oxen), (in children), (in brethren), (in men and in women), (in feet and geese), = (in mice), and (in sheep). 9. We now come to phonotactics and syntax. As I have said, the first informal definition I launched for "distributional unit" was "a unit within which the distribution of phonemes can be described completely and exhaustively". However, though very useful, this definition was not entirely correct, because on occasion there could be the necessity of setting up more than one type of distributional unit in a language. In Sets and relations (1968), where I launched this informal definition, I already recognized implicitly that in Pekingese two

Epistemology

and linguistics

147

types of complementary distributional unit were needed to describe the distribution completely and exhaustively. This implies that strictly speaking only the formal definition of "distributional unit" holds, i. e. "self-contained bundle of positions in phonology". The definition for syntagm, established much later, and independently, was "self-contained bundle of positions in grammar". In fact, in the beginning (this is still the case in the postulates of 1988, which is the latest version) the terms "distributional unit" and "syntagm" stood for the theoretical notions, as well as for the instances of them in the descriptions. However, in practice we tended to call an instance of a distributional unit a "phonotagm", and the theoretical notion behind "syntagm" a "syntactic structure" or "syntactic pattern" and this is what I shall stick to for this article. An example of the basic distributional unit in Thai, and under it some phonotagms mapped onto it, is the following:

el

e2

η

i

k'

r

a

Ρ

k'

0

a

Ρ

0

r

a

Ρ

0

0

a

Ρ

k'

0

a

0

0

0

a

0

0

r

a

0

Table 7

The top line represents the "distributional unit" itself. It has four positions, which I call first explosive, second explosive, nuclear and implosive respectively. Mapped onto this we find the phonotagms /k'raP, k'aP, raP, aP, k'a, a/, and /ra/, all of them regular phonotagms in Thai. As always, the capital letters indicate archiphonemes. Had the usual "CVC" type of representation been used, one would have arrived at five different types, instead of the single one we arrive at. The types would have been: CCVC, CVC, CVC, VC, CV, V, and CV. It would have established "k'aP" and "raP", as well as "k'a" and "ra", as belonging to the same types, and substantially different from any of the others. One sees here already one of the advantages of the

148

Jan W. F. Mulder

distributional unit approach. However, its main advantage is that it gives a clear picture of the tactic phonological structure of a language, the distribution of its phonemes, neutralizations, etc. The extended distributional unit in English is considerably more complex. The basic distributional unit has eight positions, i. e. preexplosive (a position in which only /s/ occurs), first and second explosive, nuclear, and, first, second, third, and fourth implosive.

pre

el

e2

η

il

i2

ί3

i4

0

k

0

a

U

η

s

1

s

Κ

r

a

0

Ν

b

1

ζ

s

Κ

r

a

u

η

Ζ

0

d

s

0

0

a

r

Ν

Ρ

1

b

s

Τ

r

R

u

0

0

0

η

b

s

Ρ

r

i

0

Ν

k

1

d

a

u

0

ζ

0

ζ

accid

h

ν

accid

Table 8

The archiphoneme /R/ indicates a neutralization of opposition between the semi-vowels /i/, /u/, and /r/. The last item, i. e. houses, shows a so-called archi-position, i. e. when the phoneme fh/ is used, there cannot be any other phoneme in one of the other two positions before the nucleus. That is to say that the "contrast" 28 between these three positions is suspended and that D\1 can be said to stand as much in "pre", as it stands in "el" or "e2". Or more precisely, it stands in a position which is equivalent to any and all of these positions. Archipositions are encountered in syntax as well. The extensions are by what arbitrarily I have called "accidentals", i. e. contingent attachments to the basic distributional unit which belong to a very limited set, i. e. as far as I can see at a quick glance only /g,b/ before, and /z,d,n/ after the basic unit. These attachments are, as it were, subordinated to the basis, with which there is a very strong border, almost as strong as between basic distributional items themselves. For instance, neutralization does not take place over these borders. These attachments tend to correspond to monemes, or to what historically may seem to have been monemes. This is a mere observational statement. In some other, especially American, approaches

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149

such borders are often called "morpheme borders", thereby claiming en parole some "psychological" reality for that concept. I shall now go over to a discussion of "syntactic structures", 29 and their potential implementations, i. e. the "syntagms". Except that the latter belong to grammar, and we are therefore dealing with entities that have both form and meaning, there are only two essential differences between these and phonological "distributional units". The first is that "pleremes" commute with "syntagms", which are themselves instances of analogues of phonological "distributional units". There is therefore "recursivity" involved. The other difference—but this is not essential because, as we have seen, languages can have more than one type of phonological distributional unit as well—is that there are several types of "syntactic structure", and consequently of syntagm. Considering, however, that the inventory of pleremes is infinite, but that of phonemes is extremely limited (only at most twenty-six in English) their number is still surprisingly small, thanks to the amazing economy typical of natural languages. In English there are only about twelve main types of syntactic structure, of which some can be divided into sub-types, which leads to a total of about thirty-five to forty different patterns. Another more or less essential difference has to do with the nature of the material we are dealing with. In phonology the time-factor in realization has structural implications. The sequential order of phonemes is also their functional order, and those which are, realizationally speaking, furthest from the nucleus are also functionally more peripheral. This is not the case in grammar. In the distributional units of grammar, i.e. the "syntactic structures", and their implementations, the syntagms, the only relations of subordination are "nuclear" and "peripheral". There are no degrees of peripherally among syntactic immediate constituents. Yet another difference which one could perhaps call "essential" is that, apart from relations of "subordination", we also recognize "coordination" (as probably everybody does, but for us it is something exclusively syntactic), and "interordination" (Mulder 1989). The latter is defined as: direct tactic (by implication symmetrical, i. e. simultaneous) relation of mutual functional dependency. "Coordination" is defined as "direct tactic (by implication symmetrical, i. e. simultaneous) relation of mutual functional independency", and "subordination" (or "determination)" as "direct tactic asymmetrical relation of functional dependency". "Tactic relations" are relations between "immediate constituents" in phonotactics or in syntax. I have said that in syntax there are no "degrees of peripherality". There is, however, one case in which two or more peripheral entities determine the nucleus in different ways. This is when two or more

150

Jan W. F. Mulder

peripheral positions can be filled by basically the same class of entities. An example in English is "John loves Mary". The nuclear entity is "loves", but the position in which "John" stands can equally well be filled by "Mary" or by any appropriate "nominal", and vice versa. This is called diverse (or "disjunctive") determination. It is represented as follows: John

subject (E)P(S)

loves Mary

object

The left hand pattern represents the syntactic pattern, i. e. the underlying structure, and is, as I have said, the analogue of a distributional unit in phonology. The right hand figure represents the syntagm "John loves Mary", and is the analogue of a phonotagm, plotted onto the representation of the syntactic pattern. The terms "subject", "object", and "(E)P(S)" are names of positions in a syntagm, just as "el", "e2", "il", "n", etc. are names of positions in a phonological distributional unit. The abbreviation "(E)P(S)" stands for "Predicative Syntagm, Extended Predicative Syntagm, or Predicative", three types which may commute with one another. In the above example, "loves" is a predicative. In this pattern it is the nucleus. The nucleus is always indicated by an arrow pointing towards it. In English only structures with "subject" and "object(s)" in peripheral position exhibit diverse determination, i. e. determination by other than mere lexical means. As one could have "the dog bites the dog", it is clear that the two "dogs" determine the nucleus in diverse ways. On the other hand, if one had "the two naughtiest boys in the class", which belongs to the pattern: [article] [numeral] [adjectival] [locative supplement]

NS (pi.)

[the] [two] [naughtiest] [in the class]

-> boys

one would have a case of parallel (or "conjunctive") determination, recognizable in the representation by the fact that, unlike in the case of diverse determination, there are no dividing lines between the peripheral positions. The square brackets indicate that the items in question are "expansions", i. e. they commute with "zero". All peripheral position classes are different, i. e. they have different members. The positions are therefore lexically determined and do not

Epistemology

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151

have to be indicated by a different sequential order, or by prosodic means. The above structure is called "NS (nominal syntagm) plural". There are also the patterns "NS singular" and "NS generic". There are various kinds of supplement, such as "locative supplement" (e.g. in the garden), "relative supplement" (e.g. [which] John bought, standing in the goldfish pond), "possessive supplement" (e.g. of Mary), "qualitative supplement (e.g. of good material) and some others. We do not usually list them all in the pattern. All peripheral positions are "expansions", indicated by [...], except in the "NS singular", in which either "article" or "numeral", or both, have to be filled. This is indicated in the model below by enclosing "article" and "numeral" together between two vertical bars. Examples of the three types of syntagm are the two tall students over there (locative supplement), one small book that Peter bought (relative supplement), and some pure gold of exceptional malleability (qualitative supplement) respectively. The use of some "peripherals" involves "archi-positions", e.g. a would stand in an archi-position (variant of the "singular" pattern) "article/numeral", and a "genitive syntagm", e.g. Mary's, would stand in an archi-position "article/possessive supplement" (in the plural or singular pattern), or "quantifier/possessive supplement" (in the generic pattern). This leads to a couple of variant models. Here follow the three basic patterns (where Ν stands for "nominal"): [article] [numeral] [adjectival] [supplements]

-> nominal (plural)

article numeral [adjectival] [supplements]

nominal (singular)

[quantifier] [adjectival] [supplements]

nominal (generic)

All these are arbitrary (though motivated) names for "positions". In "article" position there can be anything that commutes with the socalled "definite article", e.g. "any", "my", "that", etc. The same goes

152

Jan W. F. Mulder

for "numeral", though it is often filled by an actual numeral. In "adjectival" position we find adjectives, but also past and present participles. The simplest "Predicative Based Syntagm" (PBS) is the intransitive PBS. It has the structure "subject -> (E)P(S)", e.g. Petra -» sleeps. but also Petra -> is a fool, Petra —> is foolish, and Petra is fooled. All these are intransitive syntagms, though the last one, as already mentioned, is of a special type called "instrumental intransitive". As we have just seen, some syntactic patterns can be represented in a linear fashion. This is the case when there is only one peripheral position, such as Petra sleeps, etc. Also by Peter, for instance, which could stand in the "instrumental" position. The syntagms is a fool, is foolish and is fooled are also "two position" syntagms, i. e. "copula

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«Ϊ» « 9 » » kesurung (grobag) 'to be pushed (by accident) (with an oxcart)' (11) tabrak => ketabrak (montor) 'to be crashed (by accident) (by a car)' (12) thuthuk => kethuthuk (watu) 'to be struck (by accident) (with a stone)' (13) bakar kebakar 'to be fired (by accident)' If the basis begins with /w, 1, r/, the fce-prefix may occur side by side with k- (the shorter form) without any difference in meaning: (14) lumah (15) rasa (16) walik

=> kelumah / klumah 'to fall face upward (unintentionally)' => kerasa/krasa 'to be felt (unavoidably)' => kewalik / kwalik / kuwalik (archaic) 'to be upside down, inside out (unintentionally)'

If the basis begins with /b, d, dh, g, j/, the ke-prefix becomes ge- (generally called regressive assimilation):

sometimes

(17) bakar

=> kebakar / gebakar 'to be fired (by accident)' (18) damu => kedamu / gedamu 'to be breathed (unintentionally)' (19) dhupak => kedhupak / gedhupak 'to be kicked (by accident) (with a foot)' (20) jotos => kejotos / gejotos 'to be struck (unintentionally)' (21) godhok => kegodhok/g egodhok 'to be boiled (unintentionally)' If the basis is disyllabic and begins with a vowel, the prefix takes the form k- (the shorter version) that sometimes varies with kek- (the longer version) without any difference in meaning except that the longer version has an archaic connotation: (22) antem (23) olu (24) ireng

=> kantem / kekantem 'to be struck (unintentionally)' kolu / kekolu 'to be swallowed (by accident)' => kireng / kekireng 'to be blackened (unintentionally)'

362

D. Edi Subroto

(25) abang

=> kabang / kekabang 'to be reddened (unintentionally)'

If the basis is monosyllabic, the prefix takes the form ke- that varies with kek- (the longer version) without any difference in meaning except that the longer version again sounds archaic: (26) mot (27) pe

=φ kemot / kekemot 'to be published (in a publication) (unexpectedly) => kepe/kekepe 'to be dried in the sun (unintentionally)'

4. In this section the semantic relation between ke-A-R and ke-A-Ran and the N's or NP's which accompany them in sentences will be described. The semantic aspect of ke-/k-R and ke-/k-R-an, in other words, will be described accurately. 4.1. The ke-/k-R verb It has been mentioned before that ke-A-R can only be found in class I. This verb may be monotransitive or ditransitive. It is called monotransitive if it can be followed by one N/NP and its semantic role is agent or instrument, apart from the other N/NP which is placed before the verb. The N/NP placed in front of ke-A-R is a subject of the sentence and its semantic role is patient. The patient specifies what it is ,that is in the state or condition affected by the verb. In this case, the N/NP following ke-A-R is not always realized on the surface because according to the speaker the stress is placed on the N/NP occupying the subject position. Some examples are the following: (28) Sikil-ku foot-my

kepidak

bocah

kuwi

step-PASS

that

boy

'My foot was stepped on (unintentionally) by that boy' (29) Gelase pecah amarga kesenggol Amir glass break-PASS because touch-PASS Amir 'The glass is broken because it was touched (by accident) by Amir' (30) Aku kesikut bocah kuwi mau I strike-elbow-PASS that boy a while ago Ί was struck with a moving elbow (unintentionally) by that boy a while ago'

Adversative-passive

(31) Malinge thief

verbs in standard Javanese

wis

kecekel

(dening

polisi).

already

catch-PASS

by

police

363

'The thief already got caught (by the police)' The prefix ke-/k- in all the ke-/k-R verbs has the semantic value of "incidental, accidental, non-intentional attainment of a result or occurrence; or the event or condition is either unexpected, unpredicated or unavoidable and generally the effect is adversative" (Dardjowidjojo 1983: 117). As can be gathered from examples (28) through (31), N's or NP's that follow ke-A-R will be agentive because all of them are human. If they are non-human, their semantic role is instrumental. Some of these verbs were derived from nouns by zero derivation, a phenomenon called "conversion" (cf. Quirk 1974). Some examples: (32) sikut(N) => sikut (V) 'elbow' 'to strike with the elbow' (33) pacul (N) => pacul (V) 'hoe' 'to dig up (the field) with a hoe' (34) pukul{N)=> pukul (V) 'hammer' 'to strike with a hammer' (35) sapu (N) => sapu (V) 'broom' 'to sweep, wipe off with a broom' In standard Javanese many ke-A-R verbs are formed from the basis this way. Thus, from the basis of the zero derivational verb ng-R or di-R or ke-R can be formed. Some examples: (36) sapu (N) => sapu (V) => nyapu 'to sweep' => disapu 'to be swept' => kesapu 'to be swept (unintentionally)' (37) luku (N) luku (V) => ngluku 'to plow => diluku 'to be plowed' => keluku 'to be plowed (unintentionally)1

364

D. Edi Subroto

(38) pedhang (N) => pedhang (V) => medhang 'to strike' => dipedhang 'to be struck' kepedhang 'to be struck with a sword (unintentionally)' Other nouns that can be derived into ke-R according to this pattern are: pistol 'pistol, revolver', graji 'saw', setrika 'iron', tutup 'cover', entup 'sting', peso 'knife', glathi 'broad bladed knife', ant 'sickle', sorot 'light', cidhuk 'water dipper', clurit 'kind of sickle', linggis 'crowbar'. In class I some ke-/k-R verbs are ditransitive. It can be predicted that these verbs are the counterparts of ditransitive ng-R verbs. Being non-productive, they are few in number: (39) Amir kedhupak sepatu Amir kick-PASS shoe 'Amir was kicked (by accident) with a shoe' (40) Aku kekantem watu I strike-PASS stone Ί was struck (by accident) with a stone' (41) Sikilk-u kesiram banyu foot-my pour-PASS water 'My foot was poured (by accident) with water' (42) Rai-ku kesorot lampu face-my illuminate-PASS light 'My face was illuminated (unintionally) with light' (43) Sikil-ku kegrojok banyu foot-my pour-hard-PASS water 'My foot was poured hard (by accident) with water' (44) Dhadha-ku kedhodhok watu chest-my struck-hard-PASS stone 'My chest was struck hard (by accident) with a stone' (45) Rambut-ku kesemprot banyu hair-my spray-hard-PASS water 'My hair was sprayed hard (by accident) with water' (46) Amir ketabrak montor Amir crash-PASS car 'Amir was crashed (by accident) by a car'. (47) Rai-ne ketatap alu face-his slap-PASS rice pestle His face was slapped (by accident) with a rice pestle'

Adversative-passive

verbs in standard Javanese

365

4.2. The ke-k-R-an verb The formation of the ke-/k-R-an verb involves the suffix -an. Suffixation with -an in Javanese has been discussed at length by Uhlenbeck (1978: 69-88). The ke-A-R-an verbs in class I are found accidentally. This means that ke-/k-R-an does not always occur side by side with ke-/k-R because of a semantic constraint. The adversative value of the verbs prevents the repetition or the continuity of the event or the occurrence. The categorial contrast between ke-/k-R-an and ke-/k-R can be described as follows: there is a "continuous or frequentative feature" realized by -an in ke-/k-R-an versus "neutral to the continuous or frequentative feature" in ke-A-R. Ke-A-R-an verbs in class I are: (48) kesorotan lampu montor terus illuminate-PASS light car continuously 'to be illuminated (unexpectedly) by car light continuously' (49) kesiraman banyu anget terus pour-PASS water warm continuously 'to be poured (unintentionally) with warm water continuously' (50) ketutupan lawang terus cover-PASS door continuously 'to be covered (unexpectedly) by the door continuously' (51) kesemprotan banyu terus spray.PASS water continuously 'to be sprayed (unexpectedly) with water continuously' We know that ke-A-R-an in class I is classified as ditransitive. This means that this kind of verb occurs side by side with ditransitive keA-R. Generally, the N's or NP's following the verb are non-human and their semantic role is instrument. Ke-/k-R-an in class II can be classified into two types, namely monotransitive and ditransitive. The monotransitive type can occur side by side with ng-R-i monotransitive, and the ditransitive one can occur side by side with ng-R-i ditransitive. Compare, for instance, the following pair: (52) a.

wite kuwi ngeyupi omah-ku tree that shade house-my 'that tree shaded my house' b. omah-ku keyupan wite kuwi house-my shade-PASS tree that 'my house was shaded (unexpectedly) by that tree'

366

D. Edi Subroto

In this case, the verb keyupan is monotransitive. The NP that follows the verb is non-human and its semantic role is instrument. Compare this with the following sentences: (53) a.

bocah kuwi nibani watu Amir boy that drop stone Amir 'hat boy dropped (intentionally) a stone on Amir' b. Amir ketibanan watu (bocah kuwi) Amir shade-PASS stone boy that 'Amir was hit (unintentionally) with a stone (by that boy)'

In this case, the verb ketibanan is ditransitive and can potentially be followed by two N's or NP's (watu and bocah kuwi). The semantic role of the non-human N/NP is instrument, and the semantic role of the human N/NP is agent. Both types of ke-/k-R-an in class II—whether mono- or ditransitive—are non-productive. Monotransitive are the following: (54) omah-ku keyupan wit house-my shelter-PASS tree 'my house was sheltered (by) a tree' (55) sikil-ku kelungguhan Amir foot-my sit-PASS Amir 'my foot was seated on (unintentionally) by Amir' (56) kowe kelingan sapa? you remember-PASS who 'who were you remembered of?' (57) aku kedhisikan (Amir) I surpass-PASS Amir Ί was surpassed (unexpectedly) (by Amir)' (58) aku kemalingan (maling (N) 'thief) I steal-PASS Ί got stolen' (59) aku kodanan (udan (N) 'rain') I catch-in-rain.PASS Ί was caught in the rain' (60) aku kepanasan (panas (A) 'hot') I suffer-from-heat Ί suffer from heat' (61) aku kadhemen (adhem (A) 'cold') I suffer-from-cold Ί suffer from cold'

Adversative-passive

verbs in standard Javanese

367

(62) aku kapusan (bocah kuwi) I cheat-PASS boy that Ί was cheated (unexpectedly) (by that boy)' (63) aku kungkuran (Amir) I face-by-back-PASS Amir Ί was faced by the back (unintentionally) (by Amir)' (64) aku kepetengan (kowe) I darken-PASS you Ί was darkened (unintentionally) (by you)' The following verbs are ditransitive: (65) omah-ku kelebonan maling house-my pass-PASS thief 'my house got passed by a thief (66) kuping-ku kelebonan banyu ear-my enter-PASS water 'my ear was entered into (by accident) by water' (67) aku kambonan lengawangi I smell-PASS perfume Ί was smelled (unintentionally) by perfume' (68) latar-ku klongsoran lemah yard-my erode-PASS soil 'my yard was eroded (by soil) (by accident)' (69) omah-ku kambrukan wit house-my hit-PASS tree 'my house was hit (by accident) by a falling tree' (70) latar-ku kilenan banyu yard-my channel-PASS water 'my yard (of house) was channelled (by accident) by water' (71) aku kundhakan rega I suffer-PASS raising price Ί suffer from raising price (unexpectedly)' 5. The ke-k-R and ke-/k-R-an verbs in the Javanese verb system are very interesting to study at length. Because of some peculiarities in their semantic values, the ke-A-R and ke-/k-R-an verbs also show some idiosyncrasies. One of these is the absence of continuous proportionality between ke-k-R-an and ke-/k-R in class I. This means that the existence of ke-A-R does not guarantee the existence of keA-R-an. Or, every ke-A-R does not always occur alongside ke-A-Ran. The other factor that makes these verbs very interesting is their high frequency in language use. They are part of the daily vocab-

368

D. Edi Subroto

ulary. I hope that this article will contribute to the development of Javanese linguistics. Notes 1. 2.

The complete form of paradigm I of verb class I in Javanese can be found in Uhlenbeck (1978: 119) and Edi Subroto (1985: 183-184). Abbreviations used: A = adjective, ACT = active, D = dasar (basic morpheme), Ν = noun, NP = noun phrase, PASS = passive, R = root mormpheme.

References Bauer, Laurie 1983 English word-formation. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Dardjowidjojo, Soenjono 1983 Beberapa aspek linguistik Indonesia. Jakarta: Djambatan. Edi Subroto, D. 1985 Transposisi dari adjektiva menjadi verba dan sebaliknya dalam Bahasa Jawa. [Unpublished PhD dissertation.] Jakarta: Universitas Indonesia. Matthews, Peter 1974 Morphology: An introduction to the theory of word-structure. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Quirk, Randolph et al. 1978 A grammar of contemporary English. 7th ed. London: Longman. Uhlenbeck, Ε. M. 1978 Studies in Javanese morphology. The Hague: Nijhoff.

An Old Javanese poem on chronogram words A. Teeuw

1. Introduction This paper on chronogram words, a modest exercise in Old Javanese philology, may be a fitting contribution to a volume dedicated to my colleague and good friend Bob Uhlenbeck. Hopefully it will show him that my interest in this field of study has not diminished, even though other duties and activities have claimed too much of my attention in the last twenty years or so. The choice of this suject was prompted by an interesting article which was published by Dr. Noorduyn shortly before his untimely death. In this article he discussed the development of the use of chronogram words in Old Javanese (Ojv.) and Javanese (Jav.) (Noorduyn 1993). Chronograms, in Ojv. called säkakäla in Jav. candrasengkala, are employed for expressing dates in historical texts, inscriptions and other written sources; they are formed by sequences of words, each of which represents a fixed numerical value. One could, e.g., Uhlenbeck's birth year in the Indian Säka calendar as it is used in Java write as janma sruti bhujangga bhümi, '(a) man (of) knowledge, (a) scholar (on) earth*, 1481 = 1841 (A.D. 1913). In his paper Noorduyn has convincingly shown how the Jav. system of chronogram words which found its origin in Sanskrit/Indian models has gradually been adapted to the local Jav. language and culture. He called this development 'a case of localization', applying a term and a concept which had been used by professor O. W. Wolters for a process, quite common in Southeast Asia, by which 'Indian materials tended to be fractured and restated and therefore drained of their original significance' (Wolters 1982: 52). Noorduyn also referred to earlier publications by Korn (1922) and Ricklefs (1978) who both published a Jav. poem of ten/eleven stanzas, each consisting of four lines of twelve syllables. In these poems the first ten stanzas successively present the chronogram words for the numerals 'one' to 'ten'; Korn's text has an additional stanza specifying the words which may be used for 'zero'. The two poems not only show a number of textual variations; it is also obvious that they are partially corrupt. By a critical comparison of various sources Noorduyn ingeniously restored a number of corrup-

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tions, but he did not dwell on the problem of the original form of this poem as such. When assisting Noorduyn in editing his paper I observed that most probably the lines of the poem represent a well-known Ojv. metre used in kakawins, the form of Ojv. poetry which is based on the metrical system used in Indian kävya. The purpose of the present paper is to study this Ojv. poem as it is found in a number of manuscripts and to make an effort to present it as far as possible in its original form.

2. The Candrabhümi

poem: The manuscripts

I shall limit this study to the versions of the poem as found in Ojv. manuscripts from Bali. This restriction is not only necessary in view of the limited space available, but is also based on the experience that Ojv. kakawins are generally much better preserved in the Balinese manuscript tradition than in the (usually) later Jav. texts. However, the modern Jav. version published by Ricklefs shall be included for comparison with the other six manuscripts. In the Ojv. manuscripts from Bali the poem is called Candrabhümi. It should be pointed out, however, that there are in fact two different texts bearing this title. The first consists of the poem only. I call this the basic Candrabhümi. The second is a prose text in which the words of the poem one by one are followed by a synonym or brief explication. To make this clear one example should suffice: the first line of the poem reads: rüpa candra sasi näbhi sasadhara, consisting of five words meaning 'form, moon, moon, navel, moon' respectively, all five representing the number 'one' in chronograms. The explicative Candrabhümi text, after a brief introduction, starts with: rupa atma, candra tanggal pisan, sasih wulan genep, nabi pungsed, sasadara purnama, in which rupa is explained as atma ('soul'), candra as tanggal pisan ('new moon'), sasih as wulan genep ('complete moon'), nabi as pungsed ('navel'), sasadara as purnama ('full moon') respectively. From this example it is already clear that the explications are often interpretations, if not Hineininterpretierung. The meaning of the words for moon used in the poem candra, sasi, sasadhara by themselves do not justify the specifications of the explication. From a rather superficial comparison I got the impression that the explicative Candrabhümi texts are of little or no use for restoring corrupt readings in the poem. It should be added that there seem to be two slightly different versions of this explicative version, each with an introduction of its own; one begins with iki Candrabhümi kawruhakena, the other with iki Candrabhümi kayatnakena.

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They shall be referred to as the kawruhakena and the kayatnakena version, respectively. First of all I shall indicate the manuscripts used for this paper, distinguishing between basic and explicative versions of the Candrabhümi. Some manuscripts contain both versions. It should be pointed out that other texts dealing with chronogram words are often found together with one or more Candrabhümi texts in one and the same manuscript. They are sometimes called wawatekan, watek in Balinese meaning 'dating in words'. For reasons of space I cannot discuss these texts. For detailed descriptions of the manuscripts containing the poem Candrabhümi I refer to the second, third and fourth volumes of Pigeaud's invaluable catalogue of Jav. manuscripts in Dutch collections (Pigeaud 1968, 1970, 1980). 1) CodOr 3931 (Pigeaud II: 164) contains the kayatnakena explicative version. 2) CodOr 3981 (Pigeaud II: 176) contains the kayatnakena explicative version. 3) CodOr 3841 (Pigeaud II: 144) contains the kawruhakena explicative version. This is incomplete and partly illegible. 4) CodOr 3993 (Pigeaud II: 178) contains the kawruhakena explicative version; according to Pigeaud the candrabhümi part and some other parts are copied from CodOr 3841. 5) CodOr 5108 (Pigeaud II: 266) contains the basic Candrabhümi text. 6) CodOr 5109 (Pigeaud II: 266f.) contains the basic Candrabhümi text. A transliteration of this text is found in sheaf BCB, portf. 3 (Pigeaud II: 787). 7) CodOr 11.533 (Pigeaud III: 121) consists of two items: 1) a typewritten transliteration of a lontar in the possession of I Gusti Putu Jlantik in Singaraja, made for L. C. Heyting; it contains the kayatnakena explicative version; 2) a school notebook, containing the basic Candrabhümi text, on the verso pages in Balinese characters and on the recto pages in transliteration. The latter is not always a correct rendering of the former. The lontar from which this text was copied was also in the possession of the same Gusti Putu Jlantik. The basic Candrabhümi is followed (on p. 9f.) by the kayatnakena explicative version. 8) CodOr 13.293 (Pigeaud IV: 142) is a typewritten copy of a lontar in the Gedong Kirtya; it contains the basic Candrabhümi text (leaf la-lb), as well as the kayatnakena explicative version (2b-5a). 9) CB 56.6 (Pigeaud II: 768) is a copy in Balinese characters, made for the late professor C. C. Berg, of a ms. in the possession of I Gusti Putu Jlantik in Singaraja; apparently this ms. was different from the

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one copied for Heyting (see no. 7). On p. 57 it starts with the basic Candrabhümi text, followed by the explicative version, without the introduction. CodOr 14.888 which is also registered by Pigeaud as Candrabhümi (IV: 229) is a different text, it is a kind of Balinese cosmology, although it also discusses elements of the system of chronograms. The version of the text published by Korn (1922) has been transliterated from a lontar in the possession of Ida Poetoe Maron of Badung. The poem was apparently also widely known in later Java. Explaining the word rüpacandra in the Ojv. historical text Pararaton, Brandes mentions that it refers to the initial words of a little handbook which the Jav. always used when looking for words having a numerical value for expressing dates (Brandes 1920: 49 7 ). Ricklefs published a version found in an 18th century ms. which is a somewhat corrupt version of the Ojv. poem. The list and the order of the chronogram words published by Raffles in his History of Java (1830, II: cx-cxl) is based on a text which is essentially similar to the poem published by Ricklefs. Probably Raffles received his information from the panembahan of Sumenep in Madura. This is not the only case where the Ojv. literary tradition seems to have been better preserved in Madura than at the courts in Central Java. Other Jav. versions of the Candrabhümi/rüpacandra-text are contained in manuscripts, a number of which are mentioned by Pigeaud in his catalogue (Pigeaud II, see mss. NBG 93, NBG 133, NBG 184, AdKit 2725, KITLV Or 12). Scholars of Jav. such as Gericke, Hageman and Van Hien published lists which are considerably longer; I refer to Noorduyn's article for bibliographical details. For the study of the Ojv. poem these Jav. versions and lists are not directly relevant. However, after Noorduyn's fundamental study of the development of the system of chronogram words in the 14th- 16th centuries on the basis of two important historical texts, the Nägarakrtägama (1365, edited by Pigeaud 1960-1963, quoted as Nag.) and the Pararaton (15th/16th century, edited by Brandes 1920, quoted as Par.), a follow-up study for the later Jav. development of the system would be interesting. In this paper no attention will be given to the texts from Java, apart from Ricklefs' edition and a few variants in the Raffles list (see below, astra in stanza 5 and mäsa in 6). Altogether I had access to 6 ms. versions of the basic Candrabhümi. In the following I shall identify them with capital letters, as follows: A = CodOr 5109; Β = CodOr 5108; C = ms. used by Korn (1922); D = CodOr 13.293; Ε = CodOr 11.533 (ms. Heyting); G = CB 56.6 (ms. Berg). To these should be added: F = Jav. ms., used by Ricklefs (1978: 243-244).

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It has proved impossible to establish a 'genetic' relationship between the manuscripts. It would seem that all six represent an independent development of the original poem. There can be little doubt that the poem was originally created as a written text, in view of its sophisticated form as a metrical kakawin. However, one should keep in mind the possibility that once written, the poem circulated in oral tradition as a mnemotechnic aid for authors and that the written versions preserved in the manuscripts are the reflection of subsequent notation by (Balinese?) writers. Whatever the case, no conventional philological method, whether stemmatic or other, seems applicable to this material. I have tried to establish the original text on the basis of the manuscript readings, by paying attention to the metre and especially by trying to discover, on the basis of existing information on chronogram words, both in Java and in Sanskrit (Skt.) literature, which words could possibly be meant in the case of obvious corruptions. Below, after each stanza of the edited text of the poem, the variant readings of the seven manuscripts are presented line by line; thus the reader is able to critically examine my selection of variants, emendations and conjectures. It is clear that in a relatively large number of lines the manuscripts show no important differences; but each individual manuscript also contains a number of corruptions, some of them minor, some of them serious. It should be added that in the presentation of the variant readings most of the arbitrary spelling variants commonly found in Ojv. mss. from Bali have not been registered, such as, e.g., vowel length, double consonants, distinction between signs for aspirated and non-aspirated consonants, between t, d and t, d, between signs indicating sibilants s, s. In the case of the variant readings word separation has been applied on the basis of the interpretation of the edited text; in dubious cases no word separation has been introduced. Following the text of each stanza and the variant readings some comments are offered; where necessary or possible I shall try to account for the readings which I adopted. For the identification of Skt. chronogram words I use the publications by Sircar (S), Bühler (Β), Burnell (Bu), Jaquet (J) and the Sanskrit-English Dictionary by Monier Williams (MW) as mentioned in the bibliography. For nonSanskrit Jav. chronogram words I refer to the list by Raffles (Ra), and to Ricklefs' publication (R). Ν refers to Noorduyn's paper (1993), Ζ and Τ refer to the Ojv. dictionaries by Zoetmulder (1982) and Van der Tuuk (1897-1912). Whenever the information referred to in a source quoted is relevant and sufficient for the material discussed here a mere reference must suffice. I have numbered the stanzas from 1-10, in accordance with the numerical values of the words discussed

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in them; the final stanza received the number 0, as it deals with the chronogram words for 'zero'.

3. The Kakawin Candrabhümi commentary

Text, variant readings,

Metre Turagagati: — υ —uuu—uuuuX 1.

rüpa candra sasi näbhi sasadhara form moon moon navel moon bhümi bhü dharani medini ku dharä earth (6x) janma eka wasudhä ksiti awani birth one earth earth earth len wulan niyata tunggal ika kabeh also moon indeed one these all

Ms. readings: la lb lc

Id

mss. rupa candra sasi nabi sasadara ABCDEF bumi bu darani (A -ning, F daroni) medi iku dara G bumi bu darani medini kung dara ABF janma (F jalma) eka waksuta siti awani C jamma eka wakguda siti yawani D jadma eka wakasuta siti yawa Ε janma eka wakguddarsiwi yawani G janma eka caksu siti awani AB DE lyan (Β ya) wulan niyata tunggal ika kabeh C lyan ulan yata tunggal ika kabeh F yen wulan nayata tu[ng]gal iku kabeh G yan hulan idata tunggal iku kabeh

Commentary The text is by and large clear and unambiguous; for the synonyms meaning 'moon' and 'earth' I refer to S and Β for their occurrence in Skt. and to Ζ for Ojv. At least 7 words for 'earth' are mentioned, all of them Skt.: bhümi, bhü, dharani, dharä, wasudhä, ksiti, awani', of these, wasudhä is in Ojv. only recorded in the compound anyawasudhä (Ζ). Three Skt. words and one Ojv. word for 'moon' are given the numerical value 'one': candra, sasi, sasadhara, and wulan respectively. The numerical value 'one' of rüpa 'form' is explained by Β and MW by the meaning 'a single specimen or exemplar'. Two Skt. words janma 'birth, creature' and näbhi 'navel' are not mentioned as chronogram words for 'one' in the Skt. sources; however, S mentions

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jana 'person'. In Ojv. chronograms in Nag. and Par. these words are commonly used. The second half of line b creates a problem; all manuscripts but one read medi iku\ medi is not a Skt. word; it does not look Jav. either, in view of its unusual vowel sequence. However, Τ explains it as Jav., meaning 'arse', without further references; Jav. dictionaries mention it as literary Jav. Ζ has a single reference from the rather late text Nawaruci, where it probably means 'a fluid from the body'. The word for 'tail', iku, is well-known in Jav. (although usually with a long final vowel). It would seem 'natural' for words meaning 'arse' and 'tail' to have the numerical value 'one'. Yet, they are not given in the Skt. lists, and their mentioning, in between all the words for 'earth', is somewhat suspicious. Not without hesitation I adopt the reading from ms. G., even though it may be a case of a lectio facilior by the copyist of what is generally a bad ms.; medirii is a well-known Skt. word in Ojv. for 'earth', also mentioned in the lists by S and B; the monosyllable Skt. ku 'earth', also given by S and B, so far has not been recorded in Ojv. 2.

netra caksu nayanaksi kara bhuja eye eye eye eye hand arm paksa drsti yama locana carana wing sight pair eye foot karna päni anembah talinga mata ear hand paying respect ear eye lyan tangan suku helar rwa ika kabeh also hand foot wing two these all

Ms. readings 2a

2b

2c

2d

ACE netra caku nayanaksi kara buja BFG netra caksu(h) nayanasi kara buja D netra caksu naksi kara buja ACEF paka dresti yama (F ama) locana carana Β paksa dresti awalocana carana D paksa dusti yama lo narana G paksa dresti hama coccana carana AE karna karni anamba talinga mata BDG karna pani anamba(t) talinga mata C karna pani anamba ta talinga mata F karna marni anembah talingan mata A lyan tangan suku helar ika kabeh BCDEG lyan (G yan) tangan suku helar rwa ika kabeh F yen tangana lar anembah suku karo

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Commentary This stanza is dominated by the words for 'eye, sight1. No less than seven synonyms occur: Skt. netra, caksu, nayana, aksi, drsti, locana and Ojv. mata. Four words for 'hand, arm' are given: Skt. kara, bhuja, päni and Ojv. tangan. There are two words for 'foot': Skt. carana and Ojv. suku\ two for 'wing': Skt. paksa and Ojv. helar, and two for 'ear': Skt. karna and Ojv. talinga. The chronogram value of these words is self-evident; they are also found in S, Β and MW. The one unusual word is anembah; not only is it metrically incorrect, it is the only verbal form functioning as a chronogram word in the whole poem; it is a transitive derivation of the Ojv. noun sembah (or sambah) which means 'respectful salutation with the joined hands lifted'; the verb means 'to salute, pay respect with joined hands lifted'. One can easily see how this word can also receive the value 'two'. In later Jav. sembah has remained a common chronogram word for 'two'. 3.

bahni päwaka sikhi guna dahana fire fire fire quality fire trini räma hutabhuj jwalanahuti three-Rama oblation-eater fire-sacrifice jätaweda nala agni hutawaha fire-god fire fire fire käya len apuy ikä tiga uningan body and fire these three to-be-known

Ms. readings 3a 3b

3c

3d

mss. bahni pawaka siki (F siking) guna dahana ABCDE trini rama hutabuj (CD hutauj, Ε -wuj) walanahuti (A ulana-) F trini rama utabujalanauti G trini rama hutabujohanahuti A jatawedya hana agni hutawaha Β jatawreda nalagni hutawana C jataweda nalagni hutawaha D jataweda ha nalagni hatawaha Ε jataweddang nalagni hutawaha F jataweda nala agni hutawaka G yata weda na hagni hutawwaha ACDEF kaya len apuy ika tiga uningan (DF uninga) Β kaya len apulaka higga huningan G kaya len apus ika tiga wunika

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Commentary The second line is here given in the ingenious reconstruction by Noorduyn (N 306-7). This stanza contains a long list of Skt. words which indicate 'fire': bahni, päwaka, sikhi, dahana, hutabhuj, jwalanahuti, jätaweda, nala, agni, hutawaha and the Ojv. word apuy. Of these the compound jwalanahuti 'sacrifice to the fire god1, comparable to agnihotra, is not known in Jav., even though the two words jwalana and huti are well-known; neither are hutabhuj 'sacrificeeater' or hutawaha 'sacrifice-bearer' recorded; for jätaweda a single occurrence is found in a probably late kakawin (Z). The use of guna with the value 'three' in Skt. is based on triguna 'the three constituents of nature', a word also known in Jav.; the same is true of trikdya 'the three bodies, i.e bodily actions whereby one practices the dharma' (Z). Rdma as a word indicating 'three' (also mentioned by S and B) is based on three well-known Räma's in Indian mythology: Parasu-räma, Bala-räma, and Räma-candra, the protagonist of the famous epic Rämäyana. The neutral form trini in stead of tri is remarkable; tri is common in Ojv.; trini mainly occurs in katrini 'trio, third'; but the longer form fits the metre. 4.

weda sägara krta sruti jaladhi Veda ocean four-on-dice Veda sea abdhi arnawa samodra jalanidhi ocean sea ocean sea warna toyadhi wahäya wah udadhi caste sea stream four-on-dice flood sea sindhu wäridhi tasik caturyuga pat sea ocean sea four-ages four

Ms. readings 4a

4b

4c

ABEG weda (BE wedang G wedan) sagara kreti suti jaladi C wedang sagara kreti supti jaladi D wedang sara kreti suci jalanidi F wedang sagara kreti sutri jaladri A adi mawawah samudra jalanidi Β ardi mawa samudra jaladi dadi C abdi mawah samudra jalanidi D adi mawahwa samudra jalanidi Ε abdi mawahwa samudra jalanidi F adi warnawa samodra janidi G lacking; replaced by d ABDEG warna (A waghna) toyadi wahana wahudadi C warna toyadi wahana wahudidih F ernawa toyadi wahana wahudadi

378 4d

A. Teeuw ABCDE sindu warih dik (B di) tasik caturyuga pat F sindu warih dik tasik caturyoga pat G sandwa waridi tasik catur uga pat

Commentary In this stanza some emendations would seem necessary. In line a only one ms. has weda, the others having wedan or wedang; however, both the meaning (referring to the four Veda's) and the metre require weda. The words kreti suti (with variants supti, sutri, suci) create a problem; the Skt. and Ojv. word krti 'action, work, fame' does not seem to have the numerical value 'four'; I therefore read krta, mentioned by S and Β and also occurring in Z, meaning 'the die marked with four dots'. For suti etc. I read sruti, a synonym for 'Veda' (see S), as none of the variants found in the mss. seems to make sense; moreover the metrical requirement of a long final vowel in krta is solved as the a becomes long positione before the cluster sr-. In this stanza the words for 'water', 'sea', 'ocean' dominate; there are altogether 11 synonyms having this meaning, ten of them Skt: sägara, jaladhi, abdhi, arnawa, samodra, jalanidhi, toyadhi, udadhi, sind.hu, wäridhi and one Ojv., tasik. So far wäridhi (S, B) has not been found in Ojv., but wäri(h) 'water' occurs frequently, and alongside toyadhi, wäridhi is an obvious emendation; the -h and the -k as found in nearly all the manuscripts (warih dik) are metrically impossible. Only ms. G has the correct form. Another word having the value 'four' is warna 'caste'. In c the sequence wahanawah, the second a of which should be long, is not clear; the common Skt. and Ojv. words wahana and wähana mean 'vehicle, carriage', but no numerical value is ascribed to them and they do not fit the metre. I ventured the conjecture wahäya wah. Skt. wahä means 'river, any stream' (MW) which would fit the list of synonyms; Ojv. wah 'flood' is another synomym for the words of 'ocean, sea'. This leaves us with ay a (both with short and long initial vowel); according to MW it is a synonym of krta, meaning 'a die' and also 'the number four'. It is mentioned by Β and S as a chronogram word for 'four'; so far it has not been recorded in Ojv. In d caturyuga is metrically incorrect, but I prefer it to the less probable reading of G catur uga pat 'four also four'. 5.

bhüta pändawa tathägata wisaya elements Pandawa Buddha sense-objects indriyästra sara märuta pawana sense weapon arrow wind wind bäna märgana samlrana warayang arrow arrow wind arrow

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pancabayu wisikhängguli ya lima five-winds arrow finger they (are) five Ms. readings 5a 5b

5c

5d

ACDEFG buta pandawa tatagati wisaya Β buta pandawa sadagati wisaya ABCDEG indriya ta (E -yat ta) sara maruta (D mabuta G manuta) pawana F endra yaksa sara maruta pawana A B D bana (D bara Ε mbarat) margana samirana warayang C ambarana samirana warayang F bana marga warayang G lacking ABCDEG pancabayu wisika (E-ang) gulinga (D guliya) lima (B lipa) F pancabayu wisikan gulingan lima

Commentary In 5 we have a number of culturally determined words which refer to Indian philosophical concepts: the pancabhüta are the 'five elements', the indriya are the 'organs of sense', pancawisaya refers to the 'objects of the senses', the pancabayu refer to the 'five kinds of vital breath', also called pancapräna. Because bäyu literary means 'wind' other words having this meaning also have the numerical value of 'five'; three, all of them Skt., occur in this stanza: märuta, pawana, samirana Tathägati most probably is a corruption of tathägata. The tathägata are the Buddha's, of which there are five in the Mahayana system, the form of Buddhism which was widely known in ancient Java. In later Jav. lists this word was re-interpreted as two words, tata 'order' and gati 'gait, trip', both of which received the value 'five'. The Pandawa are the five sons of Pändu, the famous heroes of the epic Mahabhärata. In India words for 'arrow' have the value of 'five' with reference to the five arrows of Kama, the god of love. In this stanza no less than six words with this meaning occur, five of them Skt.: astra (an emendation based on Ra as well as on the requirements of the metre), sara, bäna, märgana and wisikha, the last one not recorded in Z. The Ojv. word warayang has the same meaning. The final part of d is problematic. Six out of seven mss. have a word such as gulinga(n)\ the verbal base guling means 'to sleep', gulingan is 'cushion'; this does not make sense here. Moreover the short final vowel of wisikha can only become long by sandhi with a following a-; I therefore ventured the conjecture wisikhängguli ya lima, combining the readings of mss. D and E. The Skt. and Ojv. word angguli means 'finger', and might therefore perhaps refer to 'five'. However,

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this value is not found in Skt. or in other Jav. sources. S mentions angguli referring to 'ten' ('also used to indicate 20'), but this is not confirmed by MW. 6.

mäsa sadrasa winaya gana rtu season six-flavour god-Gana (2x) season angga soya karengö näma ning enem division ..?.. heard (as) names of six näma ning pitu gumantya ya wuwusen names of seven they in-turn to-be-said yogya poma ika kengetakena ya fitting take-care those to-be-remembered

Ms. readings 6a

6b

6c

6d

ACEF rasa sadrasa winaya (F -yang) gana retu Β masa sadrasa winaya gana retu D rasa sadrasa wisaya gara jagana retu G maka sadsara nayiya gana retu AG angga soya (G saya) karenge nama ning enem Β angga soya karengö maningkangenem CE angga (C anggas) soya winaya karenga retu D lacking F angga soyag karengya anami nanem ABG nama ning pitu ya gumantya wuwusen C kuneng angudiya wuwusen anogya D bana manih pitu gumantya wuwusen Ε kuneng pitu gumantya wuwusen yogya F namane gumanti oreg wuwusen A yogya pohikikang kengetakena Β yogyati poma kengetakena ya C pohpoh kakika yata kengetakena D yogia poye ika ya kengetakena Ε pohpoh kaki kayatna kengetakena F yogya temen uninga engetana G dera sang kawi wruha ring sakala

Commentary This stanza is different from all the other ones in so far as only two lines mention words having the numerical value of 'six'. The first word reads rasa in five mss., but I prefer the reading mäsa of ms. B, which is supported by the initial syllable of G as well as by mangsa in Ra, first because rasa sadrasa does not make sense; second because the first vowel should be long. According to MW, S and Β mäsa, 'month', has the numerical value 'twelve' in Skt. The latter two

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mention mäsärddha 'one half of the (twelve) months' with the value 'six'. Yet, in Ojv. mdsa is used in chronogram words for 'six' in the 14th century poem Nag., as pointed out by Noorduyn (310, 314); he refers to Kern who already explained mdsa as a chronogram word for 'season', and as such a synonym of rtu 'season', the Indian year consisting of six seasons of two months each (cf. Zoetmulder 1974: 192 on months and seasons in Ojv. poetry). In fact rtu itself is mentioned in the same line of the poem. Sadrasa, the 'six flavours' are well-known in Skt. and Ojv. The next two words windya gana constitute another problem. Skt. winaya among other things means 'training, moral conduct, discipline'; it occurs frequently in Ojv., but I have not been able to find a numerical value attached to this word. Ζ (p. 1590) refers to sadwindya(ka) as a name for the god Ganesa 'remover of six obstacles' which occurs in Ojv. inscriptions; windyaka as 'remover of obstacles', i.e. Ganesa, also occurs in MW. The metre requires a long first a in windya. Gana in Ojv. has the numerical value of 'six', as is clear from the instances in Ojv. literature (N 314); but what does it refer to in this context? Ν gives the meaning 'crowd'; however, Τ (4. 630) gives as the first meaning of gana the name of the god Ganesa, and mentions windyaka as one of its synonyms. It seems probable, therefore, that in this stanza too we have to take gana and windya (contamination between winaya and windyaka!) as words indicating the god Ganesa, who as 'the remover of the six obstacles' represents the number 'six'. It is quite possible that later on gana as a chronogram word was re-interpreted as meaning 'crowd'; Ν mentions many cases of what he calls 'homonymy shift' (311). In line two angga (lit. 'limb') in Skt. derives its numerical value from sadangga, the 'six auxiliary sciences of Vedic studies'. The compound also occurs in Jav., and angga as a chronogram word is also found in Nag. (N). The next word, by all mss. but one given as soya, I cannot explain; no comparable item is mentioned in any of the Skt. lists of chronogram words; in the later Jav. lists soya has been maintained. One could read so ya, ya meaning 'these (are heard ...)', but this would leave us with an equally unexplainable so. The third and the fourth line of this stanza deviate from the common pattern. Line c is a complete and regular Ojv. sentence: 'the words for seven, these are now in turn to be mentioned'; both this type of sentence and the fact that it refers to what is to follow in the next stanza are exceptional in the poem. Line d is puzzling, also in fact of the great differences between the readings. My emendation is a kind of collage from the mss. creating a normal Ojv. sentence again, even though the combination of yogya ('it is fitting') with poma which implies a strong warning ('take care') is somewhat uneasy. In any case I keep having doubts about this line. G has a

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completely different line, probably a creation of a copyist who could not make sense of this line: 'by the poet in order to know chronogram words'. 7.

adri parwata turangga giri rsi mountain mountain horse mountain sage aswa bhik.su turagäcala himawän horse monk horse mountain mountain saptapändita swara graha muni sang seven-expert note planet monk honorable tunggangan kuda gunung wiku ya pitu horse horse mountain monk they seven

Ms. readings 7a 7b

7c

7d

ABCDEG ardi (C adi, D adri) parwata turangga giri resi F ardi turangga prawata giri resik ACEFG aswa (F aksa, G maksa) biksu turangga cala himawan Β paksa biksu turanggasala ning pawan D saptapandita swarasosa munisan (cf. 7c) ACE sapta pandita swara gora muni swa (C -swah) Β sapta pandita gorawa huni hina D tunggangan kuda gunung wiku ya yatu (cf. 7d) F sapta pandita sora syara muni sang G sapta pandita kuda sari maraha A tunggangan kuda gunung wiku ya pitu Β gunung hajar-ajar sawang wiku tunggal C tunggangan gunung wiku ya pitu ika D pandita sapta ya kengetakena Ε tunggangan gunung ya pitu ika F kuda tunggangan gunung wiku ya pitu G tunggangan gunung kuda ya pitu iku

Commentary With this stanza we return to the pattern of the first 5 stanzas. In ms. D the text is corrupt; apparently line b somehow disappeared, original c became b and d became c; a new line was added to fill the gap. The three main groups of words used in this stanza mean 'mountain' (referring to the seven primeval mountains in Skt. cosmology, with the Skt. words adri, parwata, giri, acala, himawän and Jav. gunung), 'monk' or 'wise man' (referring to the seven seers, Skt. rsi, bhiksu, pändita, muni, wiku) and 'horse' (the seven horses of the sun, Skt. turangga and its variant turaga, aswa, and Ojv. kuda and tunggangan). Skt. swara refers to the seven notes of the octave; graha 'planet' is a conjecture for gora which does not make sense and is

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metrically incorrect. In Skt. graha usually has the value 'nine'; in Ojv. we find both saptagraha, 'seven planets' and nawagraha 'nine planets' (i.e. the seven planets plus sun and moon, in Indian cosmology). If the conjecture is correct the author of this poem has ascribed both the values 'seven' and 'nine' to the word for 'planet', see 9c. The final word of line c is not clear; the readings swa and swah occurring in three mss. are metrically incorrect; its Skt. meaning 'sky, heaven' does not make sense here; sang is metrically in order and has therefore been selected; it is an Ojv. honorific article, which among others usually precedes words meaning 'wise man, monk'; but there is no information that by itself it could be used as a chronogram word. 8.

näga pannaga sarira basu tanu snake serpent body god body mürti kunjara gajah dipa samaja embodiment elephant (4 times) hasti manggala kari dwipa bhujaga elephant auspicious elephant (2x) snake brahmana wwalu liman kalawan ula brahman eight elephant and snake

Ms. readings 8a 8b

8c

8d

mss. naga (D nagan) panagan sarira (E salira) basu tanu ABDEF murti kunjara gajah dipa (DE dwipa) samaja C murti kunjara gajah asti manggala G murti kundara gajah dipa samaja A asti magala kari dwipa bujaga Β gajah manggala karodita bujangga C kari wija bujaga sarpa bramana DE asti manggala kari dwija bujaga (E bujangga) F manggala sti dirada bujangga kari G hasti manggala ndarandyaja (?) bujangga ABEFG brahmana wwalu (B weku) liman kalawan ula C brahmana kala wasula uluka ika kabeh D brahmana welu liman alawan ula

Commentary A stanza without problems. The majority of the words mean 'snake' (referring to the eight classes of snakes, Skt. naga, pannaga, bhujaga, and Jav. ula) and 'elephant' (referring to the elephants which in Indian cosmology guard the eight quarters of the sky, Skt. kunjara, gajah, dipa, samaja, hasti, kari, dwipa and Jav. liman). Furthermore we have three words meaning 'body' or 'embodiment, manifestation':

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Skt. sarira, tanu, mürti; in Skt. the relation with 'eight' is not so clear, although S mentions tanu\ cf., however, astatanu, astamürti in Ojv. (Z): 'having eight bodies or manifestations', referring, e.g., to god Brahma. Basu or wasu is known both from Skt. and Ojv. as referring to 'a class of eight gods', astawasu. Manggala in Skt. also has the value 'eight', based on astamanggala 'the eight auspicious things', cf. Β and MW. 9.

randhra tusti mukha gopura wiwara hole satisfaction mouth gate hole dwära käla saha cidra ukara go opening time (?) and opening ..?.. cow angka waktra wadana graha babahan number face face planet opening leng lawang guha warsä ya nawasanga hole door cave region those nine nine

Ms. readings 9a

9b

9c

9d

A andya tryasti muka gopura wiwara Β hindratusti muka gopura wiwara C indra tresti muka wiwara bolong DG andra (G rudra) trusti muka gopura wiwara Ε hanra (hanr?) trsti muka wiwara F rudra tusti gapura wiwara dyara A dora kala gata cikra puhara go Β angga ngohawa lasan rapuwara go CE dora kala saha cikra hukara go D dora kala sandigra huhara go F nada wilasita goa rago G dora nandara (?) wira citra yara go A angga wastra wadana ya kasasanga Β kahangka gatra walda (?) lawang sasanga CE angka wastra wadana leng lawang guwa D angka satra wadana ya asanga F leng lawang graha babahan G hana wastra wiwara lawang sasangha AD leng lawang guwa wrksa babahan sanga Β leng guwa wrsti babata nawasanga CE marga jurang babahan wrksa uninga F angka gatra wadananya nawasanga G leng lawang lor gopura kabahan sasangha

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Commentary This stanza shows some unclear words or readings. The various ms. readings of the first word were already emended by Jaquet into randhra 'opening', mentioned in all the Skt. sources. The second word, in the mss. tusti, trsti, tresti, etc., has been read as tusti, 'satisfaction', on the basis of the information in MW: '9 kinds [of tusti] are reckoned in Samkhyä philosophy', although no sources mention this word as having the value 'nine'. The end of line b is not clear, the mss. show rather divergent readings. None of the readings makes sense: (h)ukara! puharal The ms. readings of line c are quite divergent. In two or three texts the end of line c is formed by what in the other mss. is the beginning of line d. My reconstruction is again a kind of collage based on the existing texts. In d the most frequent reading of the mss. wrksa 'tree' is not known as a chronogram word. The conjecture warsä is based on S and MW as well as on Z: 'a division of the earth as separated off by certain mountain ranges, nine in number'; the final long ä is unexplained; however, in Skt. both warsa and warsä exist with the meaning 'rain'; both MW and Ζ suggest that this is the same word as warsa 'division'. In this stanza words meaning 'opening, door, cavity mouth' dominate; this refers to the nine 'cavities of the body' (Skt. randhra, mukha, gopura, wiwara, dwära, cidra, guha, waktra, wadana, as well as Jav. babahan, leng, lawang)\ by extension the same numerical value is ascribed to all words meaning 'door', 'opening', 'mouth', etc. Angka refers to 'the nine decimal figures' (B); it is not recorded as Ojv. in Z. For graha see above, under 7. Go is mentioned by S, Β and Bu; according to MW it derives the value 'nine' from the meaning 'the earth, as the milk-cow of the kings'; as such it can also have the value 'one'. With the value 'nine' it occurs in Nag. (N). It is not clear why the value 'nine' is ascribed to käla, which may mean either 'time', the 'god Kala' (of death and destruction) or 'black, dark'; neither in Skt. sources nor in Ζ references are found for this word as a chronogram word. The alternative reading of dwärakäla as a compound does not solve the problem either. Nawasanga is a combination of the Skt. (nawa) and the Jav. word (sanga) for 'nine'. It is the only case where at the end the Skt. numeral is added to the Jav. Nawasanga in Ojv. is also known in the sense of 'of nine kinds; nine deities' (Z), and as such could itself be a chronogram word for 'nine'.

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dik-widik mala dik kalawan widik points-of-compass impurity point and intermediate-point dasakosa malayü kidul iriki ten-treasure fleeing south here (??) sila pattra mala äsa hana waneh conduct leaf impurity point-of-compass there is also noma ning puluh yata kengetakena names of ten these to-be-remembered

Ms. readings 10a

10b

10c

0.

ABCDE widik-widik maladi(k) kalawan widik F boma sunya gagana barakan aka G dik-widik dang maladik lawang ya widik ABG dasa kosa (AC koswa) malayu kidul iriki (C ireku, G irika) D dasa toywa swa-swa malayu kadul ireki Ε ndasa kosa malayu kidul ireku F lacking A sila patra malili hanasa waneh Β sila patra mala hila hasa waneh C sila patra nama sila angsa waneh D sila patra malih hanasa waneh Ε sila patra nama sila hangsa waneh F deh wiyati ambarni windu G lawang rahaliliha batasa waneh A nama ning puluh ya (B aka?, C kaya, D yata, Ε yatata) kengetakena F gempur ing langit widik-widik malesit G hana manih sapuluh kengetakena

norα sünya gaganämbara kha langit non-being empty sky (4x) lyan langit hilang windu kengetakena and heaven lost zero to-be-remembered kawruhakena ta de nira sang aji to-be-known by the king yan sirärep wruha ring pasasakalan if he wants to know chronogram-system

Ms. readings 0a

A nora sunya gagana bana kanaba Β bhosa sunya gananabara habana C nora sunya gagana majarakang langit D nora sunya ganambara kanambah Ε nosa sunya gaganambara kang langit F aneng gagana saha nama sapuluh

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Oc

Od

words

387

G nora sunya (added tatan) baraka dyanna A B D G yan (AD lyan) langit hilang (DG wilang) windu (D sindu) kengetakena CE hilang windu geseng yata kengetakena (C kengetana) F lacking ABEG kawruhana (A kawruhina) ta de nira sang (G sa) mangaji C kawruhana ta de nira sangengaji D ika tan wruhakena denira sang aji F lacking A B D yan (B yang) sirarep (D sira arep) wruha ring pasasakalan C yang sira arep wruha pasasakala Ε yang sira arep wruha maca sakalan F lacking G yen sira hyun wruha ring pasasakalan

Commentary 10 and 0 In these two stanzas the mss. are partly incomplete, confused and showing all kinds of differences. Hs. F has the two stanzas combined into one. Irregularities in the metre are pointed out below. In view of the state of the mss. the reconstructed text is in many respects a mere guess. In 10 dik widik only occurs in G, but is the only reading which fits the metre. It is well-known for the 'ten cardinal points', dik referring to the main directions (North, East, etc.), widik to the intermediate points (South-East, etc.); the compound also includes 'zenith' and 'nadir', making ten altogether. The next word mala means 'impurities', of which there are ten in Indian tradition (see also dasamala in Z), as such it is a chronogram word for 'ten'. This leaves us with dik kalawan widik, poetically a very poor repetition! The second line is puzzling; the metrically correct däsa 'slave' has no numerical value; a reading dasa 'ten' is metrically incorrect, and kosa 'treasure' also lacks a numerical value. In the rest of the line no chronogram words can be recognized: malayü kidul iriki are Ojv. words, even the long ü in malayü is correct, but no fitting sense can be given in this context to the verb malayü 'to flee', and to kidul 'south'. It would seem that this line is largely corrupt. Line c is somewhat less puzzling: dasasila meaning 'ten kinds of good conduct' is well known both in Skt. and Ojv. The next word, whether it is to be read as Skt. and Ojv. pätra 'bowl, vessel' or as Skt. and Ojv. pattra 'leaf, petal' has no recorded numerical value. Mala is another case of repetition. The next word could either be read as hangsa Skt. and Ojv. 'goose' or angsa Skt. and Ojv. 'share, portion', but again neither can be identified as a chronogram word. The conjecture äsa is based on Skt. äsä mentionedby S and Β as a synonym

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of dis (dik), referring to 'the ten points of the compass'. Apart from the metrical problems mentioned below the final line is correct Ojv. 0. This stanza is in general clear. In the first two lines there are two sets of chronogram words: those meaning 'heaven, sky' (Skt. gagana, ambara and Mia and Ojv. langit, mentioned twice) and those meaning 'empty, zero, lost' (Skt. sünya, bindu 'dot, zero', in Ojv. windu), Ojv. nora, hilang. For the metrical problems see below. Two final lines conclude the poem; in the preferred reading they contain an adhortation to 'the king' (sang aji) to study these things if he wants to become knowledgeable about the system of chronograms. However, the majority of the mss. reads sang mangaji 'the student, scholar', instead of the metrical correct sang aji. 4. Some general observations 4.1. The metre In this poem the Skt. metre Candrawartma is used. In Ojv. it is known as Turagagati. It is used in poems as early as the 9th century (Zoetmulder 1974: 456). Skt. metres as used in kakawin, the Ojv. manifestation of Skt. kävya, are based on a prescribed alternation of long and short syllables. The present metre, e.g., has the structure —υ—υυυ—uuuuX. It is doubtful whether spoken Ojv. had a phonological opposition between short and long vowels. However, in Ojv. kakawins the phonological opposition from Skt. was taken over and more or less artificially applied by the option of attributing a long quantity to vowels in specific cases: 1. in words borrowed from Skt. the original quantity is preserved; 2. vowels are long by position before consonant clusters, also at word boundaries; 3. the product of vowel contraction at morpheme or word boundaries may be long; this also holds good for e and ο in polymorphemic Ojv. words; 4. some Ojv., non-Skt., words possess a long vowel as the result of an intra-Indonesian historical process. The Candrabhümi fulfils the requirements of the Turagagati metre in the large majority of the lines. Exceptions are rare in the first 9 stanzas, more frequent in 10 and 0; these two stanzas are also the most corrupt ones in the manuscript tradition and it is difficult to say whether the poet, the copyists or the present editor are to blame for the "mistakes" in the text published here. The following deviations should be noted (for further explanations see above, in the comments to the text):

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2b if anembah is the correct reading the long second syllable should be short; 4c the mss. all have wahana\ the metre requires a long second vowel; see for the conjecture wahaya above; 4d the first u of caturyuga is positione long but should be short; 6a the long first ä of winäya is based on a conjecture, see above; 9d wrksa (mss.) does not fit the metre which requires a sequence short-long; see above; 10-0 it is no accident that in the final stanzas a number of lines are metrically incorrect; the texts are corrupt and the emendations are by no means certain; in 10a the final syllable of kalawan should be short; lOd the final syllable of puluh which is positione long should be short, the final vowel of yata should be long and the first vowel of kengetakena should be short; 1 lb the second syllable of hilang should be short, the first syllable of windu should be short, its u should be long. In c the third syllable should be long, and just like in lOd ke-is metrically incorrect; in 6 the final vowel of ärep which is positione long should be short. It is interesting that sandhi which is common in Ojv. poetry between two vowels at the word boundary is not applied, cf. abdhi arnawa (4b), ksiti awani (lc), except in the case where final -a is followed by initial a- : nayanaksi (Id), indriyästra (5b), turagäcala (7b), gaganämbara (0a), wisikhängguli (5b, if the conjecture is correct). 4.2. Sanskrit and Old Javanese The large majority of chronogram words in this poem is of Skt. origin over against a small number of local words; the latter usually occur in the final lines: in 2c anembah talinga mata, in 2d tangan suku helar, in 3d apuy, in 4d tasik, in 7d tunggangan kuda, in 8d liman and ula, in 9c babahan, 9d leng lawang\ 10b is a puzzle with apparently Jav. words malayu kidul, which are semantically unclear as chronogram words; in 0 nora is Jav. in line a, the local langit even occurs twice. For the readings medi iku vs. medini ku in lb see above. In any case it would seem as if the local words are used to fill up the final lines, perhaps in the absence of other Skt. words, or as an initial phase of 'localization'. Not only are Skt. words dominant in these stanzas; the author uses words which otherwise are hardly or not at all found in Jav., such as ku (lb), wasudhd (lc), trini Räma, 'the three Rama's' (3b), wäridhi (4d), wisikha (5d), swah (7c, if correct), kari (8c), go (9b), kha (Ob). It would seem as if the author of the poem had access to a list of

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chronogram words or a similar source in Skt. The correspondence with the lists of chronogram words given by S and Β is remarkable. 4.3. Order of the chronogram words The order of the words is not determined by their meaning; sometimes there occurs a series of synonyms but these are often interrupted by a word with a different meaning: in la the sequence of three words meaning 'moon' is interrupted by näbhi 'navel'; in 2a series of words for 'eye' in the first three lines is interrupted by words having other meanings; in 3 nearly all the chronogram words refer to 'fire' in some aspect; but guna in a, räma in b and käya in d interrupt the series; in 5b-d words for 'arrow' and 'wind' are mixed up; and the same is true of the other stanzas. Apparently the metrical requirements dominated over the need to present the words in a more systematic way.

5. Conclusion A few final remarks should suffice. First the name of the poem Candrabhümi. It seems obvious that this name has been taken from the first stanza, containing among others the words candra 'moon' and bhümi 'earth'. It is somewhat strange that these words do not form the beginning of the poem. Could this be an indication that an earlier version has existed, beginning with these two words? It would be quite simple to interchange the beginning of the first two lines, by reading candra bhümi, and rüpa bhü respectively. However, the mss. contain no indication whatsoever to justify such a change. Above I already referred to Brandes's observation that in later Jav. the chronogram text is generally known as rupacandra. About the author and the date of the poem nothing is known. It is clear that the author must have had access to, or first hand knowledge of, information on Skt. chronogram words, in view of the fact that he uses a number of such words which otherwise have not been recorded in Ojv. Moreover, if the restoration of the poem as presented above is in the main correct, the author still had a good command of the metrical system of kakawins and of the conventions of quantity in Ojv. poetry. On the other hand, the inclusion of a limited number of non-Skt. words shows the beginning of the process of localization as described by Noorduyn. Therefore it would seem that the poem at its latest must have been written during the Majapahit period, say the 14th century A.D. But an earlier date is not impossible, in view of

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the fact that the use of chronogram words, especially in Ojv. inscriptions, is already found in earlier inscriptions. The poem has no poetic qualities whatsoever; the enumeration of all these chronogram words has a purely didactic or mnemotechnic function. This is also clear from the final lines in which the poet suggests that he wrote this poem on behalf of 'the king' (sang aji) or 'the teacher' (sang mangaji), in order to make him understand the sasakäla system. It is difficult to say whether this is based on reality or merely functions as a rhetorical device. Didactic works on language and literature of this type are well-known from Ojv. literature; reference may be made, e.g., to dictionaries and grammars and to works on the kakawin metres (Pigeaud 1967: 293-301). Special mention may be made of the Wrttasancaya, the elaborate manual on kakawin metres, itself a kakawin, written by the famous author Tanakung in the 14th century and published by H. Kern as early as 1875 (Kern 1920). Tanakung specifically mentions the Skt. text on which he based his work. Although this text so far has not been identified, knowledge of such materials was apparently available to Jav. poets. Whether a specific text on chronogram words also existed in Skt. and if so, whether it has been used by the poet of the Candrabhümi I have not been able to discover. References Brandes, J. A. (ed.) 1920 Pararaton (Ken Arok) ofHet boek der Koningen van Tumapel en van Majapahit. Tweede druk bewerkt door N. J. Krom [...]. 's-Gravenhage: Nijhoff/Batavia: Albrecht. Bühler, Johann Georg 1905 Indian palaeography. Edited as an Appendix to The Indian Antiquary XXXIII, 1904 by John Faithfull Fleet. Bombay: Bombay Education Society Press. [Earlier published in German 1896; list of chronogram words, 83-86.] Burnell, A. C. 1878 Elements of South-Indian palaeography from the fourth to the seventeenth century A. D. 2nd ed. London: Teubner. [List of chronogram words, 77-78.] Jaquet, E. 1835 "Mode d'expression symbolique des nombres employes par les Indiens, les Tibetains et les Javanais", Nouveau Journal Asiatique 16: 5-41. Kern, H. 1920 "Wrtta-Sancaya: Oudjav. leerdicht over versbouw. In Kawi-tekst en Nederlandsche vertaling bewerkt", Verspreide Geschriften IX: 67-189.

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Korn, V. Ε. 1922 "Baiische chronogrammen", De Indische Gids 44: 667-674. Monier-Williams, Sir Monier 1981 Α Sanskrit - English dictionary. New edition, greatly enlarged and improved. Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass. Noorduyn, J. 1993 "Some remarks on Javanese chronogram words: A case of localization", Bijdragen tot de Taal-, Land- en Volkenkunde 149: 298-317. Pigeaud, Th. G. Th. 1960-63 Java in the 14th century: A study in cultural history. The Nägarakertägama by Rakawi Prapanca of Majapahit [...]. 5 vols. The Hague: Nijhoff. 1967-80 Literature of Java: Catalogue raisonne of Javanese manuscripts in the Library of the University of Leiden. 3 vols. + supplement. The Hague: Nijhoff. Raffles, Thomas S. 1978 The history of Java. With an Introduction by John Bastin. Vol. I-II. Kuala Lumpur: Oxford University Press. [List of chronogram words, II: ccii-ccv.j Ricklefs, M. C. 1978 Modern Javanese historical tradition: A study of an original Kartasura chronicle and related materials. London: School of Oriental and African Studies, University of London. [Chronogram words in Appendix II: 239-244.] Sircar, D.C. 1965 Indian epigraphy. Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass. ['Numbers expressed by words', 228-233.] Tuuk, Η. N. van der 1897-1912 Kawi-Balineesch-Nederlandsch woordenboek. 4 vols. Batavia: Landsdrukkerij. Zoetmulder, P. J. 1974 Kalangwan: A survey of Old Javanese literature. The Hague: Nijhoff. 1982 Old Javanese-English dictionary. 2 vols. The Hague: Nijhoff.

Adaptation of loan-words ending in -is/-ik in Indonesian Jan W. de Vries

1. Introduction "Words are linguistic units, morphemes are systematic features dependent on words" (Uhlenbeck 1978: 6). As a consequence, affixes are rarely if ever transferred directly from one language to another. Words which are polymorphemic in the source language, enter the recipient language as monomorphemic elements: no part of the wordform can be distinguished to which semantic features are attached that function within the word-meaning. However, bilinguals may be aware of the motivated character of loan-words which are polymorphemic in the source language, which creates the possibility of new morphological categories with borrowed affixes. In De Vries (1984a) is shown how many Dutch, and later on English words containing a nativized suffix (Du. -atie, E. -ation), have entered the Indonesian language. Dutch words ending in -atie are adopted as Indonesian words ending in -asi (arrestatie "arrest" became arestasi), and by analogy, English words ending in -ation too (affirmation became afirmasi). Even Dutch words ending in -ing are adopted with -asi: investering 'investment' became investasi. The element -asi functions as a quasi-suffix by which Dutch and English nouns with the semantic characteristics of 'action', 'process', 'state', and 'result of an activity' in common, characteristics denoting a verbal origin, can be adapted to Indonesian. A quasi-suffix because a monomorphemic counterpart seldom exists in Indonesian. Only in rare cases like alokasi 'allocation' (Du. allocatie) beside the verb alokir 'to allocate' (Du. alloceren) and segmentasi 'segmentation' (Du. segmentatie) beside the noun segmen 'segment' (Du. segment) a formal-semantic relation exists, for bilingual speakers, but possibly also for monolinguals. In these cases -asi could be considered a suffix, but no morphological process exists whereby new words can be added to the lexicon. A new morphological category came into being with the suffix -isasi on the base of nouns: jetisasi 'the introduction of jet aircraft' beside the English loan-word jet, betonisasi 'the covering with concrete' beside the Dutch loan beton 'concrete', and kondomisasi 'the

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popularizing of the use of condoms' beside the Dutch or English loan-word kondom 'condom'. In this article I consider the loan-words ending in -is and in -ik with a polymorphemic Dutch or English source. The data have been taken from a list containing about 15,000 European loan-words, compiled by Grijns and De Vries, a completely revised and elaborated edition of Grijns, De Vries and Santa Maria (1983). The list will be part of a dictionary with all loan-words in Indonesian, the result of cooperation between linguists in Jakarta, Leiden, London, Naples, and Paris within the framework of the Indonesian Etymological Project, established in 1973, with Russell Jones as General Editor. The European part of the dictionary is based on existing dictionaries, in particular the fourth printing of the second revised edition of Teeuw (1996), and the fourth printing of the revised second edition of Kamus Besar Bahasa Indonesia ("Great Dictionary of the Indonesian Language", 1995), and private lists. Based on Grijns, de Vries and Santa Maria (1983) some preliminary observations on adaptation of polymorphemic European loan-words are made in De Vries (1984b), but at that time even the first editions of Teeuw (1990) and of Kamus Besar (1988) had not been published. It is interesting to compare the available data with the list of 1983. The reason is that both Kamus Besar and Tata Bahasa Baku Bahasa Indonesia ("Standard Grammar of the Indonesian Language", 1988) give prescriptions for the adaptation of polymorphemic loan-words. English adjectives ending in -ic with a Dutch counterpart ending in -isch (electronic and electronisch) have to be adapted with -ik, regardless of the source language: the preferred word-form is elektronik. Dutch adjectives ending in -isch with an English counterpart ending in -ical (economisch and economical) have to be adapted with -is, also with no regard to the source language: ekonomis. Furthermore, Dutch or English nouns ending in -ist {publicist) have to be adapted with -is: publisis. English nouns ending in -ics (phonetics) or -ique (technique) with Dutch counterparts ending in -iek (fonetiek, techniek) have to be adapted with -ik: fone tik, teknik. The Indonesian standard language represents an ideal norm which has to be aimed for, and by consequence language planning plays an important role in the process of standardization.

2. Loan-words ending in -is and -ik 2.1. Adjectives ending in -is. A great number of adjectives ending in -is is borrowed from Dutch. In the source language these words end in -isch. The following are

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some examples are anakronis 'anachronistic' (anachronisch), elitis 'elitist' (elitisch), improvisatoris 'improvisatory' (improvisatorisch), isolationalistis 'isolationalist' (isolationalistisch), provinsialistis 'provincial' (provincialistisch), snobistis 'snobbish' (snobistisch), tabelaris 'tabular' (tabellarisch), utopis 'Utopian' (utopisch), vegetans 'vegetarian' (vegetarisch). Dutch sources ending in -isch with an English counterpart ending in -ical are generally borrowed with -is, in accordance with the official rules. Some examples are etimologis 'etymological' (etymologisch), fenomenologis 'phenomenological' (fenomenologisch), klinis 'clinical' (klinisch), sosiologis 'sociological' (sociologisch), teologis 'theological' (theologisch), teoretis 'theoretical' (theoretisch), tipologis 'typological' (typologisch). Beside tipis 'typical' tipikal also occurs, possibly in order to prevent homonymy between the loanword and the native adjective tipis 'thin'. The rule that Dutch sources ending in -isch with English counterparts ending in -ic have to be adapted with -ik is neglected on a large scale (but see 2.2). Compared with the list of 1983, telefonis 'by telephone' (telefonisch) has disappeared, and toksis 'toxic' has been replaced by toksik. Although in a number of cases new words ending in -ik occur beside old ones ending in -is (see 2.3), in many cases only adjectives ending in -is are found. Some examples are ekspresionistis 'expressionistic' (expressionistisch), ekstatis 'extatic' (extatisch), elastis 'elastic' (elastisch), fatalistis 'fatalistic' (fatalistisch), feministis 'feminist(ic)' (feministisch), mikroskopis 'microscopic' (microscopisch), paternalistis 'paternalistic' (paternalistisch), patetis 'pathetic' (pathetisch), pornografis 'pornographic' (pornografisch) (but the formation kepornoan with the affix ke--an also occurs), spasmodis 'spasmodic' (spasmodisch), statis 'static' (statisch), tipografis 'typographic' (typografisch). Attempts to regulate language use authoritatively are not always successful. In some cases -is even functions as a quasi-suffix by which Dutch or English sources without -isch or -ic are adapted: eksploratoris with E. exploratory as a source (Du. exploratorisch does not exist) beside eksploratif (Du. exploratief), diskriminatoris with E. discriminatory or Du. discriminatoir as a source, politis 'political' with Du. politiek as a source, relativis 'relativistic' with Du. relatief and possibly also E. relativistic as sources, restiformis with E. restiform as a source, urbanis with E. urban as a source, and intervensionis 'interfering, meddling' with E. intervention or intervensi 'intervention' as sources (Du. interventie). Beside diktatorial with Du. dictatoriaal or E. dictatorial as a source diktatoris also occurs; the same holds for kriminalis 'criminal, adjective' beside kriminal, with the English source criminal, and kriminil, with the Dutch source crimineel.

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If the adjective epigonis 'behaving like an epigone' is created on the base of the noun epigon 'epigone', -is obtains the status of a real suffix. On the base of the loan-word libido the adjective libidis 'libidinous' is formed, and on the base of the loan-word viril 'virile' (Du. viriel) a new adjective virilis 'showing virilism' is formed. In one word E. -ish is adapted as -is: boyish became bois. 2.2. Adjectives ending in -ik Most of the words ending in -ik, with no doublet in -is, are borrowed from English, for example domestik {domestic), hedonistik (hedonistic), hegemonik (hegemonic), diagnostik {diagnostic), spastik {spastic) beside spasmodis 'spasmodic' with Du. spasmodisch as a source, supersonik {supersonic), terapeutik {therapeutic), turistik {touristic), ultrasonik {ultrasonic). A few older words ending in -is , with a Dutch source, have been replaced by words ending in -ik in recent times: olimpis {olympisch) by olimpik {olympic), and eksentris {excentrisch) by eksentrik {excentric). The rule of Kamus Besar and Tata Bahasa Baku Bahasa Indonesia that Dutch sources ending in -isch beside an English counterpart ending in -ic have to be adapted with -ik, led to many doublets, for example gastronomik 'gastronomic' beside older gastronomis (see 2.3). The rise of words ending in -ik is supported by adjectives with a Dutch source ending in stressed -iek. fanatik 'fanatical' {fanatiek), fisik 'physical' (fysiek), kubiek 'cubic' (kubiek), otentik 'authentic' {autentiek). In Indonesian, a language with a free word accent (Van Heuven—Van Zanten 1997), loan-words as otentik and turistik are stressed in the same manner. Beside eksklusif (Du. exclusief, E. exclusive), and eksklusivisme 'exclusivity' (Du. exclusivisme), the adjective eksklusivistik also occurs, probably by analogy with words like hedonistik and turistik. If epigramik 'epigrammatic' is formed on the base of the noun epigram 'epigram', -ik functions as a real suffix, but it is also possible that E. epigrammatic plays a part. 2.3. Adjectives ending in -is as well as in -ik More and more adjectives ending in -ik occur beside adjectives ending in -is, without a difference in meaning. In general these words have Dutch sources, but it is also possible that some adjectives ending in -ik are borrowed anew from English. The influence of the English language on the Indonesian lexicon is growing, especially since the seventies. The recommendations of Pusat Pembinaan dan

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Pengembangan Bahasa, "The centre of the promotion and development of language", responsible for the grammar and the dictionary of the Indonesian standard language, confirm the growing influence of English: Dutch words ending in -isch have to be adapted with the ending -ik if an English word ending in -ic exists. However, many words ending in -is are still in use beside the words ending in -ik. Some examples are dramatis and dramatik 'dramatic' {dramatisch), egoistis and egoistik 'egoistic' (egoistisch), elektris and elektrik 'electric' (electrisch) beside listrik (also a noun with the meaning 'electricity'), fantastis and fantastik 'fantastic' (fantastisch), feodalistis and feodalistik 'feudalistic' (feodalistisch), historis and historik 'historic' (historisch), ikonis and ikonik 'iconic' (iconisch), patriotis and patriotik 'patriotic' (patriotisch), psikiatris and psikiatrik 'psychiatric' (psychiatrisch), realistis and realistik 'realistic' (realistisch), romantis and romantik 'romantic' (romantisch), sintetis and sintetik 'synthetic' (synthetisch), tragis and tragik 'tragic', (tragisch), vulkanis and vulkanik beside volkanis and volkanik 'vulcanic' (vulkanisch). Beside futuristis and futuristik 'futuristic' (futuristisch) futuris without a foreign source, but probably created on the base of the noun futur (with E. future as a source), occurs too. Adjectives ending in both -is and -ik with an English source ending in -ic are hardly found: sinematis and sinematik (cinematic). Beside the following doublets ending in -ik as well as in -is an English source ending in -ic doesn't exist: filantropis and filantropik 'philantropical' ( Du. filantropisch), fisis and fisik 'physical' (Du. fysiek), medis and medik 'medical' (Du. medisch), puetis and puetik 'poetical' (Du. poetisch), and tehnis/teknis and tehnik/teknik 'technical' (Du. technisch). In these cases the ending -ik functions as a quasi-suffix. Beside older tropis 'tropical' (Du. tropisch) tropik and tropikal occur; the last word is borrowed from English. The nouns tropik and tropika are adaptations of E. tropics. In contradiction to recent developments, supported by official rules, the new loan-word numeris 'numerical' occurs beside the older numerik with Dutch numeriek as a source.

2.4. Nouns ending in -is (and -ik) The replacement of adjectives ending in -is by words ending in -ik is somewhat hindered by nouns ending in -ik with a Dutch source ending in -iek, or to a lesser extent English words ending in -ics, e.g. dramatik 'drama(tics)' (Du. dramatiek), tropik (E. tropics). Possibly, the noun dramatik 'dramatic art, tragic nature' obstructs the disappearance of the adjective dramatis 'dramatic' beside dramatik. The

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same holds for tematik 'theme, subject matter' and tematis (beside tematik) 'thematic'. On the other hand, older diagnostis 'diagnostic' has disappeared in favour of diagnostik, although the noun diagnostik 'diagnostics' also occurs. The adjective klinis 'clinical' differs formally with the noun klinik 'clinic' (Du. kliniek), but no adjective ending in -ic exists in English. A number of nouns ending in -is are of polymorphemic Dutch and English origin. I leave aside cases like deklamatris 'female declaimer, diseuse', dekoratris 'female scene painter, decorator' and direktris 'manageress, female director' with Dutch sources ending in the nativized suffix -ice, having the categorial meaning 'female human being': declamatrice, decoratrice and directrice. In Dutch the suffix bears word accent, but—as mentioned—Indonesian has no fixed word accent, and by consequence these words are stressed like other words ending in -is. I restrict myself to words with a Dutch or English source ending in -ist, denoting human beings. The following examples have a Dutch source: dietis 'dietician' (idietist), kursis 'student, someone taking a course' (cursist), markonis 'radio operator' (marconist), notulis 'writer of minutes' (notulist), novelis 'writer of short stories' (novellist), solis 'soloist' (solist), telegrafis 'telegraph operator' {telegrafist), trompetis 'trumpet player' (itrompetist), trotskis 'Trotskyite' (trotskist), utopis 'utopian(ist)' (Utopist), vandalis 'vandal' (vandalist). The following examples probably have a Dutch source as well, although an English word ending in -ist also occurs: egois 'egoist' (ego'ist), ekspresionis 'expressionist' (expressionist), evolutionis 'evolutionist' (evolutionist), feminis 'feminist' (feminist), futuris 'futurist' (futurist), sosialis 'socialist' (socialist), sovinis 'chauvinist' (chauvinist), spesialis 'specialist' (specialist), spiritis 'spirit(ual)is' (spiritist), terapis 'therapist' (therapist), turis 'tourist' (tourist), vokalis 'vocalist' (vocalist). A certain English source have arsonis (arsonist), radiologis (radiologist) and violinis (violinist) as there are no Dutch sources ending in -ist. The great number of nouns ending in -is has facilitated the awareness of the motivated character of them, especially because many monomorphemic adjectives or nouns occur beside the -^-formations. Some examples are kapital 'capital, noun' beside kapitalis 'kapitalist', material 'material, noun' beside materialis 'materialist', spesial 'special' beside spesialis, telegraf 'telegraph' beside telegrafis, violin 'violin' beside violinis. Furthermore, the nouns ending in -is are often part of a web of related loan-words. Some examples are futuris 'futurist', futurisme 'futurism', futuristis and futuristik 'futuristic', the newly created

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adjective futuris 'futuristic', futur and futura 'future', and moreover futurolog 'futurologist' (Du. futuroloog), futurologi 'futurology', futurologis 'futurological' (Du. futurologisch)·, intelektualis 'intellectualist', intelektualisme 'intellectualism', intelektual and intelektuil 'intellectual' (Du. intellectueel)·, nihilis 'nihilist', nihilisme 'nihilism', nihilistis 'nihilistic' (Du. nihilistisch)', sosialis 'socialist', sosialisme 'socialism', sosialistis 'socialist(ic), leftish' (Du. socialistisch), the newly created adjective sosialis 'socialistic', the adjective sosial 'social, social minded, human, sociable' (Du. sociaal), and moreover sosialisasi 'socialization', the element sosio- socio-' in sosio-budaya 'socio-cultural', and totally integrated formations like kesosialan 'welfare, social nature', mensosialisasikan 'socialize' (sosialisir with Du. socialiseren as a source also occurs), sosia(l)wan 'male social worker, social-minded man', and sosiawati 'social-minded woman'. The ending -is is strong on three points: it is formally invariant, it occurs in a great number of words denoting persons, and very often it occurs in words that are part of a web of related words. The possibility of creating new words is therefore not surprising. In cases like epigonis 'epigone' beside epigon the ending functions as a quasisuffix by which the Dutch (epigoon) or English source (epigone) is adapted to other formations ending in -is. The same holds for oratoris 'orator' with Du. or E. orator as a source. In other cases the ending -is is clearly part of a new morphological category by which the lexicon can be extended on the base of nouns, sometimes also on the base of adjectives. The categorial meaning is 'a person with a profession or an activity related with the meaning of the base'. Some new formations are cerpenis 'writer of short stories' on the base of the acronym cerpen, cerita pendek, 'short story', islamist 'Islam scholar' on the base of Islam, motoris 'motorbike driver' on the base of motor 'motorbike', pancasilais 'supporter of pancasila ('the five pillars of the Indonesian state ideology'), Soekarnois 'supporter of (the ideas of) Soekarno' and other cases on the base of a proper name like Suhartois 'supporter of Suharto'. On the base of the adjectives kriminal 'criminal' and radikal 'radical' the nouns kriminalis 'criminal' and radikalis 'radical' are formed, homophonous with the adjectives kriminalis and radikalis (for the adjective kriminal see 2.1). Finally, beside the noun vokal 'vowel' the adjective vokal 'vocal' occurs, both Dutch loan-words (vocaal). One of the semantic aspects of the adjective vokal is "to express oneself clearly, emphatically, critically"; the adjective with these semantic caracteristics became the base for the noun vokalis 'an outspoken critic' (beside vokalis 'vocalist' with Du. vocalist as a source).

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3. Concluding remarks I have shown how a large number of Dutch and English adjectives and nouns containing a suffix have been borrowed, resulting in words ending in -is and -ik. In some cases -is and -ik function as quasi-suffixes by which loan-words are adapted in Indonesian, without a Dutch or English source ending in -isch or -ic. The prescriptions of language engineers are also discussed. Loan-words are "foreign elements which in some measure have been naturalized and which, therefore, have to undergo some degree of adaptation" (Uhlenbeck 1978: 32). A new morphological category with the suffix -is came into being to form nouns denoting human beings. Language contact may influence not only the lexicon, but also grammatical aspect of the recipient language.

References Grijns, C. D.—J. W. de Vries—L. Santa Maria 1983 European loan-words in Indonesian: A check-list of words of European origin in Bahasa Indonesia and traditional Malay. Leiden: Koninklijk Instituut voor Taal-, Land- en Volkenkunde. Heuven, Vincent J. van— E. van Zanten 1997 "Effects of word length and substrate language on the temporal organisation of words in Indonesian", in: C. Ode—W. Stokhof (eds.) Proceedings of the Seventh International Conference on Austronesian Linguistics, Leiden 22-27 August 1994, 201-216. Amsterdam: Rodopi. Ν. N.

1995

Kamus Besar Bahasa Jakarta: Balai Pustaka.

Indonesia.

Edisi kedua, cetakan keempat.

Ν. N.

1988

Tata Bahasa Baku Bahasa Indonesia. Penyunting penyelia Anton M. Moeliono dan penyunting teks Soenjono Dardjowidjojo. Jakarta: Balai Pustaka/Yogyakarta: Gadjah Mada University Press.

Teeuw, A. 1996

Indonesisch-Nederlands woordenboek. Tweede uitgave, vierde druk. Leiden: Koninklijk Instituut voor Taal-, Land- en Volkenkunde. Uhlenbeck, Ε. M. 1978 Studies in Javanese morphology. The Hague: Nijhoff. Vries, Jan W. de 1984a "Adaptation of polymorphemic loanwords. The case of words ending in -asi in Indonesian", Bijdragen 140: 476-496. 1984b "Adaptation of polymorphemic European loanwords in contemporary Indonesian", Nusa 19, 39-54.

Section 3 Pacific and Amerindian languages

The name of the sweet potato: A case of pre-conquest contact between South America and the Pacific Willem F. Η. Adelaar

The issue of possible pre-historic contacts involving both Polynesia and the west coast of South America has exerted a great attraction on scholars of different disciplines. Also, there has been a general awareness that any hypothesis involving transoceanic contacts should receive the support of linguistic evidence. From a genetic point of view, the roots of the Polynesian languages and their South East Asian origin have long been established beyond reasonable doubt. The Polynesian languages are part of the great Austronesian stock, in which they occupy a position not too far removed from the languages spoken in the Malay archipelago (Grace 1959). At the same time, no convincing evidence that could link any of the New World languages to the Austronesian stock has ever been brought forward. Nonetheless, this does not imply that no efforts were made to such effect. For instance, Rivet (1926) tried to establish a relationship between Malayo-Polynesian and the Hokan languages of California, and Hill-Tout (1898) sought to connect the Wakashan languages of British Columbia with Polynesian. Lexical similarities between Polynesian languages, Maori in particular, and the Quechua language of the former Inca empire were collected and published by the Italo-Argentinian scholar Imbelloni (1926) and his student Palavecino (1926). It is true that some of the lexical similarities observed between Quechua and Polynesian can be quite suggestive, such as Cuzco Quechua unu 'water', Maori and Easter Island unu 'to drink' (Amerindian languages often use the same root for 'water' and 'to drink', e.g. Aymara uma 'water', uma- 'to drink'); Ancash Quechua uma 'upper part', other Quechua 'head', Maori and Easter Island uma 'breast', Tongan 'shoulder'; Cuzco Quechua pukara 'fortress', Maori puuhara 'fighting platform'. Such cases, however, are to be treated with utmost caution, bearing in mind Campbell's warning (Campbell 1997: 409): [Languages with relatively simple phonemic inventories and similar phonotactics will easily exhibit many accidentally similar words (which explains why Polynesian languages, with very simple phonemic inventories, have been

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proposed as the relatives of languages all over the world, including various Native American families).

Clearly, authors such as Imbelloni and Palavecino must have considered the possibility of establishing a common genetic origin for Polynesian and Quechua. However, the correspondences they found are not regular, although they ought to be if the languages in question were genetically related. These cases, if not due to coincidence, could qualify as a result of borrowing, rather than as cognates. And even their status as possible borrowings is so weak that it seems wise to reject such a classification, as long as there is no further evidence to support it. Of all the allegedly shared lexicon that has been brought forward, there is one item that continues to deserve special attention: it is the denomination of the sweet potato (Ipomoea batatas), which has been recorded as kumara or a related term both in Peru and in the Pacific. The difference between kumara and other lexical look-alikes lies in the fact that it refers to a specific food-plant which was brought to the Pacific from South America in pre-historic times. Allegedly, there were other domesticated plants that followed a similar course, such as the edible gourd Lagenaria, but the latter is referred to in the Pacific by a term of authentic Austronesian extraction (Easter Island hue). It is the combination of a shared lexical item and a shared cultural tradition that makes the case of the sweet potato so convincing. The history of the sweet potato in the Pacific area has been studied extensively and from various disciplinary angles, the most thorough essay of this kind being Yen (1974). 1 Initial attempts to deny the antiquity of the sweet potato in one of the two areas involved did not receive much support. Yen and other authors (Dixon 1932, Heyerdahl 1963, O'Brien 1972) affirm that the sweet potato was cultivated in Polynesia long before the arrival of the Europeans. It became most prominent at the extremities of the Polynesian triangle, in Hawaii, in New Zealand, and on Easter Island. Yen describes the existence of 14th century structures in New Zealand that were used for storing the sweet potato. A likely point of dispersal accounting for this distribution would be located somewhere near the tropical centre of the Polynesian triangle, e.g. on the Society Islands or on the Marquesas. The Polynesian term kumara (Maori kuumara), reconstructed as kumala by Walsh and Biggs (1966), has undergone the expected phonetic changes that separate the different Polynesian languages. For instance, in Hawaiian the word for sweet potato is 'uwala, an indication (although not proof) that the sweet potato came to Hawaii with the first Polynesian colonists before 1000 A.D. Yen (1974: 294)

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hypothesizes that the introduction of the sweet potato in Polynesia took place between 400 and 700 A.D. There appears to be no compelling reason to question these dates. In the New World, the cultivation of the sweet potato is linked up with the oldest stages of agriculture, and it goes back at least as far as 2.500 B.C. The plant is found throughout tropical America and is referred to by a wealth of mutually unrelated names, such as Mayan 'is, Taino (h)age and Tupinambä jetik. The Mexican Spanish word camote (from Nahuatl camotli) and the term batata (probably Antillean or Central American) accompanied the sweet potato's postcontact conquest of other tropical regions of the world. The Peruvian coast, however, is among the oldest areas of cultivation. Remains of sweet potatoes have been found in the archaeological sites of all its important coastal cultures, including Mochica, Paracas, and Coastal Chavin (Towle 1961). In the present-day Andean countries the sweet potato is generally known by its Mexican name of camote, whereas the native terms have largely fallen into disuse. The plant itself is much less important than it used to be in the past, due to the competition of a wide array of other food-plants, native as well as imported. There are two Quechua terms, apichu and khumara (also kumal, kumala,2 kumara and kumar). Since the sweet potato plant is a creeper, it is also locally known as kumal(a) waska 'kumal(a) liana' (Soukup 1970). According to Towle (1961), citing Herrera (1942), the two words refer to two different kinds of sweet potato. Apichu would be the sweet variety, khumara represents the starchy one. In dictionaries of the Cuzco dialect of Quechua (e.g. Lira 1944) the word khumara is translated as camote bianco 'white camote (starchy, not very sweet)', whereas apichu appears as a generic term. The reason why the native terms are no longer used in most Quechua dialects can be explained by the fact that the sweet potato was mainly cultivated in coastal areas and in the tropical lowland. After the time of the Conquest, the use of Quechua has become restricted above all to high mountain areas, where the sweet potato does not grow. However, in tropical lowland areas of Colombia, Ecuador and northeastern Peru that have adopted the Quechua language (e.g. in the Peruvian departments of Amazonas and San Martin) the word kumar(a)/ kumal(a) is still in use. The relative remoteness of these areas suggests that in an earlier period the word was used more widely. It has also been recorded in the Ecuadorian highland (e.g. in Canar; cf. Brand 1971). A highland region in which both terms (k h umara and apichu) are found is the Cuzco dialect area in Southern Peru. Inhabitants of the Cuzco region entertain regular contacts with tropical areas which they have colonized in the past. In

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most other highland areas no native terms have been recorded, which does not necessarily mean that they do not occur. Several elements seem to point to the fact that a word similar to kumara was originally also used in coastal areas. In this context, it is necessary to distance oneself from the claim, defended by Brand (1971), that the languages spoken along the Peruvian coast in PreInca times were all non-Quechuan and non-Aymaran. It derives from the outdated view that the Quechua and Aymara languages were originally confined to relatively small areas in the highland (see, for instance, Loukotka 1968). Brand mentions Sek, Mochica and Chinchan as languages supposed to be native of the Peruvian coast and, therefore, as more likely candidates for contact with Polynesian seafarers. In Brand's perspective, the presence of Quechua on the coast must be explained as the product of military expansion in the 15th and 16th centuries by the Incas, who would have imposed their language upon the coastal population. Brand correctly remarks that the Sek and Mochica languages had terms for the sweet potato that bore no similarity to the word kumara (e.g. Mochica o:p). However, these languages were both limited to a small sector of the Peruvian northern coast. There was probably no such thing as "Chinchan", a language invented in order to fill up part of the vacuum created by the denial of the existence of early Quechua along the coast.3 However, the coast of Central Peru, which includes the present-day towns of Lima, Canete and Chincha, has been predominantly Quechua-speaking not only since the Inca administration, but probably as early as the first millennium of our era (Torero 1972). Considering the distribution of its present-day dialects, there is no compelling reason for assigning a highland, rather than a coastal origin to Quechua. The historical existence of Aymaran languages on the Peruvian coast has not been firmly attested, but toponymy and intensive lexical borrowing in both directions identify Aymaran as a long-standing neighbour of Quechuan (cf. Adelaar 1986). The distribution of the (extinct) Aymaran languages of Southern Peru, which can be derived from early colonial sources and again from place names, suggests that at least some varieties of Aymara may have been spoken along the coast. Some coastal areas, to the south of the Quechua-speaking area in Central Peru, have been assigned to the Aymaran (or Aru) family by Torero (1972), who hypothesized that the brilliant coastal civilization of Nazca was carried by people speaking one of these languages. It is, then, interesting to examine the expressions used to refer to the sweet potato in the Aymaran languages. Only two of these languages have been documented, Aymara itself and Jaqaru. The other

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members of the family—except for Cauqui, which is not very different from Jaqaru—are extinct. Modern Aymaran languages are typically spoken in high altitude areas, where sweet potatoes do not grow. However, some modern dictionaries (Büttner & Condori 1984) mention the word k 'umara (with a glottalized, not an aspirated, velar stop) as an obsolete term for the sweet potato. The presence of the glottalized initial seems to preclude the identification of k 'umara as a mere dictionary loan from Quechua. Irregular correspondences of glottalized and aspirated consonants are a frequent phenomenon between Quechuan and Aymaran. Brand (1971: 361) claims that "kumar is not a Quechua word and that it was never used for sweet potato anywhere along the coast of South America." As an explanation of the fact that the word kumar appears (as cumar) in Gonzalez Holguin's impressive dictionary of the Quechua language as early as 1608, Brand suggests that the word might have been borrowed from the pre-Quechuan language of the Canari Indians of highland Ecuador, some of whom were brought to Cuzco in a forced relocation (mitimaes) programme carried out by the Incas. It must be observed that, although a substantial number of mitimaes were brought to Cuzco by the Incas, no traces of their linguistic influence has ever been detected in the local Quechua. Considering the fact that the Indians of Canar have spoken Quechua since colonial times and that their original language is virtually unknown, the assumption that kumar was originally a Canari localism can be dismissed as a case of unsubstantiated speculation. O'Brien (1972) provides us with still another explanation for the presence of kumar (cumar) in colonial dictionaries of Quechua, suggesting that this allegedly Polynesian term "was introduced into the Quechua dictionaries to reflect the educated Spaniard's knowledge of sweet potato terms." This is a gross underestimation of the scholarly integrity of colonial grammarians of the 16th and 17th centuries, such as Gonzalez Holguin, who seldom fail to identify terms taken from different Amerindian languages, let alone from Polynesian. In spite of all these efforts to prove the contrary, the word kumar was probably Quechua and there is no reason to assume, like Brand, that it was absent from the coastal areas. Whether or not a form related to kumar was also used in the Aymaran languages of the 16th century, is still a matter of speculation. However, the assumption that this was the case is supported by the following argument. In Aymaran languages all syntactically free words must end in a vowel. Whenever substantives ending in a consonant are borrowed from other languages, they are adapted to Aymaran word structure by the addition of a vowel, usually a. This adaptation rule has been remarkably persistent, since it applied in a distant past and in the

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16th century, as well as today (e.g. Spanish doctor, Aymara tuktura 'physician'; Quechua pacak, Aymara pataka 'hundred'; cf. Adelaar 1986). The alternation of disyllabic forms (kumar/kumal) and trisyllabic forms (kumara/kumala/kbumara/k'umara) is reminiscent of the way in which Aymaran languages assimilate Quechua loans. The presence or absence of aspiration and glottalization is often unpredictable. It may be the result of sound-symbolic processes (iconicity) that operate in Southern Peruvian Quechua (cf. Mannheim 1991) and possibly in Aymara as well. Although most of the present-day Quechuan and Aymaran dialects have penultimate stress, there is evidence that the epenthetic vowel a was originally not counted as a separate syllable-nucleus (CerronPalomino, personal communication 1998). It would lead to antepenultimate stress in a word such as kumara [kumara], a situation that, incidentally, could provide a possible, albeit speculative explanation for the shape of the word kuumara found in Maori. If we follow the line of reasoning just given, the trisyllabic forms would be Aymaran words originally borrowed from Quechua. If we also accept Torero's hypothesis that Aymaran languages were spoken in Nazca and possibly in other locations of the south-central Peruvian coast, kumara (or one of its variants) could have been the word for sweet potato in the language of these coastal sites. The Nazca civilization reached its apogee in the first millennium (± 200 to 800 A.D.). It was a culture in which the ocean played an important role, as frequent representations of marine animals show. The flowering of Nazca civilization overlaps with the period of 400 to 700 A.D., which, according to Yen, includes the moment of introduction of the sweet potato in Polynesia. Nazca would be a likely candidate for possible contact with Polynesia. Alternatively, the Quechua-speaking Central Peruvian coast further north (including the present-day towns of Canete, Chincha and Lima) could also be considered. A final observation concerns the way in which the sweet potato and the word kumara were carried over to Polynesia. The least costly hypothesis would assume a one-way trip by coastal Indians to one of the Polynesian islands. However, the alternative of a circular trip by Polynesians to the South American coast appears to be more likely in view of the legendary sea-faring abilities of the latter. Considering the fact that early Polynesian sailors colonized Hawaii, New Zealand and Easter Island, there seems to be no reason why they could not have reached the coast of Peru. If they did, they did not leave any detectable traces of their visit. It must be observed, however, that most of the native inhabitants of the Peruvian coast died of imported diseases soon after the arrival of the Spaniards. Whatever linguistic

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and cultural traces their Polynesian guests may have left among them, we shall probably never know. Notes 1. 2.

3.

We are indebted to Gerda Rossel for providing us with literature on the sweet potato. The variants in -1(a) are found in the tropical areas of Northeastern Peru (cf. Tovar 1947; Park—Weber—Cenepo 1976). There is no ready explanation for the use of / instead of r. It may be due to a local substratum, considering the fact that I was not originally found in Quechua. (The sound / is frequent in the Aymaran languages.) Incidentally, a similar r-l alternation is found among the Polynesian languages, whence the reconstruction *kumala for ProtoPolynesian. O'Brien's substitution of "Chibchan" for "Chinchan" further contributed to increase the confusion. The Chibchan language family is confined to Central America and Colombia and is not relevant to the present discussion

References: Adelaar, W. F. H. 1986 Biggs, B. 1981

"La relation quechua-aru: Perspectivas para la separation del lexico", Revista Andina 8: 379-399. The complete English-Maori dictionary. Auckland: University Press/Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Auckland

Brand, D. B. 1971 "The sweet potato: An exercise in methodology", in: C. J. Riley— J. C. Kelley—C. W. Pennington, Man across the sea, 343-365. Austin,: University of Texas Press. Büttner, Th.—D. Condori Cruz 1984 Diccionario Aymara-Castellano. Lima/Puno: Proyecto Experimental de Education Bilingüe. Campbell, L. 1997 American Indian languages: The historical linguistics of native America. Oxford: University of Oxford Press. Cordero, L. 1992 Diccionario quichua-castellano y castellano-quichua. 5th ed. [1st ed. 1895]. Quito: Corporation Editora Nacional. Dixon, R. B. 1932 "The problem of the sweet potato in Polynesia", American Anthropologist 34, 1: 40-66. Englert, S. 1978 Idioma Rapanui. Santiago: Ediciones de la Universidad de Chile.

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Gonzalez Holguin, D. 1608 Vocabulario de la lengua general de todo el Peru llamada lengua Qquichua ο del Inca. Lima: Francisco del Canto. [ 1989] [3rd edition Lima: Editorial de la Universidad Nacional Mayor de San Marcos.] Grace, G. W. 1959 "The position of the Polynesian languages within the Austronesian language family", UAL Memoir 16. Herrera, F. L. 1942 "Plantas tropicales cultivadas por antiguos peruanos", Revista del Museo Nacional 11: 179-195. Heyerdahl, Th. 1963 "Prehistoric voyages as agencies for Melanesian and South American plant and animal dispersal to Polynesia", in: J. Barrau (ed.), Plants and the migrations of Pacific peoples: A symposium. 23-35. Honolulu: Bishop Museum Press. Hill-Tout, Ch. 1898 "Oceanic origin of the Kwakiutl-Nootka and Salish stocks of British Columbia and fundamental unity of same, with additional notes on the Dene", Memoires et Comptes rendus de la Societe royale du Canada. 2nd series, vol. 4, section 2: 187-231. Imbelloni, J. 1926 La Esfinge Indiana: Antiguos y nuevos aspectos del problema de los origenes americanos. Buenos Aires: Libreria El Ateneo de Pedro Garcia. Langdon, R.—D. Tryon 1983 The language of Easter Island: Its development and Eastern Polynesian relationships. Laie: Brigham Young University. Lira, J. 1944 Diccionario Kkechuwa-Espahol. Tucumän: Universidad Nacional de Tucumän. [2nd edition. 1982. Bogota: Secretaria Ejecutiva Permanente del Convenio "Andres Bello"]. [1982] [2nd edition Bogota: Secretaria Ejecutiva Permanente del Convenio "Andres Bello".] Loukotka, C. 1968 Classification of South American Indian languages. Los Angeles: University of California, Latin American Center. Mannheim, B. 1991 The language of the Inka since the European invasion. Austin: University of Texas Press. Middendorf, Ε. W. 1890 Wörterbuch des Runa Simi oder der Keshua-Sprache. Leipzig: Brockhaus. 1892 Das Muchik oder die Chimu-Sprache. Leipzig: Brockhaus. O'Brien, P. J. 1972 "The sweet potato: Its origin and dispersal", American Anthropologist 74: 342-365.

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Palavecino, Enrique 1926 "Elementos lingüisticos de Oceania en el Quechua", in: J. Imbelloni, La Esfinge Indiana. Antiguos y nuevos aspectos del problema de los origenes americanos, 335-349. Buenos Aires: Libreria El Ateneo de Pedro Garcia. Park, Μ.—N. Weber—V. Cenepo 1976 Diccionario Quechua San Martin. Lima: Instituto de Estudios Peruanos y Ministerio de Educacion. Parker, G. J.—A. Chavez 1976 Diccionario Quechua Ancash-Huailas. Lima: Instituto de Estudios Peruanos y Ministerio de Educacion. Rivet, P. 1926 "Les malayo-polynesiens en Amerique", Journal de la Sociite des Americanistes 18: 141-278. Soukup, J. 1970 Vocabulario de los nombres vulgares de la flora peruana. Lima: Colegio Salesiano. Taylor, G. 1979 Diccionario normalizado y comparativo quechua: ChachapoyasLamas. Paris: L'Harmattan. Torero, A. 1972 "Lingüistica e historia de la sociedad andina", in: A. Escobar (ed.), El reto del multilingüismo en el Peru, 51-106. Lima: Instituto de Estudios Peruanos. Tovar, E. D. 1947 Vocabulario del Oriente Peruano.Lima: Universidad Nacional Mayor de San Marcos. Towle, M. A. 1961 The ethnobotany of Pre-Columbian Peru. Chicago: Aldine. Tregear, E. 1891 The Maori comparative dictionary. Wellington: Lyon & Blair. Uhlenbeck, Ε. M. 1971 "Indonesia and Malaysia", in: Th. A. Sebeok (ed.) Current trends in linguistics. Vol. 8: Linguistics in Oceania. 55-111. The Hague: Mouton. Walsh, D. S.—B. Biggs 1966 Proto-Polynesian word list I. Auckland: Linguistic Society of New Zealand. Yen, D. E. 1974 "The sweet potato and Oceania. An essay in ethnobotany", Bernice P. Bishop Museum Bulletin 236. Bishop Museum Press. Honolulu.

Reduplication in Southeast Asian languages: Differences in word structures Natalia F. Alieva

1. Introduction The purpose of this article is to compare the structural models in which such lingual means as word and morph duplication are realized, and to investigate how this devise functions in various language families of the Southeast Asian region. In many, possibly the majority of these languages, duplication is used as a means of word-building at all levels of language structure where the word functions: in order to derive words, to make grammatical forms of words, to produce class transposition changing distributive and combinatory capacities of words, and to build syntactic constructions. Therefore duplication is used in various spheres of lexical and grammatical semantics, as well as in such subtle spheres as stylistics and expression of emotions.

2. Models of reduplication In various forms duplication penetrates deeply into the language structure and can be considered as an important characteristic of the languages in the Southeast Asian region, both insular and continental. Attention should be paid in particular to the diversity of structural forms and models of word and morph duplication in these languages. In describing the models of reduplication the following terms are used. 1 "Reduplication" refers to the device with which language units are created and to the process of such creation. The "reduplicate word", or "reduplicate" is a word unit composed by means of reduplication and containing a doubled part: if the initial undoubled unit is a whole word, the reduplicate word is a new lexical unit/word or it can have some new grammatical properties and can be a kind of grammatical form of the initial unit. The reduplicate word consists of two parts: the duplicant and the duplicator. The "duplicant" is a component identical to the initial, generating unit. It is marked R. The "duplicator" is the component of the redu-

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plicate generated in the procedure of reduplication on the basis of the duplicant R and joined to R. It is marked r. The reduplicate word is marked generally with rR. Different relations are possible between the duplicant and the duplicator—between R and r—which result in the following patterns of reduplication: (i) "Complete identical reduplication": r - R qualitatively and quantitatively, i.e. both in the phonemic and supraphonemic structure: rR = RR., for example:2 (1)

putar 'to turn1

=>

putar-putar

(Malay)

(ii) "Complete diverse reduplication": r = R quantitatively, but r is not equal to R qualitatively: rR = R'R",where r = R" and R = R', for example: (2)

sayur =» 'vegetable'

sayur-mayur

(Malay)

(iii) "Partial identical reduplication": r = part of R, r is smaller than R, for example: (3)

a. sulat 'to write' b. ahana 'stop'

=>

susulat

(Tagalog)

=>

ahana-hana

(Malagasy)

(iv) "Partial diverse reduplication": r i s smaller than R, r is not equal to the part of R qualitatively, for example: (4)

a. sama 'same' b. hatsoka 'white'

=>

sesama

(Malay)

=>

hatsokatsoka

(Malagasy)

When R consists of two words, disyllabic or monosyllabic, or is itself a reduplicate unit, reduplication procedures—secondary reduplication in the latter case—become far more complicated, with many variants. In this case it is convenient to introduce one more term: "incomplete reduplication", where in the bi-componental duplicant only one is doubled: R = AB, AB becomes AAB or ABB, for example:

Reduplication

(5)

sural kabar 'newspaper'

in Southeast Asian languages

surat-surat kabar

415

(Malay)

These basic varieties of reduplication can be combined with affixation, then models of "complicated reduplication" occur. This system of terms and codes requires differentiation when applied to the detailed description of data in specific languages but it seems to be an adequate instrument when comparing data of various languages. The system itself was elaborated in 1970s when the Department of Languages of the Institute of Oriental Studies, Academy of Sciences of the USSR, organized a collective project to investigate reduplication in the languages of Southeast Asia and the Far East. Initially the late Ju. A.Gorgoniev took active part in this investigation. The result of this work was a collective work in Russian, with annotations in English (Alieva 1980). The volume contains 16 articles written by specialists whose work on reduplication, as well as some other sources, were consulted for this article.3

3. Comparing structural models A comparative view of the structural models of reduplication in the Southeast Asian languages reveals differences on two levels: (a) the prevalence of some structural models in a specific language or a language group; (b) the presence or, more often, the absence of the integrity of root morphemes in the structure of reduplicate words in specific languages. 3.1. Various models of reduplication, complete and partial, identical and diverse, are present in the Austronesian (AN) language family. In complete reduplication the duplicant R can be a single root morpheme, a single word, an affixed derivative or a compound word. In partial reduplication the duplicator r can be: (a) one initial syllable, (b) two initial syllables, (c) the root morpheme cut off on the left side. Phonetic variations of single vocals and consonants are possible in all these cases, consonants changing frequently on the border of r and R, for example: (6) (7)

pipi 'cheek' dating 'come'

=> pipi-pipi

(Malay)

=>

(Tagalog)

darating (da-dating)

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Natalia F. Alieva

(8)

worong

=>

woromporong

(Bugis)

'bundle' In Austroasiatic (AA) languages—particular attention is here given to the Mon-Khmer languages—partial reduplication procedures of the AN type are virtually non-existent. Diverse complete reduplication prevails and the patterns of incomplete and secondary three- and four-component reduplicates are used widely. There is an abundant variety of diverse reduplicates here, which deserves special attention. Among them we find alternations of the initial, final/rhyme parts and some phenomena of vocal and consonantal co-ordination, e.g.: a.

rue

=>

rü'ng

ru'c

=>

nhdn

nhort

=>

cäy

c&i

=>

tdb

kcfb

=>

täh

kräh

(Viet)

'bright' b.

nheft

'pale, faded' c.

cay

'tree' a.

kdb

(Pakoh)

'skinny' b.

kräh

'lying on back' c.

räh

=>

räh

nuräh

'on and on' d.

ngong

=>

ngong

kingong

'trumpeting (of elephant)' There are hundreds and hundreds of such forms in many AA languages. The difference with the AN languages is evident. In some Mon-Khmer languages, a number of rules can be formulated for phonetic alternations. A notable exception is Vietnamese. Maspero stressed that phonetic alternations in Viet reduplicates cannot be explained by phonetic laws and suggested searching for principles of analogy (1920: 107-110). In my opinion, it is also possible that Vietnamese contains some reduplication models with definite phonemic changes which are realized according to the type of root morphemes. Thai and the Tibeto-Burman languages have their own characteristic features but we cannot explore these in any depth here. As the structure of these languages is monosyllabic, their reduplication models are closer to the AA structures than the AN. 3.2. The question of the wholeness of root morphemes in reduplicates becomes evident when we compare the inner structure of

Reduplication

in Southeast Asian languages

417

reduplicate words in various language groups. In some languages the initial root morpheme—the duplicant—hardly changes when it becomes a duplicator while in other languages the duplicator greatly differs from the initial morph. The first situation is found in the AN languages where the duplicator morph differs from the duplicant by only one initial phoneme, or is equal just to one syllable of the latter while the main consonantal and vocal structure is preserved. On the contrary, in the Mon-Khmer languages alternation and variation of the morphemic forms prevail. In these languages initial monosyllables are frequently changed phonetically, but their length is not shortened. Sometimes it is even extended—from 3 to 4 phonemes, for instance. In some cases phonetic change leaves only one or two phonemes untouched (the above examples from Vietnamese and Pakoh illustrate such cases). Some pairs of morphs in Vietnamese are considered to be reduplicate words with only one common feature, a suprasegmental one, i.e. an identical tone. The variability of morphemes in these AA languages is even more evident when compared to the reduplication data of such languages as Burmese, Tibetan, Chinese, and Thai, where reduplicate words as well as other morpheme combinations demonstrate the immutability of monosyllabic morphemes. They follow a few alternation rules, usually for vocals and rarely for consonants. Rather frequently we encouter patterns of incomplete reduplication for disyllabic words; the monosyllabic morphs of which they consist, are divided and one is doubled: R = M'M"·, M'M" > M'M'M" or M'M"M". Complete reduplication of such words occurs as follows: M'M' > M'M'M"M". Such cases are found in Vietnamese as well, but these may be Chinese (Hanh Viet) borrowings.

4. Structural instability The structural instability of morphemes, i.e. their ability to be shortened, to lose a part or to altrnate phonetically may give rise to some questions. The first question, relevant to synchrony, concerns the status of the morpheme as a basic undivided unit at the morphological level, the unit that is so important for the structural analysis of every language. This question can be solved in various ways. Some authors suggest the introduction of a new level, which is nonmorphemic and non-word, but which includes a duplicator, also known as submorph. This solution has been proposed by Ju. Sirk and Ju. Gorgoniev.

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In my opinion there is no need to make such changes to the level structure. One could simply identify and enumerate the morph variants and—if possible—their variation formulas at the morpheme/ word level. Such an approach is quite logically related to the wider phenomenon of the variation of morphemic forms existing in many languages (cf. Alieva 1985). The instability of morphemes in synchrony also brings to light a problem of diachronic character.Some more or less numerous root morphemes are subjected to partial phonetic changes in contemporary languages and one wonders whether they are derived or complex units. These problems have already been discussed in some works regarding AA and AN disyllabic roots, and information on reduplicate forms provides additional data for further investigation. Notes 1. 2.

3.

In working out this terminology in English, I have used the New Webster's Dictionary (1988: 483, 1257). My purpose here is to show formal structures. Therefore, I do not enter into the nuances of meanings, as this would demand many additional explanations. The specialists referred to are V.D. Arakin (Malagasy); I.I. Glebova, A.N. Barinova-Sitnikova, Do Ngoc Phuong (Vietnamese); Ju.A. Gorgoniev (MonKhmer; Chinese); L.N. Demid'uk, L.G. Zubkova (Indonesian); I.N. Komarova, B.V. Semikov (Tibetan); N.N. Korotkov (Chinese); Long Seam (Khmer); Viktor Krupa (Polynesian languages); L.N. Morev, A.A. Moskalev, Ju.Ja. Plam, G.P. Serd'ucenko (Thai); A.K. Ogloblin (Madurese); N.V. OmePjanovic(Burmese); Ju.H. Sirk (Western Indonesian languages).

References Alieva, N. F. 1985

"O principax sravnitel'no-tipologiceskogo issledovanija morfemnogo sostava jazykov [On the principles of the comparative-typological investigation of the morpheme stock of languages]", in: V.M. Solncev —I.F. Vardul' (eds.), Lingvisticeskaja tipologija, 81-92. Moskva: Nauka. Alieva, N. F. (ed.) 1980 Jazyki Jugo-vostocnoj Azii: Problemy povtorov [The languages of Southeast Asia: Problems of reduplication). Moskva: Nauka. Gonda, J. 1950 "The functions of word duplication in Indonesian languages", Lingua 2: 171-197.

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Maspero, H. 1920 "Etudes sur la phonetique historique de la langue annamite: Les initiales", Bulletin de VEcole Franqaise d'Extreme-Orient 12: 1-127. Simatupang, M. D. S. 1983 Reduplikasi morfemis bahasa Indonesia. Jakarta: Djambatan. Uhlenbeck, Ε. M. 1953 "Woordverdubbeling in het Javaans [Word duplication in Javanese]", Bijdragen tot de Taal-, Land- en Volkenkunde 109: 52-61. [Revised translation in Uhlenbeck 1978: 89-97.] 1954 "Verdubbelingsprocede's bij het Javaanse werkwoord [Duplication in the morphology of the Javanese verb]", Bijdragen tot de Taal-, Landen Volkenkunde 110: 369-387. [Revised translation in Uhlenbeck 1978:98-116.] 1978 Studies in Javanese morphology. The Hague: Nijhoff. Watson, R. L. 1966 Reduplication in Pacoh.. [M. A. Thesis.] Hartford, CT: Hartford University.

Switch reference in Haruai: Grammar and discourse Bernard Comrie

1. Introduction Haruai is a non-Austronesian language spoken by about 1000 people in the Schräder Ranges in the highlands of Papua New Guinea. 1 It is typologically very similar to its neighbor, Kobon (Davies 1981). In terms of basic clause typology, Haruai is verb-final, indeed the only constituent that can follow the verb, apart from certain clause-final particles, is a locative. There is no case-marking of noun phrases, but the order of noun phrases is nonetheless free, though with a strong tendency towards Subject-Object-Verb. A finite verb agrees in person-number with its subject. Semi-finite verb forms agree with their subject in number only, while non-finite verb forms show no agreement whatsoever. In an affirmative finite clause, in the absence of any other post-verbal element, a declarative suffix -a is inserted. The structure of a basic clause is illustrated in (1): (1)

an hön pay-η-η-α we pig kill-FUT- lPL-DEC 'We will kill the pig'

Like most Highland New Guinea languages, Haruai makes extensive use of (sentence-)medial verb forms, contrasting with (sentence-)final verb forms as in (1). There are basically three sets of verb forms that can be used to combine clauses into complex sentences in Haruai. First, it is possible to use final verb forms in dependent clauses, for instance to express temporal or conditional relations; in this construction, the dependent clause may be closed by the default demonstrative akw: Compare (2) and (3): (2)

(3)

rwö watk h-ön-a environment evening come-FUT:SG-DEC an hölm-η-η-α we sleep-FUT-lPL-DEC rwö watk h-ön akw an hölm-n-η-α 'When evening falls, we will sleep'

422

Bernard

Comrie

Secondly, clauses can be linked by using the semi-finite conjunctive verb form in the dependent clause, as in (4)-(5) (4)

ap mag

yön-aq

an

nm-n-q-a

food cook-CNJ:SG we eat-FUT-1 PL-DEC 'The food will cook, and we will eat'

(5)

nöbö=bl=y h-q an nm-n-q-a man=some=IND come-CNJ-PL we eat-FUT-1 PL-DEC 'Some men will come, and we will eat'

Finally, clauses may be joined by using non-finite switch reference morphology on the dependent verb. Here, Haruai distinguishes a same subject suffix -ön from a different subject suffix -mön (variants: -m, -mn). The same subject suffix is used when the subject of the dependent clause is coreferential with that of the matrix clause, the different subject suffix when the two subjects are non-coreferential, as illustrated in (6)-(7): (6)

mö

hön

rg

ng

ng-ön

köp-a

woman

pig

stone

put

put-SS

leaf-SUFF

dw-öq-a go-PST:3SG-DEC

(7)

Ά woman built a pig house, and went for some leaves' nöbö mörö wök p-g-mön glnq man

garden

clear

get-PRF-DS

gyo gyö

r-öq-a

gyo gyö

do-PDT:3SG-DEC

bushfowl

Ά man cleared his garden, and a bushfowl went gyo gyö' The conjunctive and switch reference verb forms do not encode any other grammatical categories, and the semantic relation between clauses joined by such verb forms is left vague. This brief introduction to Haruai switch reference has presupposed answers to a number of questions that are controversial in current approaches to switch reference. 2 For instance, is it true that switch reference, in Haruai or in general, is conditioned by the grammatical (syntactic) relation subject, rather than by something more discourse relevant, such as topic? How is "coreference" interpreted in sentences where subject noun phrases are neither strictly coreferential nor disjoint in reference, as in Ί arrived and then we left', where the referent of the subject of the first clause is properly included in the referent of the subject of the second? How is the relation between dependent and matrix clause established? For instance, do the two clauses have to be adjacent? These questions will be addressed

Switch reference in Haruai

423

below for Haruai. It should be emphasized that the answers that obtain for Haruai do not necessarily obtain, either in general or in every detail, for other languages with switch reference. Indeed, as Roberts (1997) documents, there is considerable variation even among New Guinea languages with switch reference.

2. Subject or topic? The first question that we address is whether the noun phrases whose reference is tracked by switch reference are subjects, in a strict syntactic sense, or whether they are rather some more discourse-oriented element such as topic. This general question regarding New Guinea languages is posed by Reesink (1983) with special regard to experiencer constructions, where typically in New Guinea languages subject and topic do not coincide. A Haruai example is provided in (8):

(8)

η

kyö

pl-οη-α

I hunger shoot-PST:3SG-DEC Ί was hungry'

The literal structure of (8) is 'hunger shot me', except that the normal word order is changed by virtually obligatory preposing of the experiencer noun phrase n T. The verb in (8) is third person singular, i.e. it does not agree with the experiencer noun phrase T, although it does conceivably agree with the cause noun phrase 'hunger'. How do such clauses behave under switch reference? Reesink (1983) suggests that the normal pattern in New Guinea languages is for the experiencer/topic in the experiencer construction to be tracked by switch reference, although a minority of languages track the referent of the non-experiencer subject. Haruai, like its neighbor Korbon, belongs to this minority. In (9) and (10), the experiencer of one clause is coreferential with the subject of the other, but nonetheless different subject marking is obligatory: 3 (9)

hömlö

rmal

rag

banana

cut

carry little

wl

nm-d-mön eat-DUR-DS

kyö pl-οη-α hunger shoot-PST:3SG-DEC 'He cut some bananas, brought them, ate a little, and felt hungry'

424 (10)

Bernard Comrie an

yö-k-ör

md-mön

gwökwö

we here-EMPH stay-DS bad 'We stayed here, and felt sick'

r-a

do-(PRS:3SG)-DEC

Another possibility to consider would be that switch reference in Haruai tracks not the grammatical relation of subject, but rather some semantic (thematic) role, such as agent or actor. This is essentially the position taken by Roberts (1997) with respect to New Guinea languages that behave like Haruai in this respect. Since Haruai, like most Highland New Guinea languages, lacks voice alternations, it is not possible to test the behavior of patient subjects as in English sentences like 'the pig was killed by the man'. However, Haruai does have patient (undergoer) subjects in sentences like (11): (11)

hön

wörök-οη-α

pig die-PST:3SG-DEC 'The pig died' Such subjects are as good as any others for having their reference tracked by means of switch reference. Thus, to the extent that it is possible to distinguish between tracking agents/actors and tracking subjects, Haruai switch reference tracks subjects. It does, however, remain true that, in the absence of voice alternations, it is possible, for a given predicate, to predict which of its arguments will be subject, in terms of a hierarchy of semantic roles; patients only get to be subjects in the absence of other arguments.

3. Overlapping reference We may now turn to the behavior of switch reference in Haruai in examples where subjects are neither strictly coreferential nor disjoint in reference, but where the referent of one subject includes some individuals that are included in the referent of the other subject and some that are not. The basic possibilities are set out in (12). In each case, it is assumed that there is some overlap between the referents of the two subjects (e.g. the 'we' in the second line is to be interpreted as including the addressee): 4 (12)

Medial subject we we we you:PL

Matrix subject I you (s)he you

Medial verb SS SS SS SS

Switch reference in Haruai

you:PL they

I you (s)he you

(s)he (s)he

(s)he (s)he we we we

425

SS SS SS DS DS SS DS SS

you:PL you: PL they

The choice of same subject versus different subject suffix turns out to be identical to that which operates in Kobon (Davies 1981). The relevant generalization is set out in (13): (13) a. If the referent of the final clause subject is properly included in the referent of the medial clause subject, the medial clause verb takes the same subject marker, b. Otherwise, i.e. if the referent of the medial clause subject is properly included in the referent of the final clause subject, or if the referent of each of medial clause subject and final clause subject includes individuals not included in the other, then (i) if the two subjects are of the same grammatical person, the medial clause verb takes the same subject marker; (ii) if the two subjects are of different grammatical persons, the medial verb form takes the different subject marker. A less formal but more transparent description of the generalization would say that, as one proceeds from left to right, given that dependent clauses always precede their matrix clause in Haruai, same subject markers are used except if both new individuals are being added to the referent of the following subject and the two subjects are of different grammatical persons. Illustrative examples are provided in (14)-(20). Examples (14)-(18) are elicited, as textual examples are few and far between: (14) ydörn yesterday pal-m-a

an pödökwö=bö we Fidako=below

dw-ön go-SS

η nagö I you

hit-PST: lSG-DEC

'Yesterday we went to Fitako, and I hit you' (15) ydöm an pödökwö-bö dw-ön nagö yesterday we Fidako=below go-SS you

η I

426

(16)

(17)

(18)

(19)

(20)

Bernard Comrie

pal-m-a hit-PST:2SG-DEC 'Yesterday we went to Fitako, and you hit me' 5 ydöm höd-pg pödökwö=bö dw-ön yesterday same:sex:siblings Fitako=below go-SS Ηοά=ηη P8=nlJ older: sibling-3P0SS younger: sibling=3POSS ραΐ-οη-α hit-PST:3SG-DEC 'Yesterday two brothers went to Fitako, and the older brother hit the younger brother' ydöm n nagö pal-ön an pödökwö=bö yesterday I you hit-SS we Fitako=below dw-öl-a go-PRS: lP-DEC 'Yesterday I hit you, and we went to Fitako' ydöm nagö n pal-mön an pödökwö=bö yesterday you I hit-DS we Fitako=below dw-öl-a go-PRS :1P-DEC 'Yesterday you hit me, and we went to Fitako' [mö-n] dw rays yögw rag h-ön nöl wife=I go rice bag carry come-SS give r-ön dw-ön röbök-ön h k md-mön an do-SS go-SS leave-SS come here stay-DS we οΙο\ναη hölm-öl-a tomorrow sleep-PRS: 1 PL-DEC '[My wife] went, brought a bag of rice, gave it to me, went, came here, and the next day we slept' mö höd hön yögw rag dw nöbö woman oldensibling pig bag carry go man höd yl öröw ng-m mö pg older: sibling base move put-DS woman younger: sibling hön yögw rag dw nöbö pg pig bag carry go man younger sibling yl öröw ng-ön, öröw ng-ön hön=bl rg base move put-SS move put-SS pig=some stone wr-öy-arm cook-PRS:3PL=PTCL 'The older sister took her bag of pork and put it by the older brother, the younger sister took her bag of pork and put it by the younger brother, they put [the bags] there, and they cooked some pork on [hot] stones'

Switch reference in Haruai

427

In respect of overlapping reference between subjects, Haruai again shows a clear preference for a grammatical solution. And once again, this contrasts with some other languages (as documented, for instance, in Roberts 1997), where such overlapping reference can sometimes be freely treated as either same subject or different subject, in order to emphasize either the continuity or the discontinuity in reference.

4. Local versus global domains In all the examples presented so far, it has been the case that the occurrence of a switch reference marker on one clause has been conditioned by the coreference or non-coreference of that clause's subject with the subject of the immediately following clause. This is what one might refer to as local switch reference, whereby each clause is linked directly to the next following clause, each clause dependent on the immediately following clause. And indeed, it is not infrequent in natural texts, especially narrative, to find long chains of clauses that are combined in just this way. Example (21) is the longest chain I have encountered that includes both same subject and different subject markers. (21) [Knm...] möb ng-ön mög'-a p-ön dw cuscus call put-SS group-suff get-SS go ram=kwö mö pn dw ng-ön md-mön house=there woman get:down go put-SS stay-DS mö ym-ön hömöy yöj pl ρ ödör woman cry-SS snots shoot get cut py=akw py=akw mab-ön al-m ha md bl there there throw-SS do:so-DS child stay some ha mö hömöy yöj bl pay nm-ön dw child woman snots some taste eat-SS go km yök-ön absö rök-ön dw-ön rag ng-ön taro get-SS greens cut-SS go-SS carry put-SS rn yak-ön rag ng-ön römd-mön yhöy! wood chop-SS carry put-SS sit-DS lo nmam h nwgw-mön nölöw-nij brother:3POSS come see-DS sister-3POSS md-01-ΰη stay-NEG-PST:3SG

428

Bernard Comrie

'[The cuscus] called out, gathered a group, went to the house and got the woman down, and the woman cried, and blew her snots and dropped them around, and did so, 6 and the children tasted some of the woman's snots, and went and got taro, cut greens, brought them, chopped wood, brought it, sat down, and her brother came [home] and looked, an lo! his sister wasn't there' However, there are also many attested examples of clauses that are skipped over in assigning switch reference markers, and such examples clearly cry out for an explanation. Examples (22)-(27) illustrate this phenomenon, with (22) and (24) providing nearly parallel examples where switch reference does work on a strictly local basis. Note that the clauses that are skipped over can contain finite verbs (22)(23), conjunctive verb forms (24)-(25), or switch reference verb forms (26)-(27): (22) η dw nwgw-mön rwö watk h-ön I go see-DS environment evening come-FUT:3SG akw benet=yöqö hölm-n-a that Bernard=with sleep-FUT:lSG-DEC Ί will go and see him, and when evening falls, I will sleep at Bernard's' (23) an dw öd-ön rwö watk we go walk-SS environment evening h-ön-a an hölm-η-η-α come-FUT:3SG-DEC we sleep-FUT:lPL-DEC 'We will go and wander around, and when evening falls, we will sleep' (24) ölöwmön öbl rg-a wr-m yön-αη tomorrow arise stone-suff heat-DS get:hot-CNJ:SG ap rg-a wr ad y '=akw ng-ön food stone-suff cook mumu there put-SS 'Tomorrow we will get up and heat the stones, and when they are hot, we will cook food on the stones, mumu it and put it there ... 7 (25) n dw kwöy yök-ön rag h-ön rg-a I go sweet:potato get-SS carry come-SS stone-suff wr-ön rg yön-αη rg ad-ön heat-SS stone get:hot-CNJ:SG stone mumu-SS Ί will go get sweet potato, bring it, heat the stones, and when the stones are hot, I will mumu the food on the stones'

Switch reference in Haruai

429

(26) an wrap mölömö dw-mön wrap we game:mammal mölömö go-DS game:mammal blkp dw-mön pn r-p r-md yör=sak blkp go-DS jump-ADV do-DUR there=above 'We will go and get a mölömö, we will go and get a blkp, they are jumping around up there' 8 (27) wön'-as ήη-ör hölb mgan md-mön puppy

they-emph

house

inside

stay-DS

nwö

h-b-a

md-m

hömlö

wödö

father:3POSS

come-NOM-SUFF

stay-DS

banana dry

mö glk ρη-οη-α some break descend-PST:3SG-DEC 'The puppies were inside the house, they were waiting for their master to come, and the dry banana fell down' Such examples of clauses being "skipped over", which we might regard as instances of more global switch reference, have sometimes been considered to be counterexamples to a grammatical account of switch reference. However, the crucial grammatical aspect of switch reference is that the clause containing the switch reference marker must be dependent on another clause, and there is nothing in this definition or in general grammatical theory that requires that the two clauses be adjacent. Thus, in a sentence like (23), the first clause is simply directly dependent on the third and last clause, and contracts no direct dependency relation with the second clause. (By contrast, in (22) the first clause is directly dependent on the second clause.) The dependency relations are even clearer in examples (26)-(27), which involve only switch reference marking to combine clauses. In each of these two examples, the first clause is directly dependent on the third, and likewise the second is directly dependent on the third; there is no direct dependency relation between the first and second clauses. One might try to capture such dependency relations in English by varying coordination and subordination, for example translating (22) as 'when the puppies were inside the house and waiting for their master, the dry banana fell down', with the whole of the conjoined 'when' clause being dependent on the matrix clause. However, the major differences between clause combining in Haruai and English do not always allow one to capture finer distinctions of the one language in the other. The grammar of Haruai thus allows both local and global switch reference. But under what conditions is global switch reference allowed or even preferred? To answer this question, it seems that one does need to turn to discourse. Examples (23) and (25) are instances where the clause that is skipped over presents backgrounded infor-

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Bernard Cotnrie

mation, and it is surely not insignificant that English translations make this clause subordinate. In each of (26) and (27), the first two clauses are parallel to one another, and in terms of information structure form a single whole that is dependent on the matrix clause. Thus, the choice between local switch reference (not skipping over clauses) and global switch reference (skipping over clauses) is determined by discourse considerations. Although switch reference in Haruai is in general a strongly grammatical construction, where the grammar allows choices, discourse takes over. One final question that I wish to consider, and which might ultimately impinge on the analysis of local and global switch reference, is whether switch reference clauses are coordinate with or subordinate to their matrix clauses. This is a question that surfaces regularly in discussions of switch reference, including for instance Roberts (1997). Answers to this question are not easy to come by for Haruai, since some of the criteria that have been used in languages like English to test the difference, such as "backward anaphora" (cataphora), are marginal at best in Haruai. As indicated above, switch reference clauses in Haruai, like dependent clauses in general, typically precede the clause on which they are dependent, and indeed they never follow their matrix clause. It is, however, possible for them to occur internal to their matrix clause, and although this possibility is rare in texts, it is nonetheless attested, as in the rather complex example (28), where I have indicated relevant clause boundaries by means of square brackets: (28) m-akw=m well:now

yöwr=y

[yöwr [nöbö

bird=ind

bird

man

rg

ybdw-m]

haywö

stone

bore-PAST:3PL

story

mgan

wölw-mön]

hole

climb-DS

wöp=y=k now

wc-n-a tell-FUT:lSG-DEC

'Well now, birds, I will now tell the story of how birds, when the man went in to the cave, bored through the stone' The outer pair of square brackets mark off a clearly finite subordinate clause that modifies the head noun haywö 'story', and specifies the content of the story. 9 The switch reference clause marked off by the inner pair of square brackets is internal to this subordinate clause. Internal position is generally a good indication of subordination rather than coordination, which would suggest that at least some instances of switch reference in Haruai involve subordination. However, one must also bear in mind the existence of

Switch reference in Haruai

431

English sentences like (29), with a coordinate clause internal to the clause with which it is coordinate: (29) His latest book—and I don't mean this as a criticism— deals with his own life The question of the precise status of Haruai switch reference clauses with respect to such oppositions as coordinate versus subordinate therefore remains open. 5. Conclusions I have tried to show that the phenomenon of switch reference in Haruai is by and large a grammatical phenomenon, subject to quite strict grammatical constraints. Where, however, the grammar allows options, then discourse considerations come into effect in choosing among these options. Notes 1.

This material is based upon work supported by the National Science Foundation under Grant BNS-8504293. I am grateful to the Madang Provincial Research Committee for permission to conduct this research and to the Summer Institute of Linguistics (Papua New Guinea Branch) for invaluable material aid. I am especially gratefull to the Haruai people for their hospitality and enthusiastic support of my work on their language. Finally, I thank those who have commented on earlier, orally presented versions of this material. The following abbreviations are used: ADV = adverbial, CNJ = conjunctive, DEC = declarative, DS = different subject, DUR = durative, EMPH = emphatic, FUT = future, IND = indefinite, NEG = negative, NOM = nominalizer, PRF = perfective, PL = plural, POSS = possessor, PRS = present, PST = past, PTCL = particle, SG = singular, SS = same subject, SUFF = suffix.

2.

For a recent survey of switch reference in languages of New Guinea, reference may be made to Roberts (1997), which provides a background against which Haruai material can profitably be compared. In Haruai, different subject marking is sometimes found even in the case of coreferential subjects, in order to indicate displacement in space or time between the situations described in the two clauses. In examples where a crucial role is played by different subject marking in this article, it should be assumed that there is no implication of displacement, and that it would not be

3.

432

4.

5.

6.

7. 8. 9.

Bernard Comrie possible to replace different subject marking by same subject marking to remove an implication of displacement. The table in (12) does not include examples where each referent includes some individuals not included in the other, e.g. 'the man and I arrived and then the child and I left'. As indicated in (13), these behave like examples where the referent of the medial clause subject is properly included in the reference of the final clause subject. In principle, first person singular and second person singular are distinguished by a 0 suffix for the former versus -ö for the latter; however, the -ö suffix drops before the declarative suffix -a. The al-tn 'and did so' adds little to the content, and is perhaps to be viewed as a "seamless repair" mechanism. The narrator has gone along using same subject forms, then realizes that he needs to change subject, and carries out a repair by inserting an effectively meaningless verb which can serve as carrier for the different subject suffix. The earlier md-mön 'and stayed' might be interpreted similarly, although the verb md 'stay' often serves in clause chains to indicate a longer passage of time. A cuscus is a kind of marsupial. Mumu is a Tok Pisin word describing a traditional means of cooking food, in principle the same as a pressure cooker. The terms mölömö and blkp refer to two local species of game mammal. This is exactly the same construction as is used for one kind of relative clause in Haruai. Compare the range of the parallel Japanese construction type discussed by Matsumoto (1988).

References Davies, H. John 1981 Kobon. Amsterdam: North-Holland. Matsumoto, Yoshiko 1988 "Semantics and pragmatics of noun-modifying constructions in Japanese", Berkeley Linguistics Society 14: 166-175. Reesink, Ger 1983 "Switch reference and topicality hierarchies", Studies in Language 7: 215-246. Roberts, John 1997 "Switch reference in Papua New Guinea: A preliminary survey", in: Andrew Pawley (ed.), Papers in Papuan linguistics No.3, 101-241. Canberra: Australian National University, Department of Linguistics, Research School of Pacific and Asian Studies.

The morphological status of partial reduplication: Evidence from Lushootseed and Lillooet Jan P. van Eijk

1. Introduction In a number of morphological treatises (including Bloomfield 1933: 218, Gleason 1961: 90-91, and Marantz 1982), partial reduplication is treated as a form of affixation. In this article.1 we discuss a number of types of partial affixation that are found in both Lushootseed (Coast Salish, spoken in the state of Washington) and Lillooet (Interior Salish, spoken in British Columbia), and we show that describing these types of reduplication as a form of affixation would lead to unnecessary complications, and that they are better described as processes in their own right, different from affixation.

2. Survey of types of reduplication As Jensen (1990: 68) observes, reduplication can be divided into two major types: complete reduplication, in which an entire morpheme (or word—JVE) is reduplicated, and partial reduplication, in which only part of a morpheme is reduplicated. Examples of complete reduplication provided by Jensen include the Indonesian cases kursi 'chair', kursikursi 'chairs', lalat 'fly', lalatlalat 'flies', gajah 'elephant', gajahgajah 'elephants', mejah 'table', mejahmejah 'tables' (all taken from Koutsoudas 1966: 61, with the spelling errors in that source, which are corrected here). To these examples we may also add a case like penulis 'author', penulispenulis 'authors', which contains the root tulis 'to write' and the prefix pe- 'agent' (which regularly changes root-initial t to ή). As examples of partial reduplication Jensen quotes (among others) the following Samoan cases from Marsack 1962, in which the second last syllable is reduplicated: manao 'he wishes', mananao 'they wish', punou 'he bends', punonou 'they bend', atamdi 'he is wise', atamama'i 'they are wise'. (A possibility not discussed as such by Jensen is that of truncated reduplication where a word is subjected to complete reduplication, with subsequent deletion of part of the added material, as in Madurese nong-ghunong 'mountains', lar-olar 'snakes', kos-tekos 'mice', from underlying ghunong-ghunong, etc. 2 It would be an error to con-

434

Jan P. van Eijk

sider these examples cases of partial reduplication, since the added material is not placed by the part it resembles, as would be the case if we would have * g h u n o n g - n o n g , etc.). With regard to the two types of reduplication, Jensen observes that "[c]omplete reduplication can be thought of as compounding, in which the reduplicated morpheme is compounded with itself. In partial reduplication, the reduplicated part of the morpheme may be prefixed, suffixed, or infixed to the original morpheme". 3

3. Partial reduplication in Lushootseed and Lillooet Both Lushootseed and Lillooet employ a number of types of partial reduplication. In both languages the rather large number of surface types can probably be reduced to three basic types, with some of the surface types developing out of these basic types through irregular allomorphic developments. Each of the three basic processes in one language is etymologically matched by a process in the other language. We discuss first Lushootseed, then Lillooet. First of all, Lushootseed employs CVC-reduplication, i.e., the repetition of the first consonant-vowel-consonant of the root. The broad meaning of this operation is an augmentative one, expressing repetitiveness, intensiveness and related notions in verbs, and plurality or collectivity in nouns (and also often in verbs, in the meaning 'many participants engage in the described activity'). Examples are bddtf 'son, daughter', bdd-bsda 'sons, daughters', cdpa 'grandfather', cdp-capa 'grandfathers', c'dxwad 'to club it', c'dxw-c'axwad 'to club it thoroughly', lie' 'to cut', lic'-iic' 'to cut here and there', ' i b d s 'to walk', 'ib-'ibas 'many walk; to walk all about'..4 The second type of reduplication is VC-reduplication, which repeats the second consonant of the root plus preceding vowel. The meaning of this operation is one that Hess (1966: 351) labels "recursive", which "indicates that the activity designated by the base happens repeatedly but without a specific goal. In most cases there is a strong feeling of circularity". Examples given by Hess (1966: 354) include: p'aq'w 'to drift', p'dq'w-9q'w 'to drift about more or less in one small area', saq'w 'to fly', sdq'w-aq'w 'to fly slowly in circles', 1 w , w w ux 'to go', üx -ux 'to go about in a dither accomplishing nothing', 'ibds 'to walk', ' i b - i b - d s 'to pace back and forth', 'iilul 'to travel by water', 'ύ,Ι-ul-ul 'to go boat riding', dzdlq 'to turn around', dzM-al-q 'to turn part way around'.5 With certain numerals, a reduplicative type identical to the VC-type indicates the category "people" (rather than "objects" or "animals"), as in iixw 'three', iixw-ixw 'three people', caldc 'five', cdl-l-dc 'five

The morphological status of partial reduplication

435

people' (with irregular absence of reduplicated a), yslfrc 'six', yal-zld'c 'six people', c'ukws 'seven', c'iikw-ukw-s 'seven people', tqdcV 'eight', tq-q-acV 'eight people' (note the absence of a vowel before the second consonant), xwdl 'nine', xwdl-dl 'nine people', yulub 'ten','ul-ulu'b 'ten people' (in the latter case with an unexpected stress-shift and inserted glottal stop). In a number of other words, a VC-type indicates the category "augmentative", as in dV 'side', df-V 'over there', fz'd' 'this', iz'-z'-d' 'these', tubs 'man', tüb-ub-s 'men', ' i b a c 'grandchild', 'ib-ib-ac 'grandchildren1. The VC-type that indicates "people" in numerals and "augmentative" in the last set of words is probably an irregular allomorph of the CVC-type. In the third place, there is CV-reduplication, i.e., the repetition of the first consonant plus following vowel of the root. This operation indicates diminutiveness, as in tubs 'man', tü-tubs 'boy', ' i b a c 'grandchild', H-ibac 'pet name for grandchild', hiwil 'to go ahead', hi-hiwil 'to go ahead a bit'. If a root starts in Cd, the reduplicative augment is Ci-, as in bsdd' 'son, daughter', bi-bada'baby son or daughter'. Finally, there are some types that do not fall into the above categories, but that are probably somehow related to them. For example, from tubs 'boy' we derive the plural form tu-u-tubs 'boys' (with reduplication of the first vowel), 6 while from idddy' 'woman' we derive the plural te-ldddy' 'women' (with a type of reduplication that in other words signals the diminutive, as in gwad 'to speak', gwd-gwdd 'to chit-chat'). Some words also have irregular variants of patterns that otherwise fall into the three basic types, e.g., bddil 'mountain', bdbdil 'foothill·, with dropping of the rootvowel. We leave these various irregular types out of further consideration here. 7 The three basic reduplicative types of Lushootseed are matched in Lillooet, although Lillooet has made formal changes in two of the types. Lushootseed CVC-reduplication finds an exact counterpart in Lillooet, as in s-γαρ 'tree', s-γΒρ-γάρ 'trees' (with the nominalizer swhich is not comprised in the reduplication), s-nük'wa' 'friend, relative', s-ndk'w-nük'wa' 'friends, relatives', s-qayxw 'man', s-qäy-qydxw (via *s-qdy-qayxw) 'men', s-qwam 'mountain', s-qwdm-qwam 'mountain range', tüpun' 'to punch someone', tap-tupun' 'to beat someone up', macxdl 'to write', mac-mdcxdl 'to write a lot'.8 Lushootseed VC-reduplication is matched by a similar type in Lillooet, but in this latter language it is the consonant after the stressed vowel that is reduplicated, regardless of whether or not it is the second consonant in the word. The targeted consonant is separated from its copy by a, unless rules of Lillooet morphophonemics require dropping of a. 9 The general function of this operation is a continuative-telic one ('ongoing process goes towards a certain end'),

436

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together with (as in Lushootseed) a lack of control. Examples are qaxw (bound root) 'to break', qdxw-dxw 'to break (down)', pui (bound root) 'to get boiled', pul-dl 'to be boiling', ράΐα' 'one', ράΙ-1-a' 'to come together', p'lixw (bound root) 'to flow over', p'lixw-dxw 'to (keep) w flow(ing) over', s-X'q -aw's 'together (e.g., man and woman, with sstative)', X'qw-äw'-w'-ds 'to get together' (X'qw- unique constituent, -aw's 'group, collective', with regular presence of anaptyctic d in the reduplicated form). 10 In the third place, Lillooet has interior reduplication (labeled "consonant reduplication" in Van Eijk 1997), in which the consonant before the stressed vowel is repeated after the stressed vowel. Often, the stressed vowel is changed to d in the reduplicated form. The function of this reduplication is to express the diminutive, and as such it parallels Lushootseed CV-reduplication. Examples are: spzu1 '(wild) animal', s-ρζύζα' 'bird' (with regular presence of a in the reduplicated form), naxwit 'snake', naxw3xwt 'worm', s-qdxa' 'dog', s-qiqxcC 'pup', s-qayxw 'man', s-qiqy'dxw 'boy' (with resonant-reduplication that often accompanies interior reduplication). Note also paV-tfqa' 'oneyear old buck', from the underlying form *paV-äqä' (ράΐα' 'one', -aqa' 'spike'), with reduplication of the final consonant of the root, into the suffix (and a regular stress-shift to the suffix, before the reduplication takes place). In both Lushootseed and Lillooet, various reduplicative types may be combined on the same stem. For example, in Lushootseed the words gwad 'to speak' and dzalq 'to turn around' allow the CVCreduplications gwdd-gwad 'to speak seriously' and dzM-dzdlq 'to turn around several times,' and these formations in turn allow VC-reduplication, viz., gwdd-ad-gwad 'to converse about a serious matter', dzMz dl-d ?lq 'to turn part way around several times'. In the same way, Lillooet allows combinations of CVC-reduplication and interior reduplication (among others), as in s-qdx-qdqxa' 'pups' and s-qdy-qdqy'dxw w 'boys', from s-qdqxcL 'pup' and s-qiqy'dx 'boy' (see above). 11

4. Reduplication and affixation It would be enticing to consider the above cases of reduplication as affixation. After all, both Lillooet and Lushootseed allow many forms of suffixation (in addition to prefixation), and a case like Lushootseed p'dq'w-9q'w could be considered suffixation in that it clearly adds material to the right side of the stem. However, the matter is more complex than it seems at first, because it is not always clear what type of affix (prefix, suffix or infix) is involved in individual reduplicative cases, while in some cases the evidence for

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the same type of reduplication points now to one type of affixation, then to another. We discuss each reduplicative pattern in turn, first in Lushootseed and then in Lillooet. The problem of segmentation of Lushootseed reduplicative forms is discussed with great clarity in Hess (1966: 355-356). With regard to CVC-reduplication, Hess provides an elegant argument for segmenting a form like cdpcapa into cdp-cap-a (with a 'post-kernel chameleon', to use Hess's terminology), rather than cäp-capa (with pre-kernel chameleon), in that the latter alternative requires positing an unstressed allomorph capa for the reduplicated form, but a stressed allomorph cäpa for the unreduplicated form. However, one may point out that in a case like bi-bdda' (with CV-reduplication) we do need two allomorphs anyhow (badä' in the base form and unstressed bdda' in the reduplicated form), and that stress in Lushootseed is generally predictable (on first a, i or u where these are available, and on first d where there are no vowels but a). This makes a split cäp-capa (with cap- as "prefix") quite feasible.12 Also, in Lillooet, CVC-reduplication is clearly left-branching ("prefixal") in that in a case like s-qdx-qäqxa' the root is already marked through interior reduplication (s-qäqxa' < s-qäxa'): if CVC-reduplication were rightbranching, the word for 'pups' would be *s-qiqx-qx-ά!. Since CVCreduplication is clearly left-branching in Lillooet, and since it cannot be proven not to be left-branching in Lushootseed, there is a compelling comparative Salish argument for classifying CVCreduplication as left-branching in both languages.13 However, if we analyse CVC as a prefix (i.e., as a separate morpheme rather than a left-branching augment of the root), we have the problem that in cases like Lushootseed gwdd-ad-gwad and dzM-dl-dzdlq we have reduplication applied to a prefix, but (with the exception of a few marginal and highly irregular cases) Salish reduplication never targets prefixes.14 This means that CVC-augments somehow still fall within the root-contour. We will return to this matter in section 5. With regard to Lushootseed VC-reduplication, we could argue (as we have seen above) that in a case like p'aq'w-aq'w we have a form of suffixation. However, two arguments militate against this interpretation. In the first place, if p'dq'w-3q'w, etc. (where we have material added to the right side of the stem) are cases of suffixation, then Ίbib-ds,'ύΐ-ul-ui and dztt-3l-q would be cases of infixation. However, aside from such material that is inserted as a result of reduplication, Lushootseed does not allow infixation, except for one case, viz., Ji7c'w' 'one person', from dc'u' 'one' (Hess 1966: 355), and it would be an unnecessary complication of the facts to have to make an exception to the general rule that Lushootseed does not allow infixation, only to accomodate cases like 'ib-ib-ds. 15 In the second

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place, if one is willing to pay the descriptive price of accepting (reduplicative) infixation, then the same morphological process ("repeat second consonant of root, with preceding vowel where available") would have to be described now as suffixation (p'9q'w-aq'w), now as infixation ('ib-ib-ds), which is inelegant. N o w , it is possible that a number of roots longer than C V C actually go back to roots C V C with the extension resulting from old suffixation. This would mean that where such roots are subjected to VC-reduplication, the inserted material is added to the right side of the root and could be treated as suffixation. For example, Hess informs me that 'ülui may contain a form of the suffix -ilul 'to go somewhere in order to do something1, in which case 'ύΐ-ul-ul would have reduplication applied to a root 'm/, bringing it in line with p'aq'w-9q'w. However, there are cases where this explanation does not apply, as in c'ukws, 'ulub and ' i b a c , none of which can be shown to be divisible into smaller meaningful parts.16 Although Lillooet allows one type of infixation (viz. an inserted ' which signals inchoative aspect), it would still not be elegant to consider the Lillooet cases of VC-reduplication as affixation since one would have to consider püi-dl a case of suffixation, but the identical operation in ράΙ-1-a' a case of infixation. A possible solution to this problem is suggested in 5 below. Although CV-reduplication in Lushootseed can be treated as either left-branching (tü-tubs) or right-branching (itü-tu-bs), it is better to opt for the first solution, in light of cases like bi-bada', where it is more convenient to posit a left-branching augment bi- than rightbranching reduplication (*bd-b9-dtf) with subsequent change of first d to i. In Lillooet there is no problem since the diminutive reduplication is inherently interior ("infixal").

5. Partial reduplication as infixation As we have seen in 4, there are three problems arising from the interpretation of partial reduplication as affixation: (a) the fact that in Lushootseed we would have to accept infixation in order to deal with those cases where an augment occurs inside the root (while the language otherwise does not employ infixation productively), (b) the fact that in the case of VC-reduplication in both Lushootseed and Lillooet we would have some cases that appear as suffixation and others as infixation, and (c) the fact that where reduplicative types are combined, we have in some cases an apparent reduplication of a prefix, something normally not allowed in Salish. Problems (b) and (c) could be taken care of if we could prove that all cases of partial reduplication are in fact infixation, even those that involve augments

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at the edge of a stem. There is independent support for such in analysis in Ocotepec Zoque where we have an affix y for "third person singular possessive" that is attached before the first vowel of the root, regardless of whether or not that vowel is preceded by a consonant. Examples (from Merrifield et al. 1974, problem 87) are: aci 'brother', yaci 'his brother', eme 'aunt', yeme 'his aunt', kobahk 'head', kyobahk 'his head', tuwi 'dog', tyuwi 'his dog'. It would be inconvenient to posit two different morphemes here, a prefix y in the first two examples, and an infix in the last two. Rather, one would posit an infix (i.e. a morpheme that falls entirely within the root-contour, even where this morpheme appears at the left edge of the root) for all cases. Using angular brackets to indicate the infix, one would write the above examples as aci, eme, kobahk, tuwi. Extrapolating the above solution to Lushootseed and Lillooet, we would analyse Lushootseed Hxwixw, c'ukwukws as iixw and c'ukws, and Lillooet pühl, pälla' as puloi>, and päla\ In the same way, we could analyse Lushootseed gwädgwad, dzttdzdlq as gwad and dzdlq, and then analyse gwddadgwad, dzdldldzdlq as P-Tai *praaA 'eye'), and maybe even the different AA reflexes—whereas the second (sono-

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rant) element would have been lost in PAN (PAT *matra > PAN *mata 'eye'). Quod demonstrandum est in Macro-Australic. Compare, e.g., PAT (Schuhmacher) *matra 'eye' and Australian: Proto-Praman *maari; Indo-Pacific: Tasmanian (ME) *mongte(na) = *möte(na) 'eye' (Bengtson 1994: 73)—suggesting a Macro-Australic proto-form *ma(n)tra. The "unusual sound change" therefore would turn out to be realiter a combinatory sound change. Notes 1. 2. 3.

4. 5.

Abbreviations used: AA = Austroasiatic, AN = Austronesian, PAA = ProtoAustroasiatic, PAN = Proto-Austronesian, PAT = Proto-Austro-Tai. Cf. PAT *pL > PAN *t. Note that Bengtson (1994) also adds Ainu and "Nihali" ("Dene-Caucasian") to the Macro-Australic phylum, the former being assigned to the Altaic stock, together with Japanese-Ryukyuan. Cf. Greenberg (1971). Because of its disputed genetic unity, "Indo-Pacific" ("Papuan") was labeled "non-Austronesian" by Capell (1962). Note that Benedict has reconstructed the dental stop clusters suggested here by me.

References Benedict, Paul K. 1942 "Thai, Kadai, and Indonesian: A new alignment in Southeastern Asia", American Anthropologist 44: 576-601. 1990 Japanese/Austro-Tai. Ann Arbor: Karoma. Bengtson, John D. 1994 "Macro-Australic", Mother Tongue 23: 73-75. Capell, Arthur 1962 "Oceanic linguistics today", Current Anthropology 3: 371-429. Dyen, Isidore 1953 The Proto-Malayo-Polynesian laryngeals. Baltimore: Linguistic Society of America. Egerod, S0ren 1980 "To what extent can genetic-comparative classification be based on typological considerations?", Travaux du Cercle Linguistique de Copenhague 20: 115-139. Greenberg, Joseph H. 1971 "The Indo-Pacific hypothesis", Thomas A. Sebeok (ed.): Current Trends in Linguistics. Vol. 8, 807-871. The Hague: Mouton.

Proto-Austro-Tai

*pl, pr

All

Hayes, LaVaughn H. 1992 "On the track of Austric. Part I. Introduction", Mon-Khmer Studies 21: 143-177. Pejros, II'ja I. 1989 "Dopolnenije k gipoteze S. A. Starostina ο rodstve nostraticeskix i sinokavkazkix jazykov", Lingvisticeskaja rekonstrukcija i drevnejsaja istorija Vostoka. Cast'l, 125-130. Moskva: Inst, vostokovedenija AN SSSR. Schuhmacher, W. Wilfried 1991 Review of Benedict 1990, Zeitschrift für Phonetik, Sprachwissenschaft und Kommunikationsforschung 44: 372-373. 1994 "Lexical parallels between Ainu and Austroasiatic", Archiv Orientälni 62: 415-416. Uhlenbeck, Ε. Μ. 1955-56 Review of Dyen 1953, Lingua 5: 308-318. Wulff, Kurt 1942 Über das Verhältnis des Malayo-Polynesischen zum Indochinesischen. K0benhavn: Munksgaard.

Language endangerment and death in the central and southwestern Pacific, with notes on the western Stephen A. Wurm

1. The language situation in general Apart from Australia, in which only about 90 Aboriginal languages are still surviving, out of the originally 265, there are about 1,700 different languages in the central, southwestern and western Pacific. They belong to two quite different types of languages. (The Australian languages form a different group of genetically interrelated languages.) 960 languages are Austronesian languages which are all genetically interrelated (Wurm—Hattori 1981-83). The about 750 Papuan languages belong to five large and six small genetically distinct, internally interrelated language phyla (Wurm 1982, Wurm and Hattori 1981-83) which are located in the New Guinea area in the southwestern Pacific. The Austronesian languages are, in general, not very complicated, though especially in the languages of the eastern part of their territory, pronominal systems and the marking of possessive relationships tend to be quite complex. The Papuan languages are, in general, much more complicated, and some of them belong to the grammatically most complex languages in the world. The verbal inflection can be frighteningly intricate, displaying some quite unusual forms and features. Noun classification and concordance which is found in a number of Papuan languages, can comprise a large number of noun classes and show very complicated concordance features. The Austronesian languages started spreading out southwards and later eastwards from Taiwan 7,000 years ago and have spread through most of the western, southwestern and central Pacific areas. The Papuan languages reached their present locations in the southwestern Pacific New Guinea area much earlier than that. Their first immigrations there may have happened 15,000 to 20,000 years ago, or even earlier, though their last and final immigration which brought the ancestors of the largest Papuan phylum (which comprises about 500 of the 750 Papuan languages) into the New Guinea area, may have happened only about 5,000 years ago as a result of pressure from the eastwards migration of speakers of ancestral forms of Austronesian languages. Ancestral forms of the Australian languages may have reached the New Guinea area about 50,000 years

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ago, and started spreading southwards into Australia which was interconnected with New Guinea until about 10,000 years ago. They yielded to pressure from the immigrant Papuan language speakers, but left a few linguistic, cultural and racial traces in some parts of New Guinea. The 960 Austronesian languages constitute three separate small archaic groups in Taiwan (Atayalic, Tsouic and Paiwanic) which together comprise 20 languages, and a fourth very large supergroup, the Malayo-Polynesian, comprises the remaining 940 languages. The Malayo-Polynesian supergroup comprises Western Malayo-Polynesian (11 groups, 370 languages, 230 million speakers), and Central and Eastern Malayo-Polynesian (24 groups, 570 languages, three million speakers) which consists of a Central (5 groups) and an Eastern Malayo-Polynesian (19 groups) section. The Eastern section is subdivided into one very small South Halmahera-Northwest New Guinea part (1 group) and a very large Oceanic part (18 groups), of which the 18th group, known as Remote Oceanic, consists of the Micronesian languages, the Southeast Solomonic and the Central and Northern Vanuatuan languages, and the Central Pacific languages which are subdivided into Rotuman-Fijian, and the 28 Polynesian languages. By areas, the numbers of Austronesian languages, and their speaker numbers in the given areas, are as follows: Taiwan: 14 living languages, 200,000 speakers; Philippines: 135 languages, under 60 million speakers; Vietnam, Cambodia and Hainan Island: 10 languages, 700,000 speakers; Madagascar: one language, 11 million speakers; Indonesia, Malaysia, Brunei: 385 languages, 160 million speakers; Melanesia (excluding Irian Jaya and Papua New Guinea): 380 languages, 1,200,000 speakers; Papua New Guinea: about 130 languages, 400,000 speakers; Micronesia: 12 living languages, 300,000 speakers; Polynesia: 28 languages, 700,000 speakers. Of the about 750 Papuan languages, just over 500, with a total of 2,500,000 speakers, belong to the so-called Trans-New Guinea Phylum which occupies four-fifths of the New Guinea mainland, and part of Timor and most of the neighbouring Alor and Pantar Islands. The Sepik-Ramu Phylum in northwestern Papua New Guinea has 100 languages with a total of 200,000 speakers. The Torricelli Phylum in a smallish area in northwestern Papua New Guinea contains 50 languages with a total of 80,000 speakers. The West Papuan Phylum in the Bird's Head Peninsula in western Irian Jaya and the northern part of the Halmahera Islands has 20 languages, with a total of 240,000 speakers. Recent research results suggest that there are genetic links between the languages of the Torricelli and the West Papuan Phyla. The East Papuan Phylum in parts of the island world

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to the east of the New Guinea mainland and extending to, and including, parts of the Santa Cruz Archipelago lying to the east of the Solomon Islands chain, has 30 languages, with a total of 70,000 speakers. The six small Papuan phyla comprise together 29 languages, with a total of 25,000 speakers, and there are seven Papuan isolate languages scattered on the New Guinea mainland, with a total of 5,000 speakers. The originally 265 (Wurm 1972) Australian languages are all interrelated (with the possible exception of the Tasmanian languages, now extinct for 120 years) and belong to 27 language families of which 26 are located in northern and northwestern Australia, in Arnhem Land and the Kimberleys area. The remaining large, so-called Pama-Nyungan family, occupies seven-eighths of the Australian mainland. The total number of the speakers of the 90 or so surviving Australian languages may be around 20,000 or less. In addition to the local Austronesian, Papuan and Australian languages mentioned above, there are a number of lingue franche, trade languages and other contact languages in the areas occupied by them. Very important ones are Indonesian and Malay in Indonesia and Malaysia, as well as a number of Malay-based trade languages reflecting local Malay dialects (e.g. Ambon Malay) and a pidgin Malay, known as Bazaar Malay. In the Philippines, Tagalog, with 10 million first language and 15 million second language speakers, is the chief lingua franca. Nine other major Philippine languages, with millions or close to a million speakers, are also important local lingue franche, and there are some smaller trade languages, e.g. Tausug, with quite widespread currency. In Taiwan, Mandarin Chinese is the lingua franca, also Hokkien Chinese. In Papua New Guinea, Tok Pisin, with about three million second-language speakers (and only several tens of thousands of first-language speakers) with Hiri Motu (over 200,000 second language speakers) another one in southern Papua New Guinea. Solomon Pijin and Bislama are the main lingue franche in the Solomon Islands and Vanuatu respectively. In Papua New Guinea, Kate, Yabim, Suau and Dobu which formerly were missionary lingue franche, are still used as regional secular lingue franche today. Roviana is an important local lingua franca in the western Solomon Islands, and there are several other local lingue franche in the Solomons. Tahitian is a lingua franca in French Polynesia. Major metropolitan languages, especially English and French, also have important roles as lingue franche in the Pacific, and are dominant languages in some areas causing, or contributing to, the endangerment of local languages. However, their latter role is in general very much less in the Pacific area than this role of major metropolitan languages in other parts of

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the world, except for Australia, New Zealand and Hawaii where English has had a pervading, devastating influence on the survival chances of local languages, though recently this trend has been checked to some extent in some parts of those regions. French has also contributed to the endangerment and receding of local languages in New Caledonia and also in Tahiti, though especially in the latter area there has been a reversal of this trend, even in Papeete, the capital of Tahiti, where Tahitian had been receding before French until not long ago. Other major metropolitan languages, especially Spanish and much earlier Portuguese, have today lost their importance in the Pacific area.

2. Language endangerment in the Pacific area in general Turning to the question of language endangerment and death in the Pacific in general, it may be pointed out that because of the widespread bi- and multilingualism in parts of the Pacific area, especially on the part of the speakers of numerically small languages, the presence of powerful lingue franche and dominant languages is less of a threat to the maintenance of numerically small languages than this is the case in other parts of the world where the acquisition of a lingua franca and especially a dominant language by speakers of a minority language tends to result in the receding and disappearance of the minority language. In multilingual regions of the Pacific area, the speakers of a minority or numerically small language often tend to simply add the knowledge of the major language to their repertory of languages, without much damage, if any, done to their knowledge and mastery of their own language. Also, in many Pacific areas, especially in the southwestern Pacific and in particular in the New Guinea area, even the speakers of very small languages regard, and cling to, their languages as a vital symbol of their identity. At the same time, a numerically very small stable language with only some hundred or even fewer speakers, can especially in the New Guinea area, become endangered and eventually extinct in an indirect manner. Young men tend to emigrate from their village to centres of employment, mostly large towns, where they marry women of different language backgrounds, with a lingua franca becoming the language of the family. The young women left behind in the villages marry men from other villages and language backgrounds, and while they may pass on their own language to their children, the language of the village of their husbands tends to become dominant in such mixed marriages and the women's (and their children's) language just lingering on for a while. This eventually results in the disappearance

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of the language of the village of these women with the death of the older people left behind in their original village. In other words, even very small languages in the southwestern Pacific and especially the New Guinea area, can survive as long as the original social fabric of their speakers is maintained, even if they have contacts with speakers of major languages. If original local cultures decay which is progressively the case in most of this area, local languages tend to survive for the reasons mentioned above, but they tend to be affected by structural and semantic changes (Wurm 1986). Especially highly complex verb systems of Papuan languages tend to get simplified through the omission of grammatical forms which reflect culturally significant categories such as certain tenses and aspects in the traditional culture, but not in the new culture taken over even only in part by the speakers of such languages. For instance, many Papuan languages possess complicated noun class systems with accompanying highly complex concordance features in the sentences. A portion of such classes may be based on concepts important in the traditional cultures of the speakers of such languages, e.g. on mythological and other esoteric concepts. With the decay of the local cultures and the resulting disappearance of these concepts, the significance of the relevant classes gets lost, and these classes disappear from the languages concerned. With some Papuan languages, their entire complex noun class systems are known to have completely disappeared within a few decades, so for instance in the Buna and Maprik languages in northern near-coastal areas of Papua New Guinea.

3.Selected examples of language endangerment and death A few selected areas may be highlighted, running from east to west. The Polynesian languages are, in general, not greatly endangered. In French Polynesia, French influence is strong in the capital Papeete, but less to very little in other areas. While Tahitian had been receding strongly before French in Papeete, with many Tahitians of the younger generations gradually losing their command of the language, there has been a very strong revival in the last decade, with Tahitian widely used by the media. At the same time, other Polynesian languages have been receding before Tahitian in the Tuiamotuan, Marquesan and Austral Islands archipelagoes. The Hawaiian language was at the edge of extinction a short while ago, except on Niihau Island in the northwest of the island chain. It has been a private property for a very long time, and virtually closed to visitors which allowed the language to survive, largely monolin-

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gually. At the same time, there has been a strong tendency towards the revival of the language in some other parts of the Hawaiian Islands, where it had been almost completely receded before pidgin English and English proper. In recent years, Hawaiian language immersion courses have produced over 2,000 young speakers. However, the survival of the language outside Niihau is still doubtful, because of the abnormal composition of the community of speakers which consists of grandparents and young persons speakers, with no parent speakers, and the very strong pressure of English and American monolingualism attitudes. The Polynesian outlier languages in Melanesia have each traditionally very few speakers, but because of their isolation, are not endangered by larger languages, except for Emwae on an island in the harbor of Port Vila in Vanuatu which has been strongly influenced by a Melanesian language. The Maori language of New Zealand was close to extinction at the turn of the century, but has had a spectacular revival since and has many thousand fair to good speakers. The Rapanui language of Easter Island was also close to extinction as a result of the earlier forceful removal of most of the islanders to work in the guano collection area in South America. Very few survived there and returned to the island. Today the language has recovered well and has now about 2,500 speakers. The Micronesian languages are not greatly endangered. Only one, Mapia, originally spoken on an island to the north of western Irian Jaya, has succumbed to Biak, the lingua franca of the area, and became extinct quite some time ago. The New Caledonian languages are a problem. In contrast to most of the other areas under discussion (except for Australia and New Zealand) the majority of the inhabitants are monolingual and culturally aggressive speakers of a metropolitan language, i.e. French which has exercised great pressure on the languages spoken by the indigenous population. Today, only 20,000 of the 55,000 members of the indigenous Melanesian population can speak one or several of the original Austronesian languages. Stable multilingualism has been and still is, a characteristic of the New Caledonian linguistic picture, but at least until recently, this has not protected local languages in New Caledonia as much as has been the case in other parts of the Pacific, because French cultural attitudes and pressure has been too overwhelming. There has, however, recently been a strong ethnic reawakening and revitalisation of several New Caledonian languages. At the same time, numerically small languages are under subtle pressure by large local languages which counteracts the traditional stable multilingualism and mutual respect for local languages. As a

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result of this, at least four of the 40 surviving New Caledonian languages are likely to be moribund. In Vanuatu, about 100 Austronesian languages are alive today. Around the beginning of this century, and afterwards, there has been a very marked decimation of the indigenous population in the wake of the introduction of new devastating diseases, especially smallpox, influenza and leprosy. This led to a strong decrease of the numbers of speakers of individual languages, but only to a moderate number of languages getting extinct, i.e. of about 20 of the languages known to have been spoken before. Of the 100 or so languages extant today, 15 can be regarded as moribund: their small speaker numbers are dwindling, with larger neighbouring languages and the lingua franca Bislama taking their toll. In the Santa Cruz Archipelago, one dialectally split outlier Polynesian, six Melanesian Austronesian and three Austronesian-influenced Papuan languages are extant. The Polynesian and Papuan languages are viable, but one of the latter, Äyiwo, has undergone structural simplification during the last two to three speaker generations. It has suffered a gradual reduction of the at least 39 original noun classes and the elaborate concordance systems accompanying them. Three of the Melanesian Austronesian languages are moribund, and two seriously endangered, all giving way to the remaining one, also quite small, of the six, and to Solomon Pijin. There are about 50 Melanesian Austronesian languages extant in the Solomon Islands. Of the seven original Papuan languages, three became extinct several decades ago, receding before the rather widespread Melanesian Austronesian lingua franca Roviana mentioned before in 1. Three of the Melanesian Austronesian languages are moribund through pressure from large lingue franche which, like Roviana, were originally missionary lingue franche and as such, exerted, and in part are still exerting, more cultural influence and pressure upon other, usually smaller local languages than nonmissionary lingue franche, which are mainly used as trade languages and exist in the repertory of multilingual speakers of local languages alongside other languages. They exert cultural and consciously directed pressure upon the other indigenous languages. In the Admiralty Islands where 32 Melanesian Austronesian languages are extant, one language formerly known has become extinct, while three are moribund and others are getting endangered. The pressure is here from creolised Tok Pisin (i.e. New Guinea Pidgin). The Admiralty Islands are the only non-urban area in Papua New Guinea where a considerable number of first-language creolised Tok Pisin speakers have been present for decades because of the multiplicity and smallness of the local languages, the absence of local

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lingue franche, and probably the presence of some other sociolinguistic factors, such as intermarriage between speakers of different languages before this factor became more widespread in other parts of Papua New Guinea. Creolised Tok Pisin is prestigious there and acts to some extent like a metropolitan language spoken by monolinguals, with the tenacious clinging to one's own language as a symbol of ethnic identity which is widespread in other parts of the area under discussion, especially in the southwest, apparently not so strong in the Admiralty Islands as elsewhere. In Papua New Guinea and Irian Jaya there are about 300 Austronesian languages, and over 710 of the total of 750 extant Papuan languages (the remaining Papuan languages are located in the Solomon Islands and the Santa Cruz Archipelago, and on Timor, Alor and Pantar Islands to the southwest of western Irian Jaya, and in the northern part of the Halmahera Islands to the northwest of western Irian Jaya). There are three major lingue franche in Papua New Guinea, Tok Pisin which is the national language of the country with close to three million second language speakers (about 75% of the population), and Hiri Motu (formerly Police Motu) with over 200,000 second language speakers (about 5% of the population), and in Irian Jaya, Indonesian, known to a fair percentage of the population. English is known by over 200,000 second language speakers in Papua New Guinea. There are also a number of regional lingue franche, most of them former missionary languages and lingue franche. A characteristic feature of the New Guinea area (i.e. Papua New Guinea, Irian Jaya and the large islands in the east and west) is the already mentioned very tenacious adherence of the very many local language speakers to their own languages which are regarded by them as strong symbols of ethnic and tribal identity. Biand multi-lingualism, in some cases passive, are widespread. In Papua New Guinea, Tok Pisin is to a comparatively small extent creolised with children and young adults in Port Moresby and larger towns like Lae, Vanimo, etc., and as mentioned above, in the Admiralty Islands. The total number of first language Tok Pisin speakers may not exceed 50,000 by much, with many having a knowledge of one or several local languages as well. This figure is likely to increase sharply with the rapidly rising incidence of mixed marriages with which the family language of intercommunication is Tok Pisin. Apart from this, many members of the young generation in several parts of the country, for instance the central and some other parts of the area occupied by the two Sepik provinces in the northwest of the country, tend to prefer using Tok Pisin instead of their own languages, which constitutes a threat to the survival of a number of local languages. Strong efforts to reverse this habit and

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trend are being undertaken by indigenous linguists at the University of Papua New Guinea, with some positive results. Hin Motu is hardly creolised, and its second language mastery by many in the southern and southeastern parts of the country does not pose a threat to local languages. In Irian Jaya, the so-called transmigrasi policy of the Indonesian government and the resulting increasing importation of the Indonesian language as well as the Indonesian governmental language policies, pose a strong threat to the survival of many, especially the numerically small, languages of Irian Jaya. The local lingue franche which in the past had been instrumental in the near-extinction of some languages closely related to them, have largely lost their importance and destructive influence upon some local languages with the increasing cessation of expatriate missionary activities. Some of them, e.g. the former Lutheran missionary lingua franca Kate in the Huon Peninsula area of northeastern Papua New Guinea, still survive fairly strongly as secular lingue franche today, but no longer pose a threat to local languages of the area. A very important factor endangering languages predominantly in Papua New Guinea, but also to some extent in Irian Jaya, is intermarriage between speakers of different small local languages. The endangerment of small languages through the emigration of young men from small language areas and villages to towns has already been mentioned in 2. As far as the Papuan languages in Papua New Guinea, Irian Jaya and the large islands in the west (Northern Halmahera, Timor, Alor and Pantar) are concerned, three are known to be extinct, about ten or so are moribund, and another 50 languages or so have less than 50 speakers each. A very large number of Papuan languages have few to very few speakers (80-150 or so) which is a stable and healthy situation with them, as long as they are isolated from outside influence and the abovementioned factors (intermarriage and emigration of young men) do not occur, which is of course less and less the case today. The endangerment of local languages through the preference for Tok Pisin by members of the young generation mentioned above in 3 tends to affect mainly Papuan languages, and the structural simplification also mentioned above, also affects mainly Papuan languages. This does not endanger the continued existence of such languages, but it affects their original form. Of the Austronesian languages of the Papua New Guinea and Irian Jaya area, five or more are moribund, and over a dozen seriously endangered, be it through the rising incidence of mixed marriages, or through the increasing preference for lingue franche and in the case

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of small languages, larger neighbouring languages, by members of the young generation. Many languages have small numbers of speakers, and are exposed to the same dangers as have been outlined above for numerically small to very small Papuan languages. The structural simplification prevalent in a number of Papuan languages (as mentioned above in 3) is rarely found in Austronesian languages. A special case is Magori in southeastern Papua (Dutton 1976), along with three other neighbouring languages which are now moribund. These were originally Austronesian languages from further west who migrated into coastal areas occupied by the Mailu Papuans. The dominant Austronesians taught the Mailu seafaring and other advanced cultural features, whereupon the numerically larger Papuan Mailu became dominant and pushed the Austronesians inland into mountainous country. For their own protection, the Austronesians adopted a large number of Papuan Mailu words into their language, while keeping their Austronesian grammar, so that their language superficially resembles Mailu. Originally, Australia contained about 265 languages, which, though all interrelated, belong to 27 different families as was pointed out in 1. The aboriginal Australians and their languages have suffered the same fate as small local languages involved in devastating cultural and linguistic contacts and clash with aggressive, largely monolingual, bearers of one of the few widespread metropolitan cultures and languages: catastrophic decimation of the speakers through the introduction of virulent diseases such as smallpox, genocide, intense pressure on the local languages by the metropolitan language, usually as a deliberate policy, etc, a picture familiar from North America, Siberia, South America, etc. Today only about 90 Australian languages are believed to survive, with only 20 of those still strongly viable, the other 70 or so are more or less seriously endangered, and have been rapidly receding before English Creoles, Aboriginal English, and English proper. This picture looked very grim until some decades ago. Since then there has been a very strong awakening of Aboriginal ethnic identity which has been supported by radically changed government policies towards Aborigines during the last decades. All this had a positive effect upon the fate of Australian Aboriginal languages during the last few years. Several languages believed long extinct were found to still have speakers. They had gone underground as secret languages. Also, a number of moribund and dying languages have been revived, largely through Aboriginal efforts, with some expert help. Also, some languages definitely extinct a long time ago, but well documented, have been revived and are in active use by descendants of their former speakers.

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4. Notes on the western Pacific area In the western Pacific which includes Indonesia west of the New Guinea area, the Philippines and Taiwan, language endangerment is, with some exceptions, on a relatively low level too. All the languages of the area are Austronesian. Indonesia In Indonesia where there are a large number of small languages beside a fair number of large ones, Indonesian which originally was nobody's first language in the country, now has over six million young first language speakers, though these are often also conversant with a local language, but largely prefer to use Indonesian. Indonesian exerts pressure endangering small languages, following a pattern common with large metropolitan languages in Europe, Siberia, and North and South America, though with much less devastating effects because of the cushioning effect of widespread multilingualism and strong resistance to Indonesian pressure in some areas. For instance, in the Moluccas where 35 languages are extant, one is extinct and seven moribund. Large languages, Malay dialects used as lingue franche, and Indonesian itself threaten small languages through increasing pressure. In Sulawesi, the Bugis language whose speakers settle in many areas as traders, is an important lingua franca which exercises pressure on small languages, in addition to the pressure by Indonesian. A few of the 50 languages on Sulawesi are endangered. In Borneo where about 100 languages are located, some of them quite small, about 10-15 languages are endangered, with about 10 more having very small numbers of speakers. Pressure is from Indonesian and some large local languages. On Sumatra, some of the languages on the islands off the southwestern coast are endangered. Philippines In the Philippines there are 135 languages. The total of 50 million speakers of 10 of these constitute over 90% of the population of the country. The Tagalog language, now as Pilipino the national language of the Philippines, has ten million first language and 15 million second language speakers, and is understood by over 40 million. In addition to these 10 large languages, there are several trade lingue franche. Among the small languages, about 20 are endangered, especially on Luzon in the north of the country, largely because of pressure from larger languages.

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Taiwan Taiwan (Formosa) was originally entirely occupied by Austronesian language speakers. Around 1600 AD, a strong immigration of Fukien (Hokkien) speaking Chinese spread into the western lowland areas of the island, leading to a gradual sinicisation of the Austronesian speakers of those areas. 24 languages are known to have existed, of which 10 are now extinct, three more are almost extinct, and 11 are still viable. All of these are located in the mountainous eastern half of the island. In the middle of this century, a strong influx of further Chinese speakers took place, and Mandarin Chinese became the official language of Taiwan. Chinese language pressure on the Austronesian languages increased, with the latter receding before Chinese, which was aided by governmental policies. However, during the last few years, there has been a reversal of governmental language policy with the government now interested in the supportive maintenance of the Austronesian languages which has led to their revitalisation. 5. Conclusion While language death and endangerment is certainly present in the area under discussion, it is, with the exception of Australia, Taiwan and in part New Caledonia, of a far less serious nature than in other parts of the world, notably North America, formerly Australia, and less so in South America, Siberia and Africa and elsewhere. Positive policies are in place in several areas, and language maintenance and revivalism replace previous trends, e.g. in Australia, Taiwan and Papua New Guinea, often based on efforts by the speakers of local languages. References Dutton, Thomas E. 1976

"Magori and similar languages of South-East Papua", in: Stephen A. Wurm, (ed.). New Guinea area languages and language study. Vol. 2. Austronesian languages, 581-636. Canberra: Australian National University, Department of Linguistics, Research School of Pacific Studies. Wurm, Stephen A. 1972 Languages of Australia and Tasmania. The Hague: Mouton. 1982 Papuan languages of Oceania. Tübingen: Narr.

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Wurm, Stephen A. (cont.) 1986 "Grammatical decay in Papuan languages", Papers in New Guinea Linguistics 24: 207-211. Canberra: Australian National University, Department of Linguistics, Research School of Pacific Studies. Wurm, Stephen A.—Shirö Hattori (eds.) 1981-83 Language atlas of the Pacific area. Canberra: Australian National University, Department of Linguistics, Research School of Pacific Studies.

Section 4 Indo-European and Afro-Asiatic languages

"Creatures great and small": Some cross-linguistic parallels W. Sidney Allen

It is a particular pleasure to have the opportunity of contributing to this volume, since Bob Uhlenbeck and I were for many years close colleagues as editors of the journal Lingua, he having served in this capacity from 1952 to 1983 and myself from 1963 to 1985. In 1968 we both contributed to a volume marking the seventieth birthday of Anton Reichling, one of the two founding editors of the journal (Allen et al. 1968). My own contribution to that volume (under the title "Varia onomatopoetica") consisted of a miscellany of items with a unifying general theme rather than the more usual academic study concentrating on a single subject, and I concluded by excusing this less formal approach "in the context of a celebratory symposium of our honorand's friends". The same apologia applies to the present offering. This study begins geographically in the Thar desert of Marwar, Rajasthan, and zoologically with the termite, the so-called "white ant". The word in question is the Marwari udei which has cognates in Gujarati and Marathi and is traceable through Prakrit to the Sanskrit uddehikä (cf. Turner 1966, s.v. upadika-). The etymology of the Sanskrit word is clear, namely the preposition ud- "up" and the verb dih- "smear, plaster", the latter having an associated noun dehi "mound, surrounding wall": there is also an Iranian cognate in Avestan uzdaeza- "walling up". Other cognates (< Indo-European *dheigh-) include on the one hand Greek τ ε ί χ ο ς "wall", Oscan feihuss "walls", and on the other Old English däg, Icelandic deig "dough". These meanings could all derive from something like "form (cf. Latin fingere) by kneading" and the Sanskrit uddehikä is therefore appropriate to the mound- and run-building activities of the termite. The expected plural of the Marwari udei (fem.) would be udeiä (cf. e.g. todrl 'female camel less than three years old", plural todriä), but my field-notes record that my tentative use of such a form was rejected by my Marwari informant, and that evidently the singular udei in itself referred not to a single insect but to a whole body of termites. I had also noted that when pressed to refer to a single insect he had responded with an expression udei-ro kiro where -ro is the possessive suffix and kiro normally denotes a common ant of any kind,

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Allen

not a termite, so literally "(common) ant of termitary"—a "Verlegenheitsausdruck" to which we shall find a close though geographically remote parallel. This linguistic treatment of the termite colony as a single, collective unit finds a corollary in two entomological works, both of which, on organizational and behavioural grounds, argue (in somewhat fanciful terms) for considering the colony as a single organism comparable in design to the human or other animal body-structure. The works in question are Maurice Maeterlinck's The Life of the White Ant (Maeterlinck 1927) and Eugene Marais' The Soul of the White Ant (Marais 1971).1 The former suggested that one might consider the termitary "as a single individual, with its parts scattered abroad; a single living creature, that had not yet become, or that had ceased to be, combined or consolidated; an entity whose different organs, composed of thousands of cells, remain always subject to the same central law, although outside it and apparently individually independent" (Maeterlinck 1927: 144); the latter similarly, "The termitary is a separate composite animal at a certain stage of development, and lack of automobility alone differentiates it from other such animals" (Marais 1971: 51), and "The insects themselves should always be thought of as the blood-stream and organs of a single animal" (1971: 67). In northern Iceland, to the north of the OdäÖahraun lava-desert, lies the aptly named lake Myvatn, i.e. "Midgewater"—notorious for the swarms of these creatures which appear in the summer months. 2 But, like the Marwari udei, the word my properly refers not to the single insect but to the swarm as a whole, a "midgery" so to speak: thus, for example, "full of midges" translates as füllt af myji, where myji is dative singular, not plural. To refer to a single such insect the compound myfluga is used, i.e. "midgery-fly", the second element being the name for a fly of any description 3 —a striking parallel to the udei-ro klro "termitary-ant" of Marwari.. The above treatments of a plurality as a singular collective recall the often noted identity of the endings of the feminine singular and neuter plural in Indo-European (*a/3 < *(e)H2) - e.g. Old Indie bälä "girl", yugä (Vedic) "yokes", leading to the hypothesis that the neuter plural originated as a feminine singular collective. This view is supported syntactically by the survival of a singular concord of the verb with a neuter plural subject, occasionally in the RgVeda and regularly in Greek (with suggestive parallels also in Hittite). 4 The other side of the same coin is manifested in Romance, particularly in the history of French. With the demise of the neuter gender in Latin, the neuter forms generally merged with the masculine, as e.g. collum > French (le) cou. But already in Late Latin the identity

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of the neuter plural and feminine singular forms had led in some cases to the former being interpreted as the latter, with singular verbal concord, as e.g. gaudia > French (la) joie. In French this tendency was strengthened especially and significantly in the case of words for objects which were most commonly referred to collectively (cf. Pope 1952: 304), as (la) feuille, pomme, poire, voile (Latin folium/folia, etc.). One difference between the otherwise parallel Icelandic and Marwari expressions is that the Icelandic myfluga has come to epitomise extreme smallness 5 and so is in more general use. In Rajasthani, on the other hand, it is the common ant that performs this function: thus in a related dialect, Harauti (spoken in the Kota-Bundi area), there is a saying, klrl-nai kan, häü-nai man "for the ant a grain, for the elephant a maund (about 40 kg.)", i.e. "to each according to his needs". In Icelandic a common expression, corresponding to English "to make a mountain out of a molehill", is gera ülfalda ur myflugu "to make a camel out of a midge". Similarly, in a biblical context (as Matthew 23.24) per blindir leidtogar, sent siiÖ myfluguna, en svelgiÖ ülfaldann "ye blind guides, which strain out the gnat, and swallow the camel". Here of course the same contrast is a feature of the original Greek, ... oi διϋλίζοντες τον κώνωπα, την δέ κάμηλον καταπίνοντες, whereas in the case of the previous expression German, for example, has aus einer Mücke einen Elefanten machen; similarly Russian, delat' iz mukhi slona, both with the elephant rather than the camel as the epitome of size. This elephant/camel variation is of some etymological interest, since the Icelandic word for "camel", ülfaldi, is in fact connected with English elephant and similar words. From Greek έλεφα8 (genitive έλέφαντο8) "ivory, elephant", of unknown origin, derive Latin elephas/elephantus, whence (probably via a popular Latin form with o-) Middle English olifaunt [max pägädet] name (Dl) of lake (D3.f) d. mass-ά + keltayt-a —> [mäj: 3 keldäjt] head (Dl) of baboon (D3.m) cTaamma-ä

+ Hnkot-a

Although all nouns that have the final-Η melody are masculine, it is not the case that all masculine nouns have that melody; and from this it is reasonable to confer that it is not masculine gender per se that triggers this melody. The following phonological explanation is proposed. Once again we start with FMC. As we know, it's operation on nouns having (± augmented) final-Η melodies is the source of floating Η tones. We shall assume that the morphosyntax of the genitive

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requires the inherent tone melody of the noun in possessor function to be deleted. However, if we go on to assume that a final-Η melody is assigned to these toneless forms and that a floating Η will somehow replace L tone(s) associated with non-final TBU's, we shall be committed to defending a process otherwise unattested in D'irayta tonology, and far from "natural" or to be anticipated in Autosegmental theory. When considering the behaviour of floating tones in nouns hosting possessive determiner clitics (cf. Section 3.3.), it was especially noted that a floating Η never associates rightwards onto a TBU already associated with a L tone. One must ask why then should it do so in the present case. But if we assume that simply becoming toneless, i.e. having its inherent melody disassociated from it, is what marks a possessor noun—albeit abstractly, it would be an entirely predictable matter from an autosegmentalist standpoint for a floating Η to associate itself with the leftmost TBU and spread unchecked throughout the word. Where there are no floating Η tones— which is the situation for nouns with all other melodies—a final-H melody would be supplied to the possessor noun by a default mechanism in order to render it pronounceable. 14

Conclusion In this paper attention has been focussed on the effects of a process in the synchronic phonology of D'irayta which removes the final mora from what is essentially a phonological word, so that the language appears to have a very large number of consonant-final words. There are a number of enclitic elements however, and the attachment of one or other of these saves the final mora of its host—though it will undergo the process itself unless it, in its turn, hosts a further clitic. When final moras are clipped, their tones are disassociated, though they are generally able to achieve a re-association with another mora. I believe that an appreciation of the interplay between these phenomena also will enable us to make better sense of D'irayta in a comparative East Cushitic context. Notes 1.

In 1994 the precise number of the D'irash population was 52,536, of which 1,200 members were living outside the Dirashe Special Wereda. From the total population 49,517 people were recorded as speaking D'irayta as their mother tongue. I must acknowledge here my gratitude to Gideon Cohen who

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made these figures available to me; they are based on the work of the CSA (1996). 2. I wish to express here my thanks to Ato Hansemo for his patient assistance. I would like also to acknowledge here my gratitude to the School of Oriental and African Studies (University of London) for the financial assistance which enabled me to undertake these various pieces of research. 3. The present re-analysis invalidates none of the main conclusions argued for so ably by Tosco. What it does is simply to accord his reconstruction of case in pre-D'irayta (e.g., Tosco 1996: 38, Table 2) a more synchronic status. I feel it is a partial mitigation of my earlier description of D'irayta as one in which perhaps the majority of morphemes were considered to be consonant-final— the present analysis has none—that Paul Black took the same stance in his valuable dictionary of Gidole (= D'irayta); cf. Black (1973a). 4. In my earlier description the significance of a, i and ο with possessive determiners was not appreciated, and these elements were analysed as belonging to the determiners themselves rather than to the nouns (cf. Hay ward 1981: 142ff.). Tosco (1996: 37f.) makes the point very clearly. 5. Comparison is invited to a class of masculine nouns whose stems terminate in a in Burji, another East Cushitic language. These nouns also have a suffixal -a in the absolutive, which undergoes replacement by -i in forming the nominative (cf. Hayward 1988: 682ff.). 6. With possessive determiners feminine nouns, the stems of which always terminate in t, show a palatalization to s. This never happens in the case of final t in masculine nouns. There seems to be no obvious phonological explanation for the palatalization. 7. Although probably very little can be made of the fact, it seems worth pointing out that nominal predicates in -e have also been recorded for the East Cushitic language Arbore (cf. Hayward 1984: 141). 8. An inspection of number forms in East Cushitic languages commonly reveals so many irregularities and paradigm gaps that it has sometimes been suggested that the morphology of number in these languages is derivational rather than inflectional. Here in D'irayta, and more generally, I believe that we can preserve the intuition that plurals are inflectional by focussing on the usually highly regular behaviour of terminal vowel suffixes. The impression that a derivational aspect is also present may be captured by recognizing distinct singular and plural (and in some cases, singulative) stems. 9. It seems likely that all Declension 4 nouns having a simple stem can be conceived of as collectives. And this view is supported by the fact that they are very commonly paired with singulars the stems of which contain what was historically a "singulative" formative. 10. It may be of interest to note that an -o suffix associated with plural categories occurs widely in Arbore (cf. Hayward 1984: 132f., 228, 229).

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11. This noun is doubly anomalous, for its stem appears to contain a phonological variant of the singulative formative -ayt- (cf. Arbore 'orgi 'he-goat'), the presence of which otherwise correlates totally with the initial-Η melody. 12. The contours of non-final rising tones on short vowels are frequently simplified to a level mid pitch, e.g. ['ojhäj:] ~ ['5jhaj:] 'his grass', cf. 'oyh-ά 'grass' 13. The erstwhile genitive constructions, now lexicalized, seen in meetusmääläät 'pestle', literally 'child of the mortar' and 'immimmdwot 'grandson', literally 'son of my son' both contain a final -t (V?), which could well be cognate with a genitive suffix in -t, which is quite widespread in East Cushitic. 14. It is at least arguable that final-Η is the default melody in general in D'irayta. In the East Cushitic language Qafar, which has definitely moved from a tonal system to a tonal accent one—and a very simplified one at that—the genitive relationship is signalled by de-accentuation of the possessor NP, And this paves the way for it to receive the default association of a phrasally-organized final-Η melody. This default association is exactly what would happen to any unaccented modifying element in a NP (cf. Hayward 1991). The similarity is made more striking by the fact that, unlike D'irayta, the genitive precedes its head in Qafar.

References: Black, Paul D. 1973a Preliminary draft of a Gidole dictionary. [Unpublished MS.] 1973b "Konsoid: An example of extreme dialectal differentiation", Paper presented at the Conference on African Linguistics, Queens College, April 1973. CSA (Central Statistical Authority) 1996 1994 Population and Housing Census of Ethiopia: Results for SNNPR. Vol. 1, Part 5: Abridged statistical report. Addis Ababa: Central Statistical Authority. Hayward, Richard J. 1981 "Nominal suffixes in Dirayta (Gidole)", Bulletin of the School of African and Oriental Studies 44: 126-144. 1984 The Arbore language: A first Ivnestigation (including a vocabulary). Hamburg: Buske. 1986 "Some observations on Dirayta (Gidole) pronouns", in: Gideon Goldenberg (ed.), Ethiopian studies. Proceedings of the Sixth International Conference on Ethiopian Studies, Tel-Aviv, 14-17 April, 1980, 275-294. Rotterdam: Balkema. 1988 "Is there a language with an indefinite nominative—Burji?", in: Taddese Beyene (ed.), Proceedings of the Eighth International Conference of Ethiopian Studies, University of Addis Ababa, 1984. Vol. I: 679-691. Huntingdon: Elm.

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Hayward, Richard J. (cont.) 1991 "Tone and accent in the Qafar noun", York Papers in Linguistics 15: 117-137. Hayward, Richard J.—John I. Saeed 1984 "NP focus in Somali and Dirayta: A comparison of Baa and Pa", in: Thomas Labahn (ed.), Proceedings of the Second International Congress of Somali Studies, University of Hamburg, August 1-6, 1983. Vol. I: 1-21. Hamburg: Buske. Kiparsky, Paul 1971 "Historical linguistics", in: William Orr Dingwall (ed.), A survey of linguistic science, 576-649. College Park: Linguistics Programme, University of Maryland. Tosco, Mauro 1996 "The strange case of the Dirayta subject case", Journal of African Languages and Linguistics 17: 27-45.

Grammaticalization and typological change: The clitic cline in Inner Asia Minor Greek Mark Janse

1. Introduction "Today's morphology is yesterday's syntax". With this slogan Talmy Givon (1971: 413) revived the old insight that affixes derive from full words through a process of grammaticalization. From a diachronic perspective, grammaticalization is usually defined as "that subset of linguistic changes whereby a lexical item used in specific discourse contexts becomes a grammatical item, or whereby a grammatical item becomes more grammatical" (Traugott 1994: 1481). 1 Such changes are generally believed to follow specific pathways or "clines" (Hopper—Traugott 1993: 6), which direct the development of forms through a series of gradual transitions from one category to another. 2 A classic example is the "word-to-affix cline" (Hopper— Traugott 1993: 132), which can be represented as follows: (1)

word —> clitic —» affix

The grammaticalized word is typically an appellative, e.g. a noun, or a deictic, e.g. a pronoun. 3 Since deictics are "descriptively empty" (Uhlenbeck 1992: 285), the grammaticalization of a pronoun is an example of a "grammatical item becoming more grammatical". 4 For a word to become an affix its position has to be fixed first. It is generally assumed that the process starts off with the "fixing of discourse strategies" (Traugott 1994: 1483), basically the fixing of word order. This phase is called "syntacticization" and the result is an analytic syntactic construction. The fixing of word order may result in the weakening of nonfocal words, which lose their autonomy, become phonologically reduced and are loosely attached to an adjacent focal word. This phase is called "cliticization" and the resultant phrase is a "phonological word". Cliticization may in its turn lead to the "agglutination" of the focal word and the clitic, especially if there is a syntactic relationship between the former and the latter. 5 This phase is called "morphologization": the erstwhile analytic syntactic construction is turned into a synthetic morphological configuration. The focal word and the clitic are reanalyzed as a single word consisting of a root and an inflection. Agglutination may result in fusion

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through morphonological processes and further phonological reduction which may ultimately lead to the total loss of the inflection. This admittedly sketchy account of the grammaticalization process can be represented as follows (cf. Givon 1979: 209): (2)

discourse —> syntax —» morphology —» morphonology - » 0

The corresponding phases of the grammaticalization process are as follows (cf. Lehmann 1995: 13): (3)

syntacticization —» cliticization —> agglutination —» fusion —> loss

Traditionally, grammaticalization has been associated with a shift from one type of language to another. In the classic Humboldtian typology, the word stage would correspond to the isolating type, the clitic-to-agglutinative stage to the agglutinative type, and the agglutinative-to-fusional stage to the fusional type (cf. Comrie 1989: 4.2). Since grammaticalization is generally considered a cyclic process, 6 the distinctions are bound to be fuzzy: a fusional language may develop new discourse strategies which may be syntacticized etc. In short, today's morphology may well be yesterday's syntax, but what about yesterday's morphology and the day before yesterday's syntax? So far grammaticalization has been viewed exclusively from a diachronic perspective, as a series of linguistic changes along a particular cline. As Hopper and Traugott (1993: 6) note, "forms do not shift abruptly from one category to another, but go through a series of gradual transitions" (cf. Heine et al. 1991: 231). These gradual transitions may result in periods of overlap between older and newer forms. A cline, in other words, should not be thought of as a "line in which everything is in sequence" (1993: 105). Synchronically, a cline can be thought of as a "continuum ... having certain focal points where phenomena may cluster" (1993: 7). Examples of such focal points are words, clitics and affixes on the "word-to-affix cline". Hopper and Traugott (1993: 105) compare linguistic forms in such clusters to chips in a magnetic field: "over time fewer or more of the chips in the clusters may be pulled magnetically to another field". Heine et al. (1991: 231) point out that somewhere halfway between two focal points there is an "intermediate" or "hybrid" stage where forms are "no longer quite X but not yet quite Y\ In this paper, I take a closer look at the "clitic cline" in Inner Asia Minor Greek mainly from a synchronic point of view. The term "clitic cline" is used here in a restricted sense in that the discussion is limited to the object clitic pronouns. The evidence is fascinating in that the process of morphologization is caught in the act, so to speak.

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The entire cycle is represented: though basically syntacticized, the clitic pronouns have retained part of their discourse properties in some contexts and are completely morphologized in others. The clitic cline in Inner Asia Minor Greek is an paradigm case of what Hopper (1987: 148) calls "emergent grammar" or "movement toward structure". It is rather like catching a glimpse of tomorrow's morphology through today's syntax. From a theoretical point of view, the clitic cline in Inner Asia Minor Greek challenges a number of received theoretical assumptions in contemporary linguistics such as the distinction between langue and parole, competence and performance, the discreteness and homogeneity of linguistic categories, the autonomy of syntax, the equivalence of syntax and morphology, and the status of clitics as affixes.

2. Inner Asia Minor Greek Asia Minor Greek is a cover term used by Thomason and Kaufman (1988: 215-222) to refer to the dialects of Silli, Cappadocia and Pharasa studied by Richard Dawkins in his famous Modern Greek in Asia Minor (1916). As such, it is somewhat misleading in that Dawkins had deliberately restricted his attention to the three dialects mentioned to the exclusion of Pontic (1916: 6-10) and Livisi (1916: 37-38), which he also considered "native to Asia" (1916: 5). What sets these dialects apart is that "in Asia Minor Greek has been developing in an isolated area separated from the rest of the Greekspeaking world, and ... that this process has gone on under the strongest influence of the surrounding Turkish" (1916: 1). The evidence used in this paper is mainly from Cappadocian and Pharasa, because it is in these dialects that the clitic cline is still a cline. Pontic will be drawn in only indirectly, as the grammaticalization process has come to a standstill in this particular dialect, which is the only Asia Minor Greek dialect to have survived to the present day. Dawkins (1916: 204) grouped the dialects of Silli and Livisi together, both on internal and external grounds. Of Pontic, Cappadocian and Pharasa he said (1916: 205): "The resemblances are so striking that there is no doubt that they must be regarded as having at one time formed a continuous linguistic area". Dawkins (1916: 206) proposed the following subdivision: "the whole group may be divided into Cappadocian on the one hand and on the other the dialects of Pontos and Pharasa". Kontosopoulos (1994: 6-9), however, treats Cappadocian and Pharasa as a single group, which he calls "Inner Asia Minor Greek" (τα ελληνικά της μικρασιατικής ενδοχώρας) as opposed to Pontic, which is given separate treatment (1994: 10-16).

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For the purpose of the present paper I follow Kontosopoulos' grouping because there is no clitic cline in Pontic, as already remarked. Already in Antiquity, Greeks from Inner Asia Minor were notorious for their άσιανή φωνή or "Asiatic accent" (Thumb 1901: 187). Some claimed that it was easier to find a white raven or a winged turtle than a decent Cappadocian orator. 7 As a matter of fact, one such orator, Pausanias from Caesarea, was openly ridiculed for his "typically Cappadocian accent" by his biographer Philostratus. 8 Pausanias lived in the second century B.C., when the ancient dialects had already merged into the κοινή, the "common language" which had spread as a lingua franca over the huge territory conquered by Alexander the Great. Inevitably, regional variants developed over time and according to Thumb (1914: 199-202) an "Eastern κοινή" had already established itself in the first centuries B.C. 9 As already remarked, Inner Asia Minor is a rather desolate area and the local Greeks had been living there in increasing isolation. In the seventh century the Arabs invaded Asia Minor, followed by the Turks in the eleventh. Shortly before the Byzantine defeat in Manzikert (1071) the Turks had already raided important parts of Inner Asia Minor, including the important Cappadocian city of Caesarea, which was plundered, burned and destroyed (Vryonis 1971: 95). With the fall of Constantinople in 1453, the Byzantine Empire was put to an end once and for all and the Asia Minor Greeks were cut off completely from the rest of the Greak-speaking world. By that time the first signs of language loss among the Greeks in Inner Asia Minor had already been reported in a document of 1437 quoted by Dawkins (1916: l). 1 0 The local Greeks managed to maintain their language up to the twentieth century, but with widespread bilingualism and a steady shift of Greek speakers to Turkish. Less than ten years before the population exchange between Greece and Turkey in the 1920s, Dawkins (1916: 1) wrote of Inner Asia Minor Greek that "the influence of the surrounding Turkish ..., as the language of the rulers and of an increasing proportion of the population, threatens to crush it altogether". Inner Asia Minor Greek is classified by Thomason and Kaufman (1988: 215) as a case of "heavy borrowing". Turkish interference in the local Greek was so great that Dawkins (1916: 198) concluded: "The body has remained Greek, but the soul has become Turkish". The list of incorporated Turkish features is very impressive indeed, including heavy lexical borrowing, vowel harmony, agglutinative morphology and Turkish (SOV) word order (Dawkins 1916: 197203; cf. Thomason—Kaufman 1988: 215-222). 11 However, as will

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become clear in the next section, Turkish interference is less obvious as far as the clitic cline is concerned.

3. The clitic pronouns in Inner Asia Minor Greek Turkish does not have clitic pronouns (Kornfilt 1997: 435). Where a clitic pronoun is used in Greek, Turkish usually has no pronoun at all, especially in the case of the third person (Lewis 1967: 68; Kornfilt 1997: 281). If a full pronoun is used in Turkish, it will be unstressed but retain its normal position before the verb, Turkish being an SOV language (Lewis 1967: 240; Kornfilt 1997: 91). In Inner Asia Minor Greek, on the other hand, full pronouns precede the verb as in Turkish, whereas clitic pronouns normally follow the verb (but see below). The following example from Silli illustrates the difference: 12 (4)

a.

βγό sena fildttu=su I you I-guard=you 7 will guard you' (D286) 13

With the exception of the doubled clitic pronoun su, the order of words in (4a) is calqued upon the Turkish SOV order, as can be gathered from the translation of (4a): 14 (4)

b. ben seni koruyorum I you I-guard Ί will guard you'

It is important to realize that in (4a) the full subject pronoun βγό is focal (contrastive), in contrast with the full object pronoun sena.15 The use of sena can only be explained as being calqued upon the Turkish SOV order. The use of the doubled clitic pronoun su will be discussed below. If the same words were to be used to translate (4a) into Standard Modern Greek, both the order and the interpretation would deviate substantially: 16 (4)

c.

esena se=fildyo you you=I-guard 'As for you, I will guard d. esena βγό you I 'As for you, I will guard

βγό I you' Ξβ-ΑΙάγο you=I-guard you'

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e.

βγό se=filäyo esena I you=I-guard you 'As for me, I will guard you'

I now turn to the forms of the clitic pronouns in the Inner Asia Minor Greek dialects (Dawkins 1916: 49, 119-120, 172; cf. Janse 1994: 435, 1998: 259):

lsg 2sg 3sg m., f., η. lpl 2pl 3pl

Silli

Cappadocian

Pharasa

m(u) s(u) tu(n), ci(n), tu mas sas tus, tes, ta

me/mi se/si to/tu mas sas ta

me/mi se/si to/tu mes/mis ses/sis ta

A few comments are in order. In a number of dialects the unaccented mid front vowel /e/ is raised to the high front vowel /i/, hence mi and si instead of me and se. Likewise, the unaccented mid back vowel /o/ is locally raised to the high back vowel /u/, hence tu instead of to (Dawkins 1916: 42, 149; cf. Janse 1998: 259). The voiceless dental plosive I I I is always voiced after nasals, as in Standard Modern Greek, but generally also after vowels, hence do/du and da instead of to/tu and ta. Dawkins (1916: 69, 153) remarks that he had had difficulty distinguishing between the two and suggests that the sounds in question are really "voiceless mediae", which I take to be partially de voiced dental plosives (cf. Laver 1994: 342). The omission of the final /n/ is a pan-Greek phenomenon (cf. Jannaris 1897: 549-551). Turning now to the morphology of the clitic pronouns, it appears that they have only one form which is used for direct and indirect objects alike. In Silli the lsg and 2sg clitic pronouns have been remodelled on the analogy of the 3sg tu(n). The clitic pronouns do not inflect for gender, except at Silli and the Cappadocian village of Delmeso where the 3sg clitic pronoun has a feminine form ci(n) (Dawkins 1916: 49; cf. Janse 1994: 435, 1998: 259). Also in Silli the 3pl clitic pronouns distinguish between masculine (tus), feminine (tes) and neuter (ta), just as in Standard Modern Greek. In all the Inner Asia Minor Greek dialects the 3sg masculine and neuter clitic pronouns have generally merged into tu. All this may well be due to Turkish interference (Dawkins 1916: 116), as the Turkish pronouns do not inflect for gender either (cf. Lewis 1967: 67; Kornfilt 1997: 281). Also noteworthy is the quasi-generalization of ta as an un-

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marked form, "quite irrespective of the real gender and number" (Dawkins 1916: 49). In the following contrasting pair from a text from Pharasa, both do and da refer to the preceding noun phrase toina tom=bapä 'one priest': (5)

a. efaen=do (D550) b. efaen=da (D550) 'he ate him'

In the next section I turn to the central issue of this paper, viz. morphologization and the clitic cline in Inner Asia Minor Greek. 4. The clitic cline in Inner Asia Minor Greek In section 1 it was pointed out that grammaticalization is a cyclic process starting off with syntacticization, i.e. the "fixing of discourse strategies", particularly the fixing of word order. Syntacticization is a precondition for morphologization with cliticization as the intermediate stage. However, as Comrie (1989: 89) rightly stresses, clitics "are often, cross-linguistically, subject to special positioning rules only loosely, if at all, relating to their grammatical function". Elsewhere (Janse 1990; 1993a; 1993b; forthcoming) I have shown that the placement of the clitic pronouns in Ancient Greek was originally conditioned by prosodic factors associated with discourse strategies such as focalization. As a result, the Ancient Greek clitic pronouns were not necessarily attached to words they were syntactically connected with but rather attracted to prosodically more prominent (focal) words which were generally placed at the beginning of the sentence or one of its constituent intonation units. There were, of course, contexts in which the clitic pronouns would be attached to the verb they depended on syntactically: if the verb was focal and hence placed first, or in the case of a "minimal sentence", i.e. a sentence consisting of just the verb and one or more clitics. The Greek clitic pronouns being enclitic, i.e. phonologically dependent on a preceding word, this would necessarily result in the post-positioning of the clitics vis-ä-vis the verb. In Asia Minor Greek this has led to the syntacticization of this postpositioning, albeit with remnants of the original discourse properties of the clitic pronouns (Janse 1994: 436-440; 1998: 259-264). The fixing of the position of the clitic pronouns has had yet another consequence: multiple clitic pronouns generally make up a cluster of which the order is fixed, both internally and externally—albeit with a number of notable exceptions (Janse 1997: 697-703; 1998: 265-278).

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The more the position and order of the clitic pronouns is fixed, the more they are open to morphologization. The Inner Asia Minor clitic pronouns having retained their original enclitic status (Janse 1994: 441; 1998: 261), this is tantamount to saying that the clitic pronouns are being transformed from enclitics into suffixes. However, as pointed out in section 1, forms do not shift abruptly from one category to another, but go through a series of gradual transitions. The result is a "cline", in this particular case a "clitic cline". The focal points on the clitic cline in Inner Asia Minor Greek are enclitics and suffixes. To appreciate the "slippery slope" (Hopper—Traugott 1993: 6) nature of the clitic cline, it is necessary to take a closer look at the difference between encliticization and suffixation. 4.1. Encliticization versus suffixation In Inner Asia Minor Greek, as in Standard Modern Greek, the position of the word accent is determined in part by the so-called "rule of limitation", which allows the word accent to fall on any one of the last three syllables of the word, but not any further to the left (Janse 1995-96: 155-156). Compare, for instance, the following examples, where the rule of limitation has caused the word stress to move one syllable to the right of its original position, because the addition of the suffixes would have resulted in the accent being more than three syllables from the end of the word: (6) (7)

a. /aloyo+ta/ 'horse'+pl a. /eÖeka+me/ Ί gave'+lpl

αΐόγα-ία

'horses' ->

edeka-me

'we gave'

As appears from the examples just quoted, suffixation results in a shift of accent for the rule of limitation not to be breached. If, however, an enclitic is attached to a proparoxytone, i.e. a word having its accent on the antepenultimate syllable such as άΐογο in (6) or eÖeka in (7), an additional accent, traditionally called "enclitic accent" (Janse 1995-96: 156), is added on the last syllable of the latter: (6) (7)

b. /aloyo+mas/ 'horse'+lpl b. /eÖeka+to/ Ί gave'+3sg

äloy0=mas

'our horse' iÖekä=to

Ί gave it'

The folk tale texts recorded by Dawkins contain numerous examples of verb-plus-enclitic pronoun combinations where an enclitic

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accent is added on the last syllable of the verb if it is proparoxytone. The following examples are all from Cappadocian: (8) (9) (10) (11) (12)

epsalen=do (D306) 17 'he read it' doyrädizen=do (D306) 18 'he cut it to pieces' ksevalen=do (D308) 'he took it out' edilepsen=do (D308) 'she fed it' semasen=da (D316) 'she put them in'

The difference between encliticization and suffixation is observable only in proparoxytone verbs. Compare, for instance, (7a) and (7b) with (13a) and (13b), where the verbs are paroxytone: (13) a. /Öino+me/ Ί give'+lpl b. /Öino+to/ Ί gave'+3sg

Öinu-me 'we give' —» 5ino=to Ί give it'

The same applies, mutatis mutandis, to oxytone verbs. Compare, for instance, the accentual behaviour of a sequence consisting of a paroxytone verb plus clitic pronoun (14a) with that of a sequence consisting of an oxytone verb plus two clitic pronouns (14b): (14) a. /pe+te+ta/ 'say!'+2pl+3pl b. /pe+me+ta/ 'say!'+lsg+3pl

-» -»

pe-te=ta (D322) 'say it' pe=me=ta (D536) 'say it to me'

As can be gathered from (13) and (14), there are numerous contexts in which a clitic is hardly distinguishable from an affix. Indeed, in section 1 it was pointed out that the attachment of a clitic to another word results in a "phonological word", e.g. pete=ta, as opposed to a full word, e.g. pete. The use of the term "phonological word" implies that a sequence such as pete=ta behaves like a word phonologically. As a matter of fact, the attachment of a clitic to a full word regularly triggers morphonological processes normally operating within words rather than across word boundaries (Janse 1995-96: 157). A typical example is the voicing of the voiceless dental plosive /t/ after nasals,

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as discussed in section 3 and as exemplified in (8) through (12). Other examples of assimilation include the following: (15)

/rotun+cin/

->

(16)

/vyälis+me/

-»

(17)

/päyas+mes/

rotün=dzi (D296) 'they ask her' vYäliz=me (D308) 'you take me out1 päaz=mes (D546) 'take us'

In the next section I discuss the first stage of morphologization proper, which I tentatively call, for want of a better a term, "agglutination". 4.2. Agglutination In the previous section it was shown that the attachment of a clitic pronoun generally results in the addition of an enclitic accent on the verb if the latter is proparoxytone. There are, however, numerous cases where the attachment of a pronominal clitic has not resulted in the addition of an enclitic accent, even though the verb is proparoxytone. The first badge comes from of Silli: (18) (19) (20)

zirm0nisin=da (D284) 'he has forgotten them' esiknin=da (D286) he put them' sälisin=dzi (D296) 'he shut her up'

In the examples just quoted none of the verbs has an enclitic accent on the last syllable, which means that the rule of limitation has been breached, in contrast with examples (8) through (12) where the rule has been observed. The Cappadocian folk tale texts collected by Dawkins present a number of contrasting pairs: (21) a. edoken=do(D342)19 b. edoken=da (D344) 20 'he gave it' (22) a. päasen=do (D358) b. päasen=do (D366) 'he takes him' (23) a. j0mosen=do(D400) 'she filled it'

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(23) b. jomosan=da (D398) 'they filled them' The folk tale texts from Pharasa contain an even greater number of contrasting pairs, so much so that Dawkins (1916: 184) explicitly remarked that in this particular dialect, "the second [i.e., enclitic] accent is not always developed". The two types appear to have been used more or less interchangeably: (24) a. foresä=da (D466) Ί wore them' b. foresen=da (D466) 'he wore them' (25) a. ifaren=da (D470) b. ifaren=da (D470) 'he brought them' (26) a. galidzepsen=da (D496) b. galidzepsen=da (D496) 'he mounted it' (27) a. evsakses=ta (D514) 'you killed it' b. evsaksen=da (D514) 'he killed it (28) a. efaydn=da (D520) b. efayan=da (D520) 'they ate it' What is remarkable about the examples just quoted is the fact that they occur side by side in the same texts. In other words, there is apparently free variation between the forms with and those without an enclitic accent. The evidence is even more compelling in the case of multiple clitic pronouns, as can be gathered from examples (29) through (32): (29) a. Öixnun=se=to (D306) 'they show it to you' b. Öixni=se=to (D306) 'he shows it to you' (30) a. leo=se=ta (D322) b. leo=se=da (D432) Ί say it to you' (31) a. 30dze=mes=ta (D494) 'he gave them to us'

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(31) b. dodze=me=da (D496) 'he gave them to me' (32) a. 5ikse=me=to (D422) b. Öikse=me=ta (D422) 'show it to me!' The fact that none of the verbs in the examples just quoted has an enclitic accent on the first clitic pronoun is significant and contrasts sharply with the Standard Modern Greek equivalent of, say, (32b), where an enclitic accent has to be added on the first clitic pronoun (cf. Mackridge 1985: 146; Holton et al. 1997: 34): (32)

c.

Öikse=mu=to

'show it to me!' Now of course the question may be asked if the lack of an enclitic accent in the cases discussed so far can indeed be interpreted as evidence of progressive morphologization instead of evidence of reinterpretation of the rule of limitation. Consider, for instance, the following paradigm from Pharasa (quoted in part by Dawkins 1916: 184), involving the aorist active of the verb fero 'bring':21 (33) lsg 2sg 3sg lpl 2pl 3pl

ifarä=da ifara=da ifares=ta ifares=ta ifaren=da ifaren=da ifardm=da ifaramen=da ifarete=da ifaree=da ifardn=da ifaran=da

The forms of the plural are quite remarkable. One would expect them to be accented on the second syllable, since they all developed out of originally four-syllabic forms (cf. Dawkins 1916: 183):22 (34)

lpl 2pl 3pl

*ifdramen=da *ifärete=da *ifärane=da

-> —> ->

ifardm=da ifarete=da ifarän=da

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Obviously, the (regularly) truncated forms of the lpl ifaräm=da and 3pl ifardn=da are in accordance with the rule of limitation. In fact, what must have happened is that both the main and the enclitic accent have been reinterpreted on the analogy of other forms, e.g. 3pl *ifdrane > ifaran : 3sg ifaren, hence ifardn=da : ifaren=da. As a result, the main accent keeps its position throughout the entire paradigm, a feature also observable in Pontic (Drettas 1997: 211). The main accent of lpl ifaramen may be on the analogy of the truncated form ifaram, but this does not apply to 2pl if arete, where there is no truncated form. In both cases one gets a proproparoxytone, i.e. a word gaving its accent on the ante-antepenultimate syllable, which is against the rule of limitation. Interestingly, the enclitic accent of ifaramen=da has kept its original position (*ifdramen=da), but again this does not apply to 2pl ifarete=da. I have found a number of comparable cases, all from the same text from the Cappadocian village of Delmeso. In each of these a 2pl imperative is involved. The main accent is apparently interpreted as being secondary by Dawkins, as can be gathered from the use of a grave instead of an acute accent. It is quite possible that this secondary accent has been retained on the first syllable by analogy with the 2sg: (35) a.

epar=to (D366, 372) 'take it' b. eparete=to (D318) 'take it' (36) a. ένγαΙ=ίο (D320, 368) 'take it out' b. evyalete=to (D31S) 'take it out' (37) a. *bati'rdi=to23 'dip it' b. bafirdisete=to (D318)24 'dip it' There may be, however, another explanation. Before offering it, I have to return to the variant ifaree=da, which Dawkins (1916: 184) explains as a case of "dissimilatory dropping": (38)

ifarete=da

ifaree=da

In a general discussion of the phenomenon, Dawkins (1916: 161) quotes another example:

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Mark Janse

(39)

ikopsete=da

->

ekopsee=da

'you killed him' On this particular occasion, it is said that the dissimilatory dropping "is probably regular in this part of the verb" (Dawkins 1916: 161). In the 2pl imperative the process generally involves loss of the entire syllable (Dawkins 1916: 188). The following example is quoted: (40)

a.

Ö0sede=da

5ose=da

'give it!' If the syllable is not dropped, the enclitic accent is generally omitted, as can be gathered from the following example: (40) b. Öosede=da 'give it!'

(D530)

I return briefly to the forms of the verb νγάΐο 'take out' in the dialect of the village of Tshukuri, of which Dawkins (1916: 184) had said that "the secondary [i.e., enclitic] accent is not always developed": (41)

lsg 2sg 3sg lpl 2pl 3pl

evgaä=da evgalis=ta evgalin=da evgaami=da evgaliti=da evgayän=da

Compare, in particular, the Tshukuri form of the 2pl evgaliti=da with evyalete=to from Delmeso (36b). At Pharasa, I have found yet another peculiar variant of the 3pl of this verb, which may be compared to the variant of the lpl aorist active of fero, viz. ifaramen=da (33): (42)

(D504) 'they took him out'

evgayanen=da

It would seem that the deviant accentuations, i.e., accentuations that breach the rule of limitation, are all cases of accentual "paradigm trimming". Compare, for instance, the position of the original word accent in the paradigm quoted in (33), where the lpl ifaramen and the 2pl ifarete have an ante-antepenultimate accent on the analogy of the lsg ifara and the 2sg /'fares respectively. It is quite possible that the lack of an enclitic accent on proparoxytone verbs followed by a

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pronominal clitic as in the (b) forms of examples (21) through (28) or, alternatively, on paroxytone verbs followed by a pronominal clitic cluster as in the (b) forms of examples (29) through (32), have paved the way for a reinterpretation of the rule of limitation. In fact, this is exactly what has happened in Pontic, where the erstwhile pronominal clitics have developed into full-fledged suffixes. The accentual behaviour of the resulting forms is identical to the forms without enclitic accent in the paradigm from Tshukuri quoted in (41). The combination of one or two pronominal suffixes with a verb, i.e., a combination of a stem plus one or more inflections, yields highly complex forms such as (43) with one pronominal suffix, or (44) with two (cf. Drettas 1997: 250): (43) a.

eleyan-atone 'they told him' b. istilan-emasene 'they sent us' (44) a. eleyan-emas-ato 'they told it to us' b. estilan-emas-atsene 'they sent them to us' What is important about the Pontic evidence is that it can be used as an indication that the lack of an enclitic accent in similar circumstances in the Inner Asia Minor Greek dialects is indeed a sign of progressive morphologization. 4.3. Fusion There is, however, an entirely different accentual pattern which, according to Dawkins (1916: 184), is "common in Cappadocia" but "extremely rare at Pharasa." It involves a phonological process which is entirely analogous to the one associated with suffixation in case the rule of limitation would be breached. What happens in the second pattern is that the word accent of the verb shifts to the following syllable as if the attached pronominal clitic were a suffix. It will be useful to compare the following example to (7b): (45)

/eÖeka+to/ Ί gave'+3sg

->

eÖeka-to

The following is a selection of the available evidence:

536

(46) (47) (48) (49) (50) (51) (52) (53)

Mark Janse

epiren-cin (D304) 'he took her' epiken-do (D304) 'he did it' afiken-do (D388, 448, 454) 'he left him' miräsan-da (D406) 'they divided it' peyäsen-do (D454) 'he took her' kupänsen-da (D480) 'he beat them' faisa-da (D520) Ί fed them' ferite-da (D538) 'bring them'

Like the forms without an enclitic accent quoted earlier, those with a shifted accent are apparently used in free variation with those with an enclitic accent (Dawkins 1916: 138). Dawkins' collection of folk tale texts provides the following contrasting pairs: (54) a. έ/αγάη=άο (D308) b. efäyan-do (D306) 'they ate it' (55) a. edoken=do (D342) b. edoken=do (D344) 'he gave it' (56) a. serepsän=da (D398) b. serepsan-da (D398) 'they gathered them up' (57) a. ftjorosen=da(D400) 'she emptied them' b. flcjomsen-do (D398) 'she emptied it' (58) a. pareÖ0samen=da (D500) b. pareÖosan-da (D500) 'they married them' In one text the three variants occur side by side: (59) a. esiren=da (D558) b. esiren=da (D558) 'he shot it'

Grammaticalization

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and typological

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esire-me (D558) 'he shot me'

The shifting of the accent in proparoxytone verbs is perhaps also responsible for hybrid forms like tfarete=da (33), where one would have expected either ifdrete=da (with an enclitic accent) or ifärete= da (without an enclitic accent)—or, indeed, ifarete-da. The same line of reasoning can be applied to eparete=to in (35b), evyalete=to (36b) and bafirdisete=to (37b). Finally, it will be noted that, as in Standard Modern Greek, the unaccented tense prefix e- or ι-, the so-called augment, is deleted in the aorist in Inner Asia Minor Greek. In this respect, the following contrasting pair, quoted by Dawkins (1916: 138), is particularly interesting: (60) a. b.

epjasen=do pjäsen-do 'he took it'

The fact that the unaccented augment is dropped in the case of pjäsen-do < epjäsen-do seems to indicate that what we have here is indeed a fused form, i.e. a single (morphological) word. The following examples illustrate the same phenomenon: (61) (62) (63)

epiren=do 'he took it' epijen=do 'she led him' exeken=do —> 'he put it'

epiren-do

-»

piren-do (D316)

epijen-do

->

pijen-do (D316)

ex eken-do —>

χ eken-do (D392)

By analogy, new paradigms have developed on the basis of forms with shifted accent, even without pronominal clitics attached. Compare, for instance, the different forms of the aorist indicative of δίηο 'give' which, according to Dawkins (1916: 138), are used side by side: edeka eÖekes edeken edkam(e) edekat(e) edekan(e)

Ο Ο

Öeka Öekes Öeken Öekam(e) Öekat(e) Öekan(e)

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4.4. Other evidence of morphologization The phenomenon of clitic doubling has been mentioned briefly in connection with (4). In Standard Modern Greek clitic doubling indicates "that the object is not new information" (Holton et al. 1997: 432). In Asia Minor Greek—including Pontic—the use of doubled clitic pronouns has increased to the point where they have become quasi-obligatory object agreement markers.25 In this respect it may be useful to compare the following example to (4a): (65) a. βγό sena dilevo=se I you I-feed=you 7 will feed you'

(D314)

As has already been pointed out with regard to (4a), (65a) is calqued upon the Turkish as far as the SOV order is concerned, as can be gathered from the Turkish translation: (65) b. ben

seni

yediriyorum

I you I-eat-CAUS 7 will feed you'

The use of the doubled clitic pronoun se in (65a), however, has no counterpart in Turkish and is a typically Greek phenomenon. According to Drettas (1997: 251), the use of a doubled personal suffix is "quasiment obligatoire ... en cas de double thematisation". The following example is quoted: (66) a. βγό avut to=korits αγαρό-αΐο I that the=girl I-love-her 'As for me, that girl, I love her' It should be noted that, apart from the use of the doubled personal suffix -ato, the word order of (66a) is again calqued upon the Turkish SOV order: (66) b. ben ο km seviyorum I that girl I-love 'As for me, that girl, I love her' The following examples further illustrate the phenomenon as far as Inner Asia Minor Greek is concerned. The first badge has OV word order:

Grammaticalization

and typological

change

539

(67) to=koric piren=do the-girl he-took=her 'he took the girl' (D316) (68) to=yl0sa=s evyal=do the=tongue=of-you thrust-out=it 'thrust out your tongue' (D368) (69) ta=aräp άαγϊάάί=άα the=negroes he-dismisses=them 'he dismisses the negroes' (D416) 26 The second badge has VO word order, which is remarkable given the pervasiveness of Turkish word order in Inner Asia Minor Greek (Dawkins 1916: 200; cf. Thomason—Kaufman 1988: 220): (70) sikosen=do to=devres he-took-up=him the=dervish 'he took up the dervish' (D414) 27 (71) piren=da egi ta=qaidura he-took=them those the=asses 'he took those asses' (D418) 28 (72) ponesan=do to=peÖi they-were-sorry=for-him the=boy 'they were sorry for the boy' (D464) Drettas (1997: 251) rightly speaks of "accord objectal" in cases like these and the clitic pronouns seem well on their way to become simple object agreement markers. Significantly, ta seems to be emerging as the unmarked form in Inner Asia Minor Greek, which may be taken as additional evidence for the ongoing grammaticalization of the clitic pronouns. The following examples are from Silli, where the phenomenon is rather common (Dawkins 1916: 49): (73) cin=irean tu=dadi zirmunnäi=ta the=idea of-the=kindling he-forgets=it 'he lets the kindling slip from his mind' (D288) 29 (74) xaivänin=du afinni=ta oksu beast=of-him he-leaves=it outside 'he leaves his beast outside' (D288) 30 (75) yriksa=ta näc ksevennis oksu I-understood=it why you-go-out outside Ί have discovered why you go outside' (D302)

540

Mark Janse

Dawkins makes no mention of the phenomenon as far as Cappadocia is concerned, but the folk tale texts provide the following examples: (76) epare=ta to=püsla take=it the=letter 'take the letter' (D306) 31 (77) to=koikono semasen=da s-to=kumes the=cock she-put=him into-the=henhouse 'she put the cock into the henhouse' (D402) At Pharasa, on the other hand, the use of ta as an object agreement marker is quasi-obligatory (Dawkins 1916: 172). Note that the following examples all have OV word order: (78) dz0=50dzen=da to=maxtsümi not=she-gave=it the=baby 'she did not give the baby' (D492) 32 (79) ebar=ta to=m0n ί=άνγο take=it the=mine the=horse 'take my own horse' (D496) (80) esaksän=da to=provato they-killed=it the=sheep 'they killed the sheep' (D520) (81) qavusisen=da ti=markdltsa he-met=her the=Markaltsa 'he met the Markaltsa' (D528) 33 (82) pe=me=ta tu. iÖes ton=ipno tell=me=it that you-saw the=dream 'tell me the dream which you have seen' (D536) 34 (83) to=mävro Öekaninken=da to=pozi the=grey he-bit=it the=black 'the grey one was biting the black one' (D558) 35

5. Conclusion The picture emerging from this paper is one of extreme variation. 36 The clitic cline in Inner Asia Minor Greek is indeed of a "slippery slope" (Hopper—Traugott 1993: 6) nature, with both focal points and hybrid stages. The focal points are the contexts in which the clitics have retained their original clitic status on the one hand and those in which they behave like fell-fledged affixes on the other. In between is an intermediate stage in which they are neither true clitics (in the

Grammaticalization

and typological

change

541

Greek sense of the word) nor true affixes. This stage is indeed an "hybrid" stage in the sense of Heine et al. (1991: 231). What we have here is what could be called "grammaticalization in progress": the object clitic pronouns in Inner Asia Minor Greek were well under way to become full-fledged affixes, but the clitic cline is definitely not a "line in which everything is in sequence" (Hopper— Traugott 1993: 105). The conclusion is that there is no discrete and homogeneous category called "clitics" in Inner Asia Minor Greek which behaves uniformly according to clear-cut rules of langue or competence. As a matter of fact, the clitic cline in Inner Asia Minor Greek is a typical example of the fuzziness of the boundaries between langue and parole, between competence and performance. Finally, it is perhaps not superfluous to emphasize that grammaticalization does not necessarily lead to typological change in any principled way. In Section 1 it was pointed out that grammaticalization is a cyclic process. Greek was already a fusional language at the time of the first written records and it has remained a fusional language until now. It has taken more than 3,000 years for the clitics to become affixes in the Inner Asia Minor Greek dialects and nobody knows what might have happened if they hadn't died out in the twentieth century. The truth is that the grammaticalization of the clitics in these dialects has not had and was not supposed to have any consequences as far as their typology is concerned. The real typological changes were due to the ever-increasing "influence of the surrounding Turkish" (Dawkins 1916: l). 37 From this perspective, it is indeed a surprise to find that the clitic cline and clitics in general have survived after all in Inner Asia Minor Greek. Just a few years before the so-called μικρασιατική καταστροφή which led to the population exchange between Greece and Turkey in the 1920s, Dawkins (1916: 1) feared that "Turkish ... as the language of the rulers and of an increasing proportion of the population, threatens to crush it [i.e. Asia Minor Greek] altogether". It is the irony of fate that it was not Turkish which would eventually crush Inner Asia Minor Greek, but Standard Modern Greek, which has now replaced the original mother tongue of the refugees and their descendants. 38 Notes 1. 2.

This definition more or less echoes Kurylowicz's (1965 [1975]: 52), cf. Heine et al. (1991: 3, 24), Hopper—Traugott (1993: 96), Lehmann (1995: 7, 11). Heine et al. (1991: 221-222) prefer the term "grammaticalization channel".

542 3. 4.

5.

6. 7. 8.

9. 10.

11. 12. 13. 14. 15.

16. 17. 18.

Mark Janse On the distinction between appellatives, deictics and other types of words cf. Uhlenbeck (1981: 14-20; 1992: 283-285). In this particular context, "grammatical" does not mean "grammatically correct" in the generative acceptation of the term, but rather "belonging to the grammar"—as opposed to "belonging to the lexicon" or "belonging to the discourse" (Lehmann 1995: 9). It may be noted that in the case of cliticization, there is no necessary syntactic relationship between the clitic and the focal word to which it attaches (cf. Janse forthcoming). Cf. Heine et al. (1991: 13), Hopper—Traugott (1993: 20), Traugott (1994: 1483), Lehmann (1995: 8). Θάττον έην λευκούς κόρακας πηνάς τε χελώνας | ε ύ ρ ε ΐ ν ή δόκιμον ρήτορα καππαδόκην (Anthologia Palatino 11.436). Ά π ή γ γ ε ι λ ε π α χ ε ί α τη γλώττη και ώς Καππαδόκαις ξύνηθες, ξυγκρούων μεν τά ξύμφωνα των στοιχείων, συστέλλων δέ τά μηκυνόμενα και μηκύνων τά βραχέα (Philostratus, Vitae Sophistarum 5.13). Cf. Dawkins (1916: 213-214), Bubenik (1989: 237), Janse (1993b: 119). Notandum est, quod in multis partibus Turcie reperiuntur clerici, episcopi et arciepiscopi, qui portant vestimenta infidelium et locuntur linguam ipsorum et nihil aliud sciunt in greco proferre nisi missam cantare et evangelium et epistolas. Alias autem orationes dicunt in lingua Turcorum (Νέος Έλληνομνήμων 7, 1910, 366). To give an idea of the extent of this "heavy borrowing", Turkish features in the examples quoted are indicated in notes. The equals sign = marks the attachment of clitics, a simple hyphen - the attachment of affixes. Examples are quoted after D[awkins 1916]. As always, thanks are due to my near-native speaker Turkish informant Johan Vandewalle. The contrast is borne out by the use of the full subject pronoun si in the preceding context: si eyer na=m=bdris, γό sena fildttu=su "if you marry me, I will guard you" (lit. "you if PRT=me=you-take, I you I-take=you"). Note that eyer is Turkish eger (Dawkins 1916: 597, 665 s.v. eyer, Thomason—Kaufman 1988: 217). It should also be noted that the full subject pronoun eyo in (4c) is focal (and not topical) as in (4a) and (4b). In Inner Asia Minor Greek the usual word for "reading" is psdllo, because the only reading known was the chanting in the church (Dawkins 1916: 662). Doyradizo is Turkish dogramak (Dawkins 1916: 675 s.v. doghramaq). Cappadocian verbs borrowed from Turkish are formed by adding either -do (-däs, -da) or -dizo to the Turkish verbal stem (Dawkins 1916: 129). The -dizo suffix is often modified to suit the Turkish vowel harmony (Dawkins 1916:

Grammaticalization

19.

20. 21.

22. 23.

24. 25. 26.

27. 28.

29.

30. 31. 32. 33. 34.

35. 36.

and typological change

543

67), e.g. doyradizo (< dogramak "cut to pieces"), düsünduzo (< dü§ünmek "consider"), istedizo (< istemek "wish"). The elimination of interdental fricatives, in this particular example edoken instead of edoken, is a Turkish feature (Dawkins 1916: 44, 74; cf. Thomason —Kaufman 1988: 217), as Turkish has no interdental fricatives (cf. Kornfilt 1997: 485). Note again the use of the unmarked 3pl ta (21b) instead of the marked 3sg to (21a) (cf. Sections 3, 4.4). Dawkins (1916: 184) consistently transcribes ta as da (with a partially devoiced dental plosive) after vowels, e.g. ifard=da. As remarked in Section 3, Dawkins (1916: 153) admitted to not being able to distinguish sharply between /t/ and /d/ in several contexts. The same endings recur in Pontic (Drettas 1997: 210). The singular imperative is not attested (for the reconstructed form cf. Dawkins 1916: 187). Batirdizo is Turkish batirmak "dip", the causative of batmak "sink" (Dawkins 1916: 667 s.v. batmaq). For the formation of the Cappadocian verb cf. note 18. Note that Dawkins transcribed this particular example with a "regular" main accent. "Indices personnels" in the terminology of Drettas (1997: 250). Dayido is Turkish dagitmak (Dawkins 1916: 679 s.v. daghslmaq). As already remarked, verbs borrowed from Turkish are regularly formed by adding -do (-dds, -da) to the Turkish verbal stem (cf. note 18). Ardp is also a Turkish borrowing (Dawkins 1916: 680 s.v. 'arap). Devres is Turkish dervi§ (Dawkins 1916: 674 s.v. dervis). Qaidur is the local variant of Standard Modern Greek γαίδύή (Dawkins 1916: 590 s.v. γ α ϊ δ ο ύ ρ ι ) , with the voiced velar fricative / γ / and the voiced interdental fricative /Ö/ substituted with an unvoiced postvelar stop /q/ and a voiced dental plosive /d/ respectively (cf. note 19). Standard Modern Greek [Ö] is pronounced at Silli either /r/ as in irea (ιδέα) or /d/ as in diima (δώμα) (Dawkins 1916: 44). Zirmunno is Standard Modern Greek lizmono (Dawkins 1916: 619 s. v. λησμονώ), with metathesis and rhotacism. Xaivdni is Turkish hayvan (Dawkins 1916: 673 s.v. ha'ivan). Piis(u)la is Turkish pusula (Dawkins 1916: 669 s.v. pusula, pusla). Maxtsumi is Turkish masum (Dawkins 1916: 686 s.v. ma 'sum). *qavusizo is Turkish kavu§mak (Dawkins 1916: 681 s.v. qavusmaq). The position of the relative clause vis-ä-vis the head noun is another Turkish feature (Dawkins 1916: 201-202; cf. Thomason—Kaufman 1988: 221; Janse 1998b). Pozi is Turkish boz (Dawkins 1916: 668 s.v. boz). Cf. Andersen (1987) for a rather comparable situation in Polish.

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37. Cf. Janse (1998b) for an example of contact-induced typological change due in the Inner Asia Minor Greek dialects (although the "slippery slope" metaphor applies here as well). 38. The Center for Asia Minor Studies in Athens has collected an impressive amount of material for what must be the largest oral history archive in Greece (cf. Yiannakopoulos 1993). On the fate of the Asia Minor Greek dialects in Greece cf. Tombaidis (1992).

References Andersen, Henning 1987 "From auxiliary to desinence", in: Harris—Ramat (eds.), 21-51. Asher, R. E.—J. Μ. Y. Simpson (eds.) 1994 The encyclopedia of language and linguistics. Oxford: Pergamon Press. Bahner, Werner—Joachim Schildt—Dieter Viehweger (eds.) 1990 Proceedings of the XlVth International Congress of Linguists, Berlin/ GDR, August 10-August 15, 1987. Berlin: Akademie-Verlag. Brixhe, Claude (ed.) 1993 La koine grecque antique I: Une langue introuvable? Nancy: Presses Universitaires de Nancy. Bubenik, Vit 1989 Hellenistic and Roman Greece as a sociolinguistic area. Amsterdam: Benjamins. Caron, Bernard (ed.) 1998 Proceedings of the XVIth International Congress of Linguists, Paris, 20-25 July 1997. Amsterdam: Elsevier. CD-ROM. Comrie, Bernard 1980 "Morphology and word order reconstruction: Problems and prospects", in: Fisiak (ed.), 83-96. 1989 Language universals and linguistic typology. 2nd ed. Oxford: Blackwell. Crochetiere, Andre—Jean-Claude Boulanger—Conrad Ouellon (eds.) 1993 Les langues menacees: Actes du XVe Congres international des linguistes, Quebec, UniversitS Laval, 9-14 aoüt 1992. Sainte-Foy: Presses de l'Universite Laval. Dawkins, Richard MacGillivray 1916 Modern Greek in Asia Minor: A study of the dialects of Sttli, Cappadocia and Phärasa with grammar, texts, translations and glossary. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Drachman, Gaberell—Angeliki Malikouti-Drachman—Sila Klidi—Jannis Fykias 1997 Greek linguistics '95: Proceedings of the Second International Conference on Greek Linguistics, Salzburg, 22-24 September 1995. Graz: Neugebauer.

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Drettas, Georges 1997 Aspects pontiques. Paris: Association de recherches pluridisciplinaires. Fisiak, Jacek (ed.) 1980 Historical morphology. Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter. Givon, Talmy 1971 "Historical syntax and synchronic morphology: An archaeologist's field trip", Papers from the seventh regional meeting, Chicago Linguistic Society, April 16-18, 1971, 394-415. 1979 On understanding grammar. New York: Academic Press. Harris, Martin—Paolo Ramat (eds.) 1987 Historical development of auxiliaries. Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter. Heine, Bernd—Ulrike Claudi—Friederike Hünnemeyer 1991 Grammaticalization: A conceptual framework. Chicago: Chicago University Press. Holton, David—Peter Mackridge—Irine Philippaki-Warburton 1997 Greek: A comprehensive grammar of the modern language. London: Routledge. Hopper, Paul J. 1987 "Emergent grammar", Berkeley Linguistics Society 13: 139-157. Hopper, Paul J.—Elizabeth Closs Traugott 1993 Grammaticalization. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Jannaris, Antonius Ν. 1897 An historical Greek grammar chiefly of the Attic dialect. London: MacMillan. Janse, Mark 1990 "Wackernagel's Law", in: Werner Bahner et al. (eds.), 2645-2649. 1993a "The prosodic basis of Wackernagel's Law", in: Andre Crochetiere et al. (eds.), 4: 19-22. 1993b "La position des pronoms personnels enclitiques en grec neotestamentaire ä la lumiere des dialectes neo-helleniques", in: Claude Brixhe (ed.), 83-121. 1994 "Son of Wackernagel: The distribution of object clitic pronouns in Cappadocian", in: Irene Philippaki-Warburton et al. (eds.), 435-442. 1995-96 "Phonological aspects of clisis in Ancient and Modern Greek", Glotta 73:155-167. 1997 "Synenclisis, metenclisis, and dienclisis in Cappadocian", in: Gabereil Drachman et al. (eds.), 695-706. 1998a "Cappadocian clitics and the syntax-morphology interface", in: Brian D. Joseph et al. (eds.), 257-281. 1998b "Le grec au contact du turc: Le cas des relatives en cappadocien", in: Bernard Caron (ed.), n.p. forth"Convergence and divergence in the development of the Greek and coming Latin clitic pronouns", in Rosanna Sornicola et al. (eds.). Joseph, Brian D.—Geoffrey C. Horrocks—Irene Philippaki-Warburton (eds.) 1998 Themes in Greek linguistics II. Amsterdam: Benjamins.

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Joseph, Brian D.—Irene Philippaki-Warburton 1987 Modern Greek. London: Croom Helm. Kontosopoulos, Nikolaos G. 1994 Διάλεκτοι και ιδιώματα της νέας ελληνικής. 2nd ed. Athens [No indication of publisher]. Kurytowicz, Jerzy 1965 "The evolution of grammatical categories", Diogenes 51: 55-71. [1975] [Reprinted in: Esquisses linguistiques. Vol. 2. München: Fink.] Laver, John 1994 Principles of phonetics. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Lehmann, Christian 1995 Thoughts on grammaticalization. München: LINCOM Europa. Lewis, Geoffrey L. 1967 Turkish grammar. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Mackridge, Peter 1985 The Modern Greek language: A descriptive analysis of Standard Modern Greek. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Philippaki-Warburton, Irene—Katerina Nicolaidis —Maria Sifianou (eds.) 1994 Themes in Greek linguistics: Papers from the First International Conference on Greek Linguistics, Reading, September 1993. Amsterdam: Benjamins. Sornicola, Rosanna—Erich Poppe—Shisha Ha-Levy (eds.) forthStability and change of word-order patterns over time. Amsterdam: coming Benjamins. Thomason, Sarah Grey—Terrence Kaufman 1988 Language contact, creolization, and genetic linguistics. Berkeley: University of California Press. Thumb, Albert 1901 Die griechische Sprache im Zeitalter des Hellenismus: Beiträge zur Geschichte und Beurteilung der Κοινή. Strassburg: Trübner. 1914 "On the value of Modern Greek for the study of Ancient Greek", Classical Quarterly 8: 181-205. Tombai'dis, Dimitris 1992 "Η τύχη των μικρασιατικών ιδιωμάτων στον ελληνικό χώρο", Δελτίο Κέντρου Μικρασιατικών Σπουδών 9: 241-250. Traugott, Elizabeth Closs 1994 "Grammaticalization and lexicalization", in: R.E. Asher—J.M.Y. Simpson (eds.), 1481-1486. Uhlenbeck, Ε. M. 1981 Betekenis in linguistisch perspectief. (Mededelingen der Koninklijke Nederlandse Akademie van Wetenschappen, Afd. Letterkunde, N.R. 44: 8.) Amsterdam: Noord-Hollandsche Uitgevers Maatschappij. 1990 "Clitics, morphemes, and words: Their structural differences", in: Werner Bahner et al. (eds.), 637-641. 1992 "Distinctions in the study of linguistic semantics", in: Astri Heen Wold (ed.), 273-291.

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Vryonis, Speros 1971 The decline of Medieval Hellenism in Asia Minor and the proces of Islamization from the eleventh through the fifteenth century. Berkeley: University of California Press. Wold, Astri Heen (ed.) 1992 The dialogical alternative: Towards a theory of language and mind. Oslo: Scandinavian University Press. Yiannakopoulos, Georgios A. 1993 "The reconstruction of a destroyed picture: The oral history archive of the Center for Asia Minor Studies", Mediterranean Historical Review 8: 201-216.

Zum Genitivattribut im Deutschen Odo Leys

1. In der deutschen Sprache der Gegenwart erscheint der Genitiv bekanntlich in der Hauptsache als adnominaler Kasus, schematisch also in der Konstruktion /N1 Ng/, wobei N1 die übergeordnete nominale Größe, Ng das sog. Genitivattribut darstellt. Die Genitivattribute werden nach Hauptarten eingeteilt. Dabei tauchen immer wieder folgende Kategorien auf: Genitivus possessi vus {das Haus meines Bruders)·, G. subiectivus {der Untergang Roms); G. obiectivus {die Eroberung Galliens); G. partitivus {die Hälfte des Geldes); G. qualitatis {ein Mensch guten Willens); G. explicativus {die Tugend der Bescheidenheit). Wie u.a. auch von Schmidt (1965: 136) bemerkt, werden bei ähnlichen Klassifikationen semantische Kriterien mit syntaktischen vermengt, eine Unregelmäßigkeit, die aber behoben wird, wenn man, wie z.B. Taylor (1989: 202), Subjekts- und Objektsgenitiv als Untergruppen des possessiven Genitivs einstuft. Dafür spricht u.a., daß sie, wie sonstige possessive Genitive, in pränominaler Stellung, als sog. Vorgenitive, auftreten können und sich durch das Possessivpronomen ersetzen lassen (vgl. der Untergang Roms, Roms Untergang : sein Untergang). Das Konzept des possessiven Genitivs ist übrigens ohnehin ein Sammelbegriff mit einer sehr großen Bandbreite. Auch die Benennung der Genitive ist meist nicht einwandfrei. Kasus kennzeichnen Nomina und signalisieren somit in erster Linie nicht eine Relation, sondern die Funktion, die das kasusmarkierte Nomen innerhalb einer Relation innehat. Vielmehr als z.B. von einem G. possessivus müßte von einem G. possessoris die Rede sein (vgl. u.a. Jung 1967: 125). Zwar bedingen Relation und Funktion einander, doch ist der Unterschied zwischen beiden nicht unerheblich, wie sich noch zeigen wird. 2. Gelegentlich stellt die Forschung die Frage nach einer allgemeinen Bedeutung des attributiven Genitivs. Während einige Forscher die Möglichkeit einer solchen aus verschiedenen Gründen ablehnen (siehe z.B. Nikiforidou 1991: §1.1) oder sich mit einer rein syntaktischen Deutung der Kasus begnügen möchten (vgl. Heibig— Buscha 1972: 252), heißt es bei anderen, der adnominale Genitiv stelle "den Beziehungskasus für Substantive" dar (so Brinkmann

550

Odo Leys

1962: 77), oder, schon etwas spezifischer, er sei der Kasus des abgrenzenden Bereichs (vgl. u.a. Schmidt 1965: 135). Im selben Sinne bezeichnete Willems (1997: 217) neuerdings diesen Genitiv, im Anschluß übrigens an Jakobsons Deutung des russischen Genitivs (1936 [1971]: 37ff.), als "besondernden Umfangskasus". Der restriktive Aspekt des adnominalen Genitivs wurde allerdings von Eisenberg (1989: 247) anhand von Beispielen wie der Papst der römischen Kirche bestritten. Eigentlich läßt sich das Problem einer einheitlichen Bedeutung des attributiven Genitivs von zwei Seiten angehen: Man kann versuchen, die verschiedenen Sonderbedeutungen auf einen gemeinsamen Nenner zu bringen, in welchem Fall die Allgemeinbedeutung nicht notwendigerweise ausnahmslos ist; oder man geht von den konstruktionalen Verhältnissen aus und formuliert die syntaktische Funktion in eine semantische um, so daß sich eine konstruktionale und somit ausnahmslose Gesamtbedeutung einstellt, die auch Jakobson (1936) vor Augen hatte. Offenbar von den Sonderbedeutungen ausgehend, hat man das generelle Verhältnis in Fügungen mit Genitivattribut im Deutschen als dasjenige der Zugehörigkeit oder der Partitivität gedeutet. Das Genitivattribut wird dann als der Zugehörigkeitsbereich oder die Anteilgröße in dieser Relation gekennzeichnet (vgl. u.a. Glinz 1962: 165, 234, 409). Tatsächlich kann man die Fügung /N1 Ng/ in der Mehrzahl der Fälle als eine possessive (im weitesten Sinne) oder eine partitive auffassen. Außerdem läßt sich auf metonymischem Weg die eine Bedeutung leicht mit der anderen verbinden und auch die mehr peripheren Verwendungsweisen lassen sich auf die eine oder die andere zurückführen. Ausgehend jedoch von den konstruktionalen Verhältnissen, gelangt man zu einem etwas neutraleren, sei es auch nicht grundsätzlich abweichenden Genitivbegriff. Man kann annehmen, daß das Genitivattribut, wie jedes Attribut auch, in semantischer Hinsicht eine determinierende Funktion innehat, die in diesem Fall wegen der Implizitheit der Verhältnisse als die möglichst allgemeine aufzufassen ist und aus dem möglichst neutral gedeuteten Abhängigkeitsverhältnis zwischen zwei nominalen Größen hervorgehen soll. Dieses Verhältnis ist m.E. dasjenige der Beziehung, der Geltung oder des Betreffs, das sich etwa folgendermaßen explizieren ließe: Das in N1 Genannte bezieht sich auf/ betrifft das in Ng Genannte. In diesem Verhältnis fungiert das Genitivattribut dann als der Geltungsbereich der übergeordneten Größe. Dieses Konzept ist unverkennbar mit einer sondernden Wirkung verbunden, sei es auch, daß diese Wirkung u.U. neutralisiert ist, wie in der Papst der römischen Kirche.

Zum Genitivattribut

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Der Geltungsbereich /Ng/ einer nominalen Größe INI/ kann kategorialer oder referentieller Art sein (vgl. diese Worte des Trostes, diese Worte des Ministers), er kann als völlig oder nicht völlig erfaßt gelten usw. Der Genitiv als alleiniger Kasus zur Signalisierung des nominalen Geltungsbereichs verhält sich hinsichtlich etwaiger Aspekte dieses Bereichs neutral. Wenn gelegentlich neben dem attributiven Genitiv ein attributiver Dativ erscheint {Karls Fahrrad/dem Karl sein Fahrrad), so handelt es sich um die Signalisierung des Geltungsbereichs verschiedener Größen, was weiter noch kurz erörtert werden soll. Das Genitivattribut steht in Opposition zur sog. engen Apposition (die Stadt Rom)'. Sie stellen das Verhältnis zwischen zwei nominalen Größen von einem unterschiedlichen Blickwinkel dar. Das Genitivattribut erfaßt eine nominale Größe als Geltungsbereich einer übergeordneten Größe, die enge Apposition hingegen als Gleichsetzungsbereich einer koordinierten Größe. Einmal sind beide Perspektiven möglich, ein andermal nicht, wie sich noch herausstellen wird. 3. Die Genitivmarkierung selbst hat die Funktion, die Funktion des Genitivattributs, und zwar sowohl die syntaktische als auch die semantische, anzuzeigen. Die Genitivmarkierung wirkt somit als "metalinguistic instruction" (zum Begriff vgl. Nikiforidou 1991: §1.1 mit Verweis auf Kay-Zimmer). Man könnte auch von der prozeduralen Bedeutung der Genitivmarkierung reden (zu diesem Begriff, siehe Wilson—Sperber 1993), indem die Genitivmarkierung, wie jede Kasusmarkierung übrigens, angibt, wie man bei der Deutung der markierten Größe vorzugehen hat. 4. Bei der Interpretation der /N1 Ng/-Konstruktion läßt sich selbstverständlich nicht vom lexikalischen Inhalt beider Größen abstrahieren, d.h. es stellt sich zwangsläufig eine, die konstruktionale Gesamtbedeutung überlagernde und spezifizierende Sonderbedeutung ein, etwa die des Possessiven oder des Partitiven (vgl. jetzt auch Ruijgh 1997: 202). Man könnte die verschiedenen, nach Hauptarten aufgegliederten Sonderbedeutungen des Genitivattributs als dessen thematische Bedeutungen betrachten (dieser Begriff des Thematischen weicht dann allerdings ab von dem, der neuerdings in generativ-grammatischen Arbeiten zur deutschen Nominalphrase Anwendung findet, z.B. in Bhatt 1990: 60ff.; Lindauer 1995: 138ff.). Die Sonderbedeutungen des Genitivattributs sind also zugleich konstruktional und lexikalisch bedingt. Sie bestimmen die Restriktionen, denen die Anwendung des Genitivattributs unterliegt. Denn

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an sich ließe die kontextfreie Gesamtbedeutung der Konstruktion eine praktisch unendliche Zahl von Realisierungen zu. Konventionalisierung der Sonderbedeutungen jedoch schränkt diese Möglichkeiten ein. Die Sonderbedeutungen stellen nämlich die historisch gewachsenen Interpretationsmuster dar, innerhalb derer sich die Verwendung des Genitivattributs zu bewegen hat. Verwandte Sprachen können denn auch unterschiedliche Sonderbedeutungen aufweisen (vgl. lat. scelus viri, dt. ein Scheusal von Mann/*ein Scheusal eines Mannes). Ein metonymisches bzw. metaphorisches Band hält die vielen Sonderbedeutungen zusammen (vgl. Campe 1995 bzw. Nikiforidou 1991: 164ff.) und verbindet diese übrigens auch mit der konstruktionalen Allgemeinbedeutung. Wie sich tatsächlich leicht nachvollziehen läßt, ist jede der eingangs zitierten Genitivfügungen ohne weiteres als Ausdruck des Betreffs zu umschreiben. Es ist also auch kein Zufall, daß in den verschiedenen Sprachen großenteils dieselben Sonderbedeutungen des Genitivattributs begegnen. Die verschiedenen Sonderbedeutungen lassen sich in zwei Gruppen aufteilen, je nachdem nämlich die übergeordnete Ν1-Größe in ihrem Betreff-Verhältnis zur Ng-Größe letztere nur teilweise oder aber gänzlich erfaßt (vgl. das Haus meines Bruders vs. die Tugend der Bescheidenheit). Bei teilweiser Erfassung läßt das Verhältnis zwischen beiden N-Größen neben der (genitivisch markierten) Betreff-Perspektive auch noch eine /ia&en-Perspektive zu (vgl. das Haus meines Bruders: mein Bruder hat ein Haus)', bei völliger Erfassung ist neben der (genitivisch markierten) Betreff-Perspektive eine sem-Perspektive möglich, vgl. die Tugend der Bescheidenheit: die Tugend (um die es geht) ist die Bescheidenheit, Worte des Trostes: Worte, die Trost sind/bedeuten (selbstverständlich impliziert die haben- oder sem-Perpektive nicht, daß die Fügungen immer mit den Verben haben oder sein zu umschreiben sind). Wo die Möglichkeit einer sem-Perspektive besteht, konkurriert die Genitivfügung unter bestimmten (nie klar definierten) Umständen mit einer appositiven Fügung; vgl. das Rätsel des Urknalls/das Rätsel "Urknall" (Duden 1995: §1136), lat. urbs Romae/dt. die Stadt Rom; aber Worte des Trostes/*Worte Trost. Die Genitivattribute, die eine völlige Erfassung beinhalten und somit eine .s^m-Perspektive zulassen, sind die sog. explikativen Genitive. Explikativ sind zunächst die Genitivattribute, die schon immer als solche gekennzeichnet worden sind, wie z.B. in die Tugend der Bescheidenheit, Worte des Trostes, der Wahnsinn des Krieges. Explikativer Art ist aber weiter auch eine Gruppe von Genitivattributen, die herkömmlicherweise als partitive eingestuft werden, solche nämlich, die ganz allgemein die Gattung oder die Materie einer in N1 genannten Menge andeuten, wie z.B. in ein Glas

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roten Weines (im Unterschied also zu ein Glas des/dieses roten Weines mit nicht-kategorialer Angabe im Genitiv). Genitivattribute, die die Gattung als solche bezeichnen wie in ein Glas roten Weines, unterscheiden sich von den partitiven Genitiven, die das umfassende Ganze andeuten, wie in die Hälfte des Geldes, die älteste der Schwestern, ein Glas des roten Weines. Letztere Gruppe ist rein partitiver Art, erstere hingegen läßt eine partitive Sehweise zu (die Menge im Glas als Teil einer Totalität "roter Wein"), daneben aber auch eine explikative, wobei das vom Genitivattribut vertretene Konzept als völlig erfaßt gilt (die Menge im Glas ist selbst roter Wein, besteht aus rotem Wein). Diese Perspektive der völligen Erfassung des Genitivattributs konkurriert also wiederum mit der Perspektive eines sein-Verhältnisses zwischen beiden nominalen Größen, was sich dann gegebenenfalls in einer Fügung mit enger Apposition niederschlägt (ein Glas roten Weines/ein Glas roter Wein). In diesem Fall ist die Apposition neuerdings eine partitive genannt worden (vgl. u.a. Duden 1995: §1139). Diese Bezeichnung ist aber unangebracht, da die appositive Fügung einerseits nicht die Perspektive des Partitiven vertritt und andererseits, wie soeben erörtert, auch nicht ein partitives, sondern ein explikatives Genitivattribut ersetzt. Unrichtig ist es schließlich auch, wenn man den explikativen Genitiv in Fügungen wie die Tugend der Bescheidenheit aufgrund des implizierten ist-Verhältnisses als Genitiv der Identität einstuft. Wie bereits mehrmals betont, stellt das ist- Verhältnis nicht die eigentliche vom Genitivattribut repräsentierte Perspektive dar; es handelt sich bloß um eine konkurrierende Perspektive. Wohl hat das explikative Genitivattribut eine definierende, identifizierende Wirkung, so daß Benennungen wie definierender oder identifizierender Genitiv möglich sind, Benennungen, die nicht notwendigerweise direkt mit einem Iii-Verhältnis verbunden sind. In seiner explikativen Funktion erinnert das explikative Genitivattribut einigermaßen an die Funktion nominaler Klassifikatoren oder Determinatoren, die in negro-afrikanischen Sprachen oder in der altägyptischen und sumerischen Bilderschrift begegnen. 5. Das Genitivattribut kann als solches nur funktionieren, wenn Form und Abhängigkeit deutlich sind. Die erforderliche formale und relationale Transparenz wird von Strukturregeln gewährleistet, wobei man sich natürlich fragen kann, inwieweit diese Regeln von der Forderung nach Transparenz (mit) veranlaßt worden sind. Im heutigen Deutsch gilt eine Strukturregel, wonach ein appellativisches Genitivattribut normaliter nicht ohne dekliniertes Begleitwort auftritt (zur Formulierung der Regel, siehe u.a. Duden 1995:

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§1132). Diese Strukturregel verhindert z.B., daß Fügungen entstehen wie ein Gott Gnade "deus misericordiae", die sich formal in nichts noch von übrigens meist uninterpretierbaren appositiven Fügungen unterscheiden würden. Wahrscheinlich hat das Deutsche auch unter dem Druck der Strukturregel systematisch den bestimmten Artikel in Fügungen mit explikativem Genitivattribut wie die Tugend der Bescheidenheit eingeführt; diese Genitivattribute sind tatsächlich immer kategorialer Art, so daß der Artikel sich hier in determinativer Hinsicht neutral verhält und sich denn auch möglicherweise aus Deutlichkeitsgründen hat einführen lassen (in den entsprechenden "von"Konstruktionen im Englischen und Niederländischen ist der Artikel abwesend). Die relationale Transparenz zwischen N1 und Ng wird durch die Bedingung der strukturellen Nähe (Adjazenzbedingung) sichergestellt. Diese Bedingung macht es z.B. unmöglich, daß eine Konstruktion wie das Haus meines Bruders bei der Schule etwa in das Haus bei der Schule meines Bruders umgestaltet würde, oder daß Subjekts- und Objektsgenitiv zusammen in prä- oder postnominaler Position auftreten (Karls Interpretation des Gedichtes/*Die Interpretation Karls des Gedichtes): Das eine Genitivattribut soll dem anderen in Sachen der Adjazenz den Rang nicht streitig machen! 6. Wenn sich das Genitivattribut nicht innerhalb der geltenden Strukturregeln realisieren läßt und die erforderliche Transparenz somit nicht gewährleistet ist, müssen Ersatzkonstruktionen Abhilfe schaffen. Doch bestimmen auch noch andere Faktoren, auf die hier nicht eingegangen werden kann, das Beibehalten oder den Verlust der Fügung mit Genitivattribut. Zu den Ersatzkonstruktionen zählen u.a. die Zusammensetzung (im Fall der Not/im Notfall), die schon oben erörterte Fügung mit enger Apposition (ein Glas roten Weines/roter Wein), vor allen Dingen aber die Fügung mit von (die Eroberung Galliens/von Gallien (zur Variation Genitiv/vo«, siehe jetzt Campe 1997, die zeigt, daß die Genitivfügung die Interdependenz beider Größen stärker betont als die von-Fügung, was wohl damit zusammenhängen dürfte, daß das Genitivattribut als Ausdruck des Geltungsbereichs der übergeordneten Größe semantisch aufs engste mit letzterer verbunden ist). Die Fügungen mit enger Apposition oder mit von bedeuten gegenüber der Fügung mit Genitivattribut allerdings eine Verlagerung der Perspektive. Wie schon oben erörtert, erfaßt die Fügung mit enger Apposition das Verhältnis zwischen zwei nominalen Größen vom Blickwinkel ihrer Gleichsetzung in einem implizierten ist- Verhältnis, während die Fügung mit Genitivattribut die eine Größe der anderen

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in einem Verhältnis des Betreffs unterordnet; die appositive Größe gilt als Gleichsetzungsbereich, das Genitivattribut als Geltungsbereich. Andererseits erhält sich im Falle einer von-Konstruktion zwar die Perspektive der Unterordnung, die präpositionale Fügung jedoch nimmt, wie auch Jakobson (1936 [1971]: 29) betont, die Beziehung an sich in den Blick, nicht den Bereich dieser Beziehung, wie dies das Genitivattribut tut. 7. In der Umgangssprache tritt gelegentlich anstatt eines possessiven Genitivattributs ein pränominales Dativattribut auf {{dem) Karl/dem Lehrer sein Geld). Meist wird angenommen (siehe Dal 1962: §24, aber auch Verhaar 1997), daß dieses Dativattribut infolge Reanalyse aus sog. ditransitiven (Transfer)-Konstruktionen mit Dativus commodi entstanden ist {(dem) Karl das/sein Geld geben/stehlen), in denen die im indirekten Objekt genannte Person den kontrollierenden Besitz über die im direkten Objekt genannte Größe erlangt oder verliert. Das pränominale Dativattribut bezeichnet tatsächlich eine Person, ggf. ein Tier, als kontrollierenden Besitzer des in der regierenden NP Genannten. Das possessive Dativattribut deckt folglich nur einen beschränkten, dafür aber vielleicht den bedeutendsten und prototypischen Verwendungsbereich des possessiven Genitivattributs ab. In Konstruktionen mit pränominalem Dativattribut wird das Hauptnomen immer vom Possessivpronomen begleitet; letzteres ist außerdem koreferentiell mit der vom Dativattribut bezeichneten Person verbunden. Das Dativattribut kann folglich als die Explizierung des in der regierenden NP nur pronominal und somit nur vage bezeichneten Besitzers gelten (vgl. sein Geld vs. dem Karl sein Geld). Da es sich um eine Explizierung handelt, wären Dativattribute der 1. oder 2. Person redundant und sie kommen denn auch nicht vor (vgl. dem Karl sein Geld wurde gestohlen; *mir mein Geld/ *dir dein Geld ...). Dies mag dann wiederum dazu geführt haben, daß Personalpronomina in der Regel nicht als Dativattribut auftreten {*mir mein Geld, *dir dein Geld > *ihm sein Geld; wohl dem/wem sein Geld). Die Expliziering des in der Haupt-NP mittels Possessivum nur vage angegebenen Besitzers {sein Geld) durch das Dativattribut {dem Karl sein Geld) ließe sich einigermaßen vergleichen mit der (im Deutschen systematischen) Explizierung der von der Verbalendung markierten Person durch das Verbsubjekt {*sing-t/er sing-t). Wenn das pränominale Dativattribut die Funktion hat, das in der Haupt-NP enthaltene Possessivum zu explizieren, so impliziert dies, daß das Attribut sich strukturell auf das Possessivum bezieht {(dem Karl) sein), nicht auf die ganze übergeordnete NP (*(dem Karl) sein

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Geld) (siehe dazu jetzt aber Verhaar 1997: 95). Das Dativattribut stellt m.a.W. den Geltungsbereich des in der übergeordneten NP enthaltenen Possessivums dar. Im Falle eines pränominalen Dativattributs erübrigt sich die Frage nach Allgemein- und Sonderbedeutung: Die possessive Bedeutung des Dativattributs ist konstruktional, und zwar durch dessen Abhängigkeit vom Possessivum bedingt und diese Abhängigkeit läßt keine weitere spezifizierende Sonderbedeutung zu. Das Dativattribut im Deutschen fungiert somit ebensogut wie das Genitivattribut als Geltungsbereich der ihm übergeordneten Größe. Die adnominalen Kasus markieren m.a.W. generell den semantischen Bereich oder Skopus einer nominalen Größe. An sich dürfte zur Definition von Kasus dieses nicht weiter differenzierte Konzept des Geltungsbereichs nicht weniger interessant sein als dasjenige des Attributs, das ihm auf formalsyntaktischer Seite gegenübersteht. Noch interessanter wird es natürlich, wenn etwa im adverbalen Bereich die Kasusmarkierung verschiedene Aspekte ein und desselben Geltungsbereichs erfaßt. Dies läßt sich hier aber nicht weiter verfolgen. Literatur Bhatt, Christa 1990 Die syntaktische Struktur der Nominalphrase im Deutschen. Tübingen: Narr. Brinkmann, Hennig 1962 Die deutsche Sprache. Gestalt und Leistung. Düsseldorf: Schwann. Campe, Petra 1995 Towards a unifying appoach to the adnominal genitive in Modern German. Duisburg: L.A.U.D. 1997 "Genitives and vo/i-datives in German: A case of free variation?" in: Marjolein Verspoor—Kee Dong Lee—Eve Sweetser (eds.), Lexical and syntactical construction and the construction of meaning, 165185. Amsterdam: Benjamins. Dal, Ingerid 1962 Kurze deutsche Syntax auf historischer Grundlage. Tübingen: Niemeyer. Duden 1995 Grammatik der deutschen Gegenwartssprache. Mannheim: Dudenverlag. Eisenberg, Peter 1989 Grundriß der deutschen Grammatik. Stuttgart: Metzler. Glinz, Hans 1962 Die innere Form des Deutschen. Bern: Francke.

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Heibig, Gerhard—Joachim Buscha 1972 Deutsche Grammatik: Ein Handbuch fiir den Ausländerunterricht. Leipzig: Verlag Enzyklopädie. Jakobson, Roman 1936 "Beitrag zur allgemeinen Kasuslehre: Gesamtbedeutungen der russischen Kasus", Travaux du Cercle Linguistique de Prague 6: 240288. [1971] [Reprinted in: Selected writings. II. Words and language, 23-71. The Hague: Mouton.] Jung, Walter 1967 Grammatik der deutschen Sprache. Leipzig: Bibliographisches Institut. Lindauer, Thomas 1995 Genitivattribute: Eine morpho-syntaktische Untersuchung zum deutschen DP/NΡ-System. Tübingen: Niemeyer. Nikiforidou, Kiki 1991 "Meanings of the genitive: A case study in semantic structure", Cognitive Linguistics 2: 149-205. Ruijgh, C. J. 1997 "Schets van de semantische samenhang tussen de gebruikswijzen van de Oudgriekse genitief en het Nederlandse voorzetsel van", in: Els Elffers-van Ketel—Joop van der Horst—Wim Klooster (eds.), Grammatikaal spektakel: Festschrift J. Schermer-Vermeer, 191-204. Amsterdam: Universiteit van Amsterdam. Schmidt, Wilhelm 1965 Grundlagen der deutschen Grammatik. Berlin:Volk und Wissen. Taylor, John R. 1989 Linguistic Categorization. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Verhaar, John W. M.. 1997 "Head-marked possessive phrases in Dutch", Leuvense Bijdragen 86: 89-108. Willems, Klaas 1997 Kasus, grammatische Bedeutung und kognitive Linguistik. Tübingen: Narr. Wilson, Deirdre—Dan Sperber 1993 "Linguistic form and relevance", Lingua 90: 1-25.

Vocative case and pronoun in Ancient Greek and Latin Gerard Mussies

1. Introduction In contradistinction to names, substantives and adjectives the demonstrative and other pronouns in Latin, Greek, and the further IndoEuropean languages had and have no special vocative forms. One looks therefore in vain in Greek for such a word as *ούτε by the side of the nominative ούτος 'this' but there is one exception. A vocative ώ έ κ ε ι ν ε does indeed occur in a list which enumerates the case categories of the demonstrative έ κ ε ΐ ν ο ς 'yonder' in the so-called Scholia Marciana, a commentary on the grammar of Dionysius Thrax (Hilgard 1901: 424). This vocative is attested nowhere else and probably owes its very existence only to what might be termed "completism". By this we mean the inclination of several ancient grammarians to make their paradigms as complete as possible, irrespective of the actual existence or regular occurrence of the forms with which they filled them. 1 That this vocative έ κ ε ι ν ε is neglected by the modern lexicography and grammar of Ancient Greek, is therefore justified, but not that both the standard grammars of the classical languages in their general surveys of the pronouns omit to mention the consistent absence of vocatives (Schwyzer 1939: 599600; Hofmann—Szantyr 1965: 23). As a consequence, any further discussion or explanation of this matter can hardly be expected there, perhaps because it is felt to be so self evident as to need no special explanation. In this respect, however, the grammarians in antiquity were ahead of modern scholarship, for some of them not only explicitly signalled the absence of vocatives in pronominal paradigms, but also tried to explain it.

2. Varro The observation about the lacking vocative seems to have been worded for the first time by the Roman M. Terentius Varro (116-27 B.C.) in a work entitled On the Latin language, which he composed and dedicated to Cicero around 45 B.C., when he himself had settled

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down from a long political and military career, which had lasted for over forty years and taken him all over the empire. During this career he had already written on the most diverse scientific subjects, until finally his total oeuvre must have numbered well over sixty titles, the surviving list being demonstrably incomplete. For this he truly deserved and still deserves to be called a universal scholar, as it was also acknowledged by Seneca, Quintilian, Augustine and Petrarca, who referred to him as the "doctissimus" or "eruditissimus Romanorum", and as "terzo gran lume Romano". This linguistic work deals, as far as it is extant, with the etymology of words and the problem of irregularity in language. In a way Varro was here a forerunner of the modern discipline of general linguistics, for he does not only deal with Latin and Greek, but also adduces facts from such languages as Phoenician, Egyptian and Gallic (e.g. 8.65, 68). In that part of the work then where he discusses the irregularity of language, he makes about the word class of the "articles" the remark that in addition to their highly aberrant declension they have only five cases, because the vocatives (vocandi casus) are consistently missing (10.19, 30). At first sight one wonders why a Roman should discuss at all what are nowadays called "articles", since these short but helpful words are so conspicuously absent from Latin. Could not Quintilian simply say "noster sermo articulos non desiderat" (Inst. 1.4.19), to the displeasure of many a modern pupil who has or had to translate Tacitus? But Varro, to be true, clearly had here something else in mind than that, for he instances these articles of his by hie, haec, quis and quae, words that we would now certainly class as pronouns. The grammatical status of these articles as opposed to other words is shown in the brief survey of the parts of speech {partes orationis) which he presents in the eighth book. He divides there the "appellatives" (partes ... appellandi) or words that have cases, into four kinds: "those that are called by some provocabula like quis, quae, the vocabula like scutum, gladius, the nomina like Romulus, Remus, and thepronomina like hie, haec." To the vocabula and nomina together he assigns the common term "nominatus" or "denominations", to the provocabula and the pronomina that of "articuli" or "joints", quis and quae being "indefinite" (infinita) together with the "as it were (ut) indefinite" vocabula, and hie and haec "definite" (finita) together with the "as it were (ut) definite" nomina (8.44-45; cf. 10.18); the "vocabula" comprise not only substantives, as his instances might suggest, but also adjectives (8.46-47). Since we now know what he means by "articles" in his statement about the missing vocative (10.30), one wonders how he would have appreciated line 634 of the Adelphoe of Terentius, a play with which he was well acquainted (cf. 6.69, 7.84): aperite aliquis actutum ostium 'open up the door,

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someone of you, immediately'. Here the playwright used aliquis, an "indefinite article", in an address. To be true, this classification serves only a practical purpose in its present context, for Varro merely uses it to subdivide the examples which he adduces when showing his readers that there is nowhere regularity in language: nusquam esse analogias (8.47). He probably supposes it to be evident as such, for he does not furnish it with any further comment. Some caution is here in place, though, for one should appreciate the fact that only five of the original twenty-five books that constituted this work have survived—often in a lacunary state at that—and that Varro wrote four further linguistic treatises that are no longer extant. We may therefore well have lost such an explanatory account. From the paragraphs following upon this classification some additional facts, however, become apparent. As further instances of "definite articles" he gives the demonstrative/ personal pronoun is and the demonstrative iste (8.51, 10.50). The first question is how quis and quae, which figure among his examples, should be considered, as constituting three different pronouns or one only? Where Varro discusses the irregularity of the indefinite articles (8.50), he says that in order to be regular the feminine nominative should be bona dea qua instead of quae, and the dative bonae deae quae instead of cui, which makes it clear that he sees quae here as a relative pronoun. Then he goes on to say that in the paradigm of quis the masculine nominative plural should not be qui homines but rather ques , and here the pronoun might as well be interrogative or indefinite. 2 Taken together the instances suggest that in all likelihood he considered these three different pronouns as constituting one word. Even so, it is not clear why especially quis should be a provocabulum and hie a pronomen, for both could be syntactically combined with substantives as well as with names, or be used independently for either of them. This use "instead of noun or name" can only be inferred from Varro's terminology, for "provocabulum" and "pronomen" stand for "pro vocabulo" and "pro nomine", 3 but it is nowhere explained. He touches upon it only in connection with the phrase hie nequam 'this bad man', where a declinable pronoun is combined with the indeclinable adjective nequam 'bad, depraved': For when we say hie nequam and huius nequam then we are pronouncing (dicimus) cases of this man whom we want to show to be bad, and we then place hie before it, (as) the 'name' (non) of the one whose badness we are considering (10.80).

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This remark does not well illustrate the principle of the pronoun's general function, because Varro pursues here another purpose, and wishes to show that this indeclinable word could perform the same tasks as any declined adjective in all its cases. He certainly does not imply that hie nequam has taken the place of e.g. *Marcus nequam, if such a combination were possible at all. The dictionaries have only instances of nequam with substantives, e.g. Martial 3.69.5 nequam iuuenes 'naughty youths' (Glare 1982: 1171a), and it does not say much for Ancient Latin that in Medieval England the encyclopedic scholar Alexander Neckam (1157-1217) was called "Alexander Nequam", probably a pun or a nickname. Moreover, as the angular brackets in the text edition indicate, the word non is not wholly certain as it has been supplied, however convincingly, for the manuscript has only non (from nöril) (Kent 1958: 592). As it is, his seeming curtness and the sparsity of his examples is certainly the reason why modern scholarship has been equally brief or even silent on his system or on its combined use of the terms "article" and "pronoun" for is, hie, etc. In his survey of ancient and medieval grammar, Robins says that Varro's classification of the parts of speech "can scarcely be substantiated without much more elaboration than he gives" (1951: 55), and such scholars as Dahlmann (1932) and Taylor (1975), who have devoted special monographs to his grammatical method and view of language, do not comment on it at all. Nevertheless, as it now stands this system asks for some comment. First of all it is not made explicit, where such pronouns as ego and tu would have to be classed, but in all likelihood he considered these as definite articles. As late as the 2nd c. A.D. the Alexandrian grammarian Apollonius Dyscolus can still remark: The Stoics call also the pronouns "articles" (άρθρα καλοΰσι και τάς αντωνυμίας), which are different from our articles (i.e. the definite articles and the relative pronouns), insofar as some (ταΰτα μεν) are definite, others ( ε κ ε ί ν α δέ) indefinite (Pron. 4b).

This would be quite in line with the distinction made within the articles by Varro, whose grammatical education had been in the hands of a Stoic scholar, L. Aelius Stilo. As "the pronouns" comprise in Apollonius' own work our personal, possessive and demonstrative pronouns, his statement may imply that the Stoa considered these three all as articles. The grammatical terms which Varro uses, "articulus", "provocabulum", "pronomen" and "vocandi casus" occur here for the first time in the Latin grammatical literature that we possess, but his wording

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clearly implies that he had not coined these himself, but owed them to others. The works of any such predecessors, however, and notably that of his own teacher Stilo, are lost except for a few fragments, but there can be little doubt that they had created their terminology after Greek models. "Articulus" was the literal translation of άρθρον and meant likewise "joint"; the two "pro"-terms were evidently loan translations of αντωνυμία or άντονομασία, less likely of the little used άντώνυμον, which can all three be similarly glossed, as "instead-of-a-name word"; the "vocandi casus" and also the 2nd c. A.D. "vocativus" literally rendered the Greek term κλητική, and not the more appropriate προσαγορευτική or "addressive", which went back at least to the Stoic Chrysippus (c. 280-207 B.C., see Diogenes Laertius 7.66). The contexts of all these terms in the Greek grammatical tradition preceding Varro contains, however, no explicit statements about the absence of the vocative in either articles or pronouns. On the contrary, although in a very indirect way, they rather seem to point in the opposite direction. The contexts of the Greek term άρθρον make it first of all clear that it covered on the one hand more and on the other hand less than Varro's "articulus". His teacher Stilo had been the pupil of no one less than the famous Dionysius Thrax of Alexandria (c. 170-90 B.C.), whose short but very influential Techne (Grammatike) is the first "grammar" that has come down to us from Antiquity, and also the only one before Varro that we know of. Dionysius divides what he calls the άρθρον into the "prepositive article" ό (our definite article), and the "postpositive article" ος (Varro's "provocabulum", our relative pronoun). The Latin and Greek terms for "joint" had therefore in common that both indicated the relative pronouns, whereas the Greek term included also the definite article, and the Latin term also the demonstrative pronoun. If we now look for any remarks about the vocative case in this connection, we see the curious fact that Dionysius enumerates among the cases of the definite article a vocative, namely ώ, the particle that so often precedes in Greek the vocatives of personal names and substantives (Techne §16). In a way, this runs contrary to Varro's observation, except for the fact that Latin has nothing corresponding to the Greek definite article. As Dionysius mentions only one word of the whole paradigm of the "postpositive article" or relative, namely the masculine singular nominative ος, one cannot know if he also assigned a vocative to this pronoun. The Greek words that correspond to the rest of Varro's articles, that is to the interrogative and indefinite pronouns quis and quae and the demonstratives is, hie and iste, are found elsewhere in Dionysius' work. The Greek interrogative τίς with its corresponding adjectives

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ποίος, πόσος, πηλίκος, and the indefinite όστις with όποιος, όπόσος, όπηλίκος, have been assigned a place by him in the section devoted to the noun (όνομα), which he defines as a class of words having five cases, that is inclusive of the vocative. This suggests that he believed that they had the vocative case in common with the substantives, names and adjectives, with which they are now classed. He also lists here the correlated demonstrative adjectives τοιούτος, τόσος, τηλίκος, but he strikingly omits to mention here the corresponding οΰτος (§12. 12-14). The easiest way to solve this problem is to assume that its absence here is simply due to an inadvertent omission, that is to a scribal error, for otherwise none of the three Greek demonstrative pronouns would have figured anywhere in the Techne. If οΰτος really occurred here originally, the application by Varro of the term "article" to the demonstrative did not stem from Dionysius, but from some other Greek, or else it was a Roman invention, his own or someone else's, the nearest equivalents of the Greek definite article in Latin being considered the demonstrative pronouns. 4 There is, however, yet another possibility. Dionysius' "grammar" looks very much like a summary of a more encompassing work, and is in its present state rather sparing with examples. It mentions, for instance, only the masc. nom. sg. ος, to instance the whole paradigm of the "postpositive article" (relative pronoun), only the nominatives singular of the definite article to illustrate the genders, and so on. If, at first sight then, the demonstratives seem to be completely absent, one should bear in mind that for the ancients the model of Greek was Homer's language. Dionysius can therefore produce several instances from Homeric Greek, such as the wholly antiquated dual pronouns νώι and σφώι, which no longer belonged to the spoken language of his day. So similarly, his ό and ος may have here also their Homeric values. As is well known Homer still used both the article and the relative to a large extent as demonstratives, the article even so in final position e.g, Od. 10.73-74 άποπέμπειν I άνδρα τόν, ος κε θ ε ο ΐ σ ι ν άπέχθηται, and the same holds good of ό δέ, όδε and ός δε. Their mutual distinction was certainly not always obvious in the scriptio continua of majuscle writing, except for the unambiguous plural dative τοίσδεσι, and in all probability these were all three considered to be just combinations of one of the articles with the "conjunction" δέ (§20.8). And so Dionysius' example ό probably includes in all likelihood as well ό δέ as οδε, the near-by demonstrative. Apollonius Dyscolus seems to corroborate such an assumption. In his work On the Pronoun he refers to Dionysius Thrax and Apollodorus of Athens (c. 180 - after 120/119 B.C.) for their definition of the pronouns as demonstrative articles: "both Apollodorus the Athenian as well as the Thracian Dionysius called the pronouns also demonstrative articles"

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(καί άρθρα δεικτικά τάς αντωνυμίας έκάλεσαν) (Pron. 4b). "Pronouns" probably refers here to the totality of Apollonius' own pronouns, that is to έγώ, σύ, έμός, σός, etc., and όδε, ούτος, εκείνος. The former are also in the Techne classed as "pronouns" (άντωνυμίαι), and defined as words "used instead of (άντί) a name/noun (όνομα)", which is not further elaborated, and as "indicative of definite persons" (§17 πρόσωπα, literally 'faces', then also 'masks', 'roles'). Dionysius owed the notion "pronoun" to his teacher Aristarchus (Pron. lc), who may perhaps be credited with having coined the term. The word καί in Apollonius' remark may then be understood in this sense that Dionysius called Apollonius' pronouns likewise "pronouns", but also "deictic articles".^ Apparently, then, Apollonius found his own demonstratives mentioned somewhere among Dionysius' articles, either in the Techne, or in any other works now lost. To sum up, only Varro's use of "articulus" for the demonstrative and relative pronouns can be said to go back to Dionysius Thrax, whereas his inclusion in it of the interrogative and indefinite pronouns does not, but may be due to the the homonymy of the Latin relative and the other two. The alternative indications "provocabulum" and "pronomen" for all these is wholly new, and may well have started with Varro himself. Shortly afterwards he was followed in this respect by Dionysius of Halicarnassus, who in passing calls τουτονί a "pronoun" in his treatise On literary composition §6. After him Apollonius Dyscolus definitely called the demonstratives "pronouns" only and no longer or not also "articles".

3. After Varro Since a number of questions raised by Varro's statements and classification remain unanswered we shall now see how scholars after him, mainly Apollonius Dyscolus and some Byzantine commentators or "scholiasts" of the Techne, comment on these matters. According to the former the pronouns έγώ and σύ are used with 1st and 2nd person verbs instead of personal names, but not instead of appellative substantives and adjectives. This is so because a sentence like Άπολλω' νιος γράφω is "incongruous" (άκατάλληλον), or "ungrammatical" as Householder (1981: 101) translates, and even impossible according to Heliodorus (after 8th c.); the 3rd person pronoun αύτός can be used by way of "reference" (αναφορά) for a personal name figuring in the preceding context, as in II. 13.1-4 : 'When Zeus had brought the Trojans ... he (αύτός) turned his eyes aside ...'; the demonstrative ούτος can replace the articulate substantive in e.g. ό ϊππος με

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λακτίζει 'the horse kicks me'. "Reference" is circumscribed by Apollonius as a procedure "through which names that have already been mentioned are repeated (άναπολούμενα) by way of substitution (άντονομάζεται)", by Heliodorus as "repetition of a known thing (πράγματος)". According to the latter the lst/2nd person pronouns have deixis only, the 3rd person pronoun αυτός reference only, while the demonstratives combine deixis and reference. 6 The specific substitution of proper names and substantives by the pronouns is here different from that in Varro's classification, but likewise not wholly justified: why can σύ not resume a previously occurring vocative substantive like πάτερ, and ούτος not a previously used personal name? With regard to the vocatives Apollonius Dyscolus not only mentions their absence, but also endeavours to offer explanations for it. As to the verbal persons he seems to be quite aware of the fact that the 3rd person is the one that is neither addressing nor being addressed. He formulates this, however, as follows: "(One should speak of) the third person in the (τη ) which is neither addressing (μήτε προσφωνούση) nor being addressed (μήτε προσφωνουμένη)" ( P r o n . 22b). Here some phrase like "about the one who", which indeed figures in the foregoing definitions of the 1st and 2nd persons, should be inserted after "in the ", and the participles brought into congruity with it.7 Gregory Choeroboscus (c. 750-825) rephrased this passage into "the third person is the one of whom the utterance speaks and who is neither addressing (μήτε προσφωνοΰντος) nor being addressed (μήτε προσφωνουμένου)". This comes already close to the modern theory about the participants of the speech act as developed, for instance, in Benveniste's well-known articles on the nature of the pronouns and the persons of the verb, the most important insight being that the 3rd person is not really an actor in the speech act at all, but rather a non-participant outsider. The speaker of the sentence in which the demonstratives occur (the 1 st person) uses these to point things out to the addressee or 2nd person, and so these things pointed out cannot [also speak orl also be addressed in this same sentence. 8 It is obvious that this incompatibility or mutual exclusion has originally blocked the formation of such a thing as "a vocative of a demonstrative". One wonders then why Apollonius when speaking about the nonexistence of the vocatives of the demonstrative pronouns αυτός and εκείνος did not make use of his own definition of the 3rd person, by simply saying that demonstratives are by nature and of necessity 3rd and never 2nd persons, and cannot therefore have vocatives? As it is, there was a compelling reason for Apollonius not to do so, for he he also had to acount here for one of the most peculiar idioms

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of the Greek language. This is the use of the nominative of the demonstrative pointing to the vicinity of the 2nd person, with or without preceding 'oh', as a form of address, or (ώ) αύτη and (ώ) ούτος used as vocatives. The instances range from Aeschylus (525/24-456 B.C.) ούτος τί ποιείς; 'You there, what are you doing?' (Supplices 911),9 or his contemporary, the mimographer Sophron of Syracuse (c. 520-c. 423 B.C.) ω ούτος, ή οϊη ...; 'You there, do you think perhaps that ...?' (frg. 23 Ahrens), to as late an author as the medieval Eustathius (t 1195/97). 10 Literally Apollonius says the following (Pron. 25a-c): If the vocative (κλητική) is the calling (έστι κλήσις) of those nearby (at hearing distance), then rightly neither the first person pronouns have a vocative, for they speak about themselves,^ nor have (those of) the 3rd persons, because they are either absent, when used anaphorically, like αυτός and έκεΐνος [follows quotation of Od. 4.145 where κ ε ί ν ο ς indeed refers to the absent Odysseus], or are pointed to from a distance, as by εκείνος, which does not allow a vocative, and the proof of this is that the pronoun ούτος can also be placed in a call (έπί κλήσεως), in accordance with its indicating proximity [follows the above passage Sophron frg. 23].

And so, by a rather literal interpretation of the term "κλητική/ vocative", the use of the demonstrative ούτος as an address is said to be possible because this pronoun calls someone who can actually hear the call, in contradistinction to the far-away demonstrative έκεΐνος. 1 2 4. Modern discussion Dickey (1996: 154-158) has lately analysed the various shades of meaning of this form of address up to the 2nd c. A.D. For the comedian Aristophanes in the 5th c. B.C. the meaning came close to an informal 'hey you', which did not necessarily have a negative connotation, as has often been stated. For Lucian, however, in the 2nd c. A.D. it rather expressed the speaker's astonishment and was at the same time slightly scornful. She offers no explanation of the phenomenon itself, but ends her discussion by saying: "The problem of how a deictic pronoun like ούτος became an address with the meaning it has is a difficult one". For this she refers to the analysis of Svennung and his conclusion that this use of ούτος had arisen as an apposition (1958: 208-212). Indeed his is the only modern discussion of it that has some length, for before him the standard grammars had briefly explained all such instances as exclamations and as apposi-

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tions to exclamations respectively (Kühner—Gerth 1898: 1.46.4), or offered no explanation but described them as "approaching the vocative" (Schwyzer 1939: 600; cf. Schwyzer—Debrunner 1950: 208). In Svennung's study the discussion of it has, however, another purpose, which is the explanation of the nominative used "as or instead of" the vocative. Properly speaking this covers two different cases : a) the existence of a combined nominative-vocative in a paradigm, such as κήρυξ; b) the use of a nominative for an available vocative, such as φίλος for φίλε in II 4.189 φίλος ώ Μενέλαε, which may have arisen on the analogy of a). The use of ούτος as a vocative belongs clearly under a), but the question we want to solve is not why it is that there is always syncretization 13 of the vocative and nominative functions in one form category, where separate vocatives and nominatives do not exist, without exception so in the Greek plural, 14 but rather how a typically 3rd person word like ούτος could have come to be used in an address. Svennung makes a subdivision into five uses: a) appositional to σύ, e.g.: αύτη σύ, ποΐ στρέφει; (Aristophanes, Thesm. 610) 'hey you there, where are you going?' b) with σύ and additional vocative, e.g.: ούτος σύ, πρέσβυ, δεύρό μοι φώνει βλέπων (Sophocles, Ο. Γ. 1121) 'you there, old man, look here and tell me' c) with vocative only, e.g.: βέντισθ' ούτος, έγώ μεν άλαθέα πάντ' αγορεύω (Theocritus, 5.76) 'my dearest friend, all things I tell are true' d) appositional to the 2nd person in the verb or independent of a 2nd person, e.g.: έπίσχες ούτος (Aristophanes, Ranae 522) 'hold it there'

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ούτος, σέ καλώ (Aristophanes, Aves 658) 'you there, I call you1; (Kydoimos) Ούτος, 'you there' (Polemos) τί έστιν; (Aristophanes, Pax 267) 'what?' e) "Finally" a nominative of a name or substantive was added, e.g.: ώ ούτος Α'ίας, δεύτερον σε προσκαλώ (Sophocles, Aias 89) 'you there, Ajax, for the second time I call you' This sequence of instances moves from those where the addressing demonstrative is accompanied by a parallel addressing noun a) + σύ, b) + σύ and vocative, c) + vocative), via d) a conglomerate of different cases without such a parallel noun (+ 2nd person verb, or + σέ, or isolated), to e) where the word "finally" seems to indicate some kind of summit, the demonstrative accompanied by a nominative name or substantive. This, however, hardly mirrors the historical development, for it is rather d) Aristophanes Pax 267 that may be seen as the "final" stage, where the demonstrative is a completely independently addressing word. It may well be, however, that the syntactic context from which Svennung supposes the usage to have arisen, was a 2nd person non-imperative verb with ούτος as a determiner of the subject, as in II. 10.82 τίς δ' ούτος κατά νήας άνά στρατόν έρχεαι οίος; 'who art thou there that comest near the ships into the camp all alone?' Here he considers τίς to be the predicate and ούτος an apposition to the 2nd person expressed in the verb. One would rather think the interrogative, the demonstrative and "alone" to have here a parallel relation with the 2nd person. But however this may be, one can imagine that such a demonstrative became equivalent to an address as soon as the verb became here an imperative. This cannot, however, be all, for in such a sentence as II. 10.82 the demonstrative is still used in a peculiar way which needs to be explained. More or less in passing it is remarked by Svennung that in all these instances the meaning of the demonstrative has "faded" into "da" (1958: 211), and that one uses "other means" to translate it into a modern language, namely adverbs such as "hier; da; dort" (1958: 212). Indeed the lexicon of Liddell—Scott—Jones has under the lemma of each of the three Greek demonstratives a special section devoted to this so-called "adverbial" use. 15 Schwyzer—Debrunner (1950: 210) describe such demonstratives, to which they also reckon

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specific instances of Homeric ό δέ, as "zugleich auf ein nominales Satzglied und auf eine Verbalform bezogen". It seems inevitable that for demonstratives to be used in addresses they first had to have or to have developed this special aspect of meaning in 3rd person contexts. As a sample instance of such an "adverbial" οδε we take II. 5.174-175 αλλ' άγε, τώδ' εφες άνδρί βέλος, Διι χείρας άνασχών, | όστις οδε κρατέει... 'But come on, lift up your hands (in prayer) to Zeus and and shoot an arrow at this man who holds sway here '. This instance is especially illustrative because the "man" has already been identified by the first demonstrative τώδ', after which in the explicative relative clause the following demonstrative οδε is hardly likely to have exactly the same force. About the same applies to Od. 1.185 where Odysseus, having mentioned his ship in line 182, says: νήυς δέ μοι ήδε έστηκεν έπι χθονός νόσφι πόληος 'my ship stands here on the shore, far from the town'. The hero does not oppose here 'this ship' as opposed to another one. Similar instances of ούτος are Euripides Hecuba 501-502 έα, τίς οΰτος σώμα τοΰμόν ούκ έφ I κεισθαι; 'who here does not allow my body to rest?', and Xenophon Anabasis 3.5.9 (v.l.) πολλά όρώ ταΰτα πρόβατα Ί see many sheep there', although this, if needs be, can also be interpreted as 'as many I see those sheep'. Apparently what has happened in these 3rd person contexts is that the demonstratives no longer individualize, but have become pure attributes, shifting in sense from 'the one here' to something like 'being here' or 'who/which is here'. This shift is a precondition for the demonstrative to be used in addresses, because it does not oppose there one addressee to another addressee.16 Similarly, the 3rd person αύτός in an address could occur only if its meaning had switched to 'self as in Od. 10.405 αύτός δ' α'ίψ' Ιέναι 'and go quickly (your-) self, with infinitive used as command; compare also such compounds as σεαυτόν 'you yourself'. This transitional shade of meaning of the demonstratives may be a secondary development, but has also been claimed as a relic, a residual aspect of meaning, due to their alleged eventual origin as adverbial particles (Schwyzer— Debrunner 1950: 600.4). ^ This may have parallels in non-IndoEuropean languages and, finally, offers an opportunity to mention Austronesian. The only possible parallel that I, as a pure dilettant, came across, does not stem from Javanese, however, but from (Malakka) Malay. The so-called adverbial use of the Greek demonstrative discussed above might have a parallel there in such phrases as di Kuala Lumpur ini 'here in Kuala Lumpur', literally 'in this Kuala Lumpur' (Dodds 1977: 10), whereas its use in an address might be compared with the combination of ini 'this' and awak 'you' in awak ini, which does not mean 'hey you here', but serves "simply to give 'you' a more familiar tone" (Dodds 1977: 14).18 Though se-

Vocative case and pronoun in Ancient Greek and Latin

SI 1

mantically different this idiom seems formally at least to come close enough to adduce it in this connection. Notes 1.

2.

3.

4.

5.

6.

Another instance of completism is the middle 1st person dual ending -μεθον, which some inserted wherever they could in the verb paradigm (Uhlig 1883: 126-131), although all in all only one such form occurs now in Homer and two more in Sophocles' plays. The functional division between an interrogative-indefinite quis with sigmatic nominative, and a relative qui without it, as suggested by many school grammars, was never of an absolute nature in actual speech, see Hofmann— Szantyr (1965: 554), Leumann (1963: 157, 289), and Sommer (1914: 435). Morphologically these terms are of the same structure as the much more frequent word proconsul as used by Livy, e.g. Tuditanum proconsulem in Citeriore Hispania proelio victum (33.25.9). Historically it had arisen as a contraction of the prepositional phrase pro consule, which meant "instead of and with the full authority of a consul" and was also used by Livy, e.g. ut... pro consule rem gereret (8.23.12). In about a similar way (Cantonese) Chinese people in Holland when they learn to speak Dutch at first often substitute the demonstrative pronoun for the unfamiliar definite article, which has no exact counterpart in their vernacular. This passage has usually been read as an alternative definition by Dionysius of the pronoun, besides the one given in Techne §17. The alleged discrepancy between these two "definitions" has induced several classical and medieval commentators, who even stated that "according to some Dionysius unified (συνήπτε) the article and the pronoun", to doubt his authorship of the Techne (Hilgard 1901: 160.27-28), and many modern scholars to consider at least parts of it as spurious. This spurious part would cover, for instance, §6-20 according to Di Benedetto (1959: 87-118), and §11-20 according to Lallot (1989: 25-26), and it is then supposed to reflect the grammatical theories of the three centuries subsequent to Dionysius (1st cent. B.C.—2nd cent. A.D.). But if, as claimed, the part where the pronoun is defined by means of the notion "person" (§17), were not by the hand of Dionysius, and he had defined the pronouns only as deictic articles, there would have been a break with his own teacher Aristarchus, for his definition of it also included the notion of person. Our tentative solution of the question "pronoun/article" removes this discrepancy and supports his authorship. Two further such alleged discrepancies between what he says in the Techne and what others report as statements of his can be dismissed as still less convincing. For further support of Dionysius' authorship see Fuhrmann (1960: 29.2), Robins (1993: 41-44). Apollonius Pron. 32a-c, On Syntax 2.8-9, 46-47; Heliodorus Hilgard (1901: 68, 77-78). Contrary to Heliodorus' remark such combinations as Θέων ...

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7.

8.

9. 10.

11.

12.

13. 14.

15. 16.

Gerard Mussies έγραψα Ί Theon have written' (P. Oxy. 1198.34) and Αυρήλιος ... παρείληφα Ί Aurelius have received' (P. Lips. 28.26-27), etc., are quite numerous in the Greco-Egyptian papyri. Literature also provides us with instances like Θεμιστοκλής ήκω παρά σέ (Thuc. 1.137; cf. Euripides Bacchae 1-3). As it stands, the subunderstood word has wrongly attracted the two participles, which are now in the feminine dative, but should be in the masculine genitive. The only case where a person pointed out in the sentence is also its speaker or addressee is precisely the indication of the 1st or 2nd person, either by independent pronoun or personal ending in verb or substantive, which may be accompanied by a physically pointing gesture. First persons are seemingly addressed in such phrases as ώ τάλας έγώ (Sophocles O.C. 1338), ώ τάλαιν' έγώ (Aeschylus Ch. 743), ώ τάλανες ήμεΐς (4 Macc. 8.17), but their contexts make it clear that they are exclamative. "Du da, was machst du da?" as translated by Werner (1969: 545). To be true this idiom was not only found in Greek but also in Sanskrit, as is shown by the "adverbial" sä in Rigveda 1.94.16 sä tväm Agne 'oh thou Agni here', etc. Maybe emphatic, "because they speak about (and not fo?) themselves". Heliodorus explains: "no one calls himself" (Hilgard 1901: 81). The 2nd person pronoun σύ was considered to be vocative and nominative (Dionysius Thrax §17; Apollonius Dyscolus Pron 65a-c), or vocative only (Tryphon, late 1st cent. B.C.). Apollonius may also have known, although he does not mention it, the use of τις in an address, as in Euripides Bacchae 173 ϊτω τις είσάγγελλε ... 'go, someone (of you), annnounce ...', which contains itself the transition from 3rd to 2nd person, and is explained by Kühner—Gerth (1898: 1 85-86) as "an indefinite person but present with the speaker". For this term see Greenberg (1980: 27). The form distinction made in Sanskrit and Old Irish between plural vocatives and nominatives is held to be a secondary development see Schwyzer— Debrunner (1950 : 59.3). Liddell—Scott—Jones (1968: 1197 j.v. οδε 2-3, 1276 5. v. ούτος C.I.5, 505 ί.ν. εκείνος 4). Mutatis mutandis this also holds for the use of οδε in combination with έγώ and even without it as in Odyssey 16.205 οδ' έγώ ... ήλυθον 'here am I come', and Herodotus 1.115 οδε τοι πάρειμι 'here I am', where ο δ ε is almost equivalent to έγώ. Conceivably this usage could also have arisen as an abbreviation of the expression 'this man' as a circumlocution of the 1st person, but as this idiom itself was still treated as 3rd person (Euripides Electra 43-44 άνήρ οδε ... ήσχυνεν), one needs transitional cases with a 1st person verb like άνήρ οδε ήσχυνα, of which there do not seem to be examples.

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17. I.-E. *so > ό, from which ούτος was derived, has been claimed by H. Hirt to be such a case. That it lacked more often than not the nominative -s in Sanskrit, Greek, Old Norse etc., that is, was properly speaking still undeclined, might point in the same direction. As this nominative -s has itself sometimes be considered to be identical with *so, as a shortened postpositional form of it, the "declined" *so-s > ος would have been its reduplication. 18. By the side of ini, though, there are adverbs, viz. sini, di sini.

References Benveniste, E. 1946 "Structure des relations de personne dans le verbe", Bulletin de la Societe de Linguistique de Paris 43.1: 1-12. [Reprinted in: Problemes de linguistique generale. 1. Paris: Gallimard, 1966, 225-236.] 1956 "La nature des pronoms", in: M. Halle et al. (eds.), 34-37. [Reprinted in: Problemes de linguistique generale. 1. Paris: Gallimard, 1966, 251-257.] Dahlmann, Η. 1932 Varro und die hellenistische Sprachtheorie. Berlin: Heidmann. Di Benedetto, V. 1959 "Dionisio Trace e la Techne a lui attribuita", Annali della Scuola Normale Superiore di Pisa, Serie II, 28: 87-118. Dickey, Ε. 1996 Greek forms of address. From Herodotus to Lucian. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Dodds, R. W. 1977 Malay. London: Hodder & Stoughton. Fuhrmann, Μ. 1960 Das systematische Lehrbuch: Ein Beitrag zur Geschichte der Wissenschaften. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck. Glare, P. G. W. 1982 Oxford Latin dictionary. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Greenberg, J. H. 1980 Language universals. 3rd ed. The Hague: Mouton. Halle, M.—H. G. Lunt—H. McLean—C. H. van Schooneveld (eds.) 1956 For Roman Jakobson. The Hague: Mouton. Hilgard, A. 1901 Scholia in Dionysii Thracis Artem Grammaticam. Leipzig: Teubner. Hofmann, J. B.—A. Szantyr 1965 Lateinische Grammatik. II. München: Beck. Householder, F. W. 1981 The syntax of Apollonius. Translated and with commentary by F. W. Householder. Amsterdam: Benjamins.

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Kent, R. G. 1958 Varro. On the Latin language. London: Heinemann. Kühner, R . — Β . Gerth 1898 Ausführliche Grammatik der griechischen Sprache. II. 3rd ed. Hannover: Hahn. Lallot, J. 1989 La grammaire de Denys de Thrace. Paris: Centre National de la Recherche Scientifique. Leumann, M. 1963 Lateinische Grammatik. I. München: Beck. Liddell, H. G.—R. Scott—H. Jones 1968 A Greek-English lexicon. 9th ed, Oxford: Clarendon Press. Robins R. H. 1951 Ancient and mediaeval grammatical theory in Europe. London: Bell & Sons. 1993 The Byzantine grammarians. Their place in history. Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter. Schneider, R.—G. Uhlig 1878 Apollonii Dyscoli quae supersunt. I. Leipzig: Teubner. 1910 Apollonii Dyscoli quae supersunt. II. Leipzig: Teubner. Schwyzer, E. 1939 Griechische Grammatik. I. München: Beck. Schwyzer, Ε.—A. Debrunner 1950 Griechische Grammatik. II. München: Beck. Sommer, F. 1914 Handbuch der lateinischen Laut- und Formenlehre. 2nd ed. Heidelberg: Winter. Svennung, J. 1958 Anredeformen: Vergleichende Forschungen zur indirekten Anrede in der dritten Person und zum Nominativ für den Vokativ. Uppsala: Almqvist & Wiksell. Taylor, D. J. 1975 Declinatio: Α study of the linguistic theory of Marcus Terentius Varro. Amsterdam: Benjamins. Uhlig, G. 1883 Dionysii Thracis Ars Grammatica. Leipzig: Teubner. Werner, O. 1969 Aischylos. Tragödien und Fragmente. 2nd ed. München: Heimeran.

La construction de άρχεσθαι 'commencer' avec l'infinitif aoriste dans les Septante: Un solecisme dans le grec judaique d'Alexandrie C. J. Ruijgh

Sommaire: §1. Introduction. - §2. La regle ' ά ρ χ ε σ θ α ι + infinitif present' prouvee par les chiffres statistiques. - §3. La koine vulgaire et la koine litteraire. Philon. - §4. Josephe. Le Nouveau Testament. Les papyrus grecs de l'epoque ptolemai'que. - §5. La traduction grecque du Pentateuque, des autres livres canoniques de la Bible hebrai'que et des livres non canoniques. - §6. La construction de άρχεσθαι avec l'infinitif aoriste est majoritaire dans le Pentateuque, minoritaire dans les autres livres canoniques, quasi-absente dans les livres non canoniques. - §7. Les nouvelles traductions d'Aquila, de Symmaque et de Theodotion. Les Hexaples d'Origene. Les recensions d'Hesychius et de Lucien. Les manuscrits B, S et A. - §8. L'infinitif present atteste comme Variante de l'infinitif aoriste dependant de άρχεσθαι. - §9. Les valeurs temporelles des themes temporeis exprimant le temps relatif et des modes exprimant le temps absolu dans le systeme verbal du grec. La modalite virtuelle de l'infinitif. L'explication de la regle 'άρχεσθαι + infinitif present'. §10. Les defauts de la theorie qui veut que les themes temporeis n'expriment pas le temps mais l'aspect. - §11. L'emploi inceptif de l'imperatif present. - §12. La tendance du grec postclassique ä remplacer l'emploi inceptif de l'imparfait par l'expression periphrastique comportant l'aoriste de άρχεσθαι. - §13. L'actif άρχειν 'commencer ä, etre le premier ä'. L'attraction temporelle du type (πρώτον) ήρξατο γενέσθαι (aoriste de άρχεσθαι avec l'infinitif aoriste), construction disparue au cours du IV e s. av. J.-C. - §14. L'explication de l'emploi incorrect de l'infinitif aoriste ä partir du systeme verbal de l'hebreu. §15. L'emploi incorrect en question prouve l'existence du 'grec judaique', distinct de la koine vulgaire normale. - §16. En grec moyen, άρχεσθαι se construit parfois avec l'infinitif aoriste sur le modele du verbe quasi-synonyme έ γ χ ε ι ρ ε ΐ ν 'entreprendre'. - §17. L'emploi de του + infinitif au lieu de l'infinitif pur. - §18. Conclusion.

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1. Dans cette contribution, nous discuterons un probleme de detail relevant de la syntaxe verbale du grec pour honorer le Professeur Ε. M. Uhlenbeck, grand maitre de la linguistique generale. Si nous osons lui presenter un article qui ne concerne qu'une seule langue individuelle, c'est que nous savons qu'il reconnait l'importance des donnees de detail des langues individuelles pour la theorie generale: il n'appartient pas ä la categorie des linguistes, si nombreux ä l'epoque actuelle, qui choient la theorie generale de telle ou telle ecole en passant sous silence les donnees linguistiques qui ne leur conviennent pas. Voici le probleme qui nous occupe: Tandis qu'en grec, l'emploi du theme du present [TPr] est normalement de regle pour l'infinitif [inf.] completif dependant de άρχεσθαι 'commencer1, on trouve dans les Septante [LXX], la plus ancienne version grecque de l'Ancien Testament [AT], c.-ä-d. de la Bible hebrai'que avec les livres non canoniques, 25 exemples de l'infinitif du theme de l'aoriste [TAo] vis-ä-vis de 54 de l'inf. TPr dependant de άρχεσθαι. 1 Dans 7 exemples sur le total de 25, l'inf. TPr est d'ailleurs atteste comme Variante de l'inf. TAo dans la tradition manuscrite. Nous sommes amene ä conclure que cet emploi de l'inf. TAo est un solecisme propre ä des Juifs d'Alexandrie des III e et II e siecles av. J.-C. qui avaient appris le grec comme seconde langue ä cöte de leur langue maternelle semitique, c.-ä-d. l'hebreu ou plutöt l'arameen, mais qui n'avaient pas reussi ä maitriser completement le grec normal. 2. La regle de l'emploi (quasi-)obligatoire de l'inf. TPr avec άρχεσθαι est mentionnee dans la grammaire du grec du Nouveau Testament [NT] de Blass—Debrunner—Rehkopf (1979: 277), qui cite un article de Hesseling (1911): la regie s'applique sans exception dans le NT, tandis que les traducteurs de Γ AT ont une predilection pour άρχεσθαι + inf. TAo. Elle n'est pas mentionnee dans les autres manuels courants de syntaxe grecque: Kühner—Gerth (1898), Schwyzer—Debrunner (1950), Goodwin (1889), Gildersleeve (1900), Stahl (1907), Chantraine (1953), Mayser (1926); ni dans le dictionnaire de Liddell—Scott—Jones (1968). De meme, l'emploi surprenant de άρχεσθαι + inf. TAo n'est pas signale dans la monographic de Soisalon-Soininen (1965) consacree ä la syntaxe de Γ infinitif dans les LXX. 2 Dans ces conditions, il est utile de montrer l'existence de la regie en tirant des chiffres statistiques de quelques sondages. Nous avons choisi les ceuvres conservees d'un certain nombre d'auteurs representant le grec du IX e s. av. J.-C. jusqu'au I er s. ap. J.-C. Avant de

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presenter les chiffres pour άρχεσθαι + inf. TPr, il faut signaler qu1 aux V e s. et IV e av. J.-C., il y a quelques exemples, peu nombreux, de l'aoriste de άρχεσθαι accompagne de l'inf. TAo, qui s'expliquent par une espece d"'attraction temporelle" optionnelle et liee ä des conditions speciales. Nous les traiterons plus bas (§13). Nous en avons trouve un seul exemple chez Herodote et chez Aristophane et 4 exemples chez Thucydide. Au IV e s. av. J.-C., Platon en fournit un seul exemple. Dans ce qui suit, nous marquerons par l'asterisque les noms des auteurs chez qui l'attraction temporelle est attestee. Voici les nombres de la construction reguliere de άρχεσθαι + inf. TPr 3 . Homere: 2 (IX e s.). Hesiode: 3 (VIII e s.). *Herodote: 6, •Thucydide: 8, Euripide: 5, *Aristophane: 7 (V e s.) 4 , *Platon: 52 5 , Lysias: 2, Isocrate: 11, Demosthene: 13 (IV e s.). Polybe: 34 (IIe s. av. J.-C.). Philon: 119, Josephe: 103 6 , Nouveau Testament: 71 7 (Ier s. ap. J.-C.). 3. La prose litteraire de Platon, Lysias, Isocrate et Demosthene represente le dialecte attique classique du IV e s. av. J.-C. Ä partir du IIIe s. av. J.-C., c.-ä-d. ä l'epoque hellenistique, le langage courant des grecophones est la koine, la langue commune, notamment dans les regions conquises par Alexandre le Grand en Asie et en Afrique. Elle est issue de la forme modifiee de l'attique qui servait de lingua franca ä tous les Grecs et aux Macedoniens. La koine vulgaire, le langage de la conversation quotidienne, s'ecartait de plus en plus de l'attique classique. Elle est representee, du moins jusqu'ä un certain degre, par les papyrus non litteraires, par les LXX et plus tard par le NT. La koine litteraire, en revanche, est restee relativement proche de l'attique classique. Pour nous, son premier representant est l'ceuvre en partie conservee de Polybe. Comme les traducteurs de 1'AT etaient des Juifs, nous avons choisi les auteurs juifs Philon et Josephe avec ceux du NT pour representer le grec du I er s. ap. J.-C. La langue maternelle de Philon d'Alexandrie etait le grec. On admet souvent que ses connaissances de l'hebreu laissaient ä desirer. Dans ses ecrits, il se sert de la koine litteraire. II s'y efforce de montrer au moyen d'interpretations allegoriques que la Bible des Juifs, notamment la Loi de Moi'se, peut etre consideree comme la source de la philosophie grecque. II s'adresse done tant aux Juifs qu'aux pai'ens. En comptant les 119 exemples de άρχεσθαι + inf. TPr, nous avons laisse de cöte les citations bibliques plus ou moins litterales. Dans ces citations, Philon suit fidelement le texte des LXX. Ainsi, on trouve dans trois citations l'inf. TAo: ών ήρξατο ό θεός ποιήσαι 'ce que Dieu avait commence ä faire' 8 (Genese 2.3/ Philon 8.64 9 ), και τοΰτο ήρξαντο ποιήσαι 'et ils ont commence ä

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faire cela' (Genese 11.6/Philon 15.1,152,154; il s'agit de la construction de la ville et de la tour de Babel), νυν ήρξάμην λαλήσαι προς τον κύριον 'maintenant j'ai commence ä parier au Seigneur1 (Genese 18.27/Philon 17.30). D'autre part, on trouve dans deux citations l'inf. TPr: ήνίκα ήρξαντο oi άνθρωποι πολλοί γίνεσθαι έπι της γης 'quand les hommes eurent commence ä devenir nombreux sur la terre' (Genese 6.1/Philon 9.1), ούτος ήρξατο είναι γίγας έπι της γης 'celui-lä (: Nemrod) commen^a ä etre un geant sur la terre' 10 (Genese 10.8/Philon 9.66). II faut conclure que Philon a respecte dans ses citations bibliques la construction incorrecte de άρχεσθαι avec l'inf. TAo: pour les Juifs de la diaspora le texte grec des LXX etait aussi saint que l'original hebreu, du moins jusqu'au temps oü les Chretiens en sont venus ä utiliser la version des LXX dans leurs polemiques avec les Juifs (§7).

4. Josephe, Juif palestinien, s'est aussi servi de la koine litteraire: il s'adressait non seulement aux Juifs mais aussi aux pai'ens. II nous dit (Guerre des Juifs 1.3 avec Contre Apion 1.50) qu'il a ecrit son premier ouvrage, la Guerre des Juifs, d'abord en arameen et qu'en le traduisant en grec, il a profite de l'aide de quelques collaborateurs plus competents en grec. Nous ne savons pas si c'est grace ä ces collaborateurs que Josephe emploie correctement άρχεσθαι + inf. TPr dans ses ecrits (103 ex.). 11 Dans deux passages, l'editeur Niese a adopte la Ιεςοη incorrecte de quelques manuscrits, ä savoir les inf. TAo περιβαλεΐν (Guerre des Juifs 2.218) et μεταβαλεΐν (Antiquites judaXques 3.174), au lieu de la Ιεςοη correcte des autres manuscrits, ä savoir les inf. TPr περιβάλλειν et μεταβάλλειν. 12 Au moins la plupart des auteurs des ecrits du NT etaient des Juifs dont la langue maternelle etait l'arameen. S'ils ont choisi le grec pour leurs ecrits, c'est qu'ils s'adressaient non seulement aux Juifs palestiniens mais aussi aux Juifs grecophones de la diaspora et aux proselytes qui constituaient les premieres communautes chretiennes en Asie Mineure, en Macedoine, en Grece et ä Rome. Leur langage est plus ou moins proche de la koine vulgaire du I e r s. ap. J.-C. et ressemble sous ce rapport au grec des LXX. N'oublions pas que les membres des premieres communautes chretiennes appartenaient ä la classe sociale inferieure. Le fait qu'ils ne se servent que de la construction correcte de άρχεσθαι avec l'inf. TPr invite ä supposer qu'au moins quelques auteurs ont profite, tout comme Josephe, de l'aide de gens qui etaient plus competents en grec. Quant ä Paul, originaire de Tarse en Asie Mineure, on a souvent suppose qu'il etait bilingue des son enfance.

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Dans l'expression άφ' ού άν ... άρξησθε έξω έστάναι και κρούειν την θύραν 'apres que vous aurez commence ä rester dehors et ä frapper ä la porte' (Luc 13.25), le premier membre de la coordination έστάναι και κρούειν est morphologiquement un infinitif parfait, qui equivaut ä l'inf. TPr στήκειν de la koine vulgaire. En effet, le langage de Luc, tant dans son evangile que dans les Actes des apötres, est un peu plus proche de la koine litteraire que celui des autres auteurs du NT. Si Luc n'emploie jamais la forme vulgaire στήκειν, eile est bien attestee chez Marc, Jean et Paul. On a souvent compare le grec des LXX avec celui des papyrus non litteraires de l'epoque ptolemaique (III e -I er s. av. J.-C.). Or, les 6 exemples de άρχεσθαι + inf. repertories par Mayser (1926: 95) cornportent tous l'inf. TPr. 13 La regle de l'emploi obligatoire de l'inf. TPr avec άρχεσθαι est continuee en grec moderne, ä ceci pres que l'inf. TPr a ete remplace par le subjonctif TPr introduit par la particule νά, issue de ϊ ν α 'pour que'. Ainsi, grec moderne αρχίζει νά γράφει (γράφη) repond ä grec ancien άρχεται γράφειν 'il commence ä ecrire'. On ne peut que conclure que du point de vue du grec normal, la construction de άρχεσθαι avec l'inf. TAo est un solecisme, une faute syntaxique, provenant de Juifs qui ne maitrisaient qu'incompletement le grec. D'apres les Anciens, le terme de σολοικισμός se referait originellement au mauvais grec des Σόλοικοι, des habitants de Soles en Cilicie. Dejä au VI e s. av. J.-C., σόλοικος etait devenu un terme generique pour designer des etrangers parlant mal le grec. Bien entendu, ce qui aux yeux des autres grecophones doit avoir ete un solecisme, etait sans doute une construction legitime dans le cadre de la variete du grec qu'on peut appeler 'grec judaique'. 5. Originellement, le terme οί έβδομήκοντα 'les septante' se referait au nombre des traducteurs de la Loi, done du Pentateuque, qui constitue la partie la plus sainte de la Bible hebrai'que. D'apres la legende racontee dans la Lettre de Pseudo-Aristeas (IIe av. J.-C.?), 12x6=72 Juifs seraient venus de Palestine ä Alexandrie pour traduire en collaborant la Loi en grec ä la demande du roi Ptolemee II (285-247), qui voulait acquerir un exemplaire de l'Ecriture Sainte des Juifs pour la grande bibliotheque d'Alexandrie. En realite, la raison d'etre de la traduction residait sans aucun doute dans le fait qu'un bon nombre des membres de la communaute juive d'Alexandrie ne comprenait plus l'hebreu. Des la fondation d'Alexandrie en 331, des Juifs faisaient partie de la population et d'autres les ont suivis au cours de l'epoque ptolemaique pour s'etablir ä Alexandrie, en Egypte et en Cyrenai'que. Les immigres devaient apprendre la koine grecque,

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langue officielle de l'Etat, comme seconde langue mais pour la plupart de leurs descendants de la 2 e ou 3 e generation, le grec etait sans doute dejä la langue maternelle. Pour traduire le texte hebreu, il fallait evidemment une connaissance approfondie de l'hebreu. II est tentant d'admettre que pour au moins une partie des traducteurs de la hoi, le grec n'etait pas la langue maternelle: cela expliquerait la presence du solecisme qui nous occupe. Thackeray (1909: 6-16) a montre que le texte grec du Pentateuque provient de plusieurs traducteurs, bien que le nombre excessif de 72 soit evidemment legendaire. Apres le Pentateuque, les autres livres canoniques de la Bible hebrai'que ont ete traduits en grec au cours des IIIe et II e siecles av. J.-C. Ici encore, il faut souvent conclure ä une pluralite de traducteurs pour tel ou tel livre. II s'agit des prophetes (Esaie; Jeremie; Ezechiel; les 12 prophetes mineurs) avec les livres historiques (,Josue; Juges; I et II Samuel; I et II Rois), puis des autres ecrits (I et II Chroniques; Esdras-Nehemie; Esther; Job; Daniel; etc.). La traduction de Daniel est evidemment posterieure ä la date de l'original mi-hebreu mi-arameen, qui a ete ecrit ä l'epoque de la lutte des Macchabees (environ 165 av. J.-C.). L'on sait que Daniel est Tun des ecrits les plus recents adoptes dans le canon de la Bible hebrai'que. La plupart des livres non canoniques ont ete traduits au I er s. av. J.-C., par exemple I Macchabees, dont l'original hebreu ou arameen date du debut du siecle en question. Cependant, la traduction grecque du texte hebreu de la Sagesse de Jesus fils de Sirach date du dernier tiers du II e s. av. J.-C.: le traducteur, qui est le petit-fils de l'auteur, dit dans son prologue qu'il est venu en Egypte en 132 av. J.-C. De quelques livres non canoniques, l'original etait en grec, notamment de II, III et IV Macchabees. Le livre IV Macchabees date de la seconde moitie du I er s. ap. J.-C.; son auteur etait done plus ou moins contemporain de Josephe et des auteurs du NT.

6. C'est dans ce cadre chronologique qu'il faut examiner en detail l'emploi de l'inf. TAo au lieu de l'inf. TPr dependant de άρχεσθαι. Dans le Pentateuque, on trouve 7 exemples du TAo et 5 du TPr. Le TAo est attest6 dans Genese 2.3 (voir §3), 11.6 (§3), 18.27 (§3), Deuteronome 1.5, 2.31, 3.24, 16.9, le TPr dans Genese 6.1 (§3), 10.8 (§3), 41.54, Exode 4.10, Nombres 17.11. On peut conclure que la construction incorrecte avec l'inf. TAo predomine dans la partie la plus ancienne de ΓΑΤ grec. Dans les autres livres canoniques, on trouve 28 exemples du TPr et 17 du TAo. Nous n'enumerons que les 17 exemples du TAo, en marquant par l'asterisque les 6 exemples oü il y a une Variante TPr dans certains manuscrits: Josue 3.7, Juges 10.18, * 13.5, *16.19,

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άρχεσθαι

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* 16.22, I Samuel 14.35, Jirimie 32.29, Ezechiel 13.6, Jonas *3.4, Michee 6.13,1 Chroniques * 17.27, II Chroniques 3.2, 3.3, 29.17, 34.3 (bis), II Esdras1**5.2. II faut conclure que la construction correcte est devenue predominate, mais que les exemples de la construction incorrecte avec l'inf. TAo constituent encore une minorite considerable. Dans les livres non canoniques, en revanche, la construction incorrecte ne se rencontre plus, ä une exception pres (Tobie 7.14, avec inf. TPr comme Variante; voir cependant n.47). On y trouve 21 exemples du TPr: 5 dans I Esdras, 7 dans I Macchabees, 7 dans Tobie (vis-ä-vis du seul exemple de TAo). Rappelons que II Macchabees (1 ex.) et IV Macchabees (1 ex.) sont des textes grecs originaux. On peut conclure qu'au I er s. av. J.-C., les traducteurs ne se sont plus servis du solecisme de άρχεσθαι + inf. TAo, soit qu'ils aient maitrise eux-memes la regle du grec normal soit qu'ils aient profite de l'aide de locuteurs natifs. II nous parait possible que le proselytisme, la propagation de la religion juive dans le monde des pai'ens (cf. Matthieu 23.15), y ait joue un role: les lecteurs des livres bibliques n'etaient plus exclusivement des Juifs mais aussi des proselytes grecophones (cf. Actes 8.28).

7. Passons maintenant au probleme que posent les exemples oü le texte des manuscrits est flottant, l'inf. TPr etant atteste comme Variante de l'inf. TAo. II n'y en a pas dans le Pentateuque, mais les autres livres canoniques en fournissent 6, auxquels s'ajoute l'exemple unique dans le livre non canonique de Tobie (7.14). Pour expliquer ces variantes, il faut tenir compte des versions grecques posterieures de la Bible hebrai'que.15 Dans plusieurs details, la forme du texte hebreu utilisee par les traducteurs de la version des LXX differait de celle du texte etabli dans l'ecole du rabbin Akiba (vers 100 ap. J.-C.), c.-ä-d. du textus receptus, qui survit dans le texte massoretique de la Bible hebrai'que. Desormais, de telles differences jouaient un röle dans les polemiques entre les Juifs et les Chretiens, qui s'appuyaient sur la version des LXX. C'est ce qui a amene trois nouvelles traductions grecques, celles d'Aquila, de Symmaque et de Theodotion, datant du II e s. ap. J.-C. et fondees sur le textus receptus de la Bible hebrai'que. Malheureusement, il n'en subsiste que des fragments. Aquila etait un pai'en grecophone qui a fini par se convertir au judai'sme. II s'est acquis une connaissance approfondie de l'hebreu, probablement dans l'ecole d'Akiba. Sa traduction est extremement litterale, mot ä mot, ce qui produit un grec fort anormal. Ainsi, il traduit la preposition 'et, qui en hebreu introduit le complement direct, par σύν, du moins devant l'article: type συν τον ούρανόν και

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συν την γήν '(au commencement, Dieu crea) les cieux et la terre' (Genese l.l). 1 6 Pour les Juifs de la diaspora, la traduction d'Aquila a remplace la version des LXX comme texte autorise de la Bible. La traduction de Symmaque, en revanche, etait en grec normal; on admet souvent qu'il a transpose la version d'Aquila en grec normal. Le grec de Theodotion est intermediate entre celui d'Aquila et celui de Symmaque. Sa version est une revision du texte des LXX d'apres le textus receptus de la Bible hebrai'que. Selon quelques sources, Theodotion etait un pai'en grecophone converti au judai'sme; d'autres le represented comme membre d'une secte chretienne. Malheureusement, l'etat fragmentaire des trois traductions ne permet pas de decider avec certitude si les traducteurs ont systematiquement suivi la regie qui exige l'emploi de l'inf. TPr avec άρχεσθαι. Cependant, il nous parait probable qu'il en etait ainsi, d'une part parce que la langue maternelle des trois traducteurs, originaires d'Asie Mineure, etait le grec, d'autre part parce que la construction incorrecte ne se trouve dejä plus dans les parties les plus recentes des LXX ni chez les auteurs du NT. En tout cas, Aquila emploie l'inf. TPr καλεΐν dans τότε ήρχθη τοΰ καλεΐν έν ονόματι YHWH 17 'alors on commen9a ä invoquer le nom du Seigneur' (Genese 4.26). Noter le caractere anormal du grec. Aquila emploie ήρχθη comme aoriste passif de άρχεσθαι: le texte hebreu comporte la forme hophal de la racine hll, qui est le passif de la forme hiphil; le grec, en revanche, ne connait guere de passif de άρχεσθαι 'commencer' 18 , Aquila emploie systematiquement τοΰ pour traduire la preposition l- 'ä, pour' precedant l'infinitif hebreu (§17). II emploie έν pour traduire la preposition b- dont la valeur est tantöt locale tantöt instrumentale. Dans la premiere moitie du III e s., Origene d'Alexandrie, le plus grand savant grecophone de l'Antiquite chretienne, a deploye ses activites pour aboutir ä un texte revise de la version des LXX qui reponde au textus receptus de la Bible hebrai'que. A cette fin, il a produit les έξαπλά, le texte sextuple de l'AT. Les six colonnes du manuscrit gigantesque, depose dans la bibliotheque de Cesaree en Palestine, comportaient parallelement le texte hebreu en caracteres hebreux, le texte hebreu translittere en caracteres grecs, la traduction d'Aquila, celle de Symmaque, celle des LXX et celle de Theodotion. Dans la colonne des LXX, Origene a corrige le texte transmis en utilisant les signes critiques de l'ecole d'Aristarque: l'asterisque pour marquer les elements qui faisaient defaut dans le texte des LXX mais qui repondaient au texte hebreu, l'obelos pour marquer ceux qui figuraient dans le texte des LXX mais qui ne repondaient pas au texte hebreu. En corrigeant ainsi le texte transmis des LXX, Origene a utilise les trois traductions du II e s., surtout celle de Theodotion.

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D'apres le temoignage de Jerome, la recension d'Origene etait en cours en Palestine, celle d'Hesychius (vers 300) ä Alexandrie et en Egypte et celle de Luden (vers 300; ecole d'Antioche) dans le Nord de la Syrie, en Asie Mineure et en Grece. Les traits caracteristiques du texte d'Hesychius ne sont guere connus. En corrigeant le texte transmis des LXX, Lucien tendait ä remplacer des vulgarismes morphologiques propres ä la koine comme είπαν 'ils dirent' et έλάβοσαν 'ils prirent' par les formes attiques: ειπον et έλαβον. II semble probable qu'il a egalement substitue l'inf. TPr ä l'inf. TAo dependant de άρχεσθαι (§8: II Esdras 5.2). Le plus ancien manuscrit plus ou moins complet de la Bible des Chretiens est le Vaticanus (B), qui date du IVe s. Le Sinäiticus (5) date egalement du IVe s., YAlexandrinus (A) du Ve s. Pour ΓΑΤ, ces manuscrits presentent un texte mixte19, le texte transmis de la version originelle des LXX est entrelarde d'elements provenant des Hexaples d'Origene, done des traductions posterieures d'Aquila, de Symmaque et de Theodotion, et aussi des recensions de Lucien et d'Hesychius. L'on sait que le texte entier de Daniel dans Β et A est la version de Theodotion. 20 Dans ces conditions, il est impossible de reconstruire avec certitude la version originelle des LXX dans tous les details. 8. D'apres l'opinion courante, le texte de Β est, en moyenne, plus proche du texte originel des LXX que ceux des manuscrits S et A. Quant aux 7 passages oü l'inf. TPr et l'inf. TAo dependant de άρχεσθαι sont attestes tous les deux, Β presente 5 fois la forme TAo et seulement 2 fois la forme TPr. Cela invite ä conclure que lä oü les manuscrits ne sont pas d'accord, la forme TAo est celle de la version originelle des LXX. Ainsi, on trouve άρξεται του σώσαι [TAo] 'il commencera ä sauver' dans Β vis-ä-vis de άρξεται σωζειν [TPr] dans A (Juges 13.5); noter que la 'correction' de τοϋ σώσαι en σωζειν comporte aussi la suppression de τοΰ, traduction litterale de la preposition hebrai'que I- (§17). On lit ήρξατο ταπεινώσαι [TAo] αυτόν 'eile (: Dalila) commensa ä l'abaisser' dans Β vis-ä-vis de ήρξατο ταπεινοΰσθαι [TPr] 'il (: Samson) commensa ä etre abaisse' dans Α (Juges 16.19); ici, les deux traductions repondent ä des expressions hebrai'ques differentes. On trouve ήρξαι [parfait] ε ύ λογήσαι [TAo] 'tu as commence ä benir' dans Β, ήρξω [aoriste] τοΰ εύλογήσαι dans Α vis-ä-vis de ήρξω τοΰ εύλογΐν [TPr; -ΐν: graphie itaciste pour -ειν] dans S (I Chroniques 17.27). 21 Et ήρξαντο οίκοδομήσαι [TAo] 'ils commencerent ä bätir' dans Β vis-ä-vis de ήρξαντο οϊκοδομειν [TPr] dans A (II Esdras 5.2); la Ιεςοη de A est identique ä celle de Lucien. Et enfin ήρξατο τοΰ είσελθειν [TAo] 'il

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se mit ä entrer' dans Β et S (premiere main) vis-ä-vis de ήρξατο τοΰ είσπορεύεσθαι [TPr] dans S (main posterieure) et Λ {Jonas 3.4). Voici les deux passages oü Β a l'inf. TPr: ήρξατο ... βλαστάνειν ... [TPr] '(la chevelure de Samson) commensa ä repousser' dans Β vis-ävis de ήρξατο ... άνατεΐλαι [TAo] dans Λ (Juges 16.22). Et ήρξαντο έσθίειν [TPr] 'ils commencerent ä manger' dans Β et Α vis-ä-vis de ήρξαντο φαγεΐ,ν [TAo] και πιεΐν [TAo] 'ils commencerent ä manger et ä boire' dans S (Tobie 7.14 47 ) II est α priori possible que lä oü tous les manuscrits presentent l'inf. TPr, celui-ci ait pris la place de l'inf. TAo au cours de la transmission du texte. En voici un exemple probable: Au chapitre 3 de II Chroniques, Β et A fournissent successivement ήρξατο ... τοΰ οίκοδομείν [TPr] "ί 1 commensa ä bätir' (verset 1), ήρξατο οίκοδομήσαι [TAo] (verset 2), ήρξατο ... τοΰ οίκοδομήσαι (verset 3). 22 Le flottement entre le TPr et le TAo ä l'interieur de quelques lignes etonne. Nous avons dejä constate que dans II Esdras 5.2, ήρξαντο οίκοδομείν a ete substitue ä ήρξαντο οίκοδομήσαι. 2 3 Ceci nous amene ä supposer que le texte originel du verset 1 comportait egalement οίκοδομήσαι et que le texte de Β et A remonte ä un manuscrit anterieur oü οίκοδομήσαι etait accompagne d'une glose interlineaire ou marginale οίκοδομείν provenant des Hexaples d'Origene ou de la recension de Lucien. Cette glose etait egalement destinee aux versets 2 et 3, mais les scripteurs des manuscrits Β ei A n'ont substitue οίκοδομείν ä οίκοδομήσαι qu'au verset 1. Nous pouvons conclure que les traducteurs posterieurs et des editeurs comme Lucien se sont bien rendu compte du caractere anormal de la construction de άρχεσθαι avec l'inf. TAo dans le texte originel des LXX. 9. La construction normale de άρχεσθαι avec l'inf. TPr s'explique bien dans le cadre des valeurs temporelles des themes temporeis et des modes, y compris l'infinitif et le participe, du verbe grec. 24 Le TPr signale que Taction25 est encore en cours et done inachevee ä un moment donne par le contexte ou la situation (valeur imperfective), le TAo que Taction est achevee avant un moment donne (valeur perfective). 26 Les themes temporeis servent done ä exprimer le 'temps relatif. Les modes, en revanche, servent ä exprimer le 'temps absolu', c.-ä-d. le temps par rapport au moment present, en combinaison avec la modalite caracteristique. L'indicatif primaire [ind. prim.] exprime le temps present, l'indicatif secondaire [ind.sec.] le temps passe. Dans leurs emplois prototypiques, ils designent en principe des faits constates: il s'agit de modes factifs. Le subjonctif, Toptatif et Timperatif, en revanche, sont des modes virtuels: dans

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leurs emplois prototypiques, leurs valeurs impliquent que la realisation, voulue ou non, de Taction est possible au temps futur mais non pas certaine. Sous ce rapport, l'infinitif grec, qui se compare plutot ä un adverbe (absence de flexion casuelle) qu'ä un substantif, est comparable aux modes virtuels: dans son emploi primaire, il exprime que la realisation posterieure au moment indique par le verbe dont l'infinitif depend est/etait possible mais non pas certaine. 27 Tandis que dans beaucoup de langues, par exemple le latin avec les langues romanes et les langues germaniques, l'infinitif d'une expression comme il voulait ecrire n'a pas d'alternative, abstraction faite d'expressions periphrastiques, le grec doit choisir entre ήθελε γράψαι [TAo] et ήθελε γράφειν [TPr]. L'expression ä inf. TAo implique que le sujet de ή θ ε λ ε veut qu'ä un moment posterieur quelconque Ton puisse constater: έγραψε [TAo] 'il a ecrit' (valeur perfective). Celle ä inf. TPr, en revanche, implique que le sujet veut qu'ä un moment posterieur relativement proche Ton puisse constater: γράφει [TPr] 'il ecrit' (valeur imperfective). Selon le contexte, on peut interpreter ήθελε γράφειν comme 'il voulait continuer ä ecrire' (emploi continuatif), 'il voulait se mettre (immediatement) ä ecrire' (emploi inceptif) ou 'il voulait ecrire de temps en temps' (emploi iteratif).— Dans son emploi prototypique, le participe, qui se compare ä un adjectif, est comparable aux modes factifs. Dans une phrase comme άρχεται γράφειν 'il se met ä ecrire', 'il commence ä ecrire', le verbe άρχεται se refere au fond ä la mise en posture qui precede immediatement Taction d'ecrire elle-meme. Comme pendant la mise en posture, Taction d'ecrire est encore virtuelle, eile s'exprime par l'infinitif. Par extension, Texpression άρχεται γράφειν peut se referer egalement au debut de la realisation de Taction.28 Puisque la notion d'achevement est incompatible avec celle de commencement, Temploi de l'inf. TAo est impossible et celui de l'inf. TPr s'impose, abstraction faite du cas de Tattraction temporelle (§13). Noter que la verite d'une phrase comme γράφει 'il ecrit' presuppose celle de la phrase ήρξατο γράφειν 'il a commence ä ecrire'. Pour la meme raison, Temploi de l'infinitif du verbe imperfectif est obligatoire en russe lorsque l'infinitif depend de nacaf/nacinat' 'commencer'. On peut comparer Temploi du genitif partitif pour le complement nominal de άρχεσθαι: type άρχεται τοΰ έργου 'il commence le travail' 2 9 En effet, la notion de commencement implique que la phrase ne concerne qu'une partie du travail, ä savoir la partie initiale. D'autre part, Temploi obligatoire de l'inf. TPr se compare ä celui de l'inf. TPr dependant de ειωθέναι 'avoir Thabitude': type ε'ίωθε γράφειν 'il a Thabitude d'ecrire'. 30 La phrase exprime un

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nombre indetermine de repetitions de Taction, notion qui n'est pas compatible avec celle d'achevement ou d'arret. 10. Les manuels de grammaire grecque donnent beaucoup de regies syntaxiques fondees sur les valeurs semantiques des categories morphologiques en question. lis signalent, par exemple, que le verbe βοηθεΐν 'aider' exige le datif pour son complement, que la preposition ξύν 'avec' exige le datif pour son regime, que le subordonnant final ϊνα 'pour que' exige l'emploi du subjonctif ou, le cas echeant, de l'optatif dans la subordonnee, abstraction faite de Γ attraction modale (emploi optionnel de l'ind. sec. lorsque la subordonnee finale depend d'une principale ä modalite irreelle). Dans ces conditions, Hesseling (1911: 147) s'est etonne que la regie qui exige l'inf. TPr pour I'infinitif dependant de άρχεσθαι ou de ε ϊ ω θ έ ν α ι ne figure pas dans les manuels courants de son temps. Comme la regie ne se trouve pas non plus dans les manuels posterieurs ä l'article de Hesseling, abstraction faite de celui de Blass—Debrunner—Rehkopf (§2), il faut se demander pourquoi la regie n'y est pas signalee. La reponse est facile: d'apres les manuels, les themes temporeis du grec n'exprimeraient pas le temps mais Yaspect, c.-a-d. que le locuteur envisage Taction soit dans son developpement (TPr) soit dans sa totalite jusqu'ä son achevement (TAo: 'action pure et simple'). Depuis la seconde moitie du XIX e s., les grammairiens s'ecartent done de Topinion des grammairiens grecs anciens, d'apres qui les formes verbales en question expriment χρόνος 'temps', c.-a-d. le 'rapport temporel'. 31 Si les manuels enseignent bien que, par exemple, le participe TPr exprime normalement la simultaneity, le participe TAo Tanteriorite de Taction participiale par rapport ä Taction principale, ils nous assurent que cela n'implique pas de valeur temporelle pour les formes en question. Cette theorie aspectuelle suppose que le choix entre l'inf. TPr et l'inf. TAo est en principe libre. Le fait que les types έθέλει γράφειν [TPr] et έθέλει γράψαι [TAo] coexistent pour il veut icrire semble avoir empeche les aspectualistes d'etablir qu'un tel choix n'existe pas pour I'infinitif dependant de άρχεσθαι ou de εϊωθέναι. L'on sait que le terme aspect est la traduction fransaise du terme vid des grammairiens russes. Le terme vid, ä son tour, etait la traduction russe du terme είδος 'forme, espece' des grammairiens grecs anciens. II s'agissait d'un terme morphologique: είδος designe la categorie de la derivation, qui concerne la distinction entre les differents types de mots derives et les mots primaires. Comme en russe le verbe imperfectif est le plus souvent derive du verbe perfectif correspondant, notamment dans le cas des verbes ä preverbe, l'emploi du terme vid

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etait adequate pour l'opposition en question. Les aspectualistes de notre siecle, cependant, ont pris aspect = vid pour un terme semantique, designant la maniere dont le locuteur envisage Taction. Les aspectualistes tendent souvent ä confondre Tactionalite' (Aktionsart) du lexeme verbal avec la valeur du theme temporel. Ainsi, ils emploient souvent le terme de duratif tant pour Tactionalite durative (atelique) de lexemes comme μένειν 'rester' 32 que pour la valeur imperfective du TPr, et celui de ponctuel ou momentane tant pour Tactionalite terminative (telique) de lexemes comme άποθνήσκειν 'mourir' que pour la valeur perfective du TAo. Bien entendu, Temploi du TPr predomine pour les expressions verbales duratives et celui du TAo pour les expressions terminatives, mais les deux distinctions ne se recouvrent nullement. Ainsi, Texpression τό του παντός άρχόμενος συνιστάναι σώμα 'commensant ä composer le corps de Tunivers' (Piaton Timee 3 1 b ) comporte Tinf. TPr du verbe terminatif συνιστάναι 'composer'. En outre, les aspectualistes tendent parfois ä negliger la distinction entre le "temps absolu" et le "temps relatif". Ainsi, en constatant que Tind.sec. du TAo exprime le passe, tandis que le subjonctif et Timperatif du TAo se referent au temps futur, ils concluent que le TAo ä lui seul n'exprime pas le temps. 11. Tandis que les manuels signalent bien Temploi continuatif et Temploi iteratif du TPr, ils ne mentionnent pas Temploi inceptif, qui est bien reconnu par les grammairiens anciens (Ruijgh 1996: 558-559 avec n.55). Quoiqu'il se serve de la terminologie aspectuelle, Bakker (1966) a fourni une bonne description de Temploi inceptif de Timperatif TPr. En voici un exemple instructif: άνάγνωθι δε μοι λαβών τουτονι πρώτον τον νόμον, δς ... κελεύει, άναγίγνωσκε 'Lis-moi d'abord apres Tavoir prise cette loi qui exige que [suit le contenu de la loi en question]. Commence (ä lire).' (Demosthene 24.32). En s'adressant au greffier, Torateur emploie d'abord Timperatif TAo άνάγνωθι 'lis': la realisation immediate de l'ordre n'est pas possible, puisque le greffier ne sait pas encore de quelle loi il s'agit. Lorsqu'il vient d'instruire le greffier, Torateur emploie Timperatif TPr άναγίγνωσκε, par lequel il prie le greffier de commencer immediatement la lecture: Torateur sait que maintenant le greffier peut et veut bien commencer. II importe de signaler que le grec normal n'emploie jamais Timperatif de ά ρ χ ε σ θ α ι pour exprimer l'ordre de commencer: ni le type άρχου άναγιγνώσκειν ni le type άρχου avec infinitif sous-entendu.^3 II faut conclure que Timperatif TPr du verbe exprimant Taction voulue suffisait pour exprimer l'ordre de commencer. En effet, le type άρχου (άναγιγνώσκειν) est

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absent chez les auteurs que nous avons examines, entre autres Platon, Demosthene, Polybe, Philon, Josephe, ceux du NT et Plutarque. Dans ces conditions, nous sommes amene ä voir dans άρχου τρυγάν 'commence ä moissonner' (Osee 6.11) egalement un solecisme provenant du traducteur juif. 34 12. Bakker a montre que l'emploi de l'imperatif TPr est moins frequent dans la koine qu'en grec classique. Nous avons l'impression que les conditions de l'emploi inceptif du TPr se sont restreintes de plus en plus au cours des siecles, si bien que le TAo a gagne du terrain au detriment du TPr. Cela vaut aussi pour l'emploi inceptif de l'imparfait, c.-ä-d. de l'ind. sec. TPr, dans les contextes narratifs. En effet, le type έλεγε 'il se mit ä parier' est concurrence de plus en plus par le type plus explicite ήρξατο λέγειν 'il comment^ ä parier'. Dans l'epopee homerique, on ne trouve que deux exemples de άρχεσθαι + infinitif: ΰφαίνειν [TPr] ήρχετο μήτιν 'il commensait ä tisser son projet' (Made 7.324=9.93). Si l'aoriste ήρξατο 'il commensa' accompagne de l'infinitif n'est pas encore atteste chez Homere, c'est que l'emploi inceptif de l'imparfait suffisait encore ä exprimer la valeur en question. Exemple: ποίει [ind.sec. TPr] δε πρώτιστα σάκος 'il se mit (immediatement) ä faire tout d'abord un bouclier' (Made 18.478). Apres Homere, l'emploi de άρχεσθαι + inf. devient de plus en plus frequent: voir les chiffres presentes plus haut (§2). 35 Apres l'epoque classique, la majorite des formes de άρχεσθαι (avec inf.) appartient au TAo: 33 sur un total de 34 chez Polybe, 67 sur 79 dans les LXX, 66 sur 71 dans le NT, 62 sur 119 chez Philon, 87 sur 103 chez Josephe. 36 Thucydide emploie regulierement l'expression έ λ ε γ ε 'il se mit ä parier' dans les phrases introduisant les discours en style direct (2.34.8, etc.), non pas ήρξατο λέγειν, expression qu'on rencontre 3 fois chez Polybe, 15 fois dans le NT 37 , 14 fois chez Josephe. Dans le NT, presque tous les exemples de άρχεσθαι + inf. figurent dans les evangiles synoptiques (Matthieu, Marc, Luc) et dans les Actes: 69 sur le total de 71. Cette frequence n'etonne pas, vu le caractere narratif preponderant des textes en question. On ne s'etonne pas de n'en trouver qu'un seul exemple dans les epitres (II Corinthiens 3.1). II est, en revanche, curieux qu'il n'y en ait qu'un seul exemple dans l'Evangile de Jean (13.5) et aucun dans ΓApocalypse. Quoi qu'il en soit, on peut conclure que l'emploi inceptif de l'imparfait tendait ä etre remplace par la periphrase du type ήρξατο + inf. TPr.

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13. Tandis qu'Homere ne presente que deux exemples du verbe moyen ά ρ χ ε σ θ α ι + inf. (§12), il emploie 15 fois le verbe actif άρχειν avec l'infinitif. La valeur originelle de άρχειν, encore attestee chez Homere, est 'aller en tete, etre le premier'. Deux valeurs secondares s'y rattachent: 'etre le chef, commander, dominer' (avec le complement au genitif) et 'etre le premier ä faire qqch., prendre l'initiative de faire qqch.' (avec le complement au genitif ou avec l'infinitif)· 38 On peut traduire une expression comme ηρχ άγορεύειν [TPr] {Iliade 1.571, etc.) par 'il commen9ait ä parier', mais cette expression fran^aise ne rend pas explicitement la valeur de l'actif ήρχ(ε), qui implique que Taction de parier sera continuee par d'autres personnes que le sujet de ήρχ(ε). Vis-ä-vis de l'actif άρχειν, le moyen αρχεσθαι, grace ä la valeur reflechie du moyen, implique que Taction en question sera continuee par le sujet lui-meme: ήρχετο άγορεύειν 'il commensait ä parier'. Vu Temploi inceptif du TPr, άρχειν est construit normalement avec Tinf. TPr, tout comme άρχεσθαι. Vis-ä-vis de 13 exemples de la construction reguliere, Homere presente deux exemples identiques ou le TAo de άρχειν est accompagne de Tinf. TAo: πειράν ... ώς κε Τρώες ... 'Αχαιούς άρξωσι [subjonctif TAo] πρότεροι ύπέρ ορκια δηλήσασθαι [inf. TAo] 'essayer de faire en sorte que les Troyens commencent les premiers ä faire du mal aux Acheens en violant le pacte' (Iliade 4.66-67 et 71-72). II importe d'observer que Texpression est pleonastique: άρξωσι 'qu'ils deviennent les premiers' et πρότεροι 'les premiers (des deux partis)' expriment la meme idee. Pour ecarter le pleonasme, il suffit de remplacer le syntagme άρξωσι δηλήσασθαι par la simple forme δηλήσωνται [subjonctif TAo]. Ceci nous amene ä conclure que άρξωσι ... δηλήσασθαι s'explique par la contamination de άρξωσι ... δηλεΐσθαι [inf. TPr] avec δηλήσωνται, c.-ä-d. par attraction temporelle: le syntagme 'TAo de άρχ- + inf. TPr' peut etre remplace par 'TAo de άρχ- + inf. TAo' (forme F du TAo de άρχ- avec l'infinitif du verbe V) au cas oü la substitution de la simple forme F du TAo du verbe V au syntagme ne nuit pas ä Tinterpretation semantique pratique de la phrase (Ruijgh 1996: 581-2 n.90). Jusqu'ä un certain degre, on peut comparer la combinaison des deux formes du TAo dans πρότεροι γάρ οί Κερκυραίοι ήρξαν [actif ind. sec. TAo] ές αύτόν πρήγμα άτάσθαλον ποιήσαντες [participe TAo] 'car les Corcyreens avaient pris l'initiative (du conflit) les premiers en commettant envers lui un acte crimineT (Herodote 3.49.2), oü Taction participiale coincide totalement avec Taction principale. Tandis que chez Homere, άρχειν + inf. (15 ex.) est encore beaucoup plus frequent que άρχεσθαι + inf. (2 ex.), la premiere construction se rarefie et la seconde devient de plus en plus frequente dans le

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grec posthomerique. Au V e s. av. J.-C., Herodote n'a qu'un seul exemple de άρχειν + inf. (1.4.1) vis-ä-vis de 7 de άρχεσθαι + inf., et Thucydide n'en a aucun vis-ä-vis de 12 de άρχεσθαι + inf. 39 II arrive que l'attraction temporelle amene la construction du TAo de άρχεσθαι avec l'inf. TAo. Exemple: ή νόσος πρώτον ήρξατο [TAo] γ ε ν έ σ θ α ι [inf. TAo] Tepidemie commensa la premiere fois ä se produire' (Thucydide 2.47.3). En effet, la substitution de πρώτον έγένετο [TAo] 'se produisit la premiere fois' ä πρώτον ήρξατο γενέσθαι ne nuirait pas ä l'interpretation pratique de la phrase. 40 II est interessant de signaler que le savant byzantin Gregoire de Corinthe (Du dialecte attique, p. 94 Schneider) a remplace γενέσθαι par γίνεσθαι [TPr] en citant la phrase de Thucydide 4 ! dans j a langue ecrite 'standard' de son epoque, la construction avec l'inf. TAo n'etait plus permise. II y a deux autres exemples de ήρξατο accompagne de πρώτον et de γενέσθαι chez Thucydide (1.103.4 et 2.68.2) et un seul chez Aristophane (Nuees 1351). Sans πρώτον, on trouve ήρξαντο ... γενέσθαι, rempla^able par έγένοντο, chez Thucydide (8.105.2). Et δθεν περ καϊ'Ελληνες ήρξαντο νομισθήναι [TAo] 'en consequence de quoi ils commen9erent ä etre consideres aussi comme des Hellenes' chez Herodote (2.51.2), oü ήρξαντο νομισθήναι est remplagable par ένομίσθησαν [TAo] 'ils furent consideres'. II importe de signaler que l'attraction temporelle n'est pas obligatoire. Ainsi, l'on trouve l'inf. TPr dans πρώτοι ... ήρξαντο άπίστασθαι 'ils ont commence les premiers ä faire defection' (Herodote 1.95.2) et dans προτέρους ... άρξαι [actif] στρατεύεσθαι 'qu'ils avaient commence les premiers ä faire une expedition militaire' (Herodote 1.4.1). En outre, il faut observer que les exemples de l'inf. TAo sont toujours minoritaires vis-ä-vis de ceux de l'inf. TPr dependant de άρχεσθαι: 1 vis-ä-vis de 6 chez Herodote, 4 vis-ä-vis de 8 chez Thucydide, 1 vis-ä-vis de 7 chez Aristophane. Au cours du IV e s. av. J.-C., la construction avec l'inf. TAo semble avoir disparu: il n'y en a plus d'exemples chez Isocrate et Demosthene. Notre collegue A. Rijksbaron Signale qu'il en est de meme chez Xenophon. Chez Piaton, toutefois, on en rencontre un exemple vis-ä-vis de 52 de l'inf. TPr. Le voici: πρώτον ... άρξασθαι χρεών τον μέλλοντα αΰτών έπιμελήσεσθαι καλώς αΐρεθήναι [TAo] 'il faut que d'abord leur futur soigneur commence ä etre elu correctement' (Lois 766a). Noter que άρξασθαι ... αΐρεθήναι est rempla9able par la simple forme αΐρεθήναι. A. Rijksbaron signale qu'il y en a aussi un exemple unique chez Aristote: ήρξαντο [TAo] μεν ούν κινήσαι [inf. TAo] τό πρώτον ... οΐ ποιηταί 'ce sont les poetes qui ont commence la premiere fois ä donner le branle (au style)' (Rhetorique III, 1404 a 20); on peut substituer έκίνησαν ... τό πρώτον 'ont donne le branle la premiere fois'. Noter que Rhetorique

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III a chance de dater de l'epoque oü Aristote etait l'eleve de Piaton dans l'Academie, c.-ä-d. de l'epoque oü Piaton ecrivait ses Lois. 14. Dans ces conditions, il est impossible de rattacher la construction de άρχεσθαι avec l'inf. TAo dans les LXX ä celle du type attique classique (πρώτον) ήρξατο γενέσθαι. Si dans les LXX la plupart des exemples comportent le TAo de άρχεσθαι, cela tient simplement ä la preponderance du TAo de άρχεσθαι (+ inf.) dans les textes grecs de l'epoque postclassique (§12). Dans les LXX, le TPr de ά ρ χ ε σ θ α ι peut lui aussi etre accompagne de l'inf. TAo: άρχομαι ύψώσαί σε 'je commence ä t'elever' (Josue 3.7), άρχομαι κακώσαι 'je commence ä maltraiter' (Jeremie 32.29). De meme, le theme du futur (Juges 13.5: §8; Michee 6.13) et le theme du parfait ( D e u t e r o n o m e 2.31; I Chroniques 17.27: §8). Noter que le remplacement de τούτο ήρξαντο ποιήσαι 'ils ont commence ä faire cela' (Genese 11.6: §3) par τοΰτο έποίησαν 'ils ont fait cela' produirait un contresens, puisque Dieu a precisement prevenu l'achevement de la construction de la tour de Babel. On ne peut que conclure que les traducteurs juifs de la Bible hebrai'que se servent souvent d'une construction impossible en grec normal, c.-ä-d. qu'il s'agit d'un solecisme, dü ä ceux qui ne maitrisaient qu'imparfaitement les regies syntaxiques du grec. Le solecisme s'explique dans le cadre de l'acquisition de la langue grecque par ceux dont la langue maternelle etait l'hebreu ou l'arameen. De meme que les langues romanes et germaniques (§10), les langues semitiques ne disposent que d'une seule forme d'infinitif 4 ^ repondant tantöt ä l'inf. TAo tantöt ä l'inf. TPr du grec. Comme en grec postclassique, l'inf. TAo etait devenu plus frequent que l'inf. TPr (cf. §12), du moins pour la plupart des lexemes verbaux, la premiere traduction d'un infinitif hebreu comme swt 'faire' doit avoir ete l'inf. TAo ποιήσαι. L'inf. TPr ποιειν appartenait sans doute ä une phase ulterieure de l'acquisition de la langue grecque. 43 Ainsi, Ton trouve dans la Genese des LXX 11 exemples de ποιήσαι vis-ä-vis de 2 de π ο ι ε ί ν , tandis que dans l'attique classique de Piaton et de Demosthene, π ο ι ε ί ν est beaucoup plus frequent que ποιήσαι; de meme, 5 exemples de λαλήσαι [TAo] 'parier' vis-ä-vis d'un seul de λαλεί ν [TPr]. 44 Dans le Pentateuque, on trouve pour l'infinitif dependant de θ έ λ ε ι ν 'vouloir' 12 fois le TAo, une seule fois le TPr. Noter que dans les papyrus de l'epoque ptolemai'que, la frequence de l'inf. TAo n'est que le double de celle de l'inf. TPr dependant des verbes 'vouloir' (Mayser 1926: 159). On ne peut que conclure que les traducteurs des LXX ont tres souvent employe l'inf. TAo lä oü la koine normale aurait employe l'inf. TPr.

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On pourrait conclure que dans le grec des Juifs en question, l'inf. TAo fonctionnait comme terme non marque et l'inf. TPr comme terme marque de l'opposition. Tout comme les aspectualistes de nos jours, ces traducteurs juifs n'ont pas reconnu la regie qui exige le TPr pour l'infinitif dependant de άρχεσθαι. La coexistence de la construction incorrecte du type ήρξάμην λαλήσαι [TAo] 'j'ai commence ä parier' (Genese 18.27) et de la construction correcte du type ήρξω λαλειν [TPr] 'tu as commence ä parier' (Exode 4.10) se laisse expliquer en admettant qu'elles proviennent de traducteurs differents. 45 A notre avis, il est aussi possible qu'un meme traducteur ait employe tantöt la construction correcte, tantöt la construction incorrecte par regression ä une phase anterieure de son acquisition de la langue grecque. Ainsi, on trouve au chapitre 29 de II Chroniques d'abord ήρξαντο άγνίσαι [TAo] 'ils commencerent ä purifier' (verset 17), puis έν τω άρξασθαι άναφέρειν [TPr] την όλοκαύτωσιν ήρξαντο αδειν [TPr] 'au moment de commencer ä offrir l'holocauste ils commencerent ä chanter' (verset 27). 15. D'apres l'opinion courante, le grec des LXX represente simplement la koine vulgaire: il n'y aurait pas lieu d'admettre l'existence d'une variete du grec propre aux Juifs. II est vrai que la plupart des formes (p.ex. le type ε'ίχοσαν, έλάβοσαν au lieu de ειχον, έλαβον: §7) et des constructions etrangeres ä la koine litteraire se retrouvent dans les papyrus grecs de l'epoque ptolemai'que. Bien entendu, Ton concede que certains mots sont propres ä la civilisation et ä la religion des Juifs, par exemple άκροβυστία 'prepuce'. De meme, certaines constructions moins frequentes en grec normal sont tres frequentes dans les LXX parce qu'elles traduisent litteralement une construction hebrai'que. Ainsi, la haute frequence de Ιδού 'vois!' introduisant une phrase declarative reflete celle de la particule hebrai'que hn ou hnh. Parfois, la traduction excessivement litterale produit des constructions nettement impossibles en grec normal, par exemple celle du type έγώ είμι καθήσομαι 'moi je resterai' (Juges 6.18), mot ä mot 'moi je-suis je-resterai', repondant ä hebreu 'nky 'sb. L'hebreu n'emploie pas de verbe copulatif dans des phrases comme 'nky pvb '(moi) je suis bon'. La presence de είμι dans la traduction grecque έγώ είμι άγαθός a invite ä traduire 'nky par έγώ είμι meme dans le cas ou 'nky est le sujet d'un verbe fini. Cet emploi etrange ne se rencontre pas dans le Pentateuque, dont la traduction est moderement litterale. Plus bas (§17), nous traiterons l'emploi ä premiere vue surprenant de τοΰ + infinitif. Cependant, le grec parle par les Juifs d'Alexandrie ne se distinguerait pas du grec des autres grecophones

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(Thumb 1901: 174-177; Thackeray 1909: 26-28; Dorival—Harl— Munnich 1988: 233-234). A notre avis, la presence du solecisme constitue par άρχεσθαι + inf. TAo et la frequence extreme de l'inf. TAo dans le grec des LXX prouvent bien l'existence d'un 'grec judaique', parier d'une partie des membres de la communaute juive pour qui le grec n'etait pas la langue maternelle. Sous ce rapport, il est interessant de signaler que le meme solecisme se trouve parfois dans des papyrus grecs de Tepoque imperiale, ä savoir dans des documents ecrits par des Egyptiens. Notre collegue K.A. Worp a attire notre attention sur deux exemples datant du IV e s. ap. J.-C.: ήρξάμην την οίκοδομήν ποιήσασθαι [TAo] 'j'ai commence ä realiser la construction' (P. Cairo Goospeed 15.11) et ήρξατο ή τύχη αυτόν άνεγεΐραι [TAo] 'la Fortune a commence ä le ressusciter' (P. xv Congr. 22 col. III 1. 16). L'explication est identique ä celle du solecisme des LXX: tout comme les langues semitiques, l'egyptien ne dispose que d'un seul infinitif. 16. Hesseling (1911) a montre qu'en grec moyen, c.-a-d. dans le langage vulgaire medieval, άρχεσθαι/άρχίζειν est parfois construit avec l'inf. TAo ou le subjonctif TAo precede de la particule νά (§4). Cette construction ne se rattache pas ä celle qu'on trouve dans les LXX ni ä celle de l'attraction temporelle du grec classique. En effet, Hesseling a prouve que άρχεσθαι a adopte la construction du verbe quasi-synonyme έγχειρεΐν, qui admet tant le TPr que le TAo pour son complement. Le verbe έγχειρεΐν equivaut ä έπιχειρειν, verbe plus frequent en grec ancien et dont la valeur originelle est 'mettre la main ä qqch.' (avec le complement au datif). Au sens d"entreprendre', έπιχειρειν peut etre accompagne de l'infinitif. La construction avec l'inf. TPr est plus frequente que celle avec l'inf. TAo. Nous avons l'impression que celle avec l'inf. TPr est plus cohesive: έπιχειρεΐ γράφειν [TPr] 'il se met ä ecrire' vis-ä-vis de έπιχειρεΐ γράψαι [TAo] 'il se met au travail pour ecrire'. De la meme fagon, πειράται γράφειν 'il s'efforce d'ecrire' s'oppose ä la construction moins frequente πειράται γράψαι 'il fait des efforts pour ecrire'. 17. A plusieurs reprises, nous avons mentionne la construction de άρχεσθαι avec l'infinitif precede de τοΰ, c.-ä-d. du genitif de l'article (§7, §8). Cette construction est peu frequente en grec normal. Vis-ävis de 52 exemples de l'infinitif pur, on trouve un seul exemple de τοΰ + inf. dependant de άρχεσθαι dans le Corpus Platonicum, ä

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savoir του ζην 'vivre', equivalent de του βίου 'la vie', dans un dialogue non authentique (Axiochus 366 d). Vis-ä-vis de 11 exemples de l'inf. pur, Demosthene presente 2 exemples de του + inf. (42.8, 57.9). L'article y a sa fonction anaphorique usuelle: του διαψηφίζεσθαι 'voter' (57.9) reprend ή διαψήφισις 'le vote', expression qui le precede. De meme, Philon fournit 2 exemples de του μανθάνειν 'apprendre' (8.152, 11.165) vis-ä-vis de 117 de l'inf. pur. Chez Polybe (34 ex.), Josephe (103 ex.) et dans le NT (71 ex.), on ne trouve que l'inf. pur. Dans les LXX, le Pentateuque ne fournit que la construction de αρχεσθαι avec l'inf. pur: 12 exemples. La traduction du Pentateuque est moderement litterale. En dehors du Pentateuque, la methode de traduction varie: traduction excessivement litterale (mot ä mot) dans certaines parties, traduction relativement libre dans d'autres. Or, apres le Pentateuque, on trouve 13 exemples de αρχεσθαι avec του + inf. (dans 3 exemples, l'inf. pur est atteste comme Variante). Dans la traduction mot ä mot, του repond ici ä la preposition l- du texte hebreu. La valeur fondamentale de l- est finale: type I- 'swt 'pour faire'. La traduction grecque du type του ποιήσαι est adequate: depuis la fin du V e s. av. J.-C. τοΰ + inf. peut servir de complement final. L'hebreu emploie I- + inf. egalement pour l'infinitif completif dependant de verbes tels que 'commencer1. C'est pourquoi certains traducteurs ont rendu ici aussi l'expression hebrai'que par τού + infinitif. Parfois, on trouve meme τοΰ + inf. lorsque l'infinitif depend de δύνασθαι 'pouvoir' (10 ex.), de θ έ λ ε ι ν 'vouloir' (5 ex.) ou de βούλεσθαι 'vouloir' (4 ex.), verbes qui n'admettent pas la construction avec le genitif nominal. 46 Burguiere (1960: 138-145) a montre que l'emploi de τοΰ + inf. au lieu de l'inf. pur se trouve en grec postclassique non seulement dans les LXX mais aussi dans les papyrus et le NT. Exemple: ώς ... έκρίθη τοΰ άποπλεΐν ήμάς εις την Ίταλίαν 'lorsqu'il fut decide que nous irions par mer en Italie' (Actes 27.1). Dans cette construction, τοΰ a fini par fonctionner comme particule introduisant l'infinitif ou la proposition infinitive, tout comme ώστε (orig. 'de maniere ä').

18. Recapitulons nos conclusions. Les manuels de syntaxe grecque ont le tort de ne pas mentionner la regie qui exige l'emploi de l'infinitif present dependant de αρχεσθαι 'commencer ä' et de είωθέναι 'avoir l'habitude de', regle qui s'explique bien dans le cadre des valeurs temporelles des themes temporeis du verbe grec, mais qui ne convient pas aux aspectualistes. La construction de αρχεσθαι avec l'infinitif aoriste dans les Septante est un solecisme, qui prouve que le grec parle par une certaine partie de la communaute juive

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d'Alexandrie aux IIIe et IIe siecles av. J.-C. n'etait pas identique ä la koine vulgaire des autres grecophones: l'opinion courante, qui nie l'existence de ce 'grec judäfque', n'est pas correcte.47 Notes 1.

2.

3.

4. 5.

Les renvois se trouvent dans la concordance de Hatch—Redpath s.v. άρχειν. Le plus souvent, άρχεσθαι repond ä la forme hiphil de la racine hebra'ique hll, parfois ä celle de y 7. Nous suivons la numerotation des chapitres et des versets qu'on trouve dans l'edition des LXX de A. Rahlfs et qui differe parfois de celle de la Bible hebra'ique. Cependant, nous remplasons I et II Rois par I et II Samuel, III et IV Rois par I et II Rois, conformement ä l'usage de la Bible h6bra'ique. Le manuel de Schwyzer—Debrunner (1950) remplace celui de Brugmann— Thumb (1913), qui mentionne bien l'article de Hesseling dans une note (1913: 603 2 ).—La mention de l'emploi surprenant fait egalement defaut dans les grammaires du grec des LXX de Helbing (1907) et de Thackeray (1909), qui ne donnent une description systematique que de la phonetique et de la morphologie. De meme dans le chapitre consacre au grec des LXX de l'introduction de Swete—Ottley (1914) et dans celui de Dorival—Harl—Munnich (1988). Parfois, on trouve deux infinitifs coordonnes. Exemple: άρξασθαι ... όράν και άκούειν 'commencer ä voir et ä entendre' (Piaton Phedon 75 b). Nous avons compte de tels exemples comme une seule occurrence de la construction. Notamment pour Piaton, nous avons aussi compte les exemples figurant dans des dialogues inauthentiques ou suspects. Pindare, Eschyle et Sophocle ne fournissent pas d'exemple. Dans la phrase είς μεν γράμματα ..., λύρας δε άψασθαι τρία μεν έτη και δέκα γεγονόσιν άρχεσθαι μέτριος ό χρόνος 'quant ä l'ecriture ..., quant ä toucher la lyre, commencer ä l'äge de treize ans est un temps raisonnable' (Lois 810 a), l'expression λύρας άψασθαι [TAo] ne depend pas de άρχεσθαι. Elle sert de 'theme' precedant la phrase 'proprement dite', tandis que le complement de άρχεσθαι est sous-entendu ('les Ιβςοηβ en question').—L'emploi de l'infinitif comme 'theme' se trouve aussi dans μήκος μεν πλόου άρξαμένω [datif du participe TAo] έκ μυχοΰ διεκπλώσαι [inf. TAo] ές τήν εύρέαν θάλασσαν ήμέραι άναισιμοΰνται τεσσεράκοντα είρεσίη χρεωμένω 'quant ä la longueur, (c.-ä-d.) quant ä naviguer jusqu'ä la grande mer apres avoir commence la navigation ä partir du fond du golfe, quarante jours sont employes pour (un homme) qui fait usage de la rame' (Herodote 2.11.2). II s'agit du golfe que nous appelons 'mer Rouge' et dont Herodote indique d'abord la longueur et ensuite la largeur. L'expression infinitive διεκπλώσαι ές την εύρέαν θάλασσαν sert d'apposition precisante au 'theme' μήκος. L'expression participiale πλόου άρξαμένω έκ μυχοΰ, qui depend de l'infinitif,

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Signale le point de depart de la xoute maritime. L'emploi du datif άρξαμένφ s'explique par l'anticipation de celui du datif χρεωμένω figurant dans la phrase 'proprement dite'. II faut conclure qu'au niveau syntaxique, l'inf. TAo διεκπλώσαι ne depend pas de άρξαμένφ 'ayant commenci', dont le complement est le genitif πλόου 'navigation' (§9). 6. Les renvois se trouvent dans la concordance de Rengstorf (1973-1983). 7. Les renvois se trouvent dans la concordance de Moulton—Geden (1978). 8. Le texte hebreu a br'... I'swt litt, 'avait cree pour (le) faire'. L'interpretation pratique courante de cette expression est 'avait cree en le faisant'. A notre avis, br' se refere ä la parole creatrice de Dieu et 'swt ä la realisation materielle. Cf. Et Dieu dit: "Qu'il y ait une itendue entre les eaux, ..." Et Dieu fit I'etendue ... (Genese 1.6-7). La traduction non litterale ήρξατο ... ποιήσαι s'explique du fait que le traducteur emploie le verbe grec π ο ι ε ϊ ν 'faire' tant pour 'sh 'faire' que pour br' 'creer'. Plus tard, Aquila (§7) remplacera έποίησεν = br' 'crea' (Genese 1.1) par έκτισεν, aoriste du verbe κτίζειν 'fonder'. Jerome traduit quod creavit Deus ut faceret. 9. Pour la numerotation des traites de Philon, nous suivons l'index de Mayer. Voici les titres des traites en question (§3, §17): 8 = De posteritate Caini, 9 = De gigantibus, II = De agricultura, 12 = Deplantatione, 15 = De confusione linguarum, 17 = Quis rerum divinarum heres sit. 10. Noter que le verbe είναι 'etre' ne dispose pas d'un TAo.—Le sens pratique de la phrase est 'celui-la fut le premier geant'. Le grec classique aurait pu utiliser ici l'actif ήρξεν (§13). C'est aussi le cas dans και ήρξατο Νώε άνθρωπος γεωργός γης είναι 'et Noe c o m m e ^ a ä etre un agriculteur' (Genese 9.20/ Philon 11.1, 125, 181; 12.1, 140). Dans le texte des LXX, l'infinitif (είναι) fait defaut, tout comme dans le texte hebreu. II faut conclure que Philon ou un predecesseur de Philon a ajoute l'inf. είναι exige par la syntaxe grecque. D' ailleurs, la construction hebra'ique en question est egalement exceptionnelle. 11. II y a un probleme dans la phrase των δε τό πλήθος ώς όρά παύσαντας αυτούς ταΐς χερσι και τοΰ ειπείν οϊους τε άρχεσθαι, άνεθορύβησεν μή έφιέναι ώστε ειπείν ... 'lorsque la majorite des soldats vit qu'ils (: Chereas et ses compagnons) avaient impose le silence en levant leurs mains et qu'il etaient en etat de commencer les pourparlers, eile cria bruyamment qu'il ne fallait pas Ieur permettre d'effectuer les pourparlers ...' (Antiquitis juda'iques 18.254). La phrase precedente signale que Chereas et ses compagnons s' appretent ä des pourparlers (λόγων) avec les soldats afin de leur persuader d' abolir la monarchie. L'expression τοΰ ειπείν [TAo] ne peut pas dependre de άρχεσθαι, parce que Josephe n'emploie jamais τοΰ devant l'infinitif dependant de άρχεσθαι (voir §17). Α notre avis, le complement de άρχεσθαι est sous-entendu (τών λόγων). Cela nous invite ä voir dans τοΰ ε ί π ε ΐ ν une interpolation issue d'une glose servant ä rendre explicite le complement sous-

La construction de άρχεσθαι

12.

13. 14. 15. 16.

17.

18. 19. 20. 21. 22.

23. 24. 25. 26.

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entendu. Si le glossateur a ecrit του ειπείν au lieu de των λόγων, c'est sous l'influence de l'expression ώστε ειπείν dans la suite de la phrase. La simplification des g6minees en grec ancien tardif explique la faute orthographique -βαλειν pour -βαλλειν. Les copistes de l'epoque byzantine ont vu dans -βαλειν la graphie correcte de l'inf. TAo -βαλειν, ce qui explique l'accentuation. Pour les papyrus de l'epoque imperiale, voir §15. Le livre II Esdras de ΓΑΤ grec repond au livre Esdras + Nehemie de la Bible hebrai'que. Pour les details, voir Schürer—Vermes—Millar—Goodman (1986: 493-504), Swete—Ottley (1914: 29-86). En hebreu, la preposition't du complement direct est homophone de 7 'avec', ce qui explique la traduction συν + accusatif (compl.dir.) vis-ä-vis de συν + datif 'avec'. Devant les suffixes pronominaux, les formes des deux prepositions sont distinctes: 'oil 'moi' (compl.dir.) et 'itfi 'avec moi'. Aquila donne le nom propre du Dieu d'Israel en caracteres hebreux archai'ques. L'on sait qu'il n'etait pas permis aux Juifs de prononcer ce nom saint. lis prononsaient 13dönäy 'Seigneur', traduit par κύριος dans les LXX. Le grec connait bien le passif αρχεσθαι 'etre commande, etre domine' qui repond ä l'actif άρχειν (§13). Pour les details, voir Swete—Ottley (1914: 478-497). La version des LXX de Daniel n'est conservee que dans un seul manuscrit byzantin (XIe s.?). Dans S, le texte de Daniel n'est pas conserve. L'aoriste ήρξω est l'expression neutre. La valeur du parfait ήρξαι est plus marquee: 'tu viens de commencer', 'tu as dejä commence'. Au verset 2, la Ιεςοη de la premiere main de Β etait ήρξατο οΐκοδομην ' construction commen^a'; noter l'absence de l'article attendu (ή). L'expression ήρξατο οίκοδομήσαι se retrouve dans I Samuel 14.35. L'expression ήρξαντο οίκοδομεΐν se trouve dans I Esdras 6.2, ήρξατο οίκοδομεΐν dans I Macchabees 10.10, done dans des livres non canoniques. Pour des discussions detaillees, voir Ruijgh (1991: 764-774; 1996: 535-595, 596-606, 656-676) et Ruijgh (1995). Nous employons 'action' comme terme generique pour designer le contenu du theme verbal: action proprement dite, proces, etat. Les grammairiens grecs anciens designent la valeur du TPr par le terme de παράτασις 'extension au delä d'un certain point, continuation', celle du TAo par συντέλεια 'achevement'. La valeur du theme du parfait grec est 'statiqueperfective': il signale que l'etat resultant de l'achevement de Taction subsiste encore ä un moment donne. Le theme du futur signale que la realisation de 1' action est posterieure au moment present; la modalite factive d'une prediction comme γράψει 'il ecrira' comporte la clause inherente 'si rien d'imprevu n' intervient'.

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27. On d6signe cet emploi primaire par le terme de 'dynamique': Taction est έν δυνάμει 'en puissance, possible, virtuelle'. Nous laissons de cöte ici l'emploi declaratif et secondaire du type εφη άσθενείν [TPr] *il disait/pretendait etre malade'. L'expression infinitive repond ä une phrase declarative du style direct et Signale qu'il s'agit d'une opinion subjective, qui peut etre vraie ou fausse. Le theme temporel de l'inf. est celui du style direct: TPr ασθενώ 'je suis malade'. 28. On peut illustrer cette extension par le vers initial de plusieurs hymnes 'homeriques': type Δήμητρ' ... άρχομ άείδειν [TPr] 'C'est Dem6ter ... que je me mets ä chanter'. Strictement parlant, le debut du contenu du chant consacre ä la deesse se trouve dans le second vers, mais l'aede chante dejä d£s le vers initial. Dans son emploi etendu, ά ρ χ ε σ θ α ι peut etre construit avec le participe: type άρχεται άπό της ιατρικής λέγων [TPr] 'en parlant il commence par la medecine', c.-a-d. 'il commence par parier de la medecine'. La phrase se refere ä la phase initiale de Taction de parier dejä en cours, qui sera suivie d'une ou de plusieurs autres phases de Taction en question. - Le verbe παΰεσθαι 'cesser' exige le participe TPr: type παύεται γράφων 'il cesse d' ecrire'. L'emploi du participe est dü au fait que Taction est realisee jusqu'au moment de la cessation. L'emploi du TPr s'explique du fait que Taction n'est pas achevee ou terminee avant le moment de la cessation. 29. Chez Homere, on trouve aussi la construction avec le genitif-ablatif: type άρχομαι σέο 'je commence par toi', litt, 'ä partir de toi'. Le grec posthomerique emploie ici le tour prepositionnel: άπό σοΰ ou έκ σου. 30. Chez Thucydide, par exemple, on trouve l'inf. TPr dans tous les 16 exemples de είωθέναι + infinitif. 31. Noter que Telement temporel ne fait pas defaut dans la definition de Comrie (1976: 3): 'Aspects are different ways of viewing the internal temporal constituency of a situation'. 32. Bien entendu, une expression verbale comme rester trois jours est telique. Voir Comrie (1976: 44-48). 33. En revanche, l'emploi de άρχου avec un complement nominal est atteste; exemples: Aristophane Oiseaux 684, Thesmophories 1064. 34. Dans les LXX, on trouve aussi Timperatif du verbe compose ένάρχεσθαι, quasi-synonyme de άρχεσθαι, ä Tinterieur d'un seul passage de Deuteronome: ένάρχου [TPr] κληρονομεί ν [TPr] 'commence ä obtenir en heritage' (2.24), έναρξαι [TAo] κληρονομήσαι [TAo] (2.31: merae sens), ένάρχου [TPr] δοΰναι [TAo] 'commence ä donner' (2.25). On a Timpression que le traducteur h6sitait entre le TPr et le TAo tant pour Tinfinitif que pour Timp6ratif. 35. Pour etablir la frequence relative, il faut evidemment tenir compte de Τ etendue des ceuvres conservees des auteurs en question.

La construction de άρχεσθαι

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36. On a parfois expliqu6 la haute frequence du TAo de άρχεσθαι + inf. dans les LXX, dans le NT et chez Josephe par l'influence du semitique. Cependant, la plus haute frequence se trouve chez Polybe, qui n'est pas d'origine s6mitique. 37. Y compris ήρξαντο λέγειν 'ils commencerent ä parier' et ήρξατο λαλεΐν, le verbe λαλειν etant un equivalent vulgaire de λέγειν. 38. Une expression comme ήρχε νέεσθαι (Made 2.84) admet encore deux analyses syntaxiques: *il allait en tete pour rentrer' (inf. final) et 'il commen^ait (= etait le premier) ä rentrer' (inf. completif). 39. Bien entendu, άρχειν 'commencer' + genitif subsiste: type μάχης ... ούκ ήρχον 'ils ne prenaient pas l'initiative d'un combat' (Thucydide 1.49.4). 40 Voir Stork (1982: 113, 417-418 194 ). Noter Tambigutte semantique d'une expression comme ή μάχη έγένετο: 'le combat est ηέ, s'est produit' et 'le combat a eu lieu'. 41. La meme 'correction' figure dans un manuscrit byzantin du texte de Thucydide. 42. Bien entendu, il s'agit de l'infinitif 'construit'. L'infinitif 'absolu' s6mitique ne repond guere ä l'infinitif grec. Voir Thackeray (1909: 47-50). 43. Pour les verbes d'etat, cependant, la premiere traduction doit avoir ete l'inf. TPr. Ainsi, on ne trouve que l'inf. TPr dependant de άρχεσθαι pour είναι 'etre' (Genese 10.8: §3; I Chroniques 1.10) et κατοικείν 'etre etabli, habiter' (,Josue 17.12; Juges 1.27, 1.35). 44. Pour la preponderance de l'inf. TAo dans les LXX, voir Soisalon-Soininen (1965: 148). 45 Pour la pluralite de traducteurs, meme dans le cas d'un seul livre, voir Thackeray (1909: 6-16). 46. Dans la plupart des exemples, le verbe 'vouloir' ou 'pouvoir' est accompagne de la negation ού, si bien qu'on pourrait admettre un lien avec le genitifablatif döpendant de verbes comme άπέχεσθαι 's'abstenir de'. 47. Nous remercions Η. M. Keizer, A. Rijksbaron, O. Schrier et les autres membres du Club des hellenistes d'Amsterdam de leurs observations utiles.— A. Rijksbaron nous signale que dans Tobie, il y a un second exemple de l'inf. TAo dependant de άρχεσθαι - ... ήρξαντο [TAo] προσεύχεσθαι [inf. TPr] και δεηθηναι [inf. TAo] ... 'ils commencerent ä prier Dieu et ä demander (8.5). Cette expression figure dans le manuscrit S, non pas dans BA. Elle est precedee de ... προσεύξώμεθα καί δεηθώμεν ... 'prions Dieu et demandons ...' (8.4), oü l'on trouve la coordination de deux subjonctifs TAo en style direct. L'explication de la coordination de l'inf. TPr προσεύχεσθαι avec l'inf. TAo δεηθηναι est incertaine. Le traducteur a-t-il d'abord employ^ la construction correcte, mais ensuite, par regression, la construction incorrecte? D'autre part, une expression comme ήθελον προσεύχεσθαι καί δεηθηναι 'ils voulaient prier Dieu et demander' serait acceptable en grec normal. En effet, Taction de δεηθηναι est la partie finale de Taction de προσεύχεσθαι, comme

600

C. J. Ruijgh le montre le texte en style direct du contenu de la priere (8.5-8). La premiere action est done partiellement simultanee par rapport ä la seconde: προσεύχεσθαι και δεηθήναι est remplasable par προσευχόμενοι [participe TPr] δεηθήναι 'demander en priant Dieu'. Noter que la priöre en style direct est introduite par l'expression correcte ήρξατο λέγειν [inf. TPr] 'il commen^a ä parier' (8.5).

References Bakker, W. F. 1966 The Greek imperative. Amsterdam: Hakkert. Blass, F.—A. Debrunner—F. Rehkopf 1979 Grammatik des neutestamentlichen Griechisch. 15e ed. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck und Ruprecht. Brugmann, K.—A. Thumb 1913 Griechische Grammatik. 4 e ed. München: Beck. Burguiere, P. 1960 Histoire de l'infinitif grec. Paris: Klincksieck. Chantraine, P. 1953 Grammaire homerique. II. Syntaxe. Paris: Klincksieck. Comrie, B. 1976 Aspect. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Dorival, G.—M. Harl—O. Munnich 1988 La Bible grecque des Septante. Paris: Editions du Cerf. Gildersleeve, Basil L. 1900 Syntax of Classical Greek. I. New York: American Book Company. Goodwin, W. W. 1889 Syntax of the moods and tenses of the Greek verb. London: MacMillan. Hatch, Ε.—H. A. Redpath 1897 A concordance to the Septuagint. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Helbing, R. 1907 Grammatik der Septuaginta. Laut- und Wortlehre. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck und Ruprecht. Hesseling, D. C. 1911 "Zur Syntax von άρχομαι und Verw.", Byzantinische Zeitschrift 20: 147-164. Kühner, R.—B. Gerth 1898-1904 Ausführliche Grammatik der griechischen Sprache. II. Satzlehre. 3e ed. Hannover: Hahn. Liddell, H. G.—R. Scott—H. S. Jones 1940 A Greek-English lexicon. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Mayer, G. 1974 Index Philoneus. Berlin: W. de Gruyter.

La construction de a[rcesqai

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Mayser, E. 1926 Grammatik der griechischen Papyri aus der Ptolemäerzeit. II. Satzlehre. I. Berlin: de Gruyter. Moulton, W. F.—A. S. Geden 1978 A concordance to the Greek New Testament. 5 e ed. Edinburgh: Clark. Rengstorf, Κ. H. 1973-1983 A complete concordance to Flavius JosephusA. vol. Leiden: Brill. Ruijgh, C. J. 1991 Scripta Minora. I. Amsterdam: Gieben. 1995 Compte rendu de S. E. Porter, Verbal Aspect in the Greek of the New Testament, Mnemosyne 48: 352-366. 1996 Scripta Minora. II. Amsterdam: Gieben. Schürer, Ε.—G. Vermes—F. Millar—M. Goodman 1986 The history of the Jewish people in the age of Jesus Christ. III, 1. [Version anglaise mise au jour de l'ouvrage original de Schürer.] Edinburgh: Clark. Schwyzer, E.—A. Debrunner 1950 Griechische Grammatik. II. Syntax und syntaktische Stilistik. München: Beck. Soisalon-Soininen, I. 1965 Die Infinitive in der Septuaginta. Helsinki: Suomalainen Tiedeakatemia. Stahl, J. M. 1907 Kritisch-historische Syntax des griechischen Verbums der klassischen Zeit. Heidelberg: Winter. Stork, P. 1982 The aspectual usage of the dynamic infinitive in Herodotus. Groningen: Bouma's Boekhuis. Swete, Η. B.—R. R. Ottley 1914 An introduction to the Old Testament in Greek. 2 e ed. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Thackeray, H. S. J. 1909 A grammar of the Old Testament in Greek according to the Septuagint. I. Introduction, orthography and accidence. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Thumb, A. 1901 Die griechische Sprache im Zeitalter des Hellenismus. Straßburg: Trübner.

The dialect of Volendam—fifty years after van Ginneken: Preliminary data Sijmen Tol

1. Introduction During the Second World War Jac. van Ginneken (1877-1945) of Nijmegen University and a team of his students collected material about the dialects of Marken, Volendam and Monnickendam—an island, a village and a small town in the North-Holland district of Waterland, some 15-20 km. north of Amsterdam, situated in and along the shore of the former Zuyder Zee (now IJsselmeer) not more than 7 km. apart. When van Ginneken died on 20th October 1945, he had not yet finished his work on the data, a task which was completed by A. Weijnen and M. van den Hombergh-Bot, who eventually published the study in 1954 under the title Drie Waterlandse dialecten ("Three Waterland dialects") (cf. van Ginneken 1954: I, xiii-xxvii). Apart from the dialect maps in Daan (1969), this book is the only serious study of the Volendam dialect to date. In my contribution to the Uhlenbeck Festschrift I will briefly sketch the changes the dialect has undergone in the past half century, both on the formal level and in the lexicon. 1 The last section will be devoted to the social position of the dialect in Volendam today and the prospects for its survival. Data presented here originate from an ongoing series of interviews with Volendam dialect speakers of different age groups and from the author's own observations during the past ten years.

2. Formal changes 2.1. Phonetics and phonology In van Ginneken's description of the Volendam consonant system we find only one principal deviation from the Dutch standard: it lacks the [h]. Although the [h] is more readily pronounced nowadays in non-dialect words, it is still completely absent from the dialect itself. The only real change seems to be the occurrence of [w] after [y]. In

604

Sijmen Toi

all relevant instances van Ginneken notes [yw] whereas the dialect now has [y]:2 a. b. c. d. e. f. g· h.

[dyw] duw [dy] 'push' [myw] meeuw [my] 'seagull' [nyw] nieuw [ny] 'new' [ryw] ruw [ry] 'rough' [sko:dyw] schaduw [sko:dy] 'shadow' [snyw] sneeuw [sny] 'snow' [spryw] spreeuw [spry] 'starling' [suo:lyw] zwaluw [suo:ly] 'swallow (hirundo rustica)'

Other examples include the following: (2)

a.

[dybak] duwbak 'tug-pushed dumb barge' b. [bsnyt] benieuwd 'curious' c. [snyt] sneeuwt, gesneeuwd 'snows, snowed (past part.)1

[yw] appears before the vowel [a], e.g. (3)

a.

[dyws] duwen 'push' b. [mywa] meeuwen 'seagulls' c. [nywatak] nieuwsgieng 'curious'

and in two instances before [ai] (4)

a.

[flywail] fluweel 'velvet7 b. [jywajl ]juweel 'jewel'

The dialect of Volendam

605

We may conclude that in the present-day dialect after [y] a [w] can appear only before the vowel [q] and the diphthong [si]. In the vowel system, on the other hand, a few more changes have occurred. Van Ginneken (1954:1, 223) lists two vowel triangles, one for long vowels and diphthongs, the other for the corresponding short vowels:

u:

u:

D:

a: (a:i, u:j)

au

a:

oei

Λ

Y:

ε: (ei)

i:

-

-

Fig. 1. Long vowels and diphthongs α 0

a oe Y y

ϋ u

ε I i

Fig. 2. Short vowels In fig. 1 there are three obvious errors. Firstly, both the place and the transcription of the diphthong [au] in the second line suggest that it coincides with the standard pronunciation. In the transcription table (1954:1, xxxii), however, the diphthong is rendered as [au]; the same notation is found, e.g., on pp. 311 and 333. This corresponds exactly to the current dialect pronunciation. Secondly, on the fourth line we find an encircled [ei]; this diphthong is nowhere discussed as belonging to the Volendam vowel inventory, nor is it made clear why it is encircled. Indeed, until well into the 1960s it was used only as a pragmatic particle to draw attention or change the topic in a conversation: (5)

[ei ma:si] he, meisje! 'hey, girl!'

Thirdly, from the preceding discussion on p. 222 and from its position in the figure we may conclude that the [i:] on the same line was meant to be an [i:]. All in all, fig. 1 should read:

606

Sijmen Toi

a:

a: (a:i, u:j)

au Λ

o:

cei Y:

ε:

Λ

u: u:

ι:

-

-

Fig. la. Long vowels and diphthongs The (a:i, u:j) in the first line are allophones of [a:]. Furthermore, Weijnen adds a remark that in a few words imported from the standard language, the diphthong [εΐ] occurs. The present-day Volendam vowelsystem is given in figs. 3-5. 3 200·

i 400-

y

ΐ

Ν

ε

Ε ^

u γ I ή

υ 0

600·

a

800·

2500

α

1500 (Hz)

2000

1000

500

Fig. 3. Short vowels 200

u:

y:

(Yt)

400N X £

ε;

600-

ce:

o: *

l

ο-

800 2500

a: 2000

1500 F2( HZ)

Fig. 4. Long vowels

υ:

a: 1000

500

The dialect of Volendam

607

200

400-

J

600-

800-

2500

a: 2000 0

1500 F l (Hz)

1000

500

Fig. 5. Diphthongs4 The first remarkable innovation is to be found in fig. 4: the long upper close-mid front vowels [i:] and [y:] are placed in parentheses, because they are present in some speakers' system (group A), while they are absent in that of others (group B), group Β pronouncing raised open-mid front vowels [ε:] and [oe:] instead. Moreover, group A lack the raised rounded open-mid back vowel [o:], pronouncing a rounded upper close-mid back vowel [u:] instead, while for group Β the [υ:] is an allophone of [o:]. Group A oppose short and long [i] as in: (6)

a. [bil] bil 'buttock' b. [dik] dik 'thick'

[bi:l] bijl] 'axe' [di:k] dijk 'dike-

short and long [y] as in: (7)

a.

[bYs] bus 'bus' b. [dvt] dit 'this*

[bY:s] buis