Perfect subjunctive or Future perfect

Latin Learning Latin
81

Adrianus, I’m not saying that the choice of tense is irrelevant in Latin, as if we just choose one by whim. What I’m saying is that we can only use one tense/mood each time we use a verb in Latin, and it is possible that we didn’t want to be so “precise”. The way the Latin tenses divide up the semantic space of verbs is not the ultimate division which was handed down by the hand of God himself. Some languages divide up the semantic space differently. Latin makes no aspect distinctions in the present tense. Does this mean that Latin authors never feel the need to distinguish between “I drink coffee” and “I’m drinking coffee”? No. They must do it another way, or if they feel the context makes it obvious they will just use the one tense that can describe what English uses two tenses to describe.

There are languages which do not divide the color spectrum the same way European languages do. Some languages group what we call “blue” and “green” into one color. In English there is no convenient way to avoid this distinction, we must labels things as “green” or “blue” but not both. Terms like “turquoise” or “bluish-green” signify a single shade between the two and do not cover the whole space.

Imagine you need to rent a car. You go to the car rental place to get a car. There are three available cars, all identical except for the color. One is dark blue, one is red, and one is white. Let’s say you drive out with the dark blue car. Can we now infer that the exact color you wanted was dark blue? No. Perhaps you really wanted black, but dark blue was the closest to black. Or perhaps you didn’t even care what color the car was, because you just wanted a car to drive. Maybe the dark blue one was the one right in front of you so in order to prevent wasting anymore time you just said, “I’ll take this one.” The same situation applies in tenses.

Latin lost the optative mood which Ancient Greek still retained. Does this mean that Greek can express something that Latin cannot? No. The ideas expressed in the optative are found in the Latin subjunctive. Both languages have the same semantic space for moods, it’s just that Greek further divides the Latin subjunctive into an optative and a subjunctive mood:

|----------------Indicative------------------||--------------------Subjunctive--------------------------| (Latin)

|----------------Indicative------------------||-------Subjunctive-------||-------Optative------------| (Greek)

|----------------------------------------------Indicative---------------------------------------------------| (English)

The English subjunctive is for the most part dead and the idea is expressed in other ways. Now, if an author instantaneously created the tense system as he was writing or speaking, then we could say he must really find those distinctions pertinent. But the exact number of distinctions, and where exactly they are is already set in stone when he opens his mouth. He’s bound to the distinctions his language makes.

Now I’m not saying that there is no need to pay attention to the tense or mood of a verb. μη γενοιτο! What I am saying is this: In Laura’s example quid faciam?, it’s true that in an ultimate sense Latin must make a formal distinction between indicative/subjunctive. “What will I do? / What might I do?” The form must be one or the other. However, it does not follow that just because the system of Latin grammar requires one form to the exclusion of the other that the author really wants to divide the semantic space in that way. Maybe the author doesn’t care if it’s interpreted as future indicative or present subjunctive! Maybe he would use a form which covers the entire semantic space if he could, but none is available. Latin does not have an additional super-tense which subsumes the future indicative and present subjunctive the way that the Latin subjunctive subsumes the Greek subjunctive and optative. If it did, maybe the author would’ve chose that tense because he didn’t care to express the subtle distinction between future-hypothetical and future-hypothetical-but-with-a-little-bit-more-certainty. We don’t know because there is no such Latin tense. He must pick one, and by picking one he is excluding the other one whether he wants to or not.

You missed my point about gender distinction. As Lex said, the indefinite pronoun “one” can only be used in an indefinite/universal statement. Other languages can carry on a conversation about an individual and never declare the gender. If “one” was acceptable I would’ve used it before. I’ve been in situations where I wasn’t sure if the person I was speaking about was a man or a woman (because I couldn’t tell :open_mouth: ) and I had to pick one or the other when I said something like, “He’s over there.” The stress and embarrassment would’ve been alleviated had I been able to say, “One is over there.” A statement like “The human is over there” would be even worse! So yes, we are forced to distinguish gender with the English pronoun.

English nouns are genderless though, while Latin nouns impose gender. The gender system isn’t something you bring into the language when you want to use it… it’s always there!

|----------------------friend----------------------||-----------------------friends----------------------| (English)

|-------amicus---------||--------amica---------||----------amici---------||---------amicae--------| (Latin)

|-----------------------------------------------pengyou--------------------------------------------------| (Chinese)

All three languages have to cover the exact same semantic space. Chinese pengyou is genderless and numberless. English friend says loudly, “Only one!”. And Latin amicus says very loudly, “Only one, and it’s a guy!” The masculine form amicus can only be “common” gender when it’s used in an indefinite/universal statement. If a Roman was speaking about a particular individual he was forced to distinguish gender. Latin has no direct equivalent to the English word friend. Latin has two words (or if you prefer one word permanently divided into two… same difference) to cover the same space that the English friend does. This doesn’t mean that English can’t make these distinctions. It can: female friend / friend that’s a girl, etc. It means that Latin can’t avoid making these distinctions.

As I said before, languages do not differ in what they can express (any language can express anything any other language can); they differ in what they force the speakers to express. They differ in how they force the speaker to divide up the world. Some languages force many more distinctions than a speaker may find relevant at that particular time, but he is still stuck to those distinctions. Latin cannot create a super-noun amicus/a, it must pick one or the other. English has that super-noun… friend!

So let me end this on a good note… I consider all of you my friends… both amici (Adrianus) and amicae (Laura).

:smiley:

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Just a quick addendum (I really do admire the stamina you all have for this kind of discussion; it’s not something I can muster!) - I think a real problem here is the way we are projecting, without even meaning to, our assumptions about English and other languages onto Latin. Perhaps part of the reason why it is so hard to accept a blurring between the future indicative quid faciam and the present subjunctive quid faciam is because, in English, those same spaces are not blurred. Even more so with future perfect ceperint and perfect subjunctive ceperint. The way we construct our English future (I will do) and our future English perfect (I will have done) is really unambiguous… even though English abounds with ambiguities of other kinds, of course. … so that it is perhaps hard to accept the fluid ambiguity of the Latin here.

Although I don’t have Calvinist’s range of language knowledge, the non-English language in which I am most fluent, and which I learned before learning Latin is Polish, so I want to share an example from Polish. The Slavic languages followed a very different route from the I-E verbal system - instead of developing tense and mostly abandoning aspect, they developed aspect and mostly abandoned tense. As a result, in Polish, there is only “past” and “non-past” while aspect does the work of distinguishing between what we would call non-past present and non-past future. Morphologically, the present and future tense endings are the same - not just identical (i.e. they look the same but you can argue that they are different, as in Latin “faciam”), but they are simply the same thing. After wrapping my mind around that, I really decided it is just better to leave English behind when you are studying a foreign language. Languages really are DIFFERENT, and I suspect that many linguistic misunderstandings result from applying (often unconsciously) assumptions about one language to another language, when those assumptions do not necessarily fit.

83



Angustior anglicum vobis. Ut iam dixi, tu, calvinistice, nunc tu, lex, anglicè non ut ego loquimini. Ità benè anglicè dicuntur (sic semper verò per proxima quinque saecula erat): “One [pro “he/she”] went to the…” et “They [pro “he/she”] went to the…”. Antiquatius primum (minùs antiquatum pro “ego” et “tu” pronominibus). Meâ parte “they” pro “he/she” saepè loquelâ cotidianâ dicam, et sunt multi qui sic faciunt. Releventur aporia curaque.

Your English is too narrow. I said it before, I don’t speak English as you do. “One [for “he/she”] went to the…” and “They [for “he/she”] went to the…” have been proper and grammatical English for the last five hundred years,—the first rather archaic (less so when substituting for the pronouns “I” and “you”), but I would often use the latter model (“they [for “he/she”]”) in everyday speech, and many do the same. Let your stress and embarrassment be alleviated.

84

If your point is directed to me, it is off the mark, Laura. It makes no demands of my knowledge of English (whether or not it makes sense) to point out that the future perfect tense and the perfect subjunctive tense in Latin are not the same. It they were the same, there could be no ambiguity in “ceperint”, and no basis for choosing “ceperim” over “cepero” in a similar sentence.

Si ad me, Laura, sententia tua dirigitur, ea destinatum praeterit. Si non idem esse tempus futurum perfectum ac tempus praeteritum perfectum subjunctivo modo dico, anglici scientiam non requiro (etiamsi nugas dicam). Si idem essent, deesset cum “ceperint” ambiguitas, et carebat ratio cur “ceperim” ante “cepero” seu vice versâ eligeretur.

85

Adrian, as I have pointed out before, the Latin future EVOLVED from the existing subjunctive forms. The affinity between the Latin future and the Latin subjunctive is therefore very real, historically, morphologically and - I would argue - semantically, and in a way that is quite different from English. In English there is no such affinity between the future and the subjunctive, simply because our future did not evolve from the subjunctive and is not permeated with subjunctive endings as the entire Latin future system is. I was just guessing that perhaps this English influence is what prevents you from admitting any affinity between the Latin future and the Latin subjunctive. Just a guess. I guess there is some other reason.
The ambiguity in ceperint is something WE perceive because we are the victims of our paradigms. The Romans lived their lives paradigm-free. I am not persuaded by anything you have said that ceperint was ambiguous to any but the most hypersophisticated Latin speaker. It was a non-indicative non-past perfective, structurally speaking. But since the Roman gramamrians were not structural linguists, they describe it differently (and even differently amongst themselves, e.g. future subjunctive).

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I don’t deny and haven’t denied affinity; it’s the identity of one tense with the other that I deny.
Affinitas inter non nego, nec negavi. Identitas inter tempora est quam nego.

Catè autem describunt, non sine formulis.
Nevertheless they describe in an intelligible manner and that certainly wasn’t paradigm-free.

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VALETE, PARADIGMATA!

Perfect Subjunctive and Future Perfect Paradigms
Rex Wallace
The Classical Association of the Middle West and South
Vol. 84, No. 2 (Dec., 1988 - Jan., 1989), pp. 162-166

“Evidence for vowel quantity in these verbal categories (PS and FP) derives from poetical sources where the length of the vowel can be determined from the meter. For the period at issue, this includes the poetry of authors such as Lucretius, Catullus, Vergil, Horace, Propertius, Tibullus and Ovid. A survey of the quantity of the theme vowel in the PS and FP in these poets reveals that the situation which obtains is different from that presented in introductory texts and reference grammars. In fact, the survey shows that the quantity of the theme vowel used in the PS and FP may vary considerably from poet to poet. […] We must conclude then that the quantity of the theme vowel -i- in the PS and FP in the literary dialect may be either long or short. […] The paradigm of the PS and FP found in the introductory texts and reference grammars surveyed here are incorrect. In the literary dialect of Latin - the dialect which forms the base of our teaching grammars - the PS and the FP are distinct only in the ISG. […] The PS and FP paradigms which appear in texts and grammars should reflect the fact that the vowel quantity of the theme vowel in these verbal categories is variable.”

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I have to admit I’m not a fan of Rex Wallace. I’m suspicious of his translations and statistical analyses. I have greater faith in those he criticizes,— but I’m a comparative novice, of course.

Fautor illius viris, ut fateor, non sum. In habilitate eius quoàd vertendum non credo, nec in numerationibus statisticis ab eodem factis. Immò eis fidem plus habeo quos incusat,—at tiro comparatè sum.

89

It’s convenient to shrug off those you disagree with, but either way you look at it ceperint would have a short -i- according to the general rule that final -nt shortens the preceding vowel even if it’s “supposed” to be long. This means that there is for all intents and purposes only one ceperint in Latin. Grammatical analysis may say that it’s two different forms that happen to look and sound the same, but that is not how an everyday speaker would perceive the situation.

To use my example from before, a Latin grammarian describing English might say that the English word friend is really two words: amicus and amica. No English speaker instinctively thinks this way, even though we understand the distinction between a female friend and a male friend. Latin grammarians would have to think of it this way because imagining a word that solely meant friend without referencing gender would seem “unnatural”.

This is what Laura touched upon, which is an immensely important point. The structure of our own language (which is different from Latin) can affect how we interpret Latin. The Latin word faciam is said to be ambiguous. But that is only to an English speaker thinking through the English glosses “I will do/I might do”. We feel a need to resolve it because the English glosses for the form are distinct and different. The Roman would not feel it to be two possible tenses, but probably understand it as one single word. Now, in the second person it would be considered different, because the forms are different. We like to construct nice and neat paradigms. We put them into neat looking tables and we feel that the whole universe is nice and organized… but the real Latin verbal system isn’t so nice and neat. A more accurate description would list the present subjunctive and future indicative as separate tenses except 1sg (in 3-4 conjugations). An accurate description would leave out faciam and list it separately as non-past hypothetical or something like that… a word that over-arches both tenses in meaning, but is considered as one word. That is a more accurate description of how a Roman would have naturally perceived the word faciam. That, however, disrupts the perfect paradigms, and might also be undesirable for pedagogical reasons.

It’s important to remember that our paradigms and descriptions of the tenses are a tool for understanding the Latin language. They don’t necessarily represent exactly how the speakers themselves would’ve understood the language. They provide a native English speaker a window into the language through the lens of our own language. That system divides faciam into two words even though it almost certainly was perceived as only one word/tense to the native Latin speaker.

It’s also important to realize that grammar terminology isn’t perfectly precise. For instance, what is called a future tense in one language isn’t exactly the equivalent of a future tense in another language. The space they cover may be different. Consider that both Latin and Greek are described as having a genitive and dative case. They aren’t the same cases though, although they overlap very much. The Greek genitive and dative divide up the Latin ablative amongst themselves, adding the extra semantic ideas to themselves. It’s easier to just use the terminology of genitive and dative though.

So, is it not possible and likely that the present subjunctive and future indicative were distinguished everywhere else except 1sg in 3-4 conjugations? I think so. Even a Roman grammarian who might’ve said that faciam had two possible forms/meanings was probably going against his own instinctive understanding of the form in order to keep the “system” nice and clean. I don’t understand how one can argue against this point, it seems pretty clear.

Also Adrianus, you are nit-picking my examples, which are merely intended to help explain my points and are maybe not always the best examples that could be given. It’s true that “they” can stand in for “he/she”, but that doesn’t disprove my point, it just shows that the specific example isn’t perfect. It’s still true that the third-person singular pronoun cannot be separated from its gender component, it’s integral to it. My basic point that languages force distinctions is true… I don’t understand why that’s a controversial point. I’m not saying that Latin is defective for this reason, it’s just an observation of a fundamental way in which languages differ.

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When an example is wrong, it doesn’t explain anything except the author’s weaknesses in reasoning. It undermines confidence and, while it doesn’t falsify the premise, it weakens the argument. It’s not a good sign. And incidentally, Wallace is substantially correct in talking about inconsistencies in grammars (not that that has much to do with my argument), but his argument is flawed. If he had read the ancient grammarians at the time he wrote the article, he could have given evidence to make his paper significant but, as it is, he wrote hastily and there are several holes.

Falsum exemplum nihil illuminat, modum rationcinandi claudum separatim. Id confisionem lectori non donat et, quamquàm non negat necessariè thesem, hebetat argumentum. Infelix est. Obiter, rectè dicis Wallace conflictiones inter grammaticos exstare (quod res meum argumentum vix spectat) at malè argumentatur, meâ sententiâ. Multa apta apud grammaticos antiquos omittit (ante spatium istius capituli scribendi eum eos non legisse suspicor), aliter is plura ad rem pertinentia donaverit credo. Non sic fecit; porrò exstant defectiones rationcinandi (signa fabricandi praepropera), ut jam dixerim (NON dixero).

Again another example that is just plain wrong. They just imagine the word “Benivolens”.
Iterùm exemplum planè falsum das. “Benivolens” nomen communis generis adusquè commune est.

Again not so, 'though some paradigms may change in time. Don’t you think that Romans went to school and learned language paradigms?
Denuò falsum etsi mutant per tempus quaedam paradigmatia. Nonne credis Romanos in ludo et paradigmatibus artem grammaticae didicisse?

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Hi, Guys,

On another Greek forum, I drew a distinction between Semantic Maximalists and Semantic Minimalists. Take any part of Greek, say the difference between the imperfect and the aorist in narrative, or word order, or when the article is used, or which connective is used, and you will often find two approaches. Semantic Maximalists say that these differences always mean a great deal, and they are confident that they can precisely analyze the text and tell you exactly what each word means. They often refer you to long tomes of secondary literature, specialized studies which analyze these differences. Of course, the studies don’t usually agree, so you will find one guy saying that the imperfect is the more “vivid” tense in narrative, while another guys says the historical present is more vivid.

On the other side are Semantic Minimalists. They acknowledge that there may be very slight differences in meaning, but they feel that if you try to articulate these differences, you are essentially trying to read the mind of a writer who lived in a very different world than yours. You are just as likely to say something that is false than something that is true, and you cannot falsify subtle differences in meaning. (How would you prove, for example, that a word is NOT emphatic?) Semantic Minimalists feel that word choices are made somewhat subconsciously, with a FEEL for how the words sound, not with an obsession for what the words mean. Semantic Minimalists tend not to like long grammars, and try not to treat Latin or Greek any differently from their native languages, which they learned and use without recourse to grammars or linguistic studies.

I have come to believe that Semantic Minimalists and Semantic Maximalists are really personality types more than anything else.

I may be off base, but I think Calvinist is a Semantic Minimalist, as am I.

I really like thee, Dr. Fell,
the reason why I cannot tell.

I don’t know why I like Semantic Minimalism. I don’t know why any of us are what we are.

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What you say relates, Markos, but there are many positions between the extremes.
Pertinet quidem quod dicis, Markos, at multi sunt loci inter extrema.

For example, to your statement (and all it’s parts):
Exempli gratiâ, ad sententiam tuam (omnibus partibus in ipsis seorsùm habitis):

sic respondeo: nonnunquàm ita, nonnunquàm non est.
I say sometimes yes, sometimes no.

Some Romans did and do, some didn’t and don’t; some of us did and do, some of us didn’t and don’t.
Sunt ex Romanis qui sic dedicerunt et sic utuntur; et ex nobis.

[I like Reader Response theories, myself. The more perspectives that can be embraced, the better, when talking about the meaning of meaning.
meâ parte, theoriae Responsorum Lectoris mihi placent. De significationis significatione, meliùs est multas opiniones includi.]

Saepè legendo rogo: “quae res significari possunt ut puto” antequàm ad quaestionem respondere conor: “quid velit dicere auctor ut imaginor?” Nonnunquàm credo, ambiguitas ipsa est quam quaerit auctor ut plùs lectorem moveat. Sunt etiam qui callidiùs aliis se exprimunt.
Often in reading I might ask “what range of things could be meant?” before trying to answer: “what do I imagine was meant?” and sometimes I can imagine an author wishing to play on ambiguity itself to enrichen the reader’s experience. And some speak more artfully than others.

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Markos, your observation is both brilliant and absolutely right. What is most important is probably the disposition of the particular author we are reading. I would say that 90% or more of everyday conversation is done from the semantic minimalist perspective. For instance, just this morning my girlfriend was telling me about her day at work. At one point she started talking about a conversation with an employee. She said, “Luke was like…” then paused to grab something, and continued “he’s like…” (“is like” was used as a quotative here: John was like, “No, I’m not going.”) Now, the shift in tense could be described as shifting to a more vivid narrative, but I guarantee that my girlfriend didn’t even notice she shifted tenses and had I pointed it out to her she probably would’ve looked at me like I was an over-analyzing-missing-the-point-insensitive jerk. Now, Adrianus might say that maybe it’s because my girlfriend isn’t educated enough in the English language and she is just hopelessly wandering about in the dark abyss of linguistic ignorance. I would disagree. The shift was done subconsciously probably for convenience: “Luke was” becomes “he’s”. The shift wasn’t semantic, it was for convenience, and it was done without a conscious decision. If we were speaking Chinese, she probably would’ve left the verb unmarked, as it was clear to everyone that she was describing a past event. But English forces you to choose a tense and so the verb was marked with additional information that was considered irrelevant to her… not wrong, just irrelevant. Of course the distinction between the future tense and the past tense would be significant, but that doesn’t mean that her subconscious choice between past and present was significant semantically.

Now a literary author will probably be more conscious of his choices while writing (although not necessarily during everyday speech which is done on the fly). However, this will probably vary between authors and will probably even vary with the same author. Note my usage of the future tense in the last sentence, which could have also used the past “this probably varied” or the present “this probably varies”. I did not use the future to make some semantic distinction from the other two possible tenses. In fact, I don’t know why I used the future tense… and don’t tell me you know why I did (Markos’ point about mind-reading).

I remember reading long discussions about why exactly John switches between αγαπαω and φιλεω during the conversation between Jesus and Peter in the last chapter of his gospel. He’s probably not quoting them verbatim, as they may have been speaking in Aramaic. So the question remains, why? Most discussions took the assumption that John intended a semantic distinction between the two verbs, similar to English “love” and “like”. This was interesting, but never satisfied me entirely. Then I came across a grammarian who noted that a significant characteristic of John’s style is a preference for synonyms. He uses βλεπω, οραω, and θεωρεω in the span of four verses in the beginning of chapter 20 without any apparent difference in meaning (all translations render all three as “saw” as far as I know). John seems to ignore the possible distinctions between similar words and instead uses them side-by-side to “dress up” his narrative. It adds more variety and color to the narrative. This was probably done subconsciously and was either learned from reading other authors or reflected an aspect of his personality. John also uses φιλεω a number of times in his gospel in situations where it clearly means “to love”.

The point is that an author may choose a particular tense/mood/word for stylistic reasons and not semantic reasons. He may choose a certain form or word because of the way it sounds, or how it affects the meter. This is true in prose just as much as it is in poetry. Anyone who has read authors like Faulkner or Hemingway understands that their choice of words, sentence structure, and word order is for purely stylistic reasons many times. If we read too much into this we may be guilty of over-analysis at the very least, and in the worst case we might be flat wrong, inserting additional meaning that was never intended. Note that in the last sentence I switched from “may” in the first clause to “might” in the second, even though they mirror each other. Did you notice? I was conscious of this as I did it and the reason I did it was purely stylistic. To me there is no semantic difference between the two… it simply provides variety.

I want to comment quickly on something you said Adrianus.

No one learns their native language through paradigms and explicit grammar instruction. A baby starts internalizing the systems of their language from the first day they are born through the everyday conversations of their parents and others around them. It is 100% meaningful, context-filled language. None of it is removed from actual context the way a paradigm like amo, amas, amat, amamus, amatis, amant or amicus, amici, amico, amicum, amico is. The system is so deeply imprinted onto the mind of the child that it is used subconsciously, unlike those of us who learn the language after childhood. At 6 months old, a baby’s babbling is already imitating the particular pitch, accent, and rhythmic patterns of the language around him/her. The falling pitch at the end of declarative statements is already being imprinted onto the brain of a 6-month old English speaker. Later grammar instruction in school only slightly refines this. The fundamental aspects of every part of the language are already deeply ingrained by this time. I really believe that your view of language is way too mechanistic Adrianus. One’s native language is spoken effortlessly, instinctively, and mostly subconsciously, as if it was walking or breathing. You seem to think that a speaker/author is constantly monitoring all linguistic parameters and choosing each parameter after careful consideration. This flies in the face of reality.

Here is a summary of my view of the relation between linguistic structure and expression:

  1. The author may have subconsciously chosen the particular linguistic parameter (tense,mood,one-of-multiple-synonyms), and in this case the semantic distinction is reduced significantly, if even present.

  2. The author may have consciously chosen the particular linguistic parameter, and may intend a semantic distinction.

  3. The author may have consciously chosen the particular linguistic parameter, but may have done it for stylistic and not semantic reasons.

Adrianus, you seem to think that (2) is the only possible relationship between structure and expression. I think I’ve shown that (1) and (3) are just as possible. Examples of (1): my girlfriend switching tenses, my usage of the future tense noted above. Examples of (3): my switch from “may” to “might”, John’s use of βλεπω, οραω, and θεωρεω (may have been subconscious).

How can we tell which it is in a particular circumstance? I think context is our only clue. Noting, among other things, the author’s own style.

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You’re inventing nonsense just for show,—for the purpose of discrediting it!
Nugas à te conflatas ostensui imputas,—tantummodò ut eas rejicis!

I think your understanding of English is too limited. I learned to speak English before going to school and I spoke as a child speaks. I learned more about speaking and writing English,—about how to further express myself, about how one might express oneself variously, about grammar, reading and misreading and so on,—at school, “where I had recourse to grammars or linguistic studies” (including lots of reading). I’ve never stopped learning about English because there will always be more to learn.
Augustiorem comprehensionem tuam! Ante ingressum in ludum sermones anglicos dedici et ego parvolus puer me expressi; post ingressum habilitas loquendi scribendique atque interpretandi per usum grammaticarum ac studia linguae (quae ut multa legenda sint requisivit) exculta est. Continuò disco cum plura quae discenda remaneant.

If you reread more carefully, you will find nowhere evidence of that.
Diligentiùs relegas. Nusquàm vestigia invenies.

95

OK, I’ll ignore everything else and focus on this point then. Will you agree with me about the 3 points I made describing possible ways of the relationship between linguistic structure and expression? If we agree on that, I’m satisfied. My only point would be that if that is indeed true, then fussing over ceperint may not be necessary, as there may not be an intended semantic distinction at all… especially if it’s a translation from the Greek, which doesn’t have the same distinction.

96

It goes back to what Markos said. We approach language from opposite points of view. I approach it as a linguist primarily, and I think you approach it primarily as a grammarian Adrianus. Or as Markos described it, Semantic Minimalists and Semantic Maximalists. I would bet it has a lot to do with our respective personalities, backgrounds, and interests. I’m a linguistics major, with a heavy interest in language acquisition and second language acquisition in particular. I’m also a musician/composer and play guitar, piano, bass, drums, and sing, along with composing in styles from classical to hip-hop. I don’t like to be limited by the “system”, and I honestly believe that music has kept me in a healthy balance as far as that goes. In music the balance between “theory” and “practice” is much more obvious, as it is “practice” which dictates the “theory” and constantly shows how limited our theoretical descriptions are.

97

I’m not up enough on my archaic grammar to be sure that the use of “one” for “he/she” in a non-universal/non-indefinite sense was ever considered “corerct” usage. But it’s certainly not correct usage now.

True, but the only reason people use a plural for a singular is because English doesn’t have a non-gender-specific singular pronoun that applies to humans. It may eventually come to pass that “they” is considered acceptable as a third-person singular pronoun (as “you” is now the accepted second-person singular, although it was originally only the plural and “thou” was the singular). But that day has not yet come. At least, using “they” as non-gender-specific singular still grates on my ear.

Anyhoo, English forces us to either 1) specify gender, even though we do not wish to; 2) use a form that is so archaic as to be effectively ungrammatical (granting for the sake of argument that it was ever in fact considered grammatical); or 3) use an obvious “ungrammaticism” to bypass the problem. In this respect, English has obvious limits. I can’t see anything in the least controversial about this. I also can’t see anything in the least controversial about the fact that some other languages, like Latin, might also force people to specify that which they would rather not. So, while I’ll not weigh in on the original argument about ceperint due to ignorance, on the greater argument I have to side with Calvinist.

98

Unfortunately not, calvinist. Let me explain. As I said before, we speak and interpret English differently. Here’s an example of something I imagine will separate us. I myself don’t believe that synonyms are semantically identical but that they have similar or near-identical meanings. Nor do I talk like you in the following regard: that style or formality or other things are opposed to meaning, but I say that style or attitude or the sound of a word or cultural resonances associated with a word or particular usage or other things are to be included in meaning. So I can’t oppose, as you do, stylistic and semantic reasons. I don’t accept your distinctions. The reader’s role is also active in constructing meaning and that opens up many more dimensions, too. It’s still fun to argue, though.

Miminè, calvinistice, quod me paenitet. Explicem! Ut jam dixi, non eodem modo anglicè loquimur intelligimus. En exemplum rei quae nos separabit, ut reor. Eqo equidem synonyma non eandem significationem exactam sed similem possidere credo. Nec similiter tractamus de hoc: scribendi seu dicendi rationes concepta contra significationem stare; immò dicam et tales rationes et affectum et motum et sonum et cultûs imagines, omnes horum in significationis concepto includi. Eâ ratione, rationem significationis ad dicendi/scribendi rationem opponere non possum. Distinctiones tuas propositas non audio. Etiam lectoris pars magni momenti est ad significationis linguisticae construendam, quod multas possibilitas ad argumentum aptas aperit. Placet verùmtamen disputare.

99

You need a reliable English grammar or dictionary, Lex. That day came several hundred years ago. But acceptable use may vary between people.

Grammaticam seu dictionarium compertum anglicum, Lex, requiris. Venit iste dies quinque centum abhinc annos. Variat nonnunquàm usus commendatus inter homines.

100

I agree with you here. My point is that a particular author can disregard the slight difference and treat them as completely synonymous, with the only difference being the sound. The overall usage of the entire language community may not treat two words as complete synonyms… but that is a generalization. A particular author is not constrained by the general trend… he may reject the subtle distinction in his own usage. There is no language police to prevent it. How do you think languages change if everyone obeys the rules all the time? Also, the fine distinctions that may be present with synonyms are nearly impossible to articulate exactly, and the situation is compounded when you consider that different authors may treat them differently. This is because of a concept called the “difference threshold”. The closer two things come together (meaning, form, sound, color, feel, etc.), the more difficult it becomes to distinguish a difference. It’s basically a loss of contrast. Once this loss of contrast reaches a certain point, the “difference threshold”, a person loses the ability to distinguish.

It is important to keep the two ideas separate. “I bought a new car” is equivalent in meaning to “I got a new ride” in a denotative sense. They point to the same event. Both sentences have the same referent. They are significantly different in style/formality however. I believe it is confusing and deceptive to say they are different in meaning, unless you note explicitly that the only semantic difference is connotative, and not denotative. Connotative differences are difficult to articulate, and they are very individualized. What is considered informal slang in one part of the language community may not be in another part of the language community. There is no centralized “language-command” that acts like a governing body and dictates the correct usage. The community as a whole, and as subsets, dictates usage. No English professor or grammar textbook ever cemented a language in place and prevented it from changing. Those changes are constantly in progress. A couple people over here blurring this distinction, a couple people over there accepting a previously ungrammatical form as grammatical, etc. Latin, like every language, was always fluid. A grammar text is a snapshot of a language at a particular time and place. As soon as it is published the language has already moved slightly from where it was when the grammar was compiled. And this is assuming that the grammarians had God-like omniscience of all usage in the language when the observation was made, which they of course don’t.