<GetPassage xmlns:tei="http://www.tei-c.org/ns/1.0" xmlns="http://chs.harvard.edu/xmlns/cts">
            <request>
                <requestName>GetPassage</requestName>
                <requestUrn>urn:cts:latinLit:phi1002.phi001.perseus-eng2:1.6.9-1.6.28</requestUrn>
            </request>
            <reply>
                <urn>urn:cts:latinLit:phi1002.phi001.perseus-eng2:1.6.9-1.6.28</urn>
                <passage>
                    <TEI xmlns="http://www.tei-c.org/ns/1.0"><text xml:lang="eng"><body><div n="urn:cts:latinLit:phi1002.phi001.perseus-eng2" type="translation" xml:lang="eng"><div n="1" type="textpart" subtype="book"><div n="6" type="textpart" subtype="chapter"><div n="9" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> But this is not a true comparison: for <hi rend="italic">fervit</hi>
                        <pb n="v1-3 p.117"/> resembles <hi rend="italic">servit,</hi> and on
                            this analogy we should say <hi rend="italic">fervire</hi> like <hi rend="italic">servire.</hi>
                     </p></div><div n="10" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> It is also possible in certain cases to discover the present indicative
                            of a verb from the study of its other tenses. I remember, for instance,
                            refuting certain scholars who criticised me for using the word <hi rend="italic">pepigi:</hi> for, although they admitted that it had
                            been used by some of the best authors, they asserted that it was an
                            irrational form because the present indicative <hi rend="italic">paciscor,</hi> being passive in form, made <hi rend="italic">pactus
                                sum</hi> as its perfect. </p></div><div n="11" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> I in addition to quoting the authority of orators and historians
                            maintained that I was also supported by analogy. For when I found <hi rend="italic">ni ita pacunt</hi> in the Twelve Tables, I noted that
                                <hi rend="italic">cadunt</hi> provided a parallel: it was clear
                            therefore that the present indicative, though now obsolete, was <hi rend="italic">paco</hi> on the analogy of <hi rend="italic">cado,</hi> and it was further obvious that we say <hi rend="italic">pepigi</hi> for just the same reason that we say <hi rend="italic">cecidi.</hi>
                     </p></div><div n="12" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> But we must remember that <hi rend="italic">analogy</hi> cannot be
                            universally applied, as it is often inconsistent with itself. It is true
                            indeed that scholars have attempted to justify certain apparent
                            anomalies: for example, when it is noted to what an extent <hi rend="italic">lepus</hi> and <hi rend="italic">lupus,</hi> which
                            resemble each other closely in the nominative, differ in the plural and
                            in the other cases, they reply that they are not true parallels, since
                                <hi rend="italic">lepus</hi> is <hi rend="italic">epicene,</hi>
                            while <hi rend="italic">lupus</hi> is masculine, although Varro in the
                            book in which he narrates the origins of Rome, writes <hi rend="italic">lupus femina,</hi> following the precedent of Ennius and Fabius
                            Pictor. </p></div><div n="13" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> The same scholars, however, when asked why <hi rend="italic">aper</hi>
                            became <hi rend="italic">apri</hi> in the genitive, but <hi rend="italic">pater patris,</hi> asserted that <hi rend="italic">aper</hi> was an absolute, <hi rend="italic">pater</hi> a relative
                            noun. Further since both words derive from the Greek, they took refuge
                            in the fact <pb n="v1-3 p.119"/> that <foreign xml:lang="grc">πατρός</foreign> provides a parallel to <hi rend="italic">patris</hi> and <foreign xml:lang="grc">κάπρου</foreign> to <hi rend="italic">apri.</hi>
                     </p></div><div n="14" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> But how will they evade the difficulty that feminine nouns whose
                            nominative singular ends in <hi rend="italic">-us</hi> never make the
                            genitive end in <hi rend="italic">-ris,</hi> and yet the genitive of <hi rend="italic">Venus</hi> is <hi rend="italic">Veneris:</hi> again
                            nouns ending in <hi rend="italic">-es</hi> have various genitive
                            terminations, but never end in <hi rend="italic">-ris,</hi> but yet we
                            have no choice but to make the genitive of <hi rend="italic">Ceres
                                Cereris?</hi>
                     </p></div><div n="15" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> Again what of those words which, although identical in the form of the
                            nominative or present indicative, develop the utmost variety in their
                            inflections. Thus from <hi rend="italic">Alba</hi> we get both <hi rend="italic">Albanus and Albensis,</hi> from <hi rend="italic">volo</hi> both <hi rend="italic">volui</hi> and <hi rend="italic">volavi.</hi> Analogy itself admits that verbs whose present
                            indicative ends in -o have a great variety of perfect formations, as for
                            instance <hi rend="italic"> cado cecidi, spondeo spopondi, pingo pinxi,
                                lego legi, pono posui, fiango fregi, laudo laudavi. </hi>
                     </p></div><div n="16" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> For <hi rend="italic">analogy</hi> was not sent down from heaven at the
                            creation of mankind to frame the rules of language, but was discovered
                            after they began to speak and to note the terminations of words used in
                            speech. It is therefore based not on reason but on example, nor is it a
                            law of language, but rather a practice which is observed, being in fact
                            the offspring of usage. </p></div><div n="17" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> Some scholars, however, are so perverse and obstinate in their passion
                            for analogy, that they say <hi rend="italic">audaciter</hi> in
                            preference to <hi rend="italic">audacter,</hi> the form preferred by all
                            orators, and <hi rend="italic">emicavit</hi> for <hi rend="italic">emicuit,</hi> and <hi rend="italic">conire</hi> for <hi rend="italic">coire.</hi> We may permit them to say <hi rend="italic">audivisse, scivisse, tribunale</hi> and <hi rend="italic">faciliter,</hi> nor will we deprive them of <hi rend="italic">frugalis</hi> as an alternative for <hi rend="italic">frugi:</hi>
                     </p></div><div n="18" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> for from what else can <hi rend="italic">frugalitas</hi> be formed? They
                            may also be allowed to point out that phrases such as <hi rend="italic">centum milia nummum</hi> and <hi rend="italic">fidem deum</hi>
                        <note anchored="true" place="unspecified"><hi rend="italic">i.e.
                                    nummum</hi> and <hi rend="italic">deum</hi> should, strictly
                                speaking, be accus. singular. </note> involve a <pb n="v1-3 p.121"/>
                            double solecism, since they change both case and number. Of course we
                            were in blank ignorance of the fact and were not simply conforming to
                            usage and the demands of elegance, as in the numerous cases, with which
                            Cicero deals magnificently, as always, in his Orator. <note anchored="true" place="unspecified">xlvi. 155.</note>
                     </p></div><div n="19" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> Augustus again in his letters to Gaius Caesar corrects him for
                            preferring <hi rend="italic">calidus</hi> to <hi rend="italic">caldus,</hi> not on the ground that the former is not Latin, but
                            because it is unpleasing and as he himself puts it in Greek <foreign xml:lang="grc">περίεργον</foreign> (affected). </p></div><div n="20" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> Some hold that this is just a question of <foreign xml:lang="grc">ὀρθοέπεια</foreign> or correctness of speech, a subject to which I
                            am far from being indifferent. For what can be more necessary than that
                            we should speak correctly? Nay, I even think that, as far as possible,
                            we should cling to correct forms and resist all tendencies to change.
                            But to attempt to retain forms long obsolete and extinct is sheer
                            impertinence and ostentatious pedantry. </p></div><div n="21" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> I would suggest that the ripe scholar, who says <quote><hi rend="italic">ave</hi></quote> without the aspirate and with a long e (for it
                            comes from <hi rend="italic">avēre</hi> and uses <hi rend="italic">calefacere</hi> and <hi rend="italic">conservavisse</hi> in
                            preference to the usual forms, <note anchored="true" place="unspecified"> For <hi rend="italic">havĕ,</hi> calfacere, conservasse. </note>
                            should also add <hi rend="italic">face, dice</hi> and the like to his
                            vocabulary. </p></div><div n="22" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> His way is the right way. Who doubts it? But there is an easier and more
                            frequented path close by. There is, however, nothing which annoys me
                            more than their habit not merely of inferring the nominative from the
                            oblique cases, but of actually altering it. For instance in <hi rend="italic">ebur</hi> and <hi rend="italic">robur,</hi> the forms
                            regularly used both in writing and speech by the best authors, these
                            gentlemen change their second syllable to o, because their genitives are
                                <hi rend="italic">roboris</hi> and <hi rend="italic">eboris,</hi>
                            and because <hi rend="italic">sulpur</hi> and <hi rend="italic">guttur</hi> keep the u in the genitive. So too <hi rend="italic">femur</hi> and <hi rend="italic">iecur</hi> give rise to similar
                            controversy. <pb n="v1-3 p.123"/>
                     </p></div><div n="23" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> Their proceedings are just as arbitrary as if they were to substitute an
                                <hi rend="italic">o</hi> in the genitives of <hi rend="italic">sulpur</hi> and <hi rend="italic">guttur</hi> on the analogy of <hi rend="italic">eboris</hi> and <hi rend="italic">roboris.</hi> Thus
                            Antonius Gnipho while admitting <hi rend="italic">robur, ebur</hi> and
                            even <hi rend="italic">marmur</hi> to be correct, would have their
                            plurals to be <hi rend="italic">ebura, robura</hi> and <hi rend="italic">marnura.</hi>
                     </p></div><div n="24" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> If they would only pay attention to the affinities existing between
                            letters, they would realize that <hi rend="italic">robur</hi> makes its
                            genitive <hi rend="italic">roboris</hi> in precisely the same way that
                                <hi rend="italic">limes, miles, iudex</hi> and <hi rend="italic">uindex</hi> make their genitives <hi rend="italic">militis,
                                limitis, iudicis and uindicis,</hi> not to mention other words to
                            which I have already referred. </p></div><div n="25" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> Do not nouns which are similar in the nominative show, as I have already
                            observed, quite different terminations in the oblique eases? Compare <hi rend="italic">uirgo</hi> and <hi rend="italic">Iuno, lusus</hi> and
                                <hi rend="italic">fusus, caspis</hi> and <hi rend="italic">puppis</hi> and a thousand others. Again some nouns are not used in
                            the plural, while others are not used in the singular, some are
                            indeclinable, while others, like <hi rend="italic">Jupiter,</hi> in the
                            oblique cases entirely abandon the form of the nominative. </p></div><div n="26" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> The same is true of verbs: for instance <hi rend="italic">fero</hi>
                            disappears in the perfect and subsequent tenses. Nor does it matter
                            greatly whether such forms are nonexistent or too harsh to use. For what
                            is the genitive singular of <hi rend="italic">progenies</hi> or the
                            genitive plural of <hi rend="italic">spes?</hi> Or how will <hi rend="italic">quire</hi> and <hi rend="italic">ruere</hi> form a
                            perfect passive or passive participles. </p></div><div n="27" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p> Why should I mention other words when it is even doubtful whether the
                            genitive of <hi rend="italic">senatus</hi> is <hi rend="italic">senati</hi> or <hi rend="italic">senatus?</hi> In view of what I
                            have said, it seems to me that the remark, that it is one thing to speak
                            Latin and another to speak grammar, was far from unhappy. So much for
                                <hi rend="italic">analogy,</hi> of which I have said more than
                            enough. </p></div><div n="28" type="textpart" subtype="section"><p><hi rend="italic">Etymology</hi> inquires into the origin of words, and
                                <pb n="v1-3 p.125"/> was called <hi rend="italic">notation</hi> by
                            Cicero, <note anchored="true" place="unspecified"><hi rend="italic">Top.</hi> viii. 35. </note> on the ground that the term used by
                            Aristotle <note anchored="true" place="unspecified"><foreign xml:lang="grc">περὶ ἑρμ.</foreign> 2. </note> is <foreign xml:lang="grc">σύμβολον,</foreign> which may be translated by <hi rend="italic">nota.</hi> A literal rendering of <foreign xml:lang="grc">ἐτυμολογία</foreign> would be <hi rend="italic">ueriloquium,</hi> a form which even Cicero, its inventor, shrinks
                            from using. Some again, with an eye to the meaning of the word, call it
                                <hi rend="italic">origination.</hi> Etymology is sometimes of the
                            utmost use, whenever the word under discussion needs interpretation.
                        </p></div></div></div></div></body></text></TEI>
                </passage>
            </reply>
            </GetPassage>