Religion, it is true, forbids us to alter the words of these hymns and we must treat them as sacred things. But what a faulty thing is speech, whose prime virtue is clearness, if it requires an interpreter to make its meaning plain! Consequently in the case of old words the best will be those that are newest, just as in the case of new words the best will be the oldest.

The same arguments apply to authority. For although the use of words transmitted to us by the best authors may seem to preclude the possibility of error, it is important to notice not merely what they said, but what words they succeeded in sanctioning. For no one to-day would introduce words such as tuburchinabunidus, voracious, or lurchinabundus, guzzling, although they have the authority of Cato; nor make lodices, blankets, masculine, though Pollio preferred that gender; nor say gladiola, small swords, though Messala used this plural, nor parricidatus for parricide, a form which can scarcely be tolerated even in Caelius, nor will Calvus persuade me to speak of collos, necks. Indeed, were these authors alive to-day, they would never use such words. Usage remains to be discussed.

For it would be almost laughable to prefer the language of the past to that of the present day, and what is ancient speech but ancient usage of speaking? But even here the critical faculty is necessary, and we must make up our minds what we mean by usage.

If it be defined merely as the practice of the majority, we shall have a very dangerous rule affecting not merely style but life as well, a far more serious matter. For where is so much good to be found that what is right should please the majority? The practices of depilation, of dressing the hair in tiers, or of drinking to excess at the baths, although they may have thrust their way into society, cannot claim the support of usage, since there is something to blame in all of them (although we have usage on our side when we bathe or have our hair cut or take our meals together). So too in speech we must not accept as a rule of language words and phrases that have become a vicious habit with a number of persons.

To say nothing of the language of the uneducated, we are all of us well aware that whole theatres and the entire crowd of spectators will often commit barbarisms in the cries which they utter as one man. I will therefore define usage in speech as the agreed practice of educated men, just as where our way of life is concerned I should define it as the agreed practice of all good men.

Having stated the rules which we must follow in speaking, I will now proceed to lay down the rules which must be observed when we write. Such rules are called orthography by the Greeks; let us style it the science of writing correctly. This science does not consist merely in the knowledge of the letters composing each syllable (such a study is beneath the dignity of a teacher of grammar), but, in my opinion, develops all its subtlety in connexion with doubtful points.

For instance, while it is absurd to place a circumflex over all long syllables since the quantity of most syllables is obvious from the very nature of the word which is written, it is all the same occasionally necessary, since the same letter involves a different meaning according as it is long or short. For example we determine whether mains is to mean an apple tree or a bad man by the use of the circumflex;

palus means a stake, if the first syllable is long, a marsh, if it be short; again when the same letter is short in the nominative and long in the ablative, we generally require the circumflex to make it clear which quantity to understand.

Similarly it has been held that we should observe distinctions such as the following: if the preposition ex is compounded with specto, there will be an s in the second syllable, while there will be no s if it is compounded with pecto.

Again the following distinction has frequently been observed: ad is spelt with a d when it is a preposition, but with a t when it is a conjunction, while cum is spelt quum when it denotes time, but cum when it denotes accompaniment.

Still more pedantic are the practices of making the fourth letter of quidquid a c to avoid the appearance of repeating a question, and of writing quotidie instead of colidie to show that it stands for quot diebus. But such practices have disappeared into the limbo of absurdities.

It is often debated whether in our spelling of prepositions we should be guided by their sound when compounded, or separate. For instance when I say optinuit, logic demands that the second letter should be a b, while to the ear the sound is rather that of p: or again take the case of immunis:

the letter n, which is required by strict adherence to fact, is forced by the sound of the m. which follows to change into another m.

We must also note when analysing compound words, whether the middle consonant adheres to the preceding syllable or to that which follows. For example since the latter part of haruspex is from spectare, the s must be assigned to the third syllable. In abstemius on the other hand it will go with the first syllable since the word is derived from abstinentia temeti, abstention from wine.

As for k my view is that it should not be used at all except in such words as may be indicated by the letter standing alone as an abbreviation. K may stand for Kalendae, Kaeso, Karthago, Kalumnia, Kaput. I mention the fact because some hold that k should be used whenever the next letter is an a, despite the existence of the letter c which maintains its force in conjunction with all the vowels. Orthography, however,

is also the servant of usage and therefore undergoes frequent change. I make no mention of the earliest times when our alphabet contained fewer letters The original alphabet consisted of twenty-one letters, and was increased to twenty-three by the addition of y and z. and their shapes differed from those which we now use, while their values also were different. For instance in Greek the letter o was sometimes long and short, as it is with us, and again was sometimes used to express the syllable which is identical with its name. i.e. the interjection O!

And in Latin ancient writers ended a number of words with d, as may be seen on the column adorned with the beaks of ships, which was set up in the forum in honour of Duilius. The ablative originally terminated in d; e.g. pugnandod, marid, navaled, pracdad, etc., on the base of the column of Duilius. Sometimes again they gave words a final g, as we may still see in the shrine of the Sun, close to the temple of Quirinus, where we find the word uesperug, which we write uesperugo (evening star).

I have already spoken of the interchange of letters I. iv. 12–17. and need not repeat my remarks here: perhaps their pronunciation corresponded with their spelling.

For a long time the doubling of semivowels was avoided, e.g. iusi was written for iussi. while down to the time of Accius and beyond, long syllables were indicated by repetition of the vowel.

The practice of joining e and i as in the Greek diphthong ει lasted longer: it served to distinguish cases and numbers, for which we may compare the instructions of Lucilius: The boys are come: why then, their names must end With e and i to make them more than one; and later— If to a thief and liar ( mendaci furique ) you would give, In e and i your thief must terminate. But this addition of e is quite superfluous, since t can be long no less than short: