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on black and white avoir noir sur blanc, pour insister sur la réalité de la chose écrite.' But the English idiom is in black and white, and the sur in the French equivalent has misled the writer. Later on the same page, 'Quiconque prend la parole tient le crachoir (ang. takes floor "occupe l'estrade").' The English idiom is unintelligible without the definite article, takes the floor. Again on the same page, 'Celui qui étonne et effraie fait dresser les cheveux sur la tête (ang. raises hair).' It is true that we speak of a hair-raising experience, but we do not say that anything raises hair except a hair tonic, and even that fails not infrequently: nor even does terror raise my hair, rather it makes my hair stand on end-which is the only permissible idiom.

Perhaps however some of the examples have suffered from undue brevity of exposition: English Jerusalem from Italian girasole (p. 29) is quite bewildering, by itself, although it is later (p. 224) repeated with the necessary addition of the word artichoke. So also the Old Lady in Threadneedle (p. 336) should not be deprived of Street, and the preposition is of, not in. 'Ainsi l'anglais not half "pas à moitié" signifie "tout à fait, fort" (p. 373). But this is only in British English; in America, not half is current only in not half bad, which means not 'very bad,' but 'very good.' Brevity makes one think also that the men of Latium applied Urbs to Athens rather than to Rome (p. 140).

To return to the difficulties of the idiom of a foreign language, the following might be noted as samples: Sob-sister 'femme plaignarde' (p. 255) is used also of men, and denotes pessimism rather than tears. A hell of a dinner, glossed 'copieux dîner' (p. 309), means a 'wretched dinner', unless the enthusiasm of the speaker's voice reverses the meaning (I have never heard such a use myself). Hemp is glossed 'pendard' (p. 261), and this meaning is in the dictionary, but the slang use is normally for a hangman's rope. Red tape means not 'bureaucrate', as Carnoy states (p. 261), but 'bureaucratie'.

Not a few words also are incorrectly quoted, especially English words: thus kookedooledoo (p. 22) should be cock-a-doodle-doo; Rose Mary (the plant) (p. 29) should be rosemary; primerose (p. 29) should be primrose; chandeleer and electroleer (p. 60) should end in -lier, and motoneer should be motorneer; buttry (p. 64) should be buttery; lever (p. 110) should be liver; beach (p. 118) should be beech; T. C. (p. 241) and T. B. C. (p. 350) should be T. B.; salone (p. 339) should be saloon; tris (p. 342) should be tries. Other misquoted forms are Spanish salire (p. 169; for salir), Latin coenam (p. 245; for cenam), intelligo (p. 317; for intellego), transferro (p. 318; for transfero), Italian fachino (p. 374; for facchino).

Latin feto, quoted as 'jeune animal' (p. 135), is a hypothetical word only, assumed as the ancestor of French faon.

Finally, a few items of a more general bearing. The account of the union of different roots into one paradigm, as in sum fui, go went (p. 62), might more than merely hint at the phenomenon of temporal aspect, which, though no longer an active factor in languages of Western Europe, is vital in the Balto-Slavonic tongues. That 'a truly complete dictionary of French or of English would have more words of Greek origin than of Latin or Germanic origin' (p. 75) is to the reviewer very dubious. Artificially created trade-words are rarely 'fabriqués artificiellement de toute pièce' (p. 77); nearly all can be traced to some other usual words. Pianola, cited as example, is an obvious formation from piano, with a familiar suffix; byrrh (a drink) is under the influence of beer (Bier, bière) and myrrh (myrrhe). The transfer of an abstract substantive to an individual person is regularly made through an intermediate stage of a collective concrete, though Professor Carnoy does not hint at this (p. 188); the best example is English youth 'a time of life', the youth 'young men collectively', a youth 'a young man'. Another example, caught as it makes the second change, is Latin custodia 'guardianship', then 'body of guards', finally, in Ovid Met. 8.684, 'a guardian'. The ancient type of compounds with an imperative as first member (p. 264) does not include all the examples given; notably, English breakfast started out as an ordinary indicative phrase (they break fast, they broke fast, etc.).

But Professor Carnoy has given us for the first time a systematic manual of semantics, with a definite terminology, and every student of the subject must reckon with his work; must in fact consider it as the point from which he starts, and the point to which he returns, as an indispensable guide and a treasure-house of examples.

ROLAND G. KENT.

Histoire de Parfait Grec. Pp. x + 268. By PIERRE CHANTRAINE. (Collection Linguistique publiée par la Société de Linguistique de Paris, XXI.) Paris: H. Champion, 1927.

Monsieur Chantraine, following especially the studies of J. Wackernagel and of A. Meillet, gives us in this volume a history of the perfect tense in Greek, from Homer to the Hellenistic period. His conclusions may be thus summarized: The oldest type of perfect, commonest in the Homeric poems, denotes a state which persists in the subject itself, and is essentially of present time; this is true even when the verb has a direct

object. Examples: yeyova, oλwλa, oida. Such perfects are frequent when the present tense is in the middle form; cf. the similar Latin revertor, perfect reverti. Homer shows few perfects with middle endings; for the perfect middle was not an original form. But as the secondary endings in the singular tended in Greek to disappear phonetically, the perfect with secondary endings was in Homer in the middle form, cf. ἔοικα ἔικτο. ἔμμορε είμαρτο. The participle was of either voice, τετευχώς and τετυγμένος.

But the tendency to create a paradigm brought into existence a perfect middle where the present tense was in the middle form, by analogy: thus γεγένημαι came in alongside γέγονα, since the present γίγνομαι was middle. The existence of a pluperfect with middle endings helped this development. This middle perfect also has the value of state or condition which persists in the subject.

The third stage of the Greek perfect was the creation of an analogical active perfect, such as Béßλŋka to ßeßλnual, and of an active pluperfect; these normally have active transitive meanings. The sole example in Homer is ßeßinkev (Il. 10.145 = 16.22), manifestly a late formation, since it is to a denominative verb.

βεβίηκεν

Chantraine traces the perfect through the later Greek literature, into Hellenistic and later times. The old intransitive perfects of the first type become fewer and fewer, until in the New Testament the survivors become virtually independent verbs. The second type, the perfects of middle form, become more numerous, and are attached to the newly developed factitive actives as well as to the older middle presents. Even the familiar active δοκεῖ, ἔδοξε has a middle perfect, δέδοκται. The third type also increases, but ultimately, through identity of the personal endings in most forms, becomes merged in form and meaning with the aorist: this in literary Greek, but in the dialect inscriptions there are many forms which have assumed the inflexions of the present tense, showing the true nature of the perfect. Modern Greek has, of all the old perfects, only evрnka, with a few others that are new forms. Chantraine studies also the reduplicated future perfects, which he derives from old Indo-European desideratives; the periphrastic perfect with eiui, which started in the optative and the subjunctive, then passed into the indicative, especially in the third person plural; and the periphrastic perfect with exw, found with a nominative active participle as early as Hesiod (Erga 42), and with an accusative passive participle in Diodorus and Plutarch. This last type is the regular perfect of Modern Greek.

The work is done with abundance of citations and of lists with statistics of occurrence in various authors. Many passages are given with careful translation into French, to show the precise shade of meaning conveyed by the perfect, as distinct from that of the aorist. The author demonstrates completely his point, that the perfect is an aspect of the present, and not a tense of the past. Those who are interested in the formantic side of the problem may regret that he did not treat the origin of the x in the perfects of the third type, nor the provenance of the 'Attic' pluperfect -n -ns -e etc.; but we have so much to be grateful for that we should not regret omissions.

There is also an application of this work, to a wider field. The whole argument demonstrates that of the various forms which we classify cheerfully under the heading of the Greek perfect stem or tense system, only a very little is inherited from the primitive Indo-European speech. This point was touched on by A. Meillet, Chantraine's honored teacher, in his Méthode Comparative en Linguistique Historique 48-52, with other illustrations; and all who are engaged in the work of linguistic science should take deeply to heart the lesson that comparatively little of that which we find in the recorded languages, either as vocabulary or as form, can be referred with confidence to the primitive Indo-European stage of our speech.

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ROLAND G. KENT

The Vocabulary of Intrigue in Roman Comedy: Chicago dissertation. Pp. 124. By BLANCHE BROTHERTON. Chicago, 1926.

Dr. Brotherton states her purpose as follows: "First, to illustrate the richness and variety of popular usage and the exuberance of comic diction in a group of words for which the plots of intrigue in comedy provide abundant material. Second, to illustrate the different spheres of human thought and activity from which are drawn the figurative expressions of the vocabulary of intrigue. Figurative language reflects the special interests of the people who use it for the expression of their thoughts. Third, to throw such light as may be available on the precise force of individual words and phrases, many of which are disputed or vaguely appreciated. A synthetic study of words covering the same general range of thought sometimes serves to illuminate the meanings of individual words within the group."

The third, or strictly linguistic, purpose of the dissertation is systematically worked out in pp. 7-118, while pp. 119-124 are occupied by an index of words. The stylistic and cultural purposes are touched

upon only in pp. 3-6, except in so far as materials for such studies are included along with the linguistic material.1

Characteristic of the author's method, is the discussion (70-3) of the development of the meaning 'cheat' in the verbs ferire, verberare, deverberare, and percutere. Editors have sometimes found in these verbs a reference to actual physical violence, where the context shows that the injury consisted merely of the loss of money or other property. Dr. Brotherton drives her point home not only by a study of the context in each separate passage, but also by bringing together the evidence for the four synonymous verbs.

Another highly satisfactory chapter is the discussion (94-103) of tricae and its derivatives, where the evidence from the later literature is considered more fully than the general plan of the dissertation requires. Three meanings for the word clearly emerge: 'trifles'; 'delays'; and 'difficulties'. Dr. Brotherton evidently believes that the word is Greek Tpixes; she answers the objections to the etymology, and points out the unconvincing nature of the rival etymologies; it is a pity that she doesn't go one step further. As far as I can see there is virtually no doubt that tricae is an early loan word from the Greek. I would, however, explain the quantity of the first syllable in another way from that chosen by the author. Several early loan words show an interchange of long and short i, and this probably reflects the fact that in Greek i was a relatively close sound and i relatively open, while in latin i was close and ǎ open.

Here are a few other results of the study. Hoc denuo volt pallium detexere (Amph. 294) means 'he wants to weave my shirt over again' (and weaving involves some energetic pounding). Ducere, ductare, ductitare 'cheat' involve a metaphor from leading pack animals certainly in two passages and so probably in all the others. In Most. 844-7, however, there is no idea of cheating; for perductor is here the agent noun beside ductare, and perductor always means 'pander'. Theopropides pretends to understand that Simo has offered him immoral entertainment. (Correct my edition of the play accordingly.) Captio (Most. 922 and elsewhere) means 'trap', not 'damage'. Tragula in Plautus involves a military figure; the word properly means a kind of barbed spear, and it is used figuratively of the monetary and other wounds inflicted on the comic stage. Dissignare (Most. 413) cannot mean 'reveal what ought to be kept secret', as has been maintained; it is

1 Does good wine need so much bush?

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