Institutio Oratoria

As for Solitaurilia it is by now universally believed to stand for Suovelaurilia, a derivation which corresponds to the actual sacrifice, which has its counterpart in Homer [*]( As in Od. xi. 130. The word means sacrifices of a pig, sheep and bull. ) as well. But these compounds are formed not so much from three words as from the fragments of three. On the other hand Pacuvius seems to have formed compounds of a preposition and two vocables ( i.e. nouns) as in

1. Nerei repandirostrum incurvticervicum pecs:

1. The flock
2. Of Nereus snout-uplifted, neck-inarched

Compounds are however formed from two complete Latin words, as for instance supefui and subterfui; though in this case there is some question as to whether the words from which they are formed are complete. [*](i.e. if both elements are complete in themselves is the word a true compound? ) They may also be formed of one complete and one incomplete

In the case of prepositions they are frequently changed by the act of compounding: as a result we get abstulit, aufugit, amisit, though the preposition is ab, and coil, though the preposition is con. The same is true of ignauus and erepublica. [*](Sometimes written as one word.) But compounds are better suited to Greek than to Latin,

though I do not think that this is due to the nature of our language: the reason rather is that we have a preference for foreign goods, and therefore receive κυρταύχην with applause, whereas we can scarce defend incurvicervicus from derisive laughter. Words are proper when they bear their original meaning;

metaphorical, when they are used in a sense different from their natural meaning. Current words are safest to use: there is a spice of danger in coining new. For if they are adopted, our style wins but small glory from them; while if they are rejected, they become a subject for jest.

Still we must make the venture; for as Cicero [*](de Nat. deorum, I. xxxiv. 95. ) says, use softens even these words which at first seemed harsh. On the other hand the power of onomatopoeia is denied us. Who would tolerate an attempt to imitate

the bow twanged,

the eye hissed

to baa,

to whinny,

There are special rules which must be observed both by speakers and writers. Language is based on reason, antiquity, authority and usage. Reason finds its chief support in analogy and sometimes in etymology. As for antiquity, it is commended to us by the possession of a certain majesty, I might almost say sanctity.

Authority as a rule we derive from orators and historians. For poets, owing to the necessities of metre, are allowed a certain licence except in cases where they deliberately choose one of two expressions, when both are metrically possible, as for instance in imo de stirpe recisum and aeriae quo congessere palumbes or silice in nuda [*](Aen. xii. 208: cutaway from the lowest root. Ecl. iii. 69: where airy doves have made their nest. Ecl. i. 15: on the naked rock. Stirps, palumbes and silex are usually masculine. ) and the like. The judgment of a supreme orator is placed on the same level as reason, and even error brings no disgrace, if it result from treading in the footsteps of such distinguished guides.

Usage however is the surest pilot in speaking, and we should treat language as currency minted with the public stamp. But in all these cases we have need of a critical judgment, especially as regards analogy (a Greek term for which a Latin equivalent has been found in proportion).

The essence of analogy is the testing of all subjects of doubt by the application of some standard of comparison about which there is no question, the proof that is to say of the uncertain by reference to the certain. This can be done in two different ways: by comparing similar words, paying special attention to their final syllables

Comparison of nouns will reveal either their gender or their declension: in the first case, supposing the question is raised as to whether junis be masculine or feminine, panis will supply a standard of comparison: in the second case, supposing we are in doubt as to whether we should say hac domu or hac domo, domuum or domorum, the standard of comparison will be found in words such as anus or manus.

Diminutives merely reveal the gender: for instance, to return to a word previously used as an illustration, funiculus proves that funis is masculine.

The same standard may be applied in the case of verbs. For instance if it should be asserted that the middle syllable of fervere is short, we can prove this to be an error, because all verbs which in the indicative terminate in -eo, make the middle syllable of the infinitive long, if that syllable contain an e: take as examples such verbs as prandeo, pendeo, spondeo with infinitives prandēre, pendēre, spondēre.

Those verbs, however, which terminate in -o alone, if they form the infinitive in e, have the e short; compare lego, dico, curro, with the infinitives, legĕre, dicĕre, currĕre. I admit that in Lucilius we find—

1. fervit aqua et fervet: firvit nunc ferverit ad annum. [*](In Book IX.)

The water boils and boil it will; it boils and for a year will boil.

But this is not a true comparison: for fervit

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 pepigi: 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 paciscor, being passive in form, made pactus sum as its perfect.

I in addition to quoting the authority of orators and historians maintained that I was also supported by analogy. For when I found ni ita pacunt in the Twelve Tables, I noted that cadunt provided a parallel: it was clear therefore that the present indicative, though now obsolete, was paco on the analogy of cado, and it was further obvious that we say pepigi for just the same reason that we say cecidi.

But we must remember that analogy 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 lepus and lupus, 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 lepus is epicene, while lupus is masculine, although Varro in the book in which he narrates the origins of Rome, writes lupus femina, following the precedent of Ennius and Fabius Pictor.

The same scholars, however, when asked why aper became apri in the genitive, but pater patris, asserted that aper was an absolute, pater a relative noun. Further since both words derive from the Greek, they took refuge in the fact

But how will they evade the difficulty that feminine nouns whose nominative singular ends in -us never make the genitive end in -ris, and yet the genitive of Venus is Veneris: again nouns ending in -es have various genitive terminations, but never end in -ris, but yet we have no choice but to make the genitive of Ceres Cereris?