De nuptiis Philologiae et Mercurii, Book III (De arte grammatica), part 1 of 4 (about §§ 221-261)
Once more the Muse prepares trinkets for a little book, and, friendly as she is, wishes to bring forward inventions, recalling first that when the use of ornament is cold nothing can be adorned, and that she grants the poet leave to bring forth unbroken fixed things, giving playful charm to elegance and gracing the page overlaid with much color. Yet the title of the former book warns that she would assemble the precepts of the following volumes, with myths driven from her lips and the arts speaking truth. To this she said with a mocking grin: “Let us not lie, and let the arts be clothed. Will you give the band of sisters naked to be wed, and so will they seek the Thunderer and the senate of the heavenly ones? Or if you are pleased to be silent about adornment, what order will be approved?” Surely they will speak, those who have something to bring that must be taught, and they will attain a bearing, though bodiless, in the preface. “This is surely a feigned voice, and you stray from your promise; why then do you not confess that by the shape of a fiction nothing can be put together?” By these words the Muse won me over: I shall join the play in naked form.
Accordingly the son of Latona had brought forward one of Mercury’s handmaidens in the first place—long-lived in age, but most winning in her gentleness. She related that she was born in Memphis while Osiris was still alive, and that, long hidden in hiding places, she was found by Cyllenius himself and brought up by him. Although this woman asserted that she walked in a Greek cloak, in Attica where she had flourished for the greater part of her life, yet after the Roman manner, for the sake of the Latian divinity and the head of the household, and for the Martian race and the offspring of Venus, she entered the senate of the gods wearing the paenula. She was carrying a kind of case made of joined parts, which shone outwardly with smooth ivory. From it, like a skilled mistress of healing, she brought out the instruments for treating wounds. For from it she first showed a scalpel with a quivering edge, with which, she said, the faults of infants’ tongues could be cut away, and then a blackish powder, which seemed to be made from ash or cuttlefish ink, with which, when applied through little tubes, the same faults were healed. Then she also produced a very sharp medicine of quite red color, which she had made from the flower of the fennel and a cutting of goat’s hide, and which she advised should be applied to the throat when, harassed by untaught rusticity, people belch the foul belchings of a vicious mouth. She also showed a most agreeable relish, prepared with much evening labor and oil, by which, she said, the dreadfulness of a most unpleasant voice might be driven off and men even made melodious. The windpipes also and the chest she cleansed by applying a certain medicament, in which wax smeared with beech, a mixture of galls and gums, and glue from the Nilotic shrub were noted. Although the power of this poultice procured memory and attention, yet by its own nature it also brought sleeplessness. She brought out also a file skillfully polished, which gleamed, set with eight gilded parts as if with diverse joints; with this she cleansed, by a light gradual rubbing, rough teeth and the blemishes and filth of tongues, which they had contracted in a certain city of Soloe. These hidden songs and manifold numbers she was thought to know by the work of frequent reckoning. Finally, whenever she had taken patients to cure, it was her custom to treat first of the noun. Nor did she keep silent about the cases, how many faults they could create or how prudently they could be declined. Then she reasoned about the genders of things, and also about the verbs of the patients, lest, as is the custom of the sick, they exchange one name for another. Then she inquired into the moods, tenses and figures [schemata] of verbs, and bade some, in whom a fullness of cutting had set in a rather dull and immovable torpor, to run through the steps and mount as far as possible up the works, to dwell upon prepositions or conjunctions or participles, and to have the patients wearied by the whole of the art. This woman, then, so expert in the treatment of many, some of the gods judged to be a physician, others a midwife, according to the diverse works of things; and to the credibility of her healing skill was added that neither Pallas denied she could aid faults of the mouth, nor the son of Maia himself. Yet it seemed unsuitable that a physician should walk about in a paenula. And so both her name and her office, and the exposition of the whole art, were asked of her. Then she, as she was accustomed, being questioned, and teaching readily what was asked of her, drew back the cloak from her right side with modesty and shame and began thus: “I am called grammatike in Greece, because gramme means a line and grammata letters, and it was assigned to me to draw the forms of letters with proper strokes. Hence Romulus gave me the name of Literature, though he wished to call me, when an infant, Letter-teaching, just as among the Greeks I was at first called grammatike; then he gave me a priest and gathered beardless followers. And so the one who vouches for us is now called litteratus; formerly he was called litterator. Catullus also, a not unpleasing poet, mentions this, saying: ‘Sulla the litterator gives you a gift.’ The same is called among the Greeks grammatodidaskalos.
My office was then to write and read learnedly. Now there has been added also this, that it is mine to understand and judge with erudition. These two seem to me to be common even with philosophers and critics. Of these four, then, two must be called active, two contemplative; for we devote action when we write or read, but we are held by the spectacle of the latter when we understand or judge what is written; although they are joined to one another by a certain kinship, as is shown in the other arts. For the actor first learns what he can perform, and the astronomer does certain things so as to know by them what he ought to prove. The geometer mixes both, since he makes and knows the forms of theorems with sure reasons. My parts are four: letters, literature, the lettered man, and learnedly. Letters are what I teach; literature is the very thing I teach; the lettered man is the one I shall have taught; learnedly is what he who is formed by me has handled skillfully. I profess to treat of the nature and use of speech. Nature is that from which speech is formed; use is what we call it when we employ it. To these is added also the subject matter, that we may judge about what matter we must speak. Speech itself is built up in three stages, that is, from letters, syllables and words. But in letters a twofold question arises. For they are either natural or made. By nature’s prompting their names were produced in the substance of speaking, while the artful formation designated the lines which we write, so that those present might use one and those absent another. And so on the side by which it is written they are called mute, on that by which it is read voices, since the one can be comprehended only by the ears, the other only by the eyes. Letters, then, are of two sorts: some can accomplish a whole by themselves, others nothing. For the vowels, which the Greeks count as seven, Romulus as six, and later usage as five, the Y being cast out as Greek, can in Latin be now lengthened, now shortened, now sharpened, now made grave or even circumflexed, now gathered together, now drawn apart, without loss of their name. Sometimes they form syllables alone, sometimes they take consonants on either side. And some vowels change into one another, and now succeed one another gracefully. A, for instance, is often turned into E, for capio makes cepi; now into I, as salio, insilio; now into O, as plaudo, plostrum; or into V, as arca, arcula. Likewise the letter E is first reformed into A, as sero, satum; or into I, as moneo, monitus; or into O, as tegendo, toga; or into V, as tecto, tugurium. Similarly the vowel I is changed into A, as siquis, siqua; into E, as fortis, forte; into O, as qui, quo; into V, as ibi, ubi. In the same way the letter O passes into A, as creo, creavi; or into E, as tutor, tutela; or into I, as virgo, virginis; or into V, as volo, volui. Likewise V is changed by a like principle into A, as magnus, magna; into I, as telum, teli; into O, as lepus, leporis; into E, as sidus, sideris. Thus, when transformed, they can now be joined on both sides, now on one, now on neither; now they end certain parts of speech, and now none.
For A first joins to itself on both sides the letters V and I: for we say aurum and varus, and Ianus and Aiax. On one side it takes E, as in Aeneas; on neither side O. It ends feminine nouns, as dea; masculine, as Iugurtha; neuter, in the singular only and Greek, as loreuma, peripetasma; in the plural, Latin, as monilia. In verbs it ends the imperative mood, as canta, salta. E, however, as a vowel has the force of two Greek letters. For when it is shortened it is the Greek epsilon, as in ab hoc hoste; when lengthened it is eta, as in ab hac die. And it chiefly then holds the circumflex accent. This letter embraces two vowels, that is I and V, on both sides, as in Euro, Veientano, and in eia, iecore. It ends neuter nouns, as monile; feminine too, but Greek, as Calliope; pronouns, as ille, iste; also a number of every gender, as quinque, although it is indeclinable. Likewise verbs of the imperative mood, as sede, curre, and of the infinitive, as scribere, scripsisse. The letter I, however, is joined on both sides to all vowels. For it embraces A when we say ianuariae and Aiax; that it holds E the examples above have shown, and Oinone, and oisus is also said—for so the ancients said usus; V, as in iuvando and vita. This letter sometimes as a vowel makes a double syllable, and ends a noun of every gender, as frugi; a number likewise of every gender, as viginti; also verbs of the indicative mood, as novi, memini; of the imperative, sali, veni; of the infinitive, iaculari, luctari. The letter O, with which vowels and on which side it cleaves, has been mentioned above. It ends masculine nouns, as Cato; feminine, as Iuno; a number of all genders, as octo; also active verbs, as canto, laudo; of the imperative mood it ends only one, cedo; an adverb, as subito; a preposition, as pro. The letter V unites on both sides with all vowels, except the O mentioned before. V alone also does not double a letter of its own kind but conjoins it, as vulgus, Vulcanus. It ends articles, as tu; neuter nouns, as genu, cornu; but it closes no verb.
Thus far on the vowels. For I have been bidden not to add to the vowels but to show all the letters. But it is not doubtful that the remaining ones that follow are consonants. These again are distinguished into semivowels and mutes. Of these I shall set out the account. The letter F, which is the first of the semivowels, when placed before takes only two consonants, L and R, as we say flavus and frugi. It takes vowels in such a way that it forbids I and V as vowels to be put before it, and it closes no word at the end. The letter L sounds in three ways. For it gives a thin sound when it is doubled, as in sollers, Sallustius; a middle sound when it ends a noun, as sol, sal, and likewise a soft sound when vowels come before it, as lapis, lepus, liber, locus, lucerna; it has a full sound when the letters P, G, C, F are put before it, as in Plauto, glebis, Claudio, flavo. L, however, is never put before any semivowel or mute. It is taken for D in a preposition when A also is put before it, as allidit, inlepidus, inlolus. It embraces vowels on both sides, and ends some nouns: in the masculine sol, in the feminine Tanaquil, in the neuter, with A, E, I preceding, bidental, mel, sil. It also closes adverbs, as semel. The letter M can be both at the beginning of a word and in the middle and at the end, as mores, umbra, triticum. Of the consonants it precedes only N, as Memnon; it follows only S, as Sminthius; and it is sometimes changed into N, as when we say nunquis. It ends neuters, as aurum and argentum; likewise monoptotes, as nequam; in the masculine gender the simple and double accusative, the genitive, likewise participles and verbs and adverbs, as tractum, legam, cursim; also a number of all genders, as novem, decem. The letter N appears fuller at the beginning and end, as Nestor, tibicen, thinner in the middle, as mane, damnum. Of the consonants it follows the letter M, as Memnon, and precedes S, as fons, mons. It is also changed into M when B, P, M follow it, as we say imbuit, impulit, imminet. The same nouns are ended: masculine, as tibicen; feminine Greek, as Siren; neuter, as culmen. R embraces vowels on both sides. Of the consonants it is put before S alone, as sors, fors, and sometimes before the double X, as arx. It is changed into L, N and S, as niger, nigellus, femur, feminis, gero, gessi. It ends masculine nouns after all vowels, as par, pater, vir, nitor, fur; feminine after E and O, as mulier, soror; neuter after all except I, as calcar, piper, marmor, sulphur. It ends verbs and adverbs, as venor, vador. Some have not thought S a letter, for Messalla said it was a hissing. Yet it is joined on both sides to the letter P, as spado, psittacus, and it embraces C, Q, T following, as Scaurus, squama, stella. It also makes a transition into several: into L, as we say modus, modulus; into N, as sanguis, sanguinis; into R, flos, floris; into D, custos, custodis; it ends masculines after all vowels, neuters after A, O, V, as vas, os, nemus. To this letter the divine Claudius added P or C on account of the Greek psi and H, as psalterium. No one counts X a letter, since it is double. For it consists of G and S, as rex, regis, or of C and S, as nux, nucis. It is sometimes turned into V, as nix, nivis, and C, pix, picis. It is never put first in Latin, but among the Greeks it is, as Xantho. And masculine and feminine are joined to all vowels, as Aiax, Io, frutex, calix, velox, Pollux, and feminine, as fax, lex, lodix, celox, lux. It closes no neuter.
With the semivowels finished, the mutes must be examined, which are called by this name because, unless vowels joined to them come to their aid, they die within the sound of the mouth before they have begun. B is joined first to all vowels on both sides; it is put before the consonants L and R, as blaesus, brevis. It passes into C, as succurrit; into F, as sufficit; into M, as summittit; into P, as supponit; into S, as sustulit. It ends nothing except three prepositions, ab, ob, sub. C places vowels beside it on both sides; it precedes certain consonants, L, T, R, M, N, as clarus, tectum, crus, Acmon, Cnidus. It ends the articles which they call pronouns, hic, haec, hoc, and adverbs, as sic, huc, hic. It alone of the mutes lengthens the preceding vowel and is counted as double, as hic, hoc, haec. D holds vowels on both sides. It is put before R, as in Druso; it is never put before M in Latin, but in Greek sometimes, as Dmolus. So also before N, as Ariadne. It passes into C, as accidit; into R, as aggerat (arrogat); into L, as alligat; into P, as apponit; into S, as arripit (assidet); into T, as attinet. It ends articles of neuter gender, as illud, istud, and a preposition, as apud. G is put before all vowels, it follows the letter A, as in agger, which, whenever it is doubled, is added. It is put before R, as grave; L, as gladius; N, as ignis. It is also turned into C, as rego, rector. It closes nothing. H is most certainly a mark of aspiration, which sometimes attaches to vowels, as hospes and heres. It passes into X, as traho, traxi. The Greeks divided it, for its right-hand part is the mark of aspiration, the left of the contrary signification. K, however, is thought now to be a mark, now a letter, for it is not doubtful that its effect is made whole by C, except in these words: kapita, kalendae, kalumniae. P is joined on both sides to vowels; it is put before R, as prandere; L, as placere; T, as Ptolemaeus; S, as psittacus; N, as in Pnyx. It ends nothing. Some did not think Q a letter, and they would have prevailed had it not appeared plainly in equus and equitatus. It is never put without two vowels, of which the first will be V, and so the others follow in turn, as quartus, questus, Quirites, quotus, equus. It consists of C and V, and therefore is called double and composite, and it is not doubled. It takes no single letter and ends nothing. T encloses vowels on each side, as in conjunctions and prepositions. It precedes L, as in Tlepolemus; M, in Tmolus; N, in Tnoia (potnia); R, in Troia. It ends neuters, caput, sinciput, lac; it ends articles, as quot, tot; verbs, as legit, legunt; an adverb and an interjection, as ut. Z comes from the Greeks, though they too at first used the Greek C, for they said Sethum where they now say Zethum. Yet this too is held by them as doubled; for it is composed of T and C, and that you may notice it is double, it can never be doubled. It is put before the letter M, as Zmyrna. Of all these, therefore, eighteen letters complete the necessity of all writing. For it pleases me that Y be gathered into the number of the vowels; nor without it could Hyacinthus or Cyllenius be written. So it will be that there are six vowels, twelve semivowels and mutes.
For if H is given to aspiration and Q and K are superfluous, X, however, as double, is not approved among the hinge-elements, and Z is excluded by the Latins, eighteen remain in number, as has been said. These, though all the superfluous and rejected ones are set aside, formed out of the sound of a single voice, have found various causes of natural harmony in the concord of the mouth. For A we utter with the mouth opened suitably, by breath alone. B we pronounce with the lips opened by the impulse of the breath. C is expressed by the molar teeth pressed against the extremity of the tongue. D is born by the pressing of the tongue around the upper teeth. E the breath makes with the tongue pressed a little more. F, with the teeth pressing the lower lip. G, the breath with the palate. H, the wind breathes out with the throat slightly contracted. I, the breath with the teeth nearly closed. K is formed by the throat and palate. L is sweetened by the tongue and palate. M is impressed by the lips. N is struck by the tongue pressed against the teeth. O is made by the breath of a rounded mouth. P bursts out by the breath from the lips. Q, with the palate pressed and the mouth narrowed. R is scraped out by the tongue curling the breath. S makes a hiss with the teeth struck. V is produced with the mouth constricted and the lips slightly projecting. X hisses out whatever C and S formed. Y goes forth with the lips pressed together and the breath. Z, however, Appius Claudius abhorred for this reason, that in its pronunciation it imitates the teeth of the dead. Briefly has the rule of the first discipline been run through, which is wont to be spread out in many volumes: in which letter joins with letter in what unions, where it admits a companion or makes it lie hidden, which letters, by changed laws of use, pass over into others and wish to have a transformed name, what sounds of the mouth or what modulation of the tongue beget them, and the little lips broken by their own beat. Now the syllable must be run through in its compacted forms, that it may be crowned, long and short alike. These two I shall run over; the letter, going before, has taught the joinings under a like principle. Thus the order, putting this beneath, conceives what must be joined, if the gods above approve your judgment.”