Older form in tvî́: hatvî́, II. 17, 6; gatvî́, IV. 41, 5.
Datives in dhai and dhyai.
I have left to the end datives in dhai and dhyai, which properly belong to the datives in ai, treated before, but differ from them as being datives of compound nouns. As from máyaḥ, delight, we have mayaskará, delight-making, mayobhú, delight-causing, and constructions like máyo dádhe, so from váyas, life, vigor, we have váyaskṛ́t, life-giving, and constructions like váyo dhât. From dhâ we can frame two substantival frame, dhâ and dhi-s, e.g. puro-dhâ, and puro-dhis, like vi-dhi-s. As an ordinary substantive, purodhâ takes the feminine termination â, and is declined like śivâ. But if the verbal base remains at the end of a compound without the feminine suffix, a compound like vayodhâ would form its dative vayodhe (Grammar, § 239); and as in analogous cases we found old datives in ai, instead of e, e.g. parâdai, nothing can be said against vayodhai, as a Vedic dative of vayodhâ. The dative of purodhi would be purodhaye, but here again, as, besides forms like dṛśaye, we met with datives, such as ityai, rohishyai, there is no difficulty in admitting an analogous dative of purodhi, viz., purodhyai.
The old dative dhai has been preserved to us in one form only, which for that reason is all the more valuable and important, offering the key to the mysterious Greek infinitives in θαι, I mean vayodhái, which occurs twice in the Rig-Veda, X. 55, 1, and X. 67, 11. The importance of this relic would have been perceived long ago, if there had not been some uncertainty as to whether such a form really existed in the Veda. By some accident or other, Professor Aufrecht had printed in both passages vayodhaiḥ, instead of vayodhai. But for this, no one, I believe, would have doubted that in this form vayodhai we have not only the most valuable prototype of the Greek infinitives in (σ)θαι, but at the same time their full explanation. Vayodhai stands for vayas-dhai, in which composition the first part vayas is a neuter base in as, the second a dative of the auxiliary verb dhâ, used as a substantive. If, therefore, we find corresponding to vayodhai a Greek infinitive βέεσθαι, we must divide it into βέεσ-θαι, as we divide ψεύδεσθαι into ψεύδεσ-θαι, and translate it literally by “to do lying.”
It has been common to identify Greek infinitives in σθαι with corresponding Sanskrit forms ending in dhyai. No doubt these forms in dhyai are much more frequent than forms in dhai, but as we can only take them as old datives of substantives in dhi, it would be difficult to identify the two. The Sanskrit dhy appears, no doubt, in Greek, as σσ, dh being represented by the surd θ, and then assibilated by y; but we could hardly attempt to explain σθ = θy, because σδ = ζ = δy. Therefore, unless we are prepared to see with Bopp in the σ before θ, in this and similar forms, a remnant of the reflexive pronoun, nothing remains but to accept the explanation offered by the Vedic vayodhai, and to separate ψεύδεσθαι into ψεύδεσ-θαι lying to do. That this grammatical compound, if once found successful, should have been repeated in other tenses, giving us not only γράφεσ-θαι, but γράψεσ-θαι, γράψασ-θαι, and even γραφθήσεσ-θαι, is no more than what we may see again and again in the grammatical development of ancient and modern languages. Some scholars have objected on the same ground to Bopp’s explanation of ama-mini, as the nom. plur. of a participle, because they think it impossible to look upon amemini, amabâmini, amaremini, amabimini as participial formations. But if a mould is once made in language, it is used again and again, and little account is taken of its original intention. If we object to γράψεσ-θαι, why not to κελευ-σέ-μεναι or τεθνά-μεναι or μιχθή-μεναι? In Sanskrit, too, we should hesitate to form a compound of a modified verbal base, such as pṛṇa, with dhi, doing; yet as the Sanskrit ear was accustomed to yajadhyai from yaja, gamadhyai from gama, it did not protest against pṛṇadhyai, vâvṛdhadhyai, etc.
Historical Importance of these Grammatical Forms.
And while these ancient grammatical forms which supply the foundation of what in Greek, Latin, and other languages we are accustomed to call infinitives are of the highest interest to the grammarian and the logician, their importance is hardly less in the eyes of the historian. Every honest student of antiquity, whether his special field be India, Persia, Assyria, or Egypt, knows how often he is filled with fear and trembling when he meets with thoughts and expressions which, as he is apt to say, cannot be ancient. I have frequently confessed to that feeling with regard to some of the hymns of the Rig-Veda, and I well remember the time when I felt inclined to throw up the whole work as modern and unworthy of the time and labor bestowed upon it. At that time I was always comforted by these so-called infinitives and other relics of ancient language. They could not have been fabricated in India. They are unknown in ordinary Sanskrit, they are unintelligible as far as their origin is concerned in Greek and Latin, and yet in the Vedic language we find these forms, not only identical with Greek and Latin forms, but furnishing the key to their formation in Greece and Italy. The Vedic vayas-dhái compared with Greek βεεσ-θαι, the Vedic stushe compared with λυσαι are to my mind evidence in support of the antiquity and genuineness of the Veda that cannot be shaken by any arguments.
The Infinitive in English.
I add a few words on the infinitive in English, though it has been well treated by Dr. March in his “Grammar of the Anglo-Saxon Language,” by Dr. Morris, and others. We find in Anglo-Saxon two forms, one generally called the infinitive, nim-an, to take, the other the gerund, to nim-anne, to take. Dr. March explains the first as identical with Greek νέμ-ειν and νέμ-εν-αι, i.e., as an oblique case, probably the dative, of a verbal noun in an. He himself quotes only the dative of nominal bases in a, e.g. namanâya, because he was probably unacquainted with the nearer forms in an-e supplied by the Veda. This infinitive exists in Gothic as nim-an, in Old Saxon as nim-an, in Old Norse as nem-a, in Old High German as nem-an. The so-called gerund, to nimanne, is rightly traced back by Dr. March to Old Saxon nim-annia, but he can hardly be right in identifying these old datival forms with the Sanskrit base nam-anîya. In the Second Period of English (1100–1250)[35] the termination of the infinitive became en, and frequently dropped the final n, as smelle = smellen; while the termination of the gerund at the same time became enne, (ende), ene, en, or e, so that outwardly the two forms appear to be identical, as early as the 12th century.[36] Still later, towards the end of the 14th century, the terminations were entirely lost, though Spenser and Shakespeare have occasionally to killen, passen, delven, when they wished to impart an archaic character to their language. In modern English the infinitive with to is used as a verbal substantive. When we say, “I wish you to do this,” “you are able to do this,” we can still perceive the datival function of the infinitive. Likewise in such phrases, “it is time,” “it is proper,” “it is wrong to do that,” to do may still be felt as an oblique case. But we have only to invert these sentences, and say, “to do this is wrong,” and we have a new substantive in the nom. sing., just as in the Greek τὸ λέγειν. Expressions like for to do, show that the simple to was not always felt to be sufficiently expressive to convey the meaning of an original dative.