It is a question much disputed, and not yet decided, whether impersonal verbs should be regarded as lacking a subject or not. If we regard the grammatical form alone, we cannot doubt that sentences like It snows, It freezes, It is getting late, have a subject. But there is no reason for alleging that this subject (it) can be treated as a logical subject; a logical subject must admit of a definite interpretation, and it is difficult to give one in this case. Again, in the case of impersonal verbs, like the Latin pluit, the Greek ὕει, the Sanscrit varśati, (it rains), and the Lithuanian sninga (it snows), the formal subject may be found in the ‘personal’ termination, which is supposed to be the remnant of a word signifying he, she, or it. And it seems natural to recognise a formal subject in this case, but, at the same time, to notice that this formal subject stands apart from the psychological subject. It seems probable that an older stage of language existed, in which the bare verbal stem was set down; just as in Hungarian at the present day, where the third person of the present singular has no suffix, the first and second terminating in -ok and -s respectively. In Anglo-Saxon we find passive and other impersonal verbs used absolutely, without any subject expressed or understood; thus, þám ylcan dóme e þé démoð eów byð gedémed (= With the same judgment that ye judge, to you (it) shall be judged); him hungrede (= N.H.G. es hungerte ihn).[31] The psychological subject is, then, as little expressed in the sentence It is hot, as in the sentence Fire. But although it is not expressed, it would be unsafe to assume its non-existence, for here, as well as everywhere else, we have two ideas conjoined, in the same way as when we exclaim, Fire! In this case there is, on the one side, the perception of a concrete phenomenon; on the other, the abstract idea of burning or of fire: and just as that perception is brought by our exclamation under the general idea of burning, so in the statement It rains, the perception of what is going on is by our words ranged under the general notion of water falling in drops from the sky. Our conclusion, therefore, is this: sentences like Fire! as well as those like It rains, have both psychological subject and predicate; but in the former case no subject is expressed, whereas in the latter a formal subject is employed, which, however, does but imperfectly, if indeed at all, correspond to the psychological one. This holds good unless we conceive of the formal subject, It, as standing for that which we see or that which is happening now. In this case, the peculiar nature of the impersonal verbs would be restricted to the difficulty, but not the impossibility, of explaining their subject.
We have defined the sentence as the expression for the connection of two ideas. Negative sentences may seem, at first sight, to contradict this, since they denote a separation. But the ideas must have met in the consciousness of the speaker before judgment can be pronounced whether they agree or disagree. In fact, the negative sentence may be defined as the statement that the attempt to establish a connection between the ideas has failed. The negative sentence is, in any case, of later date than the positive, and though, in all known languages, negation now finds a special expression, it is possible to imagine that negative sentences might be found in some primitive stage of language, wherein the negative sense was indicated by the stress alone and the accompanying gestures. Cf. such sentences as ‘I do this?’ or ‘Eine ego ut adverser?’ (Ter., And., I. v. 28.)[32] At all events sentences of assertion and sentences of demand border on each other very closely, and can be expressed by the same forms of language. The different shades of meaning attaching to the words can be recognised only by the different tones conveying the feeling meant to be indicated.
Wishes and demands, again, touch each other very closely; and it is natural to suppose that, in an early state of linguistic consciousness, a wish would have been equivalent to a demand. A sentence like ‘Heads up!’ expresses a demand or wish, but it might equally convey an assertion. We can say perfectly well, ‘They entered, heads up,’ or ‘erect;’ and we hear quite commonly, Heads up! meaning, ‘Hold your heads up!’ And indeed such sentences of demand, or imperative sentences, would naturally be the first to present themselves to primitive mankind, whose utterances, like those of children nowadays, would naturally take the shape of requests that their immediate needs might be satisfied. We employ many such sentences at the present day, such as Eyes right! Attention! Hats off! This way! All aboard! Joking apart; An eye for an eye; Peace to his ashes! A health to all good lasses! Away with him! Out with him! Then, again, there are sentences composed of a single linguistic member; such as Hush! Quick! Slow! Forward! Up! Off! To work!
Two kinds of interrogatory sentences must be distinguished: (1) those that put in question one only of the members of which they are composed, and (2) such as contain nothing affirmative, but are purely interrogatory in their nature. No satisfactory names have as yet been given to these two classes, but a study of one or two examples will show that the difference is real, and will tend to illustrate it. Such a sentence as Who has done this? or Where did you get that? no doubt asks a question as to the name of the doer of a certain deed, or the place where a particular object was obtained, but, at the same time, certainly assumes that the interrogator takes for granted that a certain deed was done by some one, or a certain object obtained by the person addressed. In fact, the form of the interrogation is to some extent affirmative. No such affirmation, however, is present in such questions as Can you speak French? Will you come? Have you money? etc.
Of these two classes of questions, the former are certainly of the more recent origin, for they demand the employment of an interrogative pronoun or adverb, with which the latter can dispense. It is noteworthy that in I.E. languages these interrogative words are at the same time indefinite; and it is hard to decide which of the two meanings should be regarded as the original. On the one hand, it is easy to conceive how a word bearing an interrogative meaning could assume an indefinite one. If we are accustomed to employ the word who when we wish to know who a person is, but are uncertain, we may easily proceed to apply this word in a case where we are uncertain (or wish to appear so), though we do not ask for information. A who-person has done this, is not and has never been an English method of expressing, ‘Some one has done it.’[33] But it is conceivable that, at some stage of the I.E. languages, our linguistic ancestors may have adopted a similar mode of expression. On the other hand, it is as easy to imagine that a word expressive of uncertainty, or absence of knowledge or information, should be used to indicate the desire for it. In fact, we actually do employ a method akin to this when we use the indefinite any to show that we desire to know; e.g., if, upon entering a dark room, we ask, Any one here? This, of course, is not, and never has been, in English, equivalent to ‘Who is here?’—but still it is quite conceivable that at some early linguistic period this transition has actually been made. Could it be demonstrated that it ever actually was made, the transition from the questions in our second category, to those falling under our first, would be explained. For suppose the question Is any (one) here? (an order of words to which we now are bound, but which, as we shall see, was not always the necessary order) to be put as Any (one) is here? the proximity of this sentence to Who is here? is at once evident.
Questions with an interrogative pronoun stand nearer still to questions with an indefinite pronoun where a negative answer is expected, as appears when we set What can I answer? by the side of Can I answer anything?—Who will do this? by the side of Will any one do this?—Where is such a man? by the side of Is there such a man? The question to which the simple answer ‘yes’ or ‘no’ is expected is in many languages expressed by a special particle. Thus ne in Latin serves to mark an interrogation, and the stress is laid upon the word to which the interrogative particle is affixed. At present, the Teutonic and Romance languages almost universally express interrogation by the order of the words; but this inverted order by no means necessarily involves interrogation, and in former times was very frequently employed in affirmative clauses. Thus, for instance, in A.S.— ‘Ne hýrde ic cymlîcor ceól gegyrwan:’
Not heard I comelier keel to have been prepared
= I never heard ... (Beowulf, 38).
‘Saegde se ðe cûðe’ (ibid., 90):
Said he that knew = He ... said.
‘Waes seó hwíl micel’ (ibid., 146):
Was the time great = The time was long.
Even now we have many interrogations in which the stress or tone alone marks their nature; as, Any one there? All right? Ready? A glass of beer, sir? (spoken by a waiter). We can thus conceive it possible that, for a long time, sentences may have existed without any sign except the tone to indicate their interrogative nature.
Simple interrogative sentences hold in some ways a middle position between positive and negative sentences of assertion. They may, in fact, be thrown into a positive or a negative form at choice; the positive form naturally presenting itself as the simpler, while the function of the negative form is to modify the question pure and simple. Such modifications may, indeed, cause the interrogation to take something of the character of the sentence of assertion. We may, for instance, mention a fact and expect it to be confirmed by another. In this case, we may employ a negative interrogatory sentence; as, Were you not there? I thought I saw you! Or we may employ a positive interrogatory form of sentence, showing by the tone of query alone the nature of the sentence; as, You were there, I think? You are quite happy? We thus see, by examples taken from both the positive and negative side, how nearly the sentences of interrogation touch the sentences of assertion.
Another way in which sentences of interrogation and assertion approach one another is in the expression of admiration or surprise. To express such feelings we may employ either (1) the interrogative or (2) the assertive form of sentence, marking the latter, however, by a tone expressive of interrogation. Thus we may say, Is Francis dead? or express the same idea by saying, Francis is really dead? emphasising the word really and raising the voice at the last word. Thus, too, we can ask the direct question, Are you here again? or employ the assertive form, You are here again?[34]
Sentences expressive of surprise without a verb, may be classed either with the interrogative form, or with the assertive form with the interrogatory tone. They occupy a neutral ground between the two. Thus, You my long lost brother? What, that to me? What, here already? So soon?[35] And infinitival clauses are similarly used; as, I to herd with savage races! etc. (Tennyson, Locksley Hall); Mene incepto desistere victam? (Vergil, Æneid, I. 37). This use is very common in French; cf. Moi vous abandonner! (Andrieux); Et dire qu’à moi seul je vins à bout de toutes ces prévisions! (Daudet). We find, also, expressions of surprise in which the psychological subject and predicate are connected by ‘and:’ So young and so worn out? A maid and be so martial? (Shakespeare, 1 Henry VI., II. i.).[36] The expression of surprise is sometimes weakened into a mere conventional formula for opening a conversation; as, Always in good spirits? Busy as always? Busy yet?
The primitive form of expression without any finite verb is especially common in the indignant repudiation of an assertion; as, I a liar? ‘She ask my pardon?’ How! not know the friend that served you? Ego lanista? Io dir bugie?