(3) Ἀλυάττου μὲν υἱὸς ἦν Κροῖσος, γένος δὲ Λυδός, τῶν δ’ ἐντὸς Ἅλυος ποταμοῦ τύραννος ἐθνῶν· ὃς ἀπὸ μεσημβρίας ῥέων Σύρων τε καὶ Παφλαγόνων μεταξὺ πρὸς βορέαν ἐξίησιν ἄνεμον ἐς τὸν καλούμενον πόντον Εὔξεινον.
Alyattis quidem filius erat Croesus, genere autem Lydus, earum, quae intra sunt Halym amnem, tyrannus nationum; qui, a meridie fluens Syros inter ac Paphlagones, contra Boream erumpit ventum in mare, quod vocant Euxinum.
In these sentences the Latin follows the Greek order closely, and might be made to follow it still more faithfully were it not that it seems better to diverge occasionally for special reasons: e.g. it is desirable, in rendering the original passage of Herodotus, to secure (as far as possible) a good rhythm. In English, on the other hand, the choice lies between a wide deviation and a rendering which is ambiguous and possibly grotesque. In fact (to recur once more to the main point) the freedom with which the order of words can be varied in a Greek or Latin sentence is without parallel in any modern analytical language, and the attendant gain in variety, rhythm, and nicety of emphasis is incalculable.[44]
Still, the modern languages have great powers, in this as in other ways: powers which will be incidentally illustrated later. M. Jules Lemaître has written, with reference to Ernest Renan: “Je trahis peut-être sa pensée en la traduisant; tant pis! Pourquoi a-t-il des finesses qui ne tiennent qu’à l’arrangement des mots?”[45] These finesses are perhaps, as is here implied, hardly communicable, even though an earlier French writer has commended Malherbe as an author who
D’un mot mis en sa place enseigna le pouvoir.[46]
It may well be that these matters, if not altogether the “mysteries” which Dionysius terms them, are eternally elusive because they depend upon the infinite variety of the human mind. Yet some studies in English literary theory, such as might be suggested by Dionysius’ treatise, could not fail to be of interest, and might be instructive also. Something of the kind has been already done, without reference to Dionysius or other Greek critics, by Robert Louis Stevenson in his essay on Some Technical Elements of Style in Literature.[47] Each language has, in truth, a rhetoric of its own. But the various languages, ancient and modern, can help one another in the way of comparison and contrast.
These methods of comparison and contrast have—as regards word-order—been excellently applied to the ancient and the modern languages by Henri Weil and T. D. Goodell. Weil’s chief service is to have pointed out so clearly the principle that the order of syntax must be separated in thought from the order of ideas, and was by both Greeks and Romans freely so separated in practice, whereas in the modern languages (owing to the lack of inflexions) this practical separation is less frequent. Goodell, starting from the postulate that the order of words in a language represents the order in which the speaker or writer chooses, for various reasons, to bring his ideas before the mind of another, discusses (with constant reference to modern languages) the order of words in Greek, from the standpoint of syntax, rhetoric, and euphony. In the course of a carefully reasoned exposition, he corrects and supplements many of Weil’s observations.
The full title of Weil’s book is De l’ordre des mots dans les langues anciennes comparées aux langues modernes: question de grammaire générale (3rd edition, Paris, 1879). There is an English translation by C. W. Super (Boston, 1887), with notes and additions. Goodell’s paper on “The Order of Words in Greek” is printed in the Transactions of the American Philological Association vol. xxi. Other writings on the subject are: Charles Short’s “Essay on the Order of Words in Attic Greek Prose,”—prefixed to Drisler’s edition of C. D. Yonge’s English-Greek Lexicon,—which is an extensive collection of examples, but is weak in scientific classification and in clear enunciation of principles; H. L. Ebeling’s “Some Statistics on the Order of Words in Greek,” contributed to Studies in Honour of Basil Lanneau Gildersleeve, and including some valuable investigations into the order in which subject, object, and verb usually come in Greek; inquiries into the practice of individual authors, e.g. Spratt on the “Order of Words in Thucydides” (Spratt’s edition of Thucydides, Book VI.), and Riddell on the “Arrangement of Words and Clauses in Plato” (Riddell’s edition of Plato’s Apology), or various dissertations such as Th. Harmsen de verborum collocatione apud Aeschylum, Sophoclem, Euripidem capita selecta, Ph. Both de Antiphontis et Thucydidis genere dicendi, J. J. Braun de collocatione verborum apud Thucydidem observationes, F. Darpe de verborum apud Thucydidem collocatione; and in Latin such elaborate studies as Hilberg’s Die Gesetze der Wortstellung im Pentameter des Ovid. An interesting book which compares Cicero’s Latin translations (prose and verse) with their Greek originals is V. Clavel’s de M. T. Cicerone Graecorum Interprete. In Harvard Studies in Classical Philology vol. vii. pp. 223-233, J. W. H. Walden discusses Weil’s statement that “an emphatic word, if followed by a word which, though syntactically necessary to the sentence, is in itself unemphatic, receives an access of emphasis from the lingering of the attention which results from the juxtaposition of the two.” Reference may also be made to A. Bergaigne’s “Essai sur la construction grammaticale considérée dans son développement historique, en Sanskrit, en Grec, en Latin, dans les langues romanes et dans les langues germaniques,” in the Mémoires de la Société de Linguistique de Paris vol. vii. The subject is, further, glanced at in the Greek Grammars of Kühner and others. But in modern times, as in those of Dionysius, it has on the whole failed to receive the attention which its importance would seem to demand.