Foreword … page 7PART I — THE DESIGN OF INTERGLOSSA
Some people may ask why a scientific worker should devote empty hours of fire-watching in Aberdeen to a task which professional linguists might more properly undertake. There is one sufficient answer to this question. Just because they are professional linguists, professional linguists are apt to underrate the linguistic difficulties of ordinary people, and hence to underrate the social importance of the language issue vis-à-vis world peace and world-wide human co-operation. Because natural science is the only existing form of human co-operation on a planetary scale, men of science, who have to turn to journals published in many languages for necessary information, are acutely aware that the babel of tongues is a social problem of the first magnitude. Men of science, more than others, have at their finger-tips an international vocabulary which is already in existence; and a biologist who looks forward to a health-conscious future cannot fail to recognize how popularization of new health standards is daily adding to the stock-in-trade of internationally current words in daily use.
Curiously enough, the first person to devise an interlanguage was an Aberdonian, George Dalgarno. His Ars Signorum came out in 1651. Its successor, the Real Character of Bishop Wilkins, appeared in 1678, issued at the expense and at the request of the Royal Society. From that day to this scientific workers have been prominent in the movement for promoting a world-auxiliary. The world-famed scientist Wilhelm Ostwald was in the forefront of the interlinguistic renaissance during the latter half of the nineteenth century; and Peano, the mathematician, is the author of one of the best recent projects. So there is no lack of good precedent.
More than three hundred pioneers have already put forward projects such as this. The author of Interglossa does not flatter himself with the hope that it will ever become the common language of international communication. A good enough reason for publishing this draft is that the post-war world may be ripe, as never before, for recognition of need for a remedy which so many others have sought. When need becomes articulate, it will be relatively simple for an international committee to draw on a common pool of effort, seemingly spent with little result. To that common pool the author modestly consigns this first draft in the hope that readers will make suggestions and offer constructive criticisms as a basis for something better. It is not a primer for the beginner. Were it so, the arrangement would be totally different, and it would be set out with sufficient showmanship to win the confidence of the beginner. Its aim is to enlist interest among those already familiar with the controversies which Basic English and other recent projects for an international auxiliary have excited. Consequently it touches on many issues which are not necessarily relevant to the task of learning it. Above all, it is a draft to stimulate fresh thinking. As such it invites constructive criticism from those who are not zealots of a particular faction. The pages which follow are the agenda for a discussion. The author wishes to express gratitude first to Mrs. Dorothy Baker, M. A., for assistance in preparing the final script and the 8,ooo-word English-Interglossa dictionary to follow this volume in the same series, also to Miss Dorothy Whitson who typed successive drafts with unfailing patience and accuracy.
THE DESIGN OF INTERGLOSSA
I. Interglossa and its Predecessors … 9
II. The Essential Grammar of Interglossa … 30
III. The Operative System … 42
IV. Heuristic Intermission … 56
What follows is the outline of a project for a new constructed auxiliary. The writer believes that the alternative to barbarism is repudiation of national sovereignties in greater units of democratic co-operation, and that day-to-day co-operation of ordinary human beings on a planetary scale will not be possible unless educational authorities of different nations agree to adopt one and the same second language. The hope that it will be possible to induce educational authorities to do so is not Utopian. In many countries, some instruction in a second language is already part of the school curriculum for all children.
To fulfil the purpose stated above, a universal second language must be one in which children can progress towards proficiency more rapidly than they usually do. If it is to be a natural language, some simplified form of English, such as Ogden’s Basic, has no serious competitor. What is not so certain is that it would be wise to choose a natural language. There is much force in the contention that adoption of a natural language as an auxiliary would give those who habitually use it as a mother-tongue a position of undue cultural privilege, that this in its turn would breed resentment against them as a linguistic Herrenvolk, and that such resentment would eventually defeat the ends in view. A satisfactory auxiliary must be everybody’s language because it is also nobody’s language.
Whether such arguments do, or do not, prevail, one thing is clear. In assuming the task of making it easy for others to learn English, Ogden’s pioneer labours have brought into glaring relief defects of previous projects for a constructed auxiliary. If the considerations stated above turn the scales in favour of a constructed auxiliary, Ogden will not have laboured in vain. By ingenious manipulation of essentially English syntax, has pointed to possibilities which none of the pioneers of the international Auxiliary Language movement had taken into account, Proposals put forward so far have one or other of certain drawbacks which have been clarified by criticisms bestowed on them by partisans of others. If Interglossa does nothing more than stimulate criticism by its novel features, it will serve the useful purpose of clarifying a task for others to carry out with greater success.
It is therefore pertinent to specify some outstanding defects of artificial languages which have had a vogue in the past, more especially Volapük (V), Esperanto (E), Idiom Neutral (I.N.), Ido (I), Peano’s Interlingua (P)1, and Novial (N). We can best do so, if we recognize what characteristics make a language difficult to learn. Three major difficulties are: (a) surfeit of grammatical rules, (b) excessive number of essential words which the beginner has to memorize, (c) intrinsic unfamiliarity of the words themselves. Let us compare Basic with its competitors vis-à-vis each of these difficulties.
1 Peano is the Italian pioneer of mathematical logic. His work was the starting-point of Bertrand Russell’s. Some of it he published in his own auxiliary.
All artificial language projects so far devised have either (a) too much grammar of the wrong sort, or (b) not enough of the right. Of those mentioned, V, E and I retain flexions which English, Dutch, Scandinavian, Romance languages, and even German, have long since discarded. N, which is latest in the field, has more dead derivative apparatus than English. P alone follows the maxim: the best grammar is no grammar. Like Chinese, a totally flexionless language, it has gone further than English along the same road. From this point of view it might seem to be a simpler task to learn P than to learn English. The conclusion is dubious if we give due weight to what has been a powerful motive militating against Peano’s radical attitude to superfluous flexions of the type characteristic of Aryan languages. To do it justice a digression is here necessary.
Though it is not true to say that all nouns are concrete things or that all words which stand for processes or states are verbs, the converse of the first statement is correct, and it is generally (not so the verb be, except when it predicates real existence) true that the verb complex of a sentence is the part which predicates process or state. In a rough and ready way the fact that nouns and verbs have characteristic terminals does mean that we can more easily pick out what is thing, what is state or process—in short, that we can get some sort of picture of the sentence-landscape. This helps the beginner to translate a passage which contains unfamiliar words, and by doing so increases confidence in the prospect of further progress.
To say this does not mean that the existence of such terminals or the acceptance of morphological categories characteristic of the Aryan and Finno-Ugrian families is the only or the best way of achieving the same result. There are other devices. Two are: (i) a fixed pattern of word-order; (ii) the existence of empty words, such as the French article which sticks to the noun with the same Romantic fidelity as the substantive suffix of E, and is therefore a signpost pointing to an oncoming substantive.
Because P is the isolating offspring of its highly flexional parent, Latin, it has a poor equipment of empty words, and an aristocratic indifference to the necessity for simple rules of sentence-construction. The fact is that no pioneer of language-planning—least of all Peano—has undertaken the task of investigating what rules of word-order contribute most to intrinsic clarity of meaning and ease of recognition. Like Jespersen, and like his predecessors, all of whom had adopted a much more conservative attitude to structural grammar, Peano never got to grips with the essentials of syntax. The essentials of international syntax include: (a) a sentence-landscape designed in conformity with straightforward rules; (b) elimination of different word-forms with the same semantic content, and other redundant modes of expression.
Authors of all projects mentioned above underestimated the difficulty of mastering an unnecessarily large vocabulary, and failed to understand the need for semantic spring-cleaning as a prelude to any effective policy for mitigating it. None of them attempted analysis of the irreducible minimum of vocables essential for self-expression. The fact that Ogden has done so, rather than any intrinsic merit of English itself, is one sufficient reason for the popularity of Basic and for its appeal to those who regard projects for an artificial auxiliary with little favour. Peano, who was mainly concerned with the needs of science and technology, made no attempt to keep an essential word-list within the limits of what ordinary people without a large vocabulary of technical terms can easily learn. The authors of V, E, I.N., I and N made a half-hearted attempt which has justly earned the vigorous criticism of Ogden and some of his supporters.
What word-economy recent designers of constructed auxiliaries have aimed at achieving is of one sort only. On what seem to be purely a priori grounds, they have chosen batteries of affixes to multiply word-forms with the same recognizable root. Some of these affixes merely trail in the peculiar grammatical traditions of Aryan languages. Some have absolutely no semantic content at all (cf. E um for indefinite relationship). Others (e.g. E bo- for in-law as in mother-in-law) are merely shorthand for trivial types of relationship sufficiently expressed by other and necessary formal elements already part of the verbal stock-in-trade. The authors of E, I, I.N. and N tried to establish order where chaos existed (cf. -ship, -dom, -head, -hood, -ity in English) without probing into the intrinsic value of what they were salvaging. When we look at the result as a whole, their choice of derivative affixes reflects the same preoccupation which motivated the prevailing attitude to flexion.
The only satisfactory way of dealing with the problem of word-economy is Ogden’s way; to start with words as experimental material and analyse what semantic elements enter into large classes. It may well, and in fact does, happen that these elements have little relation to the pattern of derivative affixes or of flexions in languages which have grown in the haphazard manner common to all existing natural ones. This very fact, as Ogden’s work so richly illustrates, has a corollary which enthusiasts for auxiliary language proposals have been slow to recognize. If Ogden has achieved such outstanding success within the strait-jacket of acceptable English usage, what economies might be possible if someone undertook the task with complete freedom to prescribe an idiom best suited to maximate word-economy?
When all is said and done, learning a language involves memorizing a large number of new words. When we have reduced the number as far as we can without prejudice to the end in view, the beginner has to commit to memory what remains. Ease of doing so depends largely on familiarity with the material, i.e. on what associations we can make when first confronted with any single vocable. It is possible to reduce to negligible dimensions the load of new words with no helpful associations for the beginner, if we take stock of three facts:
(i) During the past two centuries, science has created a world-wide technical vocabulary;
(ii) As modern technology transforms everyday life, what was once the vocabulary of the laboratory becomes the vocabulary of the street-corner;
(iii) Scientific terms such as stratosphere, aeroplane, heterodyne, panchromatic, telephone, phonograph, gramophone, and hundreds of others on the lips of every schoolchild to-day come almost exclusively from Latin or Greek, more especially from Greek.
To the extent that Latin roots predominate in all the projects mentioned, all of them, like English itself, have a large stock-in-trade of truly international roots for which the beginner can readily make associations. The fact remains that most artificial languages have a large stock of national words presumably included to propitiate national sentiment of one sort or another. Thus Novial, the latest arrival, is essentially—like English—a Latin-Teutonic hybrid, and the Teutonic ingredients are sheer dead-weight to anyone who does not speak German, Dutch or a Scandinavian dialect. The same criticism does not apply to the flexionless, but otherwise scholarly, Latin of Peano. With due regard to the number of borrowed Greek words in classical Latin, P is open to a criticism applicable to every constructed language yet devised. None of them contains as high a proportion of Greek roots as English itself.
A truly international vocabulary must be the offspring of technology, and technology increasingly turns to Greek rather than to Latin for new material. Of the many who know that micro- means small, few know that parvus means the same. Current articles on nutrition and psychology in any woman’s journal, or on photography and radio in any schoolboy’s magazine, illustrate the daily invasion of everyday speech by Greek roots. Peano apart, authors who have put forward plans for constructed auxiliaries lived at a time—or like Jespersen formed their views at a time—when few scientists and technicians, still fewer linguists, anticipated the present tempo of infiltration of Greek roots into everyday life. Consequently artificial languages so far proposed scarcely touch the fringe of the problem of word-familiarity. In the simplest possible terms, our task is to assemble a vocabulary based on internationally current roots of which the semantic content is as transparent as that of geo-, aer-, tele-, phon-, graph-, micro-, phot- and the like. The possibility of achieving this result gives the problem of word-economy a new impetus. The success of our efforts in part depends on keeping the number of words required within the limits of equipment at our disposal.
The mere fact that there is already an international vocabulary of medicine, of agriculture, of horticulture, of navigation, of mensuration, of astronomy, of chemical manufacture, of engineering, of cartography and of mathematics, or that the number of such terms in everyday speech has increased by leaps and bounds since the time of Zamenhof, are not the only facts about the impact of Science on speech relevant to choice of satisfactory word-material for a properly constructed auxiliary. Equally important is the fact that this existing international vocabulary rings the changes on certain roots which have established firm claims to further use. Consequently we know which way the cat will jump. We can forecast with some assurance what roots of given meaning can or cannot come into general use through the increasing infiltration of new technical terms into daily speech. If need arises to adopt a new technical term to label waterproof autograph forms for water-polo champions, it is highly likely to contain necto, which turns up in many biological names for swimming organisms. If a special root for swimming appliances invades daily speech on a world-wide scale, it is not likely to recall the French word nager or its Esperanto equivalent.
Essential Features of Interglossa
From this brief commentary upon the defects of artificial languages exposed by contrast with the considerable merits of Basic English, we now turn to a brief summary of the essential features of Interglossa.
(i) Interglossa is a purely isolating language. It admits many compounds built from bricks which are independent elements, but it has no dead affixes prescribed in accordance with a priori considerations. In so far as it is a flexionless language, it resembles Chinese (or Peanese), but it differs from P because it has a large stock-in-trade of compounds sufficiently explicit in an appropriate context to anyone who knows or can recognize their parts. It also differs from P with respect to the remaining characteristics specified below.
The reader may here ask whether an isolating language has any advantage over a language of the agglutinative type, i.e. a flexional language like Esperanto with no irregularities. There are three sufficient reasons for preferring the former:
(a) Mass production in language tuition calls for maximum division of labour in the plant. That is to say, maximum word-economy in the sense defined above implies maximum mobility of all the elements of meaning.
(b) Familiarity breeds contempt. That is to say, flexion, however regular, forces units of meaning into situations where they are irrelevant and therefore more liable to semantic erosion.
(c) The grammar of an isolating (analytical) language is the highest common factor of all grammar. It is the native idiom of China, and does not confront the Japanese or the Bantu with the arbitrary difficulties inherent in any agglutinative language based on Aryan models. In short, any language designed like V or E imposes the grammatical idiosyncrasies of a particular language family on everybody who uses it. Unlike its predecessors, designed exclusively, and admittedly,1 to meet the taste of Western Europe and the English-speaking peoples, Interglossa is for a world in which China, Japan, and eventually the peoples of Africa, will march in step with the U.S.S.R. and with western civilization.2
1 See Jespersen, An International Language, p. 53 and elsewhere.
2 An isolating language has a further advantage. It is easy to make every element explicit through visual aids. Thus freedom from lifeless affixes simplifies the task of instruction through the medium of the universal picture-language isotype without recourse to exposition in the home vernacular. We can therefore contemplate production of manuals for a world-wide market. The history of Japanese writing sufficiently shows the difficulties which beset the attempt to adapt a pictographic script to a language of the agglutinative type.
(ii) Interglossa has a very rigid and straightforward word-order, with features designed to limit recourse to congested expressions. The pattern is the same for statements, questions, requests, commands, and for all classes of subordinate (including relative) clauses. The verbal stock-in-trade of Interglossa includes a small battery of empty words to act as signposts of sentence-landscape. For the same reason, certain classes of words have a characteristic final syllable, but these classes do not correspond to arbitrary non-semantic categories (parts of speech) defined by flexions. Interglossa has no flexions.
(iii) Interglossa has a vocabulary based on internationally current roots. It therefore has a Greek content enormous in comparison with that of earlier projects. Its very name symbolizes the fact that it is a Latin-Greek hybrid, as Novial is a Latin-Teutonic hybrid. Since we have many Latin-Greek alternatives in current international technical terms, it is possible to combine the claims of word-economy vis-à-vis self-expression (see pp. 22-23) with the advantages of a residual battery of synonyms for stylistic purposes.
Each word has a number, and if Interglossa sufficiently interests the public it will be easy to test out the claims to priority of two or more synonyms for each numbered pigeon-hole in the semantic schema which follows. Designing all the details of a fully-fledged interlanguage is not a one-man job. Mass observation on the basis of questionnaires sent out to different groups of people of different nationalities would settle which words in each pigeon-hole are entitled to first rank. Readers may suggest alternatives, and an international committee could submit the result to ballot.
The use of psychologically live word-material necessarily limits an ideal solution of the phonetic difficulties of learning languages. Fortunately the Mediterranean vowel battery is small, but Greek abounds in consonant-clusters which offer great difficulties to people who speak Japanese, Chinese, Bantu or Polynesian dialects. Where equivalent Greek and Latin roots are internationally current, this fact should guide the choice of the designer and that of the beginner (see p. 30). We can take advantage of Latin and Greek alternatives to exclude homophones (cf. the root homophones sol in solar and solitary). The root xero in many botanical and horticultural terms (e.g. xerophyte) would be a near-homophone to zero, because many people find it difficult to pronounce an initial x as ks or z as ts. So it cannot have first choice as the equivalent word for dry.
If we aim at easy recognition and easy association, it is fatal to maltreat roots for the sake of uniform spelling. Uniformity is less important than consistency. It does not matter whether one sound always has one symbol. What does matter is whether the same symbol stands for only one sound (cf. the vagaries of G and J, S and Z in English). The main difficulty about the spelling conventions of a Latin-Greek stock-in-trade of words is that different nations do not follow the same plan with respect to Romanization of Greek roots, e.g. French, German and English have PH where Scandinavians and Italians use the F. Since the international binomial nomenclature of systematic biology, and that of anatomy and chemistry, stick to the older forms, Interglossa provisionally adopts them. As Ogden has emphasized, spelling is a secondary issue, if a language has great potential word-economy. And we may leave the details to an international committee.
(iv) Interglossa has a system of word-economy which takes full advantage of its analytical grammar, and hence combines features characteristic of Basic English and of Chinese. To clarify the principles involved, two terms are useful. As we call identical vocables which mean different things homophones, we may call different vocables with the same semantic content homosemes. Likewise we may call words with a common element of meaning coenosemes, Thus ascend (go up) and descend (go down) are coenosemes, as are study (work-room) and worker (work-man). The word homoseme does not mean quite the same as synonym. Big, large and great are synonyms in the most everyday sense of the term; but the homosemes much and great are not. The reason why most of us hesitate to call them synonyms is that they are not always interchangeable. The rules of grammar prescribe a definite context for each. Much predicating largeness may be the qualifier of a verb or another epithet, great can predicate largeness of nouns alone.
As Chinese is handicapped with an overgrowth of homophones, Aryan languages are overloaded with homosemes, which produce difficulties of the opposite sort when a person new to their idiosyncrasies tries to learn them. In contact-vernaculars such as Beach-la-Mar or Pidgin-English, we get a practical demonstration of what happens when a multiplicity of semantically redundant word-forms defeats the comprehension of the newcomer; and we can apply the lesson to the design of a constructed language. Relatively little economy by reduction of homosemes is possible within the framework of acceptable English idiom; but the only limit to doing so in an artificial language is the need to keep a clear prospect of “sentence-landscape” in view. The author of Basic English has made the very best of a bad job by pruning the luxuriant overgrowth of English coenosemes to the limit consistent with educated speech.
The combination of both principles, i.e. reduction of homosemes as in Chinese and of coenosemes as in Basic, is a distinctive feature of Interglossa among artificial languages put forward to date. The outstanding characteristic of word-economy in Basic is the reduction of verb coenosemes by recourse to verbal operators. In combination with other words these eighteen operators do all the work of four thousand verbs in a French dictionary, and far more in an English one. In a constructed language we can do the same with noun coenosemes. Within the framework of English usage we can make postman, hangman, milkman, dustman with the common seme man; playhouse, bakehouse, alehouse with the common seme house; footwear, handwear, headwear with the common seme wear. In the design of a constructed language with a rich assortment of generic terms we are free to build up a host of other domestic and occupational compounds without adding new elements to our word-stock. By the use of the negative particle as a qualifier equivalent to the affixes un- or in- of untrue, unclean, incompatible, we can also eliminate the need for many “opposites” for which natural languages prescribe separate words. At this point partisans of Basic English may ask why it is necessary to list 880 vocables in place of the 850 essential items on the Basic English word-list.1 The answer is that the figures are not comparable. Interglossa and Basic English start from different assumptions about how much work a single word can profitably do. If the end in view is to make things easy for the beginner we have to bear in mind two considerations:
(a) Suitable definition of familiar objects often calls for more effort than learning a new label;
(b) When no common thread of meaning connects one use with another, an additional label is not necessarily more difficult to learn than an additional use of the same vocable.
1 The list of essential vocables on pp. 249-256 contains 880 numbered items and an additional 74 of which the internationally current form is consonant with the phonetic pattern of Interglossa. Actually our list of 880 numbered ítems contains at least twenty words which are internationally current in the form prescribed, e.g.: agenda (809); bureau (816); cardo (740); coxa (533); data (827); fenestra (714); flora (581); lamina (757); libido (284); major (45); minor (46); minus (115); plus (118); propaganda (846); radio (386); spatula (775); telefon (855); telegram (856); zero (26). The names of the metals are simply the plural forms of the corresponding items in the international periodic table. Plural forms which are also internationally current include spectra (662) and entera (502). It is therefore fair to say that our list of essential vocables other than words which we can adopt from the international vocabulary of technics or commerce without any change of form contains less than 860 constructed elements in all. In reality the 850 word-list printed on a folded slip in the primers of Basic omits 17 necessary pronouns and possessives, 32 numerals and 56 flexional forms of the operative verbs. If we charitably overlook the fact that Basic operates at large with the -ing and -ed terminals without a general rule about what class of words invariably take them or about how they affect the meaning of the end-product, it is fair to say that Basic demands mastery of at least 950 distinct vocables, not counting calendrical items.
In its choice of abstract terms Basic English takes a highly indulgent attitude to what constitutes a common thread of meaning. When we apply one word sharp to a remark, to a tooth, and to a pain, the only thread of meaning common to all three situations is a vague value judgment; and if we let metaphor have full rein in this way it is easy to keep down the number of items on our word-list. Indeed, there is only one limit to the process of reduction. In the end we are left with two vocables, one for approval, the other for disapproval. Admittedly, we cannot set it limit to suggestive use of metaphor in daily life. Nor can we draw a clear-cut boundary between metaphorical and generic usage of words. Still, we can provide a sufficient number of specific terms for qualities with no very obvious connexion; and this has been the aim of the author.
A constructed language cannot admit words of so diverse semantic content as order, listed in the miniature Basic Dictionary as meaning: arrangement, sequence, class, command, religious body, decoration.1 It cannot admit such definitions as (ibid.) “undertaking” for enterprise and “(statement of) undertaking” for promise. Above all, we cannot play ducks and drakes with a native battery of idiom which prescribes such egregious collocations of vocables as the Basic put up with for tolerate or put at a loss for bewilder. In what follows the aim has been to keep sharpness of definition within the limits set by two dispensations:
(a) Since action and its product are necessarily co-existent, the same word (e.g. writing in English) can suffice for both in a given context;
(b) Where a metaphorical usage is common to equivalent words of different origin and unrelated language families (cf. tongue-language for the organ of that name and for a local variety of speech) it is permissible to conclude that the link between the two is substantial. (Unfortunately, there is no source to which one can turn for a world survey of metaphorical extensions such as the example cited.)
1 This is especially true of the hundred items (“Operations”), which make up the grammatical matrix of Basic. Laying aside the eighteen verbs—not one of which has an absolutely clear-cut terrain—the remaining words (82) include such obvious pitfalls for the unwary as any, some, that, ever, well, still, even, only, all. The prepositions, on the use of which Basic relies so much, are by no means above reproach. Those that have a single characteristic meaning (e.g. in) enter into innumerable and inescapable idiomatic combinations. Several (e.g. against, with, by) have more than one characteristic meaning. Others (of, for) are as empty as the “essential” articles a and the. All in all, at least a third of the words listed as operations are so polyvalent as to claim front rank among the booby traps for the beginner who is learning English.
The numerical word-economy of Basic English owes much to two circumstances which are not propitious to the needs of the beginner. It includes abstract words with wide diversifications of meaning by metaphorical extension; and it has a very small number of names for common objects. In conformity with the principle stated above, Interglossa does not aim at economy of either sort. Where self-explicit compounds involving generic terms are not available as names for common things, it is far better to provide a new one than to leave the learner to fish for a periphrastic definition. Consequently, our list of picturable names is almost twice as large as that of Basic English. Basic offers 25 botanical or zoological and 34 anatomical words. Chapter IX of this draft lists 80 botanical or zoological and 68 anatomical terms as numbered items, in addition to 60 plant, animal or medical names not numbered because assimilated without change of the internationally current form.
Choice of words in Ogden’s Basic list depends on the exigencies of accepted English usage. So also choice of words in a language designed in accordance with the principles stated above depends less on abstract logical principles than on what internationally current root material is to hand. The system of word-economy implicit in the design of Interglossa makes it possible to do with less than 750 words what Basic does with 850; but it would be absurd to restrict the vocabulary within such limits, if only because Basic has a ready-made residual stock-in-trade on which to draw. In a certain sense this is true of Interglossa, since Interglossa permits coining of new amplifiers or substantives from internationally current roots in accordance with rules prescribed for terminals. None the less, the English dictionary is more accessible than those technical works in which internationally current roots abound.
Common nouns come last in the classes of words arranged in what follows. It is necessarily arbitrary to fix the number of essential common nouns, because every occupation and social group within a speech-community has its own peculiar ones. Even novels abound in technical terms which are mere expletives to most readers. One thing which simplifies our task is the fact that an interlanguage word-list need contain no national names, i.e. words for specifically local institutions (casino, bazaar), officials (kaiser, concierge), proper names (Stalin, Leningrad), or implements (samovar, sjambok). It will tolerate such words automatically, as so often happens in the history of natural languages. This means that people of any speech-community have the last word about how to spell their own towns (Wien, København), or countries (Deutschland, Suomi); and the same words serve as adjectives (e.g. Scotch tweed = Scotland texti). Another class of words calls for similar treatment. Few people talk about gills and fins, unless they have some technical interest in comparative anatomy. Those who have, will know the internationally current terms (branchia and pterygia) for them.
At this point, a necessary qualification to preceding remarks will forestall misunderstanding at a later stage. Semantic rectitude does not prescribe that juxtaposition of two vocables in a particular order must have the same singularity of meaning as have two ordered symbols of a non-commutative algebra. Everyday discourse has functions other than those of mathematical symbolism, if only because it has to engage the interest of an audience. If the fact receives tardy recognition in elementary teaching of highly flexional languages, the study of completely isolating ones, e.g. of the Chinese group, or of an almost completely isolating language such as Anglo-American, forces us to recognize how extensively we rely on context to convey meaning without multiplication of verbal counters or of grammatical devices to complicate the rules of the game. Divorced from its context, we are free to interpret the couplet religious worker as: (a) any member of the working class with religious convictions or professions; (b) a person who does regular voluntary or paid work for a religious organization. In an actual slab of sustained discourse its organic relation to the semantic gestalt would rarely if ever give rise to misunderstanding between English-speaking people; and the disadvantages of sacrificing word-economy or economy of space and effort to legislate for so few occasions would out-weigh the benefits.
To some extent, mathematics also relies on context to supply the necessary clue to correct interpretation. For instance, we interpret the cluster d2x both as a differential of the second order in the domain of the infinitesimal calculus and as the product of x and the square of d in the domain of elementary algebra. If we speak here or elsewhere of a couplet or compound as self-explicit, the epithet is therefore shorthand for sufficiently explicit in a context where it will commonly crop up. Context, and context alone, dictates how we interpret the vagaries of the allegedly “possessive” terminal ’s in father’s debts, father’s death and father’s dress-shirt. Context, and context alone, endorses the relationship implicit in churchyard, brickyard, backyard. A little reflection on such illustrations of its role should encourage the fastidious reader to take a tolerant view about the need for hard and fast rules for framing compounds whose meaning is sufficiently suggestive in an appropriate situation. Words are not mere atoms. They are organs of communication. As such, their functions inescapably depend on the whole body of discourse.
Reading and Self-expression
Three classes of difficulties discussed in what has gone before do not exhaust those which confront a person who is learning a language. Language-learning involves four skills as different as arithmetic, algebra, geometry and trigonometry. The skills necessary for complete mastery are: (a) auditory recognition; (b) pronunciation and intonation; (c) self-expression in writing; (d) recognition of the written word. Whether one of them is more or less difficult to acquire than another depends partly on personal gifts, such as visual memory and mimetic aptitude. Opportunities for use by reading, by travel or by correspondence play a part, as also intrinsic characteristics of the language itself.
Languages which are relatively holophrastic, such as French, offer greater difficulties for auditory recognition than more staccato languages like German. The syntax of German makes reading difficult, and Hottentot clicks or Chinese tones are hard to mimic without special phonetic training. With due allowance to these considerations, one thing stands out clear. On the whole, most people master reading knowledge with least difficulty, and acquire the trick of auditory recognition last of all. With constant use, the latter comes easily to anyone who has acquired the knack of self-expression in writing. So auditory recognition is of minor interest, if the end in view is to make things easy for the beginner.
What is more important is the difficulty of reading relative to the difficulty of self-expression. A difference between the skill required for reading knowledge and the skill required for self-expression is relevant to a criticism unjustly levelled against Basic English. All of us know the meaning of many native words which we never use in speech or writing, and the gap between the vocabulary of reading and that of self-expression is inevitably greater when our means of Communication is a foreign language. To read a language we need to be able to recognize a relatively large number of words when memory (and ingenuity) is prompted by context. Self-expression involves very ready recollection of a relatively small number of words without extrinsic help. So part of the art of mastering a language is to get a thorough knowledge of a small battery of essential words for self-expression, and a nodding acquaintance with a much larger residual stock for reading.
Since it is much harder to remember words without help from the context than to remember them when the context prompts us, the desirability of designing a language with great potential word-economy is not incompatible with the stylistic advantage of having a copious vocabulary. Ogden has shown us that English has astonishing possibilities of word-economy, and we all know that it has a richer residual battery of synonyms than any other language. This is partly due to its hybrid structure, and Interglossa is also a hybrid. If we want to combine potential word-economy for ready self-expression with what versatility of expression safeguards style against monotony, we can take advantage of this fact. Different roots of international technical terms may have the same semantic content. Hence the problem of choosing word-material is not as difficult as it might seem. We are not forced to undertake a statistical word-count of internationally current roots. Part of our essential word-list offers the beginner a choice of two words. For purposes of self-expression the beginner will naturally choose the one to which he (or she) associates most readily, or can most easily pronounce. For purposes of reading, or communication with others who associate more readily to the alternative form, a cursory study of the word-list will usually suffice.
In this context it is fitting to forestall the intelligible criticism that a page of Interglossa does not look easier than a page of Novial. Anyone who has had a good secondary school education in Britain or America can guess his or her way through a passage of Novial (or other interlanguage of the same type) without the preliminary precaution of consulting a grammar or dictionary. This fact gives anyone who has not thought much about interlinguistic problems an unduly favourable impression of the ease with which it is possible to master Novial. It would not be difficult to construct a highly latinized strip of English through which an otherwise well-educated Frenchman with no knowledge of our language could also guess his way. English of this type would certainly (if only because the acceptable operative constructions on which Basic word-economy depends are Teutonic in origin) be more difficult to learn thoroughly than is Ogden’s Basic.
To an English reader Novial looks more easy than it is for two reasons. It takes over the grammatical pattern common to Aryan languages (with the semantic inconsistencies inherent in it), and it has a large hybrid stock-in-trade of words from the two major sources of our own. One has less formal grammar to learn than one would have if one set out to learn French or German; but, having traversed the first few milestones, one has still to grapple with the semantic difficulties inherent in the pattern of the Aryan group. One has to go on piling up a word-list without information concerning which words are most essential, The fact that Novial looks so easy to read is a feature of high publicity value. It does not signify that it is also easy to master the art of self-expression in Novial.
To cut down the difficulties by judicious word-economy we have to delve more deeply into semantic issues which Jespersen and his predecessors side-stepped. Inevitably, we find our-selves gravitating away from the grammatical pattern of the Aryan family to a more universal idiom with features common to Chinese. The result is that learning a language so designed is a lively training in clear thinking of a kind which anyone can usefully undertake. In fact, the grammar of Interglossa, as is largely true of Basic, is semantics. Its author does not claim that it is easy to read a page of Interglossa at sight without previous information concerning its structure. It is designed with the aim of reducing to a minimum time and effort necessary for complete mastery of self-expression. From that point of view, all that the average intelligent person can achieve by months devoted to the study of E, I, I.N., P or N should be over in the same number of days devoted to Interglossa.
Here, as elsewhere, word-economy means numerical limitation of vocables necessary for unaffected discourse about matters of common interest between people of different nationalities. A stock-in-trade of word-material limited in this way will not necessarily offer a compact means of expressing every fine distinction found in a lexicon. To avoid misunderstanding about claims put forward for our essential word-list, it is well to remind ourselves of what Ogden has stressed in the exposition of his own method for adapting English to international use. Dictionary definitions give a false impression of what precision even well-educated people do—or can—achieve when they discuss matters outside a common domain of specialist knowledge. Part of the job of a dictionary is to divulge what limitations the specialist as such imposes on familiar words in a particular field of technical discourse. Such limitations do not and cannot impose a censorship on everyday speech. English-speaking people who are not biologists use and will go on using the term bug without concern for what limitations biologists impose on it in a discussion at the Royal Society. They use and will continue to use the term adultery with little, if any, regard for its unilateral definition in canon law. Where precision is essential at this level of communication, Interglossa prescribes international technical terms if such are available, local terms for local occurrences, or failing either, small residual batteries drawn up by Specialists concerned by use of internationally current roots in accordance with rules for expansion of vocabulary in Chapter X. Professor Edgar de Wahl, author of a project which he has called Occidental, and Lott, the inventor of Mundolingue, have done the necessary spade work.
Some linguists will protest that I flatter the public by assuming the widespread existence of a large technical vocabulary. In fact, those who are hostile to plans for a constructed language expect to have it both ways. They underestimate the difficulties which natural languages put in the way of collaboration between ordinary men and women who are not gifted linguists, and they overestimate the difficulties of learning an artificial language, because they are not en rapport with the cultural realities of the modern world. Professors of Greek who do not know what a heterodyne set is would be surprised at the number of such words in any hobbies magazine for schoolboys. It is therefore pertinent to add two comments upon objections of this kind:
(a) The intrusion of international technical terms into daily speech is daily gathering momentum, especially in countries where there is public encouragement for scientific research and its application, or good popular scientific journalism. The spectacular infiltration of such terms into the Russian language since the Revolution is sufficiently evident in place-names alone.1 Because the tempo of infiltration is increasing we can prospect with tolerable confidence what roots are likely to come into daily speech in the near future.
1 If pushed to define what is an international root in an age of potential plenty, I would say I mean a root which occurs in: (a) any technical term in a League of Nations Report on agriculture, malnutrition, public health or the drug traffic; (b) any proper name printed with a capital letter in a gardener’s catalogue; (c) most words printed in italics in the index of The Science of Life, Science for the Citizen, The Outline of the Universe or other book of the same genre.
(b) It is not likely that any considerable group of speech-communities will adopt an interlingua unless the forces working for international co-operation are stronger than those which are also working to perpetuate militarism and racialism. To put forward a plan of this sort therefore presupposes confidence in the possibility of a more enlightened world in which the disposition to spread scientific knowledge as a basis of social prosperity and a high standard of communal health prevails. In short, Interglossa, or any other artificial language, is a project for a civilization in which education will deal far more with the realities of health and the productive forces of everyday life, than with the dreary superstitions of the past. Biology is already taking the place of the classics in the school curriculum. A world which can be induced to adopt an auxiliary will be a techno-conscious and a health-conscious world, a world with a much larger common stock of everyday words derived from roots current in modern technology.
Since the word-material of Interglossa is based on roots internationally current in science, every vocable can form the basis of association with familiar words or with new and interesting information about the world we live in. The process of learning the vocabulary can therefore have the excitement of the chase. Thus we track down poly (many) from what is common to polygon and polygamy. From polygon and pentagon the pupil would track down gono (angle), from pentagon and pentameter through gasometer we get penta (five) and metro (measure), thence via cyclometer and bicycle through cycli (circle) via bigamy, giving bi (two) back through polygamy to gameo (marriage). From this we can start in various directions. Anyone who has taken a school course in elementary biology will recognize the last word as the root in gametes (sperm and egg), whose marriage gives rise to the embryo. It turns up again in Phanerogams (conifers and flowering plants) so called because their marital arrangements are manifest (phanero) or clear to the eye in contradistinction to Cryptogams (ferns, mosses, seaweeds and fungi), whose sexual processes are cryptic, i.e. hidden (crypto). Though they are common in international scientific terms, some of the roots employed in what follows are not yet in everyday speech or in school science instruction. Admittedly, copa (oar), which occurs in international zoological names for many swimming animals with oar-like limbs, is not an ingredient of daily conversation; but since the Copepoda (a tribe of small shrimps so called for the reason stated) constitute the majority of animal species in the surface layers of the sea and are the chief food of herrings, the act of learning the meaning of copa need not be as lifeless as that of learning the equivalent Finnish word airo.
With the help of the teacher the beginner should thus be able to associate the meaning of each new vocable with a word already familiar or with some new and arresting piece of information about the modern world. Since this draft is for the English-speaking reader, it is sufficient to show how to do so if the beginner speaks English. Chapter IV and the Mnemotechnic notes on pp. 256-282, give appropriate examples for every vocable listed. The claim of Interglossa is that if it contains no psychologically inert word-material such as lapin or Knabe. At the school stage learning Interglossa would be learning semantics, everyday science and comparative etymology hand-in-hand.
APPENDIX TO CHAPTER I
WORD-MATERIAL OF ESPERANTO AND INTERGLOSSA
Many readers may be unfamiliar with Esperanto except by hearsay. So it is pertinent to set forth, in tabular form, representative specimens of its word-material side by side with the Interglossa equivalents. It would obviously be easy to exaggerate the shortcomings of Esperanto by choosing a small battery of samples from a large class of vocables such as nouns or adjectives. Since space does not permit the author to give the Esperanto equivalent of every vocable of Interglossa, the only just way of bringing out the eclecticism of Esperanto and the international currency of the word-stock of the present project is to give a fairly complete exposition of certain small classes of words which are of particular interest from the standpoint of syntax. We shall therefore list side by side the personal pronouns, numerals, chief prepositions and conjunctions of Esperanto with their Interglossa substitutes. The right-hand column gives an Anglo-American key-word to aid recognition of the Interglossa equivalent; and the reader who has any doubts about the mnemotechnic credentials of the latter can refer to the notes in Chapter XI, where each vocable hits a reference number, indicated in parenthesis.
1 Kepler’s epoch-making work.
THE ESSENTIAL GRAMMAR OF INTERGLOSSA
Since Interglossa is an isolating (analytical) language, learning Interglossa involves learning merely: (a) its etymology, i.e. mnemonic association of each vocable to an internationally current root (Chapter XI); (b) its semantics, i.e. analysis of the meaningful content of the vocables; (c) its word-order; (d) its phonetics and typography. Some preliminary, and at this stage very tentative, remarks about phonetics and typography, together with a fuller discussion of the word-order pattern, are the topic of what follows:
The vowel symbols have the following values: a as in father; e or ae as in fête; i as in élite; o as in open; and u as in rule: y is equivalent to i. With the following exceptions, consonant symbols have their characteristic values in accordance with those of the international phonetic symbols:
In the following initial consonant combinations the first element is silent; ct-, gn-, mn-, pn-, ps-, pt-. Thus ps- in pseudo is equivalent to s, as in Anglo-American. The h in the combination rh is also silent. These rules admit of no inconsistencies. The inconvenience of having a few anomalies which go into a dozen lines of print is far less than the disadvantage which would result from mutilating roots beyond visual recognition. Non-Aryan-speaking people who find difficulty with compound consonants and closed syllables (as in blinding or trumpet) will find that some pigeon-holes of the semantic schema offer alternatives of the Yo-ko-ha-ma or To-ky-o type (cf. itinero travel, nesia island). All polysyllables end with a vowel. Unless the last two syllables are both vowels (-io, -ia, etc.), the stress is on the penultimate one, e.g. billEta, permIto. If the word ends with two vowels, the stress is on the antepenultimate syllable, e.g. nEsia and orientAtio.
With a few exceptions the vocables of Interglossa are based on unmutilated roots of words which now belong to the vocabulary of all countries where modern technology and hygiene have penetrated. The meaning ascribed to anyone of them does not necessarily tally with the one given in a Latin or a Greek lexicon. It is the meaning suggested by the internationally current words in which it occurs. Less than a dozen are abbreviations. The origin of abbreviated ones comes in the text to assist the beginner to memorize them.
Partly for the reason stated in the last paragraph, and partly because of the principle of word-economy inherent in its design, Interglossa has a peculiarity which distinguishes it from other constructed languages and from many natural ones. Because they are explicit in the sense defined above, particles are relatively long words, while nouns and verbs, relieved of their former flexional accretions, are relatively short ones.1 Strictly speaking, the terms noun, adjective and verb are not applicable to any words of Interglossa. It is a completely isolating language. So no words have flexions characteristic of such classes in Aryan languages. If we apply the epithet verb or adjective to a word in Interglossa, we mean an invariable word (i.e. particle) which corresponds in a particular context to a particular verb or adjective in French, German or Russian. With few exceptions the same vocable also corresponds to several grammatical homosemes of any Aryan language.
1 In natural languages, which are not highly inflected, prepositional and conjunctive particles, denoting relations for which clear reasoning prescribes clear-cut fields of reference, are peculiarly liable to semantic erosion; and the same is true, perhaps even more true, of the flexional appendages to which grammatical paradigms ascribe their functions. This is an inescapable limitation of Basic, or of any other form of simplified, English consonant with accepted standards. As an analytical language Basic English has to exploit the use of such particles to the utmost. Hence the words on which it relies so much for sharpness of logical definition are the words most prone to idiomatic use. Peano’s Interlingua suffers from a further defect. Though an isolating language, it derives its battery of directives from Latin, a language somewhat poor in its native outfit of such vocables. A constructed language of the isolating type should be especially richly equipped with directives; and its design should discourage degradation of meaning through overwork of words belonging to this class. Possibly one of several reasons for the degradation of meaning mentioned above as a universal feature of natural languages is that conjunctive and prepositional particles are usually short words. Because they are short, like flexions, we easily slur them in speech. Hence we are apt to rely on context to do their work; and by doing so, become careless about their use. If there is a grain of truth in this supposition, the moral is clear. Such words should stand out boldly in the sentence-matrix. Each should be a challenge to the choice of the speaker and to the attention of the audience. Thus the feature mentioned above is beneficial. A long word with rich associations in a domain of exact discourse, as has (119) postulo for the if of the rejected condition, fulfils the desideratum stated. A short word, like the equivalent se of Esperanto, does not do so. It has no associations of this sort.
(c) Parts of Speech
In all this there is nothing new to the Chinese nor to the Malay speech-community. There is scarcely anything new to anyone who speaks the Anglo-American language. A classification of parts of speech relevant to an isolating language will not follow the categories appropriate to the flexional system of the Aryan group. It will reflect the function of individual vocables in the sentence-landscape: From that point of view we can classify the vocables of Interglossa as follows:
(a) Pseudonyms (11). Four of these (mi, tu, na, mu) are pure pronoun-equivalents divested of any flexions. The remaining seven are of wider range vis-à-vis the practice of Aryan languages. They function both as pronouns and as equivalents for nouns or for corresponding adjectives. This will offer no difficulty to Scandinavians (see p. 82), nor to English-speaking people who customarily refer to a he-goat, and do not hesitate to answer the question: is it a he or a she?
(b) Interrogative, Imperative, Negative and Comparative Particles (6), two of which allow for question, request or command without deviation from the invariant word-pattern. Such particles are common to many languages, and we can find many corresponding periphrases in the Aryan group (e.g. French n’est-ce pas? and Swedish eller hur?)
(c) Substantives (Jespersen uses the term substantive in this sense of noun-adjective) (396). These are names for concrete things or classes of concrete things. As is increasingly true of Anglo-American (queen mother, water power, trade cycle), any one of them can replace an adjectival word-form.
(d) Verboids (20). These are names of processes and states. Like many so-called English verbs, any one verboid may replace a finite verb form, the corresponding abstract noun, and the appropriate epithet, i.e. adjective (cf. we love, the love of God, a love story.) This class is small. Needless to say, all verboids are invariant, but this need not surprise an Anglo-American. Our own verb must is as inflexible as a Chinese verb-equivalent.
(e) Articles (29). These are general words and numerals which have the function of predicating plurality or otherwise in relation to noun-equivalents, all of which are invariant like sheep.
(f) Amplifiers (417). The largest single class of words are abstractions, anyone of which can take the place of a noun, adjective or corresponding adverb. They form natural combinations with operative verboids analogous to such Basic constructions as make clean your hearts, get wise to this, make trouble for them, give attention to me. The corresponding English word may be: (a) a directive (preposition) such as up in he went up the hill = he ascended the hill; (b) an adjectival complement, such as clean in make clean (= purify) your hearts; (c) an abstract noun, such as trouble in make trouble for others = pester or interfere with others. The student of Basic will be familiar with this class, and will not ask why some of them are equally appropriate as substitutes for abstract nouns, adverbial particles, prepositions or adjectives.
The increasing use of the rhetorical present is common to many Aryan languages, when the context or an accompanying adverb suffices to date the occurrence; and a considerable class of English verbs such as hurt, shut, put, have no past flexion. So there should be no inherent difficulty connected with an idiom in which appropriate adverb-equivalents replace the entire flexional system of the verb. As adverb-equivalents, abstract words which are also amplifiers do: (a) all the work of the verb flexions classified as tense, aspect or mood; (b) all the work of modal auxiliaries. There are seventeen amplifiers which do the work of Anglo-American auxiliaries (verboid qualifiers) and as such come before the verboid.
Interglossa has no special class of prepositions. The equivalent for a preposition is an amplifier which can also do the work of an adjective, adverb and, sometimes also, of an abstract noun. The justification for the large-scale word-economy which this makes possible will come up for later discussion. A separate chapter (Chapter VI) deals with those amplifiers which can do the work of link-words (conjunctions) or preposition-equivalents if they have the appropriate (p. 109) locus in the sentence-matrix.
Word-order circumscribes the essential syntax of an isolating language such as Interglossa. The following English sentence will provide a pattern to prepare the way for what follows, and to clarify the terms used, viz., verboid, verboid qualifier, amplifier, and substantive cluster. Items (3), (4), (5), together make up the verboid cluster:
“ The retiring president of the society will make clear to us his reasons for resignation.”
The parts are:
This paradigm illustrates Anglo-American word-order in an affirmative simple statement or principal clause. It also reproduces the essential pattern of Interglossa in any sentence or clause. The word-order of Interglossa does not change in questions, requests, commands and relative clauses. For adequate instruction concerning its word-order we have therefore to be more explicit about class (b) in the preceding section, and to say something about the relative clause.
In spoken English we often express interrogation, without change of word-order, by tone of voice or by tacking on eh? In some languages the use of an interrogative particle (e.g. Finnish ko) is the ordinary method of indicating interrogation, in writing as well as in speech. The English modal auxiliaries do (do you think so?) or will (will you give me some more?) respectively, have the same function in a question or in a request. In the same way, initial interrogative or imperative particles of Interglossa indicate that what follows is a question, request, or command, without change of the invariable word-pattern. This fixed pattern is equally characteristic of subordinate clauses and simple sentences, whether affirmative, interrogative or imperative.
The beginner has to get accustomed to the trick of preserving the word-order of an equivalent simple sentence in a relative clause. This will offer no difficulty to anyone who is familiar with colloquial Anglo-American. There is a single relative pronoun su for the subject. Like the English that it can stand for person or thing, singular or plural:
The relative pronoun su cannot be the object of the verb, nor can it follow a preposition-equivalent. When the relative pronoun is not the subject, no equivalent takes its place. We proceed precisely as in conversational English:
A general formula for all types of sentence or clause is as follows:
(1) Vocative cluster (if present) followed by a colon, e.g.:
(2) Interrogative particle or imperative particle or link-word (if present).
(3) Subject cluster.
(4) Verboid cluster.
(5) Direct and Indirect Object clusters with accompanying qualifying clusters.
The rule of precedence with reference to the Direct and Indirect or Instrumental Object clusters is that the shorter of the two (with due regard to accompanying qualifying clusters) comes first, e.g.:
The formula given above takes no stock of the internal pattern of the clusters specified, or of qualifying expressions. The rule for phrases which qualify a substantive, whether themselves substantive clusters beginning with a preposition or clusters equivalent to a participial phrase, is the same as in Anglo-American. Unlike single words which do so, each follows the substantive it qualifies, e.g.:
A substantive cluster may be made up of the following elements in the order stated, only (2) being an obligatory constituent common to all clusters:
(1) Directive (i.e. preposition-equivalent).
(2) One of the following: (a) pronoun-equivalent; (b) general article; (c) numeral.
(3) A qualifier of (4), i.e. an adverb-equivalent.
(4) A qualifier of (5), i.e. an adjective-equivalent.
(5) A noun-equivalent, usually a substantive as defined above.
There is no formal distinction between adjective and adverb or adjective and abstract noun. Nearly all epithets (i.e. words which can replace an Aryan adjective) can also serve as qualifiers of other epithets (cf. fast in English), or as verbal qualifiers, and as the nominal equivalent of the attribute (cf. the True and the Beautiful); but no epithet can be a pronoun, as in the construction: the good (= good people) die young. The epithet as qualifier of another epithet precedes the word it qualifies as the epithet which qualifies the noun precedes the final substantive of the subject cluster. Where ambiguity might arise owing to absence of formal distinction between adverb and adjective, we resort to the use of plus or syn (and) as in the English model (fast and sinking ship). Here the link and shows that the two adjectives qualify ship. We thus get the following rule. If two epithets occur in juxtaposition the first is the qualifier of the second (cf. a fast sinking ship = a ship fast sinking); but if two epithets independently qualify the same nounequivalent, syn (123) separates them.
The verboid qualifier may consist of three elements: (a) the negative particle non; (b) one of the three temporal particles pre, nun, post; (c) an amplifier which does the work of a modal auxiliary. The last (c) comes next to the key verboid, the first next to the subject cluster, e.g.:
The general rule that any single qualifying word must immediately precede the word it qualifies admits of one exception to allow for afterthought. Words or expressions which qualify a sentence or clause as a whole may come at the beginning of it or at the end, as do surely and a long while in the English sentences: (a) surely you don’t mean that; (b) he has been staying there a long while. The rules for clause-order are as in English, viz.:
(a) A noun clause follows the principal without a conjunction equivalent to that;
(b) An adverbial clause preferably precedes the principal;
(c) A relative clause immediately follows the substantive which it qualifies.
Since there is no flexion of the verboid, there is no need for special rules about the use of the verb-equivalent in oratio obliqua. There is no periphrastic passive—except in so far as verboid clusters formed with the operator gene (become, get) and an amplifier (e.g. gene thermo = become hot = get heat) are passive equivalents of verbs formed in the same way with date (give, confer) and are therefore causative (e.g. date thermo = confer heat or heat). The only permissible impersonal expressions are those in which it (re) refers to the whole situation (e.g. re habe thermo = it is hot, or literally it has heat).
For ready recognition of the written word a language purged of flexional impedimenta can still benefit from two devices which bring into relief the component clusters of the fixed word-order pattern of Interglossa. These signposts of sentence-landscape are: (a) articles (p. 33); (b) terminals. The system of terminals is as follows:
(a) All verboids end in -e. The only other words that do so are the pseudonyms fe, pe and re (p. 82), the interrogative particle que (42) and the four prepositional amplifiers pre (72), tele (99), de (109) and vice (127).
(b) Substantives (as defined above) end in -a or -i. Exceptions are: geo (645) for earth; cardo (740) the international term for a hinge; acu (733) for nail or pin; occlu (765) for bolt or nut, and bureau (816) for a public office.
(c) Amplifiers end in -o. Among vocables given first choice, the exceptions to this rule are the time units (anni, di, hora, etc.) and some amplifiers with prepositional values, viz.: post (71), pre (72), tem (74), ad (75), contra (78), epi (81), ex (82), extra (83), in (85), inter (86), para (94), littora (95), peri (96), tele (99), trans (101), anti (103), de (109), minus (115), per (117), plus (118), syn (123), vice (127). As with geo, etc. above, the disadvantage of mutilating a familiar international stem or of unduly lengthening the word outweighs the objection to 32 exceptions in all out of a total of 404.
Both amplifiers and verboids may be elements of a substantive cluster equivalent to an adjective or to an abstract noun. We then recognize them as such by the possessive pseudonym or the article which labels the substantive cluster as such. In accordance with the word-order rules, we have
Here the empty singular article u or un (before a vowel) shows that phobo is not the complement of a verb, and that tene is not equivalent to a verb finite. On the other hand, the combination stimule phobo could only mean terrify or frighten. In ninety-nine out of a hundred situations, a construction in which an -e word immediately precedes an -o word is an operative construction. These hints illustrate one class of safeguards which make it possible to slide the same semantic element from one grammatical category to another without undue embarrassment to the learner who is steeped in the morphological pattern of a particular language group.
Thus the word-order pattern leaves no room for doubt about whether the word mi means I, me, my. If it replaces I it must come near and before the key verboid, i.e. an -e word. The only words which can separate it from the latter are verboid qualifiers. If it means me it must come after the key verboid, and since most verb-equivalents involve an amplifier it will generally follow an -o word. If it means my it will replace the article of a substantive cluster of which one element is nearly always a common name, i.e. an -a or -i word.
The presence of an -o word next to the verboid (i.e. a combination of an -e word with an -o word which follows immediately after it) makes explicit the literal and metaphorical meaning of the latter. For illustrative purposes it suffices to take the triad habe, date and gene. Habe means have or possess something tangible (habe u domi = have a house) or some abstract property (habe credito ex = have credit from or owe). Date means confer or give something tangible (date u bibli = give the book) or some abstract property, in which capacity it does most of the work of the Basic operator make as well as that of give. Thus date masso = load is equivalent to confer weight or make heavy, and date digito = imply is equivalent to give indication of. Gene means get or acquire something tangible (gene u gyna = get a wife or marry) or an abstract property, hence to become (gene melano = get blackness, i.e. blacken or become black). The article of the direct object substantive cluster following one of these three operative verboids shows that we must interpret it in the literal sense.
(f) Alternative Words
The amplifiers make up the largest class of words in the essential vocabulary. For some of them and for some substantives alternative international roots are available, and the beginner can choose the one more familiar or more easy to pronounce. The word-list of succeeding chapters offers no alternatives for pronoun-equivalents (pseudonyms) or for certain common words which most conspicuously cut across the Aryan parts of speech. The total number of these is about a hundred, and it should be the business of the beginner to memorize them first. A few, namely uN, aD, noN, nuN, eX, drop the final consonant if the next word begins with one.
(g) Punctuation and Typography
In continuous prose—though not in our short examples cited for illustration—the substantive element of a substantive cluster begins with a capital letter, as in Danish and German print. So does a pronoun subject (e.g. mi = I), or the pronoun object of a verb or prepositional equivalent (e.g. mi = me). A pronoun used in its possessive (e.g. mi = my) sense without de (cf. de mi = my) does not begin with a capital letter. In relation to sentence structure, conventions of punctuation are specially important. The full-stop and inverted commas conform to the usual conventions. The comma marks off items of a catalogue, or participial expressions. The colon introduces a catalogue coming at the end of a sentence, or an introductory vocative expression (see p. 35). The two outstanding idiosyncrasies of Interglossa punctuation are:
(a) The end of every clause, with its own subject-“verb” complex, whether principal, subordinate or co-ordinate, is marked off from a succeeding clause of the same sentence by a semi-colon. In script the semi-colon takes the place of a conjunction equivalent to that at the beginning of a noun clause.
(b) The hyphen binds together as units certain compounds made up of independent particles.
From the time of Dalgarno and Wilkins in the seventeenth century, pioneers of language-planning have paid attention to the need for rapid transcription, and have taken a hand in shorthand projects of one sort or another. This is as it should be. Rapid transcription and economy of space or type are admittedly desiderata of an ideally designed language, though of secondary importance vis-à-vis ease of learning. It is therefore fitting to add a few words on devices which make for economical typography and copying.
Critics of Basic English make much of the fact that it is long-winded. The criticism has a measure of truth, but much less than appears from illustrations divorced from a real context. The fact is that any analytical language designed like Basic (or Interglossa) eliminates redundancies of language which do not show up in a dictionary definition. A dictionary definition of the verb swim in Basic or Interglossa has to specify the fact that the activity takes place in water. Since the Channel is a stretch of water, this part of the definition disappears when we translate the sentence: he swam the Channel yesterday. Consequently a dictionary gives a quite distorted idea of the space which a Basic or Interglossa translation takes up. By comparing the translations in Chapter XI with the originals, the reader can verify the claim that Interglossa is not more space-consuming than everyday English.
The inherent antinomy between word-economy in the interests of the beginner and space-economy in the interests of those who pay for the cost of printing prompts a suggestion that those who write Interglossa should freely use internationally current ideograms, such as £, $, + (plus), ̵ (without), ♀ (female or Venus) for she, her, ♂ (male or Mars) for he, him, his, ☿ (hermaphrodite or Mercury) for one, one’s, ☽ (moon), ? put at the beginning of a sentence or clause for the interrogative particle que, & amp; (syn), etc. (see p. 123), as also all international abbreviations, e.g. g (gram), 1 (litre), m (metre), etc. We can also economize space by breaking away from the humanistic tradition which prescribes the formula one hundred and sixty-three thousand nine hundred and seventy-two for the compact ideogram 163972, and by using 0 and 1 respectively for the articles zero (no) and un (a, the).
One advantage of a language designed to achieve maximum word-economy in Ogden’s sense recalls R. J. G. Dutton’s Speedwords, an ingenious system of international shorthand which makes use of monosyllables in Roman script, thus cutting out the effort of learning a new and esoteric system of symbols. With 5 vowel and 20 consonant symbols we can build 100 open syllables like to or be, and 100 open monosyllables like at or up, making 205 pronounceable elements, if we add simple vowels to the list. Closed monosyllables like pat or top containing no consonant clusters add another 2,000 possibilities. Since Basic English gets along with a word-list of 850 essential items, it is clearly possible to design a language of which all the root words would be monosyllabic, like the root words of a Chinese language. A language so designed need not be compromised by a superfoetation of homophones, as in Chinese; but it could not be a language based exclusively on current international roots, many of which are polysyllables.
It follows that a language designed on the speedword principle would not be as easy to learn for purposes of reading, writing or speaking as a language built up of unmutilated internationally current word-material. For that reason Interglossa eschews contracted forms except for 5 essential pronouns, the 2 interrogative and imperative particles, and a special class of 13 generic substantives or amplifiers (pp. 97-105) which enter into large groups of compounds. The last-named have alternative full forms. At the same time, a language of which all the essential vocables do not exceed 900 is well adapted to make use of the Dutton principle for note-taking and other purposes for which economy of space and speed of transcription are specially important. It is possible to represent each vocable of Interglossa by a distinct monosyllable based on the initial letters or bisyllable made up of not more than four letters, keeping the average length of a word to 2·6 letters. It would not be possible to do the same thing with a natural language—other than Basic English—because too many of the combinations of less than 4 initial letters would have to be the same. A casual glance at any page of a dictionary suffices to prove this.
Since each pigeon-hole in the 880-item semantic schema has its appropriate number, it is possible to communicate with a code of ten symbols, i.e. the Arabic numerals, without using more than three consecutive symbols for each word. Thus, dispatched fifty kilograms wheat last month is: 464. 31.26.38. 717. 625. 72. 68. This involves recourse to half as many symbols from a keyboard with less than half as many items.
Subject and Object
To define rules of word-order (p. 34) we need reference points. Two reference points in what has gone before have been subject and object. The use of these terms calls for comment to forestall a charge of inconsistency. Some people still cherish the delusion that subject and object are categories of semantic relations in contradistinction to categories of flexional change. For instance, Esperantists1 tell us that we need an accusative terminal to distinguish the object, as if a generic conception of object could arise in a language free from case-flexion or case-postpositions like those of Japanese. This is a legacy of classical misconceptions concerning the semantic credentials of grammatical habits of particular—more especially Aryan—speech-communities.
1 The resistance some people put up against lucid discussion concerning the semantic credentials of nineteenth-century grammatical “rules” is hardly surprising, when we recall how many generations of schoolboys have been caned into acquiescence with their patent absurdities. It is a little humiliating for people past forty to discover in later life that the rigours of the school climate have left them with a weakened constitution. Modern educational practice has abandoned the pretence that the grammar of the grammar school has much relevance to English in its present form, still less to international syntax; and Esperantists are now among the last supporters of pedagogic superstitions which still flourished in the naughty ’nineties.
What state we can legitimately predicate as a property of a given subject and what process can have a given substantive as its proper agent or as its rightful goal depend on the particular state or process under discussion. In other words, what we call subject and what we call object depend on the meaning of the particular verb with which two given substantives (or their pronoun substitutes) labelled as such are associated. The highest common factor of semantic content in appropriate subjects of all verbs is zero; and the same is true of all objects of all verbs.
Partisans assert that the flexions of Esperanto permit members of different speech-communities to communicate without departure from native word-order. It is difficult to reconcile this pretension with the difficulties of translating a long German sentence when the meaning of the words is apparent. German should be an easy language for an Englishman or American to learn, because of the large stock of roots it shares with our own language. The fact is that English-speaking people learn German with difficulty. Its wealth of flexions certainly does not make the task of the beginner easier; but the most formidable obstacle is unfamiliarity with the arrangement of words.
If anyone who reads these pages is not clear about the issue stated in the preceding paragraphs, a few examples should suffice to dispel the belief that any common thread of meaning runs through the subject-object distinction. That nothing of the sort exists is sufficiently evident if we consider verb-couplets which have a reciprocal relation, e.g. stimulate and respond. Thus X (subject) reacts to Y, means the same as Y (subject) stimulates X. In fact the logical, as distinct from the grammatical, status of the subject depends on the progress of knowledge. If the eye emits light, as Plato taught, the logical relations of subject and object are the same in the two following statements: (a) I see the flash, (b) I strike the table. In both of them the speaker-subject is the Platonic agent, and the so-called object is the goal or victim of the process. The fact that photography is possible shows that Plato was wrong. So it is clear that the flash (grammatical object) is the agent (logical subject) of the first statement. This is not an isolated case. Whether we identify the grammatical subject of affective verbs such as love or wish with the agent of the process described by these words depends on whether we cling to traditional idealistic views about cognition and sentiment or whether we prefer to anticipate a more strictly behaviourist attitude. If we define the logical subject as the agent of a process, a solipsist view of the world prescribes that the logical is also the grammatical subject of: I remember, I remember the house where I was born. The behaviourist view, which is also that of the practical man or woman, prescribes that the house is the agent which initiates the type of cerebral activity called memory.
What we choose to call subject and object from a grammatical point of view thus depends on the grammatical apparatus of the language under discussion. In our own, we can use they and them as litmus paper. That is to say, the category of words which they can replace defines the subject class. In the sentence they respond to them, they can refer only to the things or persons stimulated, never to the stimulus. We have thus a class of verbs in which the grammatical subject of a process or action is what gets the stimulus. We also have a class of verbs (e.g. excite, stimulate) of which the grammatical subject is the stimulus itself, a class of verbs of which the grammatical subject is the person who applies the stimulus (whip, cut), and a class of verbs of which the grammatical subject may be either stimulus or person who applies it (prick, sting). Such verbs stand for processes; and if we include verbs which stand for states we can distinguish many other categories by what classes of substantives can play the role of grammatical subject.
It is not justifiable to use the terms subject and object as reference points of international syntax unless we can define them without recourse to grammatical tricks peculiar to particular languages. Happily, as Ogden has seen, we can sidestep the difficulty by keeping down the number of verb-equivalents; and it is the object of this chapter to clarify the rules of word-order given on p. 35 by making the meaning of subject and object explicit with reference to each verboid. Interglossa has 20 verboids of which one, ge, is an operative particle based on gene (473), and one eque (469) stands for the so-called verb be when be links what follows with the subject and an identity or a specification of the class to which it belongs (Roosevelt is the right man; Victoria was then Queen of England; elephants are mammals). Otherwise habe (have) does the work of be; and is the universal copula connecting subject (i.e. Topic) and its attribute (he has strength = he is strong).
We have already examined the meaning of habe (474), gene (473) and date (466) in outline. Two operators, (477) (481) perde (lose) and tracte ... apo (take ... away), in combination with an amplifier respectively do the work of gene and date in combination with its opposite. We have seen that date thermo and gene thermo respectively mean to heat or warm in a transitive (confer heat on) and intransitive or reflexive (get heat) sense. Similarly tracte thermo apo (take heat away from) and perde thermo (lose heat) respectively mean to cool in a transitive or intransitive (reflexive) sense. Negative opposites such as no-thermo also have their own type of comparison. Thus we have thermo—major thermo (hot—hotter) and no-thermo—minor thermo (cool—cooler). From one amplifier we can thus build up a double series of verbal and adjectival forms; such as:
Thus gene and perde form with amplifiers intransitive equivalents of causative verbs based on date and tracte ... apo. The intransitive equivalent may correspond to a single English verb form, or merely to a passive construction. Thus with rugo (rough, coarse) we have:
When we resolve the verbal system of an Aryan language into a system of operators and complementary abstractions, as in Basic English, the conventional distinction between transitive and intransitive wears thin. According to text-book definitions, the room is the object of the “transitive” verb leave in he leaves the room, but the object of the preposition outside when we substitute the “intransitive” verb go in the semantic identity he goes outside the room. Thus what we call transitive or intransitive merely depends on whether we have to insert a preposition between a verb and a substantive cluster which follows it. By this token we can speak of the construction make clean in make clean your hearts as transitive, and give trouble in give trouble to others as intransitive. In what follows we shall speak of: (a) a transitive verboid, if it does not require an amplifier equivalent to a preposition to link it to a substantive cluster which comes immediately after it; (b) a transitive operator when the combination of verboid and postposited amplifier does not require the insertion of a preposition-equivalent in the same position. In this sense perde and gene are transitive verboids but intransitive operators. They cannot take an object without intervention of a preposition-equivalent; but the triple combination may do the work of a simple English verb form. Thus from credito (loan) we have:
To state that date is a transitive operator is therefore another way of saying that we do not translate on in the construction: the subject (X) confers the abstract property denoted by the amplifier on the object (Y), i.e. we interpret date thermo X as confer heat on X. The territory of date as an operator is reserved for verb-equivalents which signify conferring a state or passive attribute. When an amplifier implies execution of a process, including performance of a human action, acte (do, perform, carry out) usually takes its place as a transitive operator; and either gene or habe do for the passive construction. Thus with scholo (instruction) we have:
Thus the formula for acte couplets is: X performs the action on Y. If an amplifier stands for an action (see p. 19) and its product, we can use either date or acte; e.g. with vesto (covering) we can use:
For the special class of verbs which signify acts of human communication, we can always replace (464) acte by (468) dicte (say, tell, express) as a transitive operator in the sense defined above. The formula is: X communicates the message to Y. Thus with monito (counsel, advice, warning) we have:
In conformity with the rule of priority (p. 36) the analytical resolution of verbs prescribed above involves a departure from the customary English word-order, as illustrated by the use of the qualifier mega (much, big):
In the last it would be equally consistent with the transitive use of date as an operator—though longer—to say:
This would be the normal construction when there are two objects:
In an operative construction (480) tene (keep, conserve) is also transitive, i.e. a tene amplifier couplet signifies conserving the state specified by the amplifier on behalf of Y (the object which follows):
The domain of the transitive operator detecte (find, discover) is investigatory operations. If A stands for an abstract noun-equivalent of an amplifier, a (467) detecte couplet has the meaning: discover the A of Y (the object), e.g.:
The formula for the transitive operator (479) stimule (excite, evoke, stimulate, call forth) is: evoke the reaction A from Y. Thus with philo (love) and cholo (anger) we have:
When the accompanying amplifier signifies a physical process or reaction, the corresponding intransitive construction is an acte couplet. The transitive operator (470) esthe (feel, experience) combines with amplifiers which signify sentiment or personal states, and the appropriate formula is feel A towards Y, e.g.:
The operator (478) reacte (react to, respond to) forms transitive couplets for which the formula is respond to the A of Y, e.g.:
Three motive operators, with tracte, form a class apart. Kine (475), which is intransitive, means move, go, come, and is the basis of a large class of verbs such as ascend, enter, mount, depart. Mote (476) is its transitive counterpart signifying shift, move and put. Balle (465) signifies dispatch, send, cast, throw. All these are verb coenosemes of which the complementary coenosemes are equivalent to adverbial prepositions. Thus with extra (outside) and apo (away) we get:
The remaining verboids (471) facte (make, construct); (463) acouste (hear); (482) vise (see) form only a few amplifier couplets. Facte requires a material thing or collective as its object and is not at all comparable to the Basic English operator make. Constructions with facte and its material object do, however, cover the meaning of many Aryan verbs:
From what has gone before it follows that the meaning we give the terms direct and indirect object depends on whether we are using a verboid literally (without an amplifier) or operatively (with a postposited amplifier). As used literally, we may summarise our use of the terms subject and object as in the table below. The particle a(d) always precedes the indirect object.
Operative couplets as listed below do not take an indirect object preceded by a(d). The indirect object of the equivalent Aryan verb is a word preceded by pro (on behalf of), anti (against), or the empty particle de (with respect to). The following table, in which X is subject and Y object, summarizes operative constructions with amplifiers
This pattern is generally applicable, but gene may take anti for ex before the object, e.g.:
Like other words of Interglossa, verboids have no flexions. Independently mobile vocables do the work of tense flexion, where necessary. The equivalence of temporal auxiliaries and adverbial particles is evident if we compare the English sentences: (i) I have hurt myself; (ii) I did hurt myself; (iii) I previously hurt myself. The usage of Interglossa follows the last plan. The essential rules are as follows:
(i) If the context does not sufficiently date the occurrence or condition as before (pre), now (nun), or afterwards (post), the particles pre, nu(n), and post, placed immediately in front of the key verboid, label the time as past, present, or future respectively, e.g.:
(ii) If the context sufficiently dates the occurrence or state, no preposited particle is necessary. Any other time-indicator takes up the usual position of a particle which qualifies the sentence or clause as a whole, i.e. at the beginning or end of it, e.g.:
(iii) If we want to indicate what was over at some past date (perfected action or state), we use pre before the key verboid in addition to the other temporal qualifier, e.g.:
(iv) If we want to indicate action or state completed before some future date, we put pre in front of the qualifier:
Thus post (72) before the key verboid does the work of shall, will, be going to. Pre (73) does the work of have or did (or of the simple past flexion) when the sentence contains no other qualifier to date the occurrence as past. If such a qualifier is present, it has the force of had. Either way, its presence in front of the key verboid makes the action or state antecedent to the implicit present or explicit past.
Constructions Equivalent to the Infinitive
Since all verboids of Interglossa are also abstract nouns, all infinitive constructions other than those which involve an auxiliary (e.g. shall, will, should, would, let, may, must, can) are nominal constructions, and the accompanying article labels them as such. Three situations arise:
(i) The simple gerund or verb-noun is straightforward because the infinitive (or the -ing derivative) of the English verb is always a homoseme of the corresponding noun-abstract. Accordingly its equivalent has the article u(n) or the empty associative particle de as signpost of sentence-landscape:
(ii) The purposive infinitive, i.e. when to signifies in order to, involves tendo u(n) (with a view to a), for to in this context, e.g.:
(iii) Either tendo u(n) alone or (u methodo) de (a method for) may mean the same as how to, and we have the analogous constructions chron u when to, and loco u or topo u where to:
(iv) The so-called accusative-infinitive construction means the same as a construction involving the possessive pronoun and the gerund (-ing form). The pronoun-equivalent replaces the article of (i) and (ii) above and is “possessive” by juxtaposition:
Briefly, the rule is that u(n) or de before an operator is equivalent to the empty word to (German zu, Swedish att, French a), and tendo u is equivalent to in order to (German um zu, Swedish för att). As above, a pronoun in its possessive sense may replace the article u(n). Hence the possessive gerund construction and the accusative-infinitive are both indistinguishable from a noun clause, as when we say in English:
Since a verboid has no flexion, date means give, gives, or giving, and we can use it (or any other verboid) as an adjective-equivalent, i.e. as the present active participle.
1 Without a pause in speech or a comma to mark it in print, un avi, kine in aero might mean a bird, moving in air (a bird in flight) or bird motion in air (the flight of a bird). We can sharpen the distinction beyond possibility of doubt. Thus un avi; su kine in aero (a bird which is moving in air) can mean only a bird in flight, and u kine de avi in aero (motion of a bird in air) can mean only the flight of a bird.
In contradistinction to participial expressions, including operative constructions with an amplifier, the simple verboid as epithet takes the usual position:
Unlike Russian and the Scandinavian languages, English, German and French have no separate active and passive participial forms for the past. As adjectives, the present and past participles are respectively active and passive. In fact, the so-called past (more properly, passive) participle need not have a past meaning (cf. it is easily broken). Thus pre date (gave) does not mean given. As a postposited epithet pre date could mean having given, which is the correct equivalent of a true active past participle, e.g.:
Passive constructions of Interglossa involve the operator gene (get, become), and the literal equivalent of an English past participle used as an adjective is usually the combination pre gene with an amplifier. Pre date thermo means has heated, having heated, or simply heated as finite verb-equivalent; and pre gene thermo means was heated, has been heated, or simply heated as a postposited adjectival participle equivalent to a relative clause beginning with su (su pre gene thermo = that was heated). To avoid periphrasis and to provide for occasional constructions involving a simple verboid as a passive participle, Interglossa has a passive particle: (472) ge = that has got.
Ge is equivalent to su pre gene. Placed in front of an amplifier, the couplet has the force of a passive participle or equivalent relative clause. Being relatively short, a ge- couplet can take the initial position:
The first two have the same meaning as:
Comparison of Basic and Interglossa Operators
The range and use of some of the operators of Basic and Interglossa agree closely. Acte, gene, tene, correspond to do, get, keep. The transitive mote is roughly the same as put. The English verb take can mean to carry (acte phoro), but otherwise corresponds closely to tracte. The idiomatic vagaries of give and make as alternative causative operators (cf. give X trouble and make X cold) disappear, because facte means make only when equivalent to construct or manufacture. Similarly, the redundant or meaningless distinction between come and go disappears. Both merge in kine. The inconsistencies due to overlap of the territories of have and be do not crop up, because eque expresses nothing more than identity or class membership in contradistinction to existence (habe accido), living (habe bio) or the possession of any other abstract property (e.g. habe thermo).
Of operators which have no prototype in Basic, esthe, stimule, reacte and perde correspond closely to the usage of English verbs (experience, evoke, heed, lose) with extensive operative value. Thus dying is losing one’s life; fading is losing colour; wilting is losing moisture; leaking (of a tyre) is losing air, being discouraged is losing hope. In short, the idiom of the operative system, while free from inevitable ambiguities and redundancies of accepted English usage, is in step with the evolution of the Aryan verb pattern.
The Next Step. By now the reader has all rules essential for writing and speaking Interglossa, or for translating Interglossa into the home language. If prepared to make the effort of being quite clear about the meaning of what he or she has to say, all that remains for the beginner is to master the list of essential vocables alphabetically arranged on pp. 249—256. Our next chapter is a heuristic intermission. It will show how anyone who has reached the Higher School certificate level in England, or has graduated from a junior college in America, can get over this hurdle in a few days, or at worst a fortnight. In an explanatory context, a single continuous narrative introduces Anglo-American or internationally current words containing one or other of each root used as a basis for word-material, with an appropriate reference number directing the reader to the corresponding vocable in Part 11.1
1 Twenty supplementary items (861-880), added during completion of the last draft of the 8,000-word dictionary to avoid recourse to long-winded constructions, do not appear in this chapter; but relevant associations occur in the mnemotechnic notes on pp. 256—282.)
The qualification in the last paragraph calls for comment as a prelude to later chapters. In America, where Ogden’s work has borne abundant fruit, the culture value of semantics is widely recognized. That one might be clear about what one means before one says or writes it, is a suggestion which will not necessarily offend the susceptibilities of the American reader. Before a British audience, an author needs to be more wary. Those who advocate linguistic education as a training for the mind have taken every possible precaution to prevent their pupils from thinking about what they do. A tradition of language-teaching which derives from medieval primers of Latin and Greek has perfected a system which every well-bred Briton expects to do its duty in a language text-book for which he pays cash down on the counter.
It first presents the purchaser with a prospectus of grammatical paradigms as a prophylactic against the shock which the nervous system would sustain if we had to face at the outset the all-pervading verbal irregularities and ubiquitous semantic inconsistencies inherent in the structure of any natural language. After a protracted period of immunization by this technique, we are permitted to learn that there are regrettable anomalies in the otherwise orderly pattern of natural discourse. We are then invited to commit to memory a prescribed number of admittedly untidy odds and ends, called idioms. We note with a little pang that we cannot pair off all the bits and pieces in the semantic and morphological rag-bag called the verb to be with all the bits and pieces in the morphological and semantic rag-bag spelt as être. Happily, the discovery does not undermine the discipline of our sturdy island race. Having learned to label tricks of discourse with unitary epithets, such as the subjunctive mood or the accusative case, we are confirmed in the delusion that verbal collocations so described necessarily have a one-to-one congruence of meaning in two different languages. The naked truth is that one and the same interjection of this species may describe a dozen or more semantic entities in either of them.
Once indoctrinated with this nonsense, we cannot hope to learn any language designed in conformity with consistent semantic principles, unless we are willing to relearn the language or languages we already speak, and to unlearn everything that the old-school-tie masters have taught us. At some stage or other most potential readers of this book have been more or less permanently disabled by the nonsense taught as grammar in all British schools and many American ones. So it is not possible to justify the credentials of Interglossa to any considerable public without filling up many pages with an autopsy on grammatical misconceptions we embraced in our youth or adolescence. That is why Part II has to be long. That is why it is inevitably a little forbidding. An author who hopes to win recognition for new principles of language design has to overcome the superstitions of the sophisticated before he can hope to cash in on the common-sense of the common man.
That the treatment of the semantics of the vocables in Part II has to be long, and has to be a little forbidding, does not mean that Interglossa demands intellectual exploits of which only highly educated people are capable. The very opposite is true. Simple people who have never been initiated into the idiocies of grammatical classifications current in college text-books have nothing to unlearn. If this book were written for children, or exclusively for adults who have never studied a foreign language in the usual way, the plan of it would be entirely different. As it is, the author has to state his case to an audience with preconceptions that few adults have yet outgrown. It is true that Jespersen’s teaching and Ogden’s writings have begun to bear fruit in a younger generation fresh from English and American, though not as yet from Scottish, schools and colleges. It is true that some schools have replaced a method of language-teaching which led to confused thinking by the direct method which prohibits any sort of thinking whatever. Still, people under thirty years of age who have not grown up to identify the Aryan tenses with scientific chronometry are not so numerous as to encourage a businesslike publisher to put a popular price on a brochure for their benefit. The fanaticism with which Esperantists cling to grammatical thaumaturgies, of which the semantic pretensions were long ago debunked by comparatively conservative philologists, shows that few, even among those in the forefront of the international auxiliary language movement, are yet abreast of the new semantic ideas which Ogden and others have contributed to contemporary enlightenment.
Interglossa (87) (509) is not for misanthropes (306) (810) and misogynists (306) (834), nor for plutocrats (367) (826) and zoophilists (630) (355), who have more concern for the comfort of marsupials (684) than for mortality (312) among miners’ (651) babies. Its function (111) is to lubricate (166) pacific (340) intercourse (87) (204) between democratic (198) (826) nations (317), to catalyse (166) and stimulate (479) communal (180) action (464) for a higher norm (325) of sanitation (405), to arm (811) us for a militant (303) and energetic (214) campaign against pauperism in an age of potential (137) plenitude (365). Its use would help to immunise (264) us against that unnatural fear of aliens (149) which Mr. Wells calls xenophobia (149) (356); and to canalise (636) the impulse to persecute (332) into planning (363) plenty (365) on a planetary scale.
Assuredly (155), we must first remove the causes (104) of war. We have to put human need above the claims of capitalistic (817) investment (270) and in front of the pecuniary (348) privileges (372) of particular persons (7) or classes (821) of persons. Along with the old system (433) of private profit (374), imperial (836) arrogance (154) must make way for more liberal (282) esteem of the potentialities (137) of oppressed (332) colonial (822) peoples. Freely elected (210) assemblies will take over the authority (153) of viceroys (127) (849), and monopolistic (27) companies (825) will make way for public (380) committees (824) with commissaries (823) responsible to the people. When we are morally (132) mature (299) enough to adopt or to adapt (108) Interglossa to this end, free insurance (269) premiums (371) will be the birthright of every infant (835). There will be no rentier (850) and no proletariat (845). University (858) education will be free to all. An international (87) (317) police (843) system (433) will seem as natural as our international postal (844) service with its world-wide distribution of telegrams (856) and trans-maritime (101) (650) telephone (855) connexions. A world ripe for use of a constructed auxiliary would regard cleptomania (176) as a euphemism (218) for the banking (813) system of to-day; and would tolerate (438) any creed (187) which is not antagonistic (103) to amicable (151) relations between world citizens.
Propaganda (846) against the credit (186) system as it now is has certainly (155) no connexion with our main task. The latter is no sinecure (193). Let us forget the turbulent (443) times ahead, and stick to our agenda (809). A satisfactory (25) (471) world-auxiliary cannot limit (286) its appeal to the confines of christendom (820). It must not frustrate (241) the hopes of myriads (39) in the Orient (94) by perpetuating local (53) and unnecessary (133) intricacies of Occidental (93) accidence. More reciprocity (10) between east and west is imperative (266). So the grammar of Interglossa is as elementary (212) as possible (136). Separate words mark what many languages express by a multitude (8) of final (229) syllables. Thus no endings distinguish the noun-equivalent (469) (449) as subject (11), accusative or dative (466) case-forms, nor the verb as past or present. We distinguish unity (12) and plurality (13) of the former or the temporal (75) relations—predated (73) or postdated (72)—of the latter by words which, like all words of Interglossa (87) (509), are immutable (314) and invariant (314). Thus learning Interglossa is merely learning the use of each item of its verbal (860) stock-in-trade.
What most facilitates (224) learning is the source of its word-material (54). Interglossa profits (374) by the impact (265) of science on daily speech during the half-century (37) since Zamenhof put forward Esperanto (130). Every vocable (459) of Interglossa is a brick taken from some internationally current word such as periscope (96) (411), chronometer (62) (114), megaphone (22) (357), telegram (99) (833), micrometer (23) (114), ballistics (465), autocracy (9) (826), kinema (475) or photo (359). Thus the meanings of microscope (23) (411), micrometer (23) (114), microphone (23) (357) and microbe (23) tell us that micro means small(ness). So learning Interglossa is learning semantics (412) and etymology (289) hand-in-hand. Where the beginner cannot detect (467) the semantic (412) value (449) of an item, the pedagogue (349) can bring school (409) biology (161) (289), geography (645) (250), geometry (645) (114) and chemistry or names of inventions and proprietary (847) products to his aid. In this way, learning its vocabulary (459) is getting more familiar with an existing international language of navigation (764), horticulture (647) (192), agriculture (631) (192), astronomy (633) (324), meteorology (638) (289), and manufacture (471).
The source of these words makes things as easy for an older generation with a classical orientation (334) as for the adolescent imbibing (160) the scientific attitude (334). The nonagenarian (35) has the consolation (184) of knowing that he was flagellated (233) through the mazes of Mediterranean grammar to some purpose; and the modern child with no pretensions to humane (262) learning will be none the worse for meeting a few old tags such as quo vadis? (24), pro bono publico (120) (380), mutatis mutandis (314), in camera (86) (47), habeas corpus (474) (440), vice versa (127) (126), in vino veritas (702) (452), lapsus linguae (276) and per ardua ad astra (1l7) (76) (633). The claim that it is possible (136) to plan (363) a language of which we do not need to learn the vocabulary (459) has the flavour (234) of thaumaturgy (305) (214); and would have provoked the derision (400) of Zamenhof’s first disciples (828), at a time when Esperanto (130) was a truly hopeful venture. Yet cursory (206) perusal of these pages furnishes satisfactory (25) (471) and ocular (526) evidence (158) for its verity (452) at the risk of a little reiteration (272). The author petitions (41) the reader to be his jury (275), and to award a verdict after critical (188) examination (219) of the data (827).
On pp. 56-62 italics distinguish words built out of good international (87) (317) bricks. By comparison (106) of words which share the same international roots, we can detect (467) the semantic (413) value (449) of the vocables (459) of Interglossa; and every necessary (133) vocable of Interglossa comes in some word included within the limits (286) of this chapter (818). If you take the trouble to dissect (412) them, you will make a more noteworthy discovery than that of the Bourgeois Gentil-homme (589). You have been talking good Interglossa (87) (509) prose (848) since you reached years of maturity (299). With a little cerebration (492) you may even become one of the pioneer poets (841) of the new language. Still, you need not dissipate (202) effort on mere artistry (8I2), if your aim is to be expert (222) in a communal (181) medium for technical (222) or political (842) communication (181). You can get an easy victory (454) over all too frequent (238) inhibitions (268) by sticking to the elementary (212) formula (831) which follows. With the help of Webster’s or the Concise Oxford Dictionary (468) and some technical glossary such as Beadnall’s Dictionary of Scientific Terms in the Thinker’s Library, fill up the fugitive (242) moments of your leisure by tracking down the source and meaning of every italicized word in this chapter (818). You can get as much sport (425) out of a dictionary (468) as you can extract (83) (480) from fiction about espionage (217) in the dark epochs of military (303) violence (455) before instruments (51) of pacific (340) intercourse (87) (206) paved the way for an international (87) (317) auxiliary.
This is the strategy (430). From what is common to communal (181) and communication (181) in the last paragraph (94) (250), you get the notion of community (181) of intercourse, sentiment or property (847) in the word communo with the terminal -O common to all abstract words of Interglossa.
But if you can do this with communication or communal, you can do the same with aerodrome (146) (206), dromedary (206) and hippodrome (206). The first is the house and runway of an aeroplane (146) or dirigible (185), i.e. controlled (185) airship with gas (796) bag, usually filled with helium (646), an element first known to exist because of its lines in the sun’s spectrum (662). A dromedary (206) is a first-rate runner. A hippodrome is a place where horses run around for the diversion of harassed hedonists (131). Hippo- is not on the word-list. We use the Latin root of the zoological (630) (289) genus (18) present in equine (578), or (even worse) equitation (578); but since we have now tamed hippo- we may as well use it for the next stage of our itinerary (273). This is a visit (457) to Mesopotamia (92) (659) by way of Hippopotamus (659). Thence we can proceed with a confessedly (183) anterior (77) motive, but retrogressive (97) motion (476), to the Mesozoic (92) (630) age. Our course (206) is then clear. Here are specimens (424) to demonstrate (199) how we can pair off words with common international roots:
protozoa (139) (650), protogynous (139) (834), misogynist (306) (834), misanthrope (306) (810), philanthropy (355) (810), anemophilous (152) (355), anemometer (152) (114) , hydrometer (263) (114), hydrography (263) (250), photography (359) (250), photometer (359) (114), cyclometer (712) (114), bicycle (28) (712), bigamy (28) (244), monogamy (27) (244), monogram (27) (833), telegram (99) (833), telescope (99) (411), periscope (96) (411), perimeter (96) (114), micrometer (23) (114), microphone (23) (357), megaphone (22) (357), megalith (22) (52), palaeolithic (341) (52), palaeography (341) (250), heliography (646) (250), heliotropism (646) (442), geotropism (645) (442), geometry (645) (114), octameter (34) (114), octagon (34) (248), pentagon (31) (248), orthogonal (336) (248), orthography (336) (250), lithography (52) (250), neolithic (321) (52), neophyte (321) (604), zoophyte (630) (604), zoophilist (630) (355), bibliophile (814) (355), bibliography (814) (250), demography (198) (250), democratic (198) (826), autocratic (9) (826), autarchy (9) (153), oligarchy (14) (153), oligophrenia (14) (360), schizophrenia (408) (360), schizocarpous (408) (566), syncarpous (123) (566), syndactylism (123) (500), polydactyly (16) (500), Polynesia (16) (654), Micronesia (23) (654), microscope (23) (411), bioscope (161) (411), biology (161) (289), cytology (499) (289), phagocyte (353) (499), phytophagous (604) (353), epiphyte (82) (604), epigynous (82) (834), polygyny (16) (834), polymerism (16) (19), isomerism (44) (19), stereoisomerism (428) (44) (19), stereoscopic (427) (411) …
To get the best out of the detective (467) method (302), we can put everyday words in contraposition (80) to more exotic ones with a common root, e.g. neuralgia (525) (148) and analgesic (525). Among everyday words which are self-explicit, we have: solitude (20), zero (26), question (42 and 24), non-aggression (43) (455), textile (57), vase (58), vesture or divest (59), duration (64), extradition (81), condition (107), indicate (11O), harmony (1l2), plus (118) and minus (115), proximity (121), contact and tactile (124), invert and reversal (126), volition (128), debit (129), permit (134), preparedness (138), tentative (140), accident (141), acute (144 and 733), adhesive (145), attendant (156), bathos (159), explosion (163), captive (165), cavity (167), certificate (170), choleric or irate (172),chorus (173) girls, incline (177), defective (197), disputatious(201), residence (208), excess (220), fame (225), feral (227) swans and fiscal (230) policy, fissure (231), fixed (232), fortune and fortuitous (236), fracture (237), friction (239), fumes (243), gratitude (251), grave and gravamen (253), gregarious insects and party (254) politicians, sacred (256), spiral (257), horizontal (261), inflation and deflation (267), judicial, judiciary and adjudicate (274), applaud and laudatory (277), lave and lavatory (278), lecture and lectern (279), legal (280), liberate (283), libidinous (284), ligate and ligature (285), liquid (288), long and longitude (290), magic (294), dilute (297), commerce and mercantile (301), miracle (305), mix (307), admonition and monitory (309), mordant (310), narcotic (316), negotiations (320), innocuous and nocuous (322), nomination (323), nullify and acquit, quittance (326), odour and aromatic (329), offer (330), ordinal rank (333), papilla and projection (342), parallel (343), paralyse (344), penitence (350), penal (351), pneumonia, pneumatic and respiration (369), proposal (376), protest (378), perforate (383), quality (385), rape and rapacious (386), razor, erase and talon (388), reflect (391), religion (392), reparations and repair (393), idolatry and mariolatry (396), which we can pair off with hagiolatry (256) (396) and hagiography (256) (250) to break the monotony (27) (439) of so many commonplace words in a line (287), rigidity and rigor mortis (399), sadism (402), salutation (404), serial and series (415), severe (416), signify (417), society and social (419), solemn (422), sophistication, sophistry and philosophy (422) (355), soporific and insomnia (423), symptomatic (432), testimony (435), sepsis, septicaemia and antiseptic (440), antitoxin (103) (440), typography and typewriter (444), umbrage and penumbra (445), uniformity (446), reunion (447), vacuum and vacant (448), vapour (450), vendor (451), virus and virulent (456), vivacious and vivisection (458) (412), vulnerable (461), anaesthesia and aesthete (470), genesis (472 and 473), perdition (477), tenure and tenacious (479), proprietor and proprioceptive (847).
It would be an error (215) of teaching technique to concentrate on easy words. A little excogitation (178) is an aid to memory (308), and our job will be less dreary if we tempt fortune (236) by deliberate divination (203). So the reader should not protest (378) if some of our italicized words are unusual, like cynosure (548) or callisthenics (196), archaic like clavichord (742), or technical (222) like the cleidoic ovum (743) (532). The quaint connexion between the caudal (548) appendage of the constellation and the cynosure (548) of every eye in the theatre firmly fixes (232) ura (547) for future reference. The link between the verb to be as copula (746) and the process of coitus (179) will be self-evident when sex education is more general. The new book of genesis (473) inverts (126) the story of the Fall. When land began to rise, a cleidoic (743) egg was necessary to forestall desiccation (200). Fertilization (228) had to predate (73) deposition of a protective shell. External insemination was no longer possible, and sex dimorphism (311) became a necessary (133) precondition (73) (107) of parental (840) recognition.
The discussion of such themes (857) is still apt to evoke generalized cyanosis (195) among our male Blimps, and facial (504) erythaema (216) among our more elderly female (5) relatives; but we shall soon learn to talk about the inconvenience of the menses (67), the problems of the menopause, and the secretion of the luteal (292) cells of the ovary (533), as we now talk about any other sanitary (405) issue. Coito (179) and feci (505) are essential words of Interglossa, because coitus (179) and defecation (505) are inescapable events of human existence. Oddly enough, we can discuss the totally unnecessary diversion of osculation (337) without traumatic (441) consequences (122) to our neighbours. We can expel mucus (653) from the nares (522) without offence, if we produce the prescribed scrap of nasal (522) linen (595). With or without a pocket handkerchief, lacrimal (516) secretion is permissible (134), alike in the pulpit and in the boudoir.
The technician (222) will have the key to most essential words; but politics (842) contributes to the common pool. When the Duce (207) chose the Roman fasces (49) as ensign (774) of the fascist (49) movement, his followers stood self-confessed (183) as a bunch of thugs. Goebbel’s gangsters and Mussolini’s gladiators (755) first familiarized decent people with the meaning of coprophilia (505) (355). Travelling has its own repertoire—via (668), Cook’s wagons lits (781), taxis (779), museums (838), helicopters (755) (537), and valuta (859) are words in world-wide use. The same is very nearly true of billet (815), the French word for ticket. Commerce (301) has distributed cigars (789), cigarettes (790), petroleum (801), razor blades (738), bombs (739), spirits (692), canned soups (694), coffee (674), cacao beans (673), coconuts, (572), herrings (588),sardines (615), tobacco (623), daffodil bulbs (560), leguminous (592) crops and apiary (555) appliances on all five continents (639). From music (313) we get fortissimo (235) as a signal of intensity; from the stage proscenium (724) and recess (727); from poetry the lyric (759)—no longer for the harp—and Hesper (66) for the evening star; from the modern novel ectogenesis (81) (473) or extra-uterine (81) (473) development of the embryo; from sculpture the Roman toga (699) and the crucifixion (710); from military jargon the pontoon (722); from architecture (731) we get portals (722), balconies (705), columns (708), Acropolis (142) and viaduct (668); from shop windows tunics (701) and lamps (718); from engineering, tubes (732), piston (768), and axis (736); from hospital reports we get dental (501) caries, clinicians (679) with the bedside manner, and cranial (497) surgery. From almost any newspaper we can cull something about pulmonary (538) tuberculosis, secretarial (853) appointments and other jobs for sedentary (691) workers.
It would be a facile (224) task to design a game like dominoes, each counter a keyword, having two internationally current roots. We can make a start by assembling a battery of vocables (459) in groups which share one or other of certain highly fertile (228) roots, e.g:
theology (436) (289), geology (645) (289), pathology (347) (289), aetiology (147) (289), zoology (630) (289), ecology (209) (289), limnology (626) (289), chronology (62) (289), helminthology (629) (289), parasitology (345) (289), palaeontology (341) (289), toxicology (440) (289), neurology (525) (289), cytology (499) (289), gynaecology (834) (289), anthropology (810) (289), osteology (529) (289), meteorology (638) (289), climatology (638) (289).
geography (645) (250), cosmography (640) (250), bibliography (814) (250), demography (198) (250), cartography (637) (250), telegraphy (99) (250), hydrography (263) (250), palaeography (341) (250), photography (359)(250), lithography (52) (250), oceanography (657) (250), graphite (250).
megaphone (22) (357), microphone (23) (357), telephone (99) (357), gramophone (833) (357) or phonograph (357) (250), dictaphone (468) (357), homophone (113) (357), phonetics (357).
photometer (359) (114), stalagmometer (426) (114), micrometer (23) (114), manometer (297) (114), gasometer (786) (114), cyclometer (712) (114), bathometer (159) (114), anemometer (152) (114), nephelometer (656) (114), chronometer (62) (114).
hydrophobia (263) (356), claustrophobia (175) (356), xenophobia (149) (356), photophobia (359) (356).
polygamy (16) (244), bigamy (28) (244), monogamy (27) (244), cleistogamy (105) (244), gamete (244).
autocratic (9) (826), democratic (198) (826), plutocratic (367) (826), bureaucratic (816) (826).
telescope (99) (411), microscope (23) (411), periscope (96) (411), bioscope (161) (411).
monarchy (27) (153), heptarchy (33) (153), autarchy (9) (153), oligarchy (14) (153), tetrarch (30) (153).
telegram (99) (833), pictogram (362) (833), cryptogram (190) (833), phonogram (357) (833), epigram (822) (833).
agronomy (631) (324), bionomics (161) (324), astronomy (633) (324), antinomy (103) (324), antinomian (103) (324), economics (204) (324).
polygon (16) (248), pentagon (31) (248), hexagon (32) (248), heptagon (33) (248), octagon (34) (248).
anemophilous (152) (355), zoophilist (630) (355), philanthropist (355) (810), hydrophilous (203) (355).
gastritis (506), nephritis (524), neuritis (525), otitis (531), enteritis (503), dermatitis (502), cystitis (498), arthritis (484).
trimerous (29) (19), tetramerous (30) (19), pentamerous (31) (19), hexamerous (32) (19), isomerism (44) (19), polymerism (16) (19).
Memorizing (308) derivations of disconnected words is not a stimulating (478) pursuit. We can break down a pardonable (346) resistance (395) to any such prospect (377) by capitalizing (817) the residues (394) of our scholastic (409) exploits. Here are a few specimens (424) of the way in which we can make mnemonics (308), i.e. aids to memory (308). From school mathematics we have all learned the meaning of plus (118) and minus (115), of summation (431) and division (204), of product (373) and ratio (389), of minutes (69) and seconds (74) of a degree. We get our numerals (327) from bisection (28) (412), triangle (29), tetrahedron (30), pentagon (31) (248), hexagon (32) (248), heptagon (33) (248), octagon (34) (248), decametre (36) (791), centimetre (37) (719), kilometre (38) (719). We have all learned to balance equations (212). We have all met pyramids (725), cylinders (713), cones (709), prisms (723), cubes (711), quadrilaterals (726) (89), trapezia (700), and other solid (429) or plane, curvilinear (193) (287) or rectilinear (390) (287) figures. We have all traced the locus (53) of a point rotating (770) about a centre (706) like a speck on the periphery (96) of a wheel. We all know that equiangular (468) triangles (29) are not necessarily (133) congruent (108). If we have gone a little way with co-ordinate geometry, we know that the catenary (741) is the curve of a chain attached loosely by each end at the same level.
High-school (409) chemistry introduces us to crystalline (793) and amorphous (703) (311) types of materials (54), to isomorphic (44) (311) and to heteromorphic (259) (311) crystals (793). We learn that the graphite (250) of our pencils and diamonds of our cutting tools are allotropic (101) (442) forms of the same element (212), carbon (788). We get a nodding acquaintance with hydrogen (263), oxygen (144), with the halogens (797), chlorine (171) and iodine (271), with the metallic (799) elements (112) whose symbols Ag (786), Au (787), Sn (806), Pb (803), are speedwords for their Interglossa equivalents (469) (450). We meet a host of pure (382) compounds, alkalis, acids (784), and such salts as cupric sulphate (794) (807), sodium citrate (570), which stops the curdling of milk, and prussian blue which is a ferricyanide (795) (195). As we all know, rust is simply formation of ferric (795) oxide (338). Another oxidation (338) compound is silica (661). The last named has a crystalline (793) allotrope, (102) (442) abundant in nature as quartz, the chief ingredient of sand. Its natural amorphous (703) allotrope (102) (442) is opal. When heated to a suitable temperature, which we can measure with a pyrometer (384) (114), silica undergoes vitrification (808). Vitreous (808) silica is the quartz glass, used for manufacture (471) of lenses. Silicates (661), such as water glass, yield a colloidal (791) solution (421) of silicic acid (784), when treated with stronger acids, and subsequently separated from the latter by dialysis (293). If sufficiently concentrated, the dialysed (293) solution is liable (332) to turn into a gel (683).
Dialysis (293), which means separation by diffusion through a membrane, recalls hydrolysis (263) (293) or separation of parts by action (464) of water in presence of a catalyst (166) to lubricate (166) or assist the reaction (478). Hydrolysis itself recalls dehydration (263) or chemical desiccation (200). If we do not go deeply into physical (361) chemistry, which deals with states of matter, we shall give the cryohydric (189) (263) point the go-by. Even so, we come across the snow-white mineral cryolite (189) in connexion with the manufacture (471) of aluminium. In any high-school course, we are also sure to get the low-down on soft and hard water. That means getting to know a little about saponification (804)—a long word for soap-making—and hence about such soap fats as stearin (520) of lard or olein (686) of olive oil.
The odds are we pick up a few crumbs about optically active (143) substances such as sugars, e.g. dextrose (81) or glucose (247), the laevose (88) in honey and the lactose (517) in milk. The principle of the saccharimeter (690) (114) depends on the rotation (770) of polarized light rightwards by dextro-rotary (81) (770) or leftwards by laevo-rotary (88) (770) sugars. If we get so far with the study of stereoisomerism (428) (44) (19) we cannot miss a few words about Pasteur’s pioneer work on sarcolactic (539) (517) acid (784). Pasteur also elucidated the work of the saprophytic (407) (604) yeast fungi and the role of the vinegar (702) bacillus (737). Production of butyric (672) acid (784) in rancid butter is also due to bacteria or, as some biologists (161) (289) call them, schizomycetes (408). The lipoid (520) butyrin (672) and the protein caseinogen (677) are the two chief solid (428) constituents of milk. Casein (677) derived from the second is now the basis of a well-known plastic (802), but most plastics are polymers (16) (19) of much simpler ingredients such as urea (549) present in urine (549).
We now meet such words as lipoids (520) in articles about dietetics (354) in women’s gazettes (832) and housekeeping journals (832). Even the culinary (191) art has taken the same road as chemistry. The modern kitchen has thermostatic (437) (427) controls (185); and we make our confectionery (680) in vessels of aluminium or pyrex (384), i.e. fireproof, glass. We cook to the music (313) of the radio (386), or to its meteorological (638) (289) forecasts which have tuned our ears to cyclones (712) and anticyclones (103) (712). Isotherms (44) (437) and isobars (44) (157) are no longer formidable names for lines joining places with the same thermometer (437) (114) and barometer (157) (114) readings. Television (99) (482) sets will soon be as commonplace in the kitchen as cauliflowers (567), potatoes (608), tomatoes (624), oranges (598) and tea (696) caddies. More science (852) rightly applied means less fatigue (226) for the domestic (48) worker.
In short, machinery (760) leaves more time for philoprogenitive (120) (355) (245) pursuits. To be forewarned against poliomyelitis (246) is to be forearmed; but infant (835) welfare now (71) embraces more than pediatrics (349). The new (321) parent (840) will welcome the hour (67) of homework as an occasion (328) for self-improvement by co-operation with the family (829). If the theme (857) is physics (361), there are many verbal (860) pitfalls to avoid. We have to be clear about what is grocer’s weight or mass (297) as opposed to the pull of a weight on an elastic (751) filament (50), such as the helicoid (258) spring of a spring balance, because of the tension (434) exerted by bodies falling under gravity (252), the earth’s attraction (481). Another semantic (413) source of trouble is the distinction between displacement speed or velocity (169) and ordinary speed relative to the path traversed. Acceleration (169) is increased velocity (169).
With Science for the Citizen as her ally, the history-conscious (260) parent (840) can help the child to picture (362) the beginnings of kinematics (475) by lively illustrations from ballistics (464) when artillery (735) was in its infancy (835), or from horology (67) (289) when the pendulum (116) was a novelty. From school physics, our international (87) (317) units (12) of work, the erg (214); of force, the dyne (208); of volume (460) or capacity (460), the litre (718); of length, the metre (719); and of mass (298), the gram (716), help us out with some more items of our word-list. In hydro-mechanics (263) (55) we learn about the siphon. (418) and about the manometer (297) (114) or pressure-gauge for measuring the rarefaction of gases (796). In acoustics (463) we hear about audible (463) vibrations (453) and pure tones (439). In optics we use the photometer (359) (114). We meet photosensitive (359) (414) substances for the manufacture (471) of panchromatic (15) (174) plates. We learn about the infra-red (85) and ultra-violet (99) radiations (386) beyond the visible (482) spectrum (662). In electromagnetism (211) (295) we use the rheostat (397) (427) to stabilize (232) the resistance (395) of a circuit and condensers to produce oscillatory (453) discharges.
Electrical discharge recalls the Aurora Borealis (787) (79), or northern lights. Geography (645) (250) is the softest job for the normal (325) parent (840) who wishes to stimulate (478) filial (830) reverence (396). Valley (667), tunnel (664), channel (636), plateau (364), continent (639) and bay (635) are words of daily speech, like the less translucently (101) (291) international (87) (317) couplet mountain (652)—fountain (644); and a harbour is an asylum (634) for ships. No one forgets the frigid (240) and the torrid zones (60) of the hemispheres (40) (730); nor that Micronesia (23) (654), Melanesia (300) (654), Polynesia (16) (654) are island groups in the ocean (657) comically (180) miscalled Pacific (340). And here we may remind ourselves that punning is the art (812) of extracting (83) (481) humour from homophones (113) (357). But we have not finished with geography (645) (250) if we leave out climate (638) and instruments (51) for measuring it, thermometer (437) (114) or heat-gauge, barometer (157) (114) or pressure-gauge, and nephelometer (656) (114) or cloud-gauge, bathometer (159) or oceanic bathos (159) gauge, pluviometer (368) (114) or rain-gauge, and anemometer (152) (114) or wind-gauge. Nor should we neglect demography (198) (250) in these days of declining fertility (228) in rural (660) as well as urban (666) localities (53).
Geography (645) (250) is not mere topography (100) (250). It is the offspring of cartography (637) (250) and geodesy (645). These in turn are children of astronomy (633) (324). The zodiacal constellations which lie about the plane of the ecliptic inclined (177) at about 23½ º to that of the equinoctial (469) (70) are a happy hunting-ground for our tendentious (125) narrative. We take over Gemini, Scorpio, Leo, Virgo and Libra as they stand, and adapt (108) Pisces (605), Cancer (562), Sagittarius (771) in conformity with our rules. The constellations of URSA Major (45) and URSA Minor (46) also come in handy for grammatical comparison (106). We get our latitude from the altitude (150) of a star at what the mariner (650) calls its southing, i.e. transit (101) across the celestial meridian (91). We are all familiar with the Galilean drama (205) of the competing (182) geocentric (645) (706) and heliocentric (646) (706) cosmogonies (640). So the modern parent (840) knows that the earth is supposed to be a gyroscope (255) (411) with a diurnal (63) cycle (712), flattened at the poles by its own centrifugal (706) (242) action (463). Too many of us are a little nebulous (655) about the pros (120) and cons for our credo (187); and far too few of us know how Huygens first inferred it from the retardation (156) of the pendulum (116), as set forth in his famous (225) book, the Horologium oscillatorium (67) (453).
Publication of the last named antedated by nearly two centuries detection (467) of the annual (61) parallax (95) of any star, and hence also the final (229) demonstration (199) of the second Copernican postulate (119). At this point, the bibliophile (814) (355) has a look in. Such landmarks of the history (259) of science (852) as Huygens’ book are vocal (459). De Re Metallica (109) (6) (799) of Agricola, De Revolutionibus (109) of Copernicus, De Fabrica Humani Corporis (109) (223) (540) of Vesalius, De Motibus Stella Martis (109) of Kepler, furnish us with an arsenal of verbal (860) missiles (763).
The pacifically (340) minded parent (840) will not treat homework on history (260) as a national (317) affair. We have to teach our children to envisage (482) history as a cosmic (640) sequence (122), the scala (729) naturae or ladder of nature. Like Mr. Wells, we should therefore begin with the strata (693) which form successive shelves of the earth’s laminated (757) crust. The beginning is then a story (260) of erosion and flooding, of banked-up detritus (642) and alluvial (632) deposits. We see life emerging on land in the steaming swamps of the Carboniferous (788), leaving its indelible footprints on the anthracite (785) slabs we burn for fuel. Reptiles such as the wedge-toothed lizard Sphenodon (776), now the lone New Zealand survivor of its group, supplant the salamanders. In the Cretaceous (792) or chalk age, life takes to the air. Already there are creatures of a truly Avine (557) pattern alongside the Pterodactyls (537) (500). Contemporary (75) with them are small plantigrade (249) mammals; but the great bipedal (28) (533) reptiles still held hegemony (206) on the dry surface of the earth, when the thunder lizard Brontosaurus (163) was alive. Came the Eocene (65), dawn of modern mammals: small pachyderms (339) (502), digitigrade (110) ungulates (547), tree-shrew forbears of our Simian (618) grandparents. The Pliocene signalizes (774) the arrival of the ape-man Pithecanthropus (810) and Sinanthropus (819). True Hominidae (600), including Eoanthropus (65) (810), the Piltdown Man, are a Pleistocene by-product. Human beings emerge, talkative creatures with tools; but there is little promise (375) of machinery (760) in their first instruments (51), the eoliths (65) (52).
Palaeolithic (341) (52) man is already an artist (812). He has left behind the orifice (528) of his cave residences (205) immortal mural (721) pictures, mostly of animals, his ovine (599), bovine (558), feline (580) and canine (564) victims and friends; but he has not turned his back on food-gathering and hunting. Cultivation (192) of arable (734) areas is the achievement of the Neolithic (321) (52) revolution. The woman now plasters a reticulum (769) of sticks with clay. She shapes a vessel. She fashions bricks and weaves fabrics. The ceramic (707) and textile (57) industries (837) have begun. Homo sapiens (590) (406) is no more a migrant, but a creature with a fixed (232) domicile (48), master species (424) of an ecological (205) (289) system (433) unique in the record of living beings. With more stabilized (232) seasonal mores (132), grain-growing man adapts (108) a makeshift calendar of lunations (649) to the exigencies of settled agriculture (631) (192). He has to record events. Out of a medley of calendrical logograms (289) (833) and pictograms (362) (833) the craft of writing comes to birth. The natal (318) hour of human history (260) is the beginning of an annual (61) timetable based (158) on the heliacal (646) rising of the dog star. It is now (71) a short step to the sun calendar of the heliolithic (646) (52) culture (192) and the ceremonial (168) incantations (164) with which its priestly custodians drill the cultivators (192) of the soil into acquiescence.
The Megaliths (22) (52) were observation posts of the priestly astrologers (633) (289) and monuments of tribal celebration (168). Then as now, myth-making (315) and praxis (370) strove for mastery; as strive they must till experiment (219) becomes the arbiter (274) of fantasy (314) and its minister (304). The myth-makers (315) made themselves a hierarchy (153), the bureaucrats (816) (826) of a theocracy (436) (826), which reduced their fellows to servitude (258); and helots (258) toil in the sun to fashion the ornate (335) sarcophagus (539) (353) of a regal (849) corpse or to decorate (193) the limbs of his uranian (665) consort. While the medicine men trepanned (749) the skull to make a port-hole for the spirits and embalmed the body in a futile attempt to forestall necrosis (319), myriads (39) of common people rotted with parasitic (345) diseases which modern science (852) has eliminated.
We need not traverse a dreary record of coronations (681) inscribed on tombstones and papyri (800). Let us cull some items from school biology (161) (289). From what we learn about the circulation of the blood, we know that the venous (p, 219) flow from the lungs enters the left auricle and passes out by the great arterial (p. 219) trunk called the aorta, to the rest of the body. To do so, it has to traverse the two flaps of the ventricular septum (721), called the mitral (685) valve on account of their likeness to a bishop’s hat. We also learn that the blood is not a homogeneous (113) (18) fluid. It contains red corpuscles, the erythrocytes (216) (499) which hold the haemoglobin (512), in contradistinction to the white corpuscles or leucocytes (281) (499). Some of the latter, the phagocytes (353) (499) can eat up bacteria. They grasp them by means of pseudopodia (379) (435), like the pond animalcule Amoeba.
The human ear is a gold mine (651). In part, it is a geotactic (645), in part an acoustical (463) receptor (414). The former consists of the utriculus with its three semicircular canals at right angles, each with a flask-like ampulla (669) at one end. The utricular sac contains a calcareous statolith (427) (52), the displacement of which from its position of rest stimulates (479) different receptive (414) cells, and semaphores (413) (358) our space relations to the brain. The essential part of the auditory (463) organ is the sacculus (671). The sacculus of mammals has a coiled portion, the cochlea (570), reminiscent of a snail’s shell. It contains a membrane sensitive to acoustic (463) oscillations (453). The auditory and utricular sacs (671) are embedded in a bony capsule (819), the periotic (96) (531). The fluid of its cavity (167) has two membranous windows, the fenestra rotunda (714) and the fenestra ovale (714). Into the latter fits the stirrup bone or stapes (777), innermost of three ear ossicles which transmit (101) to it vibrations (452) from the ear-drum or tympanum (780), when sounds impinge on the latter. The other two ear ossicles are the median anvil bone or incus (756) and the outermost hammer-bone, or malleus (761).
Elementary (212) study of heredity introduces us to phenotypes (135) or genetically different individuals which seem alike, as opposed to genotypes (18) which are genetically (215) similar, i.e. have the same hereditary make-up. From elementary genetics (215) we learn that gametes (244) have the haploid (212) as opposed to the diploid number of chromosomes in the fertilized (228) egg or zygote (462) formed from their union. In genetics we meet homozygotes (113) (462), or pure-bred individuals formed from union of like gametes, and heterozygotes (259) (462), or hybrids formed from union of dissimilar ones. The old Teutonic word sib (854) is now the international term for brothers or sisters without discrimination with respect to sex. Plants and some animals which can propagate by gemmation (162) or budding are not dependent on sexual reproduction. The other root for a bud comes into many embryological terms, e.g. the blastoderm (162) (502) or plate-like embryonic area we see as a pink spot on the yolk of a fertile egg, when we crack one for frying.
Most terms for parts of the body correspond to adjectival forms we meet in any elementary text-book of human anatomy or animal biology, e.g. abdominal (483), brachial (485), buccal (486), epicanthial (488)—see p. 270, cardiac (489), carpal (490), cephalic (491), costal (496), cervical (493), glandular (496), gastric (506), glenoid (508), gluteal or pygeal (510), haemal (511), hepatic (513), labial (515), renal (524), oesophageal (527), pelvic or coxal (534), sudorific (542), tarsal (543), thoracic (545), villi (544). Two names are based on corresponding bones, the calcaneum (487) or heel-bone, and the scapula (535) or shoulder-blade. One occurs in the myoneural (539) (525) junction, where the terminal dendrites (576) of the nerve axon (736) branch like a tree trunk in the muscle fibre. The old term vermes for worm-like animals contributes a root to the vermiform (626) appendix, more shortly (and usually) the appendix of appendicitis. The capillomotor (546) (476) nerves to the muscle-fibres of a cat’s hair come into action when there is a dog about. Capillomotor shares the same root as capillary (546) tubes with a hair-like bore. Somatic (541) is the technical equivalent of bodily, and turns up in chromosome (174) (541), the name for cell bodies which stain deeply with basic dyes. Keratin (514) or horn protein is present in the epidermal (82) (502) cells of our own skin, and forms a waterproof layer, like the waxy substance suberin (620) of cork and of the epidermal cells of leaves. After removal of the natural fat lanolin (518), sheep’s wool is almost pure keratin (514). Trichina (546), the hair-like thread-worm which produces muscle trichinosis, shares the same root as atrichous (545), i.e. bald. The chondrocranium (495) (497) is the cartilaginous skull of the embryo or new-born babe. Thelin (544) is the name of the female hormone which brings about growth of the nipples; and a bicornuate (28) (514) uterus (550) is a two-horned womb, such as that of a cow, a cat or a cart-horse.
Both plant and animal anatomy introduce us to many descriptive epithets for shapes and textures. Such are: glaucous (250) for stem or leaf surfaces with a greyish bloom, criophyllous (518) (603) and laniferous (518) for woolliness of leaf or stem, rugose (401) for roughness or coarseness to the touch, campanulate (676) for bell-shaped petals, plicate (366) for folded parts, pinnate (535) or feathery leaves like those of the mimosa, lanceolate (758) or spear-like ones, spatulate (775) like a spoon or spatula of the chemical balance, and sagittate (771) like an arrow. We meet falciform (752) processes, hook-shaped like a falcon’s beak, and pyriform (610) projections (342), shaped like a pear.
The flower with its calyx (675), often cup-like, its corolla, its andrecium (4) or male parts and its gynecium (834) (205), i.e. pistil or female (5) residence (205), furnish a fresh set. The ovule (532) has a minute hole, the micropyle (23) (383), in its seed-coat or testa (697). Through it the pollen tube makes its way to the ovum (532) contained in the megaspore (22). Some ovules are orthotropous (336) (442), with the micropyle (23) (383) turned vertically above the stalk. More usually they are anatropous (442), with the micropyle (23) (383) beside the stalk. Some flowers, like the lily, are hypogynous (85) (834), with the corolla below the womanly part. Others, like the daffodil, are epigynous (82) (834), having the petals on and apparently supported by the ovary. Some flowers, like delphiniums, have apocarpous (78) (566) pistils with carpals (566) apart from one another. Others, like the narcissus, are syncarpous (123) (566), having the fruit parts fused together. Of such, some may be schizocarpous (408) (566), like the geranium, of which the carpals split apart when the fruit is mature (299).
Nutrition may be holozoic (21) (630) if wholly dependent on fresh organic material, saprophytic (407) (604) if the diet is decaying organic matter, and holophytic (21) (604) if wholly peculiar to green plants, which alone are capable of photosynthesis (359). Mosses absorb water necessary for photosynthesis (359) by means of their rhizoids (613), i.e. roodets. Photosynthesis depends on the absorption of light by the green leaf pigment chlorophyll (171) (603) which occurs along with a yellow colouring matter, xanthophyll (292) (603), mainly in the middle part of the leaf, or mesophyll (91) (603). Chlorophyll uses light to manufacture carbohydrate (788) (262) from water and carbon dioxide in the air. In daylight the mesophyll (91) (603) is rich in starch grains, broken down into sugar during darkness by an enzyme called amylase. Saliva also contains an amylolytic (670) (293) enzyme, i.e. one separating starch into sugar. The insalivated and juicy food in the stomach itself is called chyme (569), based on a root which occurs in parenchyma, the juicy pith of a plant. Animals have no pigments which they can use, as plants use chlorophyll (171) (603) for photosynthesis (359); but many animals have pigment cells with ramifying (611) processes in the skin, and the migration of colouring matter in these branching processes brings about the colour changes for which the chameleon is proverbial. Such pigment cells may carry black pigment, as do the melanophores (300) (358), yellow pigment as do the xanthophores (292) (358), and red pigments as do the erythrophores (216) (358).
We can work in a host of items by means of a short synopsis of living creatures containing no terms outside a high-school biology syllabus. Before we put the modem systema (434) naturae on the tapis (695) or magic (294) carpet of our mnemotechnic (308) (222) ingenuity, let us sidestep any occasion (328) for disputatious (201) persons (7) to question (42 and 24) the credibility (187) of our claims or to charge us with a pseudo-simplicity (379) which would leave a stigma (429) on an otherwise spotless record. The onus (331) of convincing critics (188) is on ourselves, and we concede a few items, admittedly based on association. Thus a doll is a three-dimensional example of mimicry (762); and the words “each” and “every” are singular (17) substitutes for “all.” A saw has teeth but needs no dentist (cf. 749 and 501) to extract them. The business of a burr (Amer.) or nut (Brit.) is to get its hole occluded (765) by the screw it fixes (232); and a bill is a note (839) of our computed (839) expenses. Plates are usually disc-like (750). An oath in court is a legal sacrament (851); and the skeleton (729) is the framework which gives the body of a vertebrate its characteristic form. When man first dug ditches to drain the fields, he became a fossoriai (715) mammal, but by that time he had learned two tricks no other mammals can perform. He could cover the pudenda (381) with a loin-cloth, and could construct the sort of mobile (22) property we call furniture.
Our pronouns mi (1), tu (2) and na (3) are frankly based on Aryan models (pp. 81-82); but the first two will offer no difficulty to a Finn, and the third will get by with anyone who speaks Tamil. Mi (1) also happens to mean me and my in the Yoruba language of Western Nigeria, where the preposited present particle n’ does the same job as our Own pan-Aryan (15) word now (71) and its Interglossa equivalent. Our pen (767) or pencil has next to cope with an unlucky thirteen based on international roots outside the scope of high-school teaching; and the author would accept any offers (330) of substitutes with gratitude (251).
Fortunately three of the thirteen have synonyms with which the Anglo-American will find no difficulty. We have no good international roots for bread or cake. Though the placenta (688) or afterbirth comes from the Latin word for a cake, its associations are not tasty; and though the Concise Oxford and Webster’s both give panification (687) for bread-making, no normally (322) constituted person uses such a word. Only a pedant would say veliferous (783) for sail-bearing; but this root is common in names for floating animals with sail-like devices, e.g. the widely distributed pelagic hydrozoon (263) (630) velella (783), and the veliger larva of many molluscs. The word for a well is based on a root which occurs in names of animals which live in wells, e.g. the aberrant shrimp phreatocus (658), but few of them get into school text-books. The word for a club comes from a root present in names of animals with club-like tentacles, including a family of polyps, the Corynidae (747) with many genera whose names, e.g. Syncoryne (123) (747), also share it. Psammophilous (661) (355) plants prefer sandy soil, and the root occurs in names of denizens of the sand dunes. Tyroglyphe (664) is the generic name for the mites which tunnel (664) in cheese. It has a root common to the siphonoglyph (418) (664), or ciliated tunnel on either side of the gullet of a sea-anemone or coral.
An adolescent who has made a hobby of entomology will have met scute (772) as the name for the dorsal shield of chitin on the segments of an insect’s body, and furca (753) for the forked tails of some insects, e.g. earwigs. In medical terminology a bursa (671) is a little purse of liquid under the skin and capsella bursa pastoris (671) is the international name for shepherd’s purse. Rhabdites (612), rhabdoliths (612) (52) and rhabdoms (612) are names for little glassy sticks in the epidermal (82) (502) cells of free-living Platyhelminthes (364) (626), i.e. flat worms, or the outer wall of sponges. Thecodont (619) teeth are teeth, like our own, with roots in a bony box or socket. Thecate (620) is a descriptive term for animals with a box-like covering, and the hydrotheca (263) (620) is the little box which protects the aquatic zooid (630) of a colonial polyp. A pulvillus or pulvinus (689) is a little cushion often found at the base of the leaf stalk of plants. Vecti (782) is the least happy choice in our word-list; and the best mnemonic (308) the author can offer is that a lever is a device for getting displacement differences through the same vectorial (782) angle.
We shall now show where Homo sapiens (590) (406) stands in the scala naturae (729) by finishing a discursive (206) narrative with a table of international technical terms for the common classes (821) and orders of living creatures. All these terms, being truly international, are assimilable with or without change in conformity with the rules given on pp. 238—241.
A. Protista—micro-organisms (23).
Note.—The usual name for III-VI inclusive is: Protozoa (139) (630).
B. Plants or PHYTA (604).
(i) CRYPTOGAMS (190) (244), flowerless plants.
(ii) PHANEROGAMS (354) (244) or SPERMAPHYTA (619) (604)—seed-bearing plants with manifest sexual process.
Note.—All our edible plants, as also Nicotiana (623) the tobacco plant, are Angiosperms. Flowering plants are likewise the source of our plant foods and plant filaments (50) used for textiles (57). Thus the Graminaceae (587) or grass family includes all our cereals, the names of which are based on the international generic (18) terms, e.g. zea (maize), oryza (rice), hordeum (591), triticum (625), secale (616), panica (600), and avena (oats). After separation of the seed from the glume (585) by winnowing, we grind the grain to make the flour of our farinaceous (645) foods. Our legumes, based either on the generic name as with pisum (605) or on the full binomial epithet as with vicia faba (579). The squash family Cucurbitaceae (574) is the basis of another item. The names of the three filaments of importance are based on the generic terms gossypium (586), linum (595) and cannabis (562). The pome (607) is the botanical name for an apple-like fruit. Other fruit names depend on generic or binomial epithets: to be found in the international flora (582). Amygdalus (552) is the almond genus, and Amygdalus persica is the specific name of the peach (601) assigned to this genus. Phoenix (602), Prunus (609) and Pyrus (610) are generic names, as are vitis (629) and ficus (622). The synonym of the last name is (622) based on the Greek root in sycophant(see p. 274).
C. Animals or Zoa (630).
The next five chapters set forth the use of all the essential vocables of Interglossa with special reference to the semantic obscurities of English usage. Their completion awaited the preparation of a glossary of Interglossa equivalents for 10,000 most common Anglo-American words with their several meanings and idioms in which they occur. The English-Interglossa dictionary, compiled by Mrs. Dorothy Baker in consultation with the writer, appears as a companion volume. What follows does not attempt to duplicate its entire contents. We here confine ourselves to constructions likely to make demands on the ingenuity of the reader, especially the reader who is not as yet alert to the semantic pitfalls of the English—including and more especially Basic English—language.
The reader who is accustomed to the method of teaching a language by pairing off each of its vocables with that of another may be at first surprised by the number of equivalent Anglo-American words cited against each of the items which follow; and may get the impression that the meaning of an Interglossa vocable is proportionately diffuse. This is the reverse of the truth. The diffuseness of meaning which almost any Anglo-American vocable has acquired by metaphor, transferred epithet (e.g. fortunate), metonymy, synecdoche, litotes, or even oxymoron (condescend), makes it impossible to render the exact delimitation of a well-delimited vocable without the device of listing a constellation of near-synonyms and leaving the reader to extract its essential meaning from what is common to all of them.
Of the eleven items in this class, five are contractions of international roots. The first three are not truly international in the sense defined on p. 13, but they have a wide range. The Gaelic mi is the universal Aryan first person pronoun (French me, Russian dative mne, Swedish mig, Persian man, etc.), and outside the Aryan group we have the Finnish mina. Tu is Persian in form and range, and is the universal Aryan singular form (French tu, English thou, Russian te), It also recalls the Finnish plural te. A satisfactory choice for the first person plural is more difficult. Aryan languages offer alternative forms (M-form plural, and N-form primitively dual). The Greek dual which recalls the N-form of Romance languages, suggests nam of Tamil. The Russian dative is also nam. Admittedly an N-form is confusing for the Chinese or for Swedes. Alternatives worth considering for (1) and (2) are: (1) wo (Pekingese wo, Cantonese go, Ital. io, Span. yo), (2) ni (Pekingese ni, Cantonese ne, Swedish Ni).
(1) mi, I, me, my
(2) tu, thou, thee, you, thy, your
(3) na, we, us, our
Members of this class, other than (8), can be substantive- or adjective-equivalents:
(4) an, he, him, for male human beings is for mnemotechnic purposes chosen as abbreviation for andros (in polyandry, gynandromorph) and can, mean male(s) as noun or adjective (cf. Scand. hanlig) if preceded by an article:
(5) fe, she, her, for female human being (short for femina in feminism), can also mean female(s) after an article.
(6) re, it, its, something, anything, is short for res (see p. 256). With an article it can mean thing(s) in the most general sense (topic).
(7) pe, one, one’s, is an abbreviation of:
(8) mu, they, them, is the plural pronoun of the third person, short for the internationally current root multi- of multitude, multiply, etc., and has no other use except in so far as it appropriately takes the place of the pronouns these and those:
(9) auto is the reflexive pronoun equivalent to myself, yourself, ourselves, himself, itself, herself, oneself, and themselves. As such it takes its proper place as direct object after the verb. Its compounds with the above (mi-auto, etc.) are corresponding emphatic pronouns. Like (1-3) and (8), it is possessive by juxtaposition and as such refers back to the subject like the Danish sin, sit, sine. It is then equivalent to my own, your own, etc. Its adjectival value is self or personal (private), and with this meaning occurs in compounds, e.g. auto-aetio (shame = self-blame):
(10) recipro means one another or each other, and as adjective or noun it is equivalent to reciprocal and reciprocity respectively. As adverb-equivalent, it means each to each
(11) su, short for subject (French sujet, Swedish subjekt, Spanish sujeto), is the relative pronoun subject corresponding to the single English that for who or which (see p. 35). Like other pseudonyms (see below), it is possessive (= whose) by juxtaposition, provided that it goes with the subject of the relative clause:
The following rules are essential:
(a) Mu is, like the French on, Teutonic man, useful to short-circuit passive expression:
(b) The possessive construction for substantives (p. 120) also holds good for pseudonyms, i.e. we express my, her, etc., by the postposited constructions de mi, de fe, etc. Thus we have
Recourse to the shorter device of mere juxtaposition is a legitimate way of expressing my, your, our or their, but only when the possessive replaces the empty singular article u(n), or when the latter is unnecessary (see below). The roundabout construction is the only one appropriate when there is an accompanying plural article:
For his or her before a substantive in contradistinction to a verboid (p. 51), we must always use de an or de fe because the preposited pseudonym signifies male or female:
(c) Pe is the common element of occupational compounds analogous to man in postman, hangman, etc., e.g. scholo-pe = teacher (pp. 98-99). It is therefore equivalent to the agent suffix -er. Where necessary, we can use -fe in the same way, e.g. dramo-fe = actress.
(d) In the same way -re makes compounds which signify the material thing associated with an abstract property. Thus with the amplifier clepto (theft) we can make clepto-re (booty, spoils); or with the verboid tene (hold, keep) we have tene-re = prop, holder, support.
(e) All pronoun-equivalents other than those mentioned are constructions involving pe, re or mu, e.g.:
Class II. The Fourteen General Articles
A group of fourteen words has the double function of (a) indicating number (sing.-plur.); (b) acting as signposts of sentence-landscape by labelling a noun cluster as such. With two classes of exceptions, every substantive which does not follow one of the pronouns mi, tu, na, mu and su in its possessive sense must accompany one of these fourteen articles or a numeral. The exceptions are: (a) names of places, folk and persons; (b) singular substantive clusters introduced by the place markers in, extra, etc. (76-99) and (101), and associative particles anti (103), de (109), homo (113), minus (115), per (117), plus (118), post (72), pre (73), pro (120), syn (123), which have no nominal equivalents listed below.
These are empty words with no function other than as number-markers. The corresponding pronouns are pe or re for u(n) (short for Lat. unus in unify), and mu for plu(short for Lat. plures in plural). The singular empty article can replace a, an. Either of them can replace the non-demonstrative articles the, some, any. U(n) is the usual article for use with an abstract or group (un espero = hope), plu marks the plurality of a noun which need have no article in English (plu gyna = women, some women, the women). The corresponding demonstratives are formed with (95) para (here), and (78) apo (away), cf. Swedish det här and det där):
The corresponding pronouns are:
The objection that the demonstrative articles and corresponding pronouns are unwieldy is not a formidable one. The history of language shows the constant degradation of demonstratives through overwork. Long ones are less likely to obtrude into situations where the context is sufficiently demonstrative.
Note.—U(n) means any unless we want to emphasize a choice of possibilities, i.e. unless any means each. We then use singulo (17). Plu means some unless we want to emphasize its partitive meaning. We can then use u mero de plu (19).
The next three are purely plural:
(14) oligo, few, a few
(15) pan, all
(16) poly, many, numerous
The next three are purely singular and, like the remainder, have substantival equivalents given in parenthesis:
(17) singulo, each, every
The pronouns are:
(18) geno, a sort of, the kind of, such a (kind, sort, class)
We can often render such more appropriately by un homo or plu homo (113) = the like, (a) similar.
(19) mero, a bit of, a piece of, a part of (part), partly
The substantive construction u mero de plu does for some (of the):
u mero de plu gyna = some (of the) women
The corresponding pronouns are:
The compounds u mero-pe (person) or u mero-re (thing) mean a member (of a group).
(20) solo, the sole, a solitary, singly, exclusively one, alone
When only follows the article the and precedes a plural noun, it is equivalent to the only sort of (solo geno):
solo geno equi; su acte re = the only horses which do so
To preserve the word-order of Interglossa we may have to use the corresponding pseudonym:
The next four are singular articles, but can qualify a plural noun if preceded by plu, oligo, pan or poly:
(21) holo, the whole, complete, completely (completeness)
Corresponding pronoun holo re = the whole (of it) or all.
(22) mega, much, a big, large, great(ness)
Before an amplifier mega can have the force of very, for which it is better to use (233) forto (intensely), especially before mega, micro, major, minor, e.g.:
forto micro pani = very little bread
(23) micro, a little, small(ness)
Note that micro re is not partitive. We often say a little, where mero is more appropriate.
(24) quo, which? what?
Quo is purely interrogative, never relative (see pp. 34-35). The corresponding pronouns are:
(25) satio, enough, sufficient(ly), (sufficiency)
Unlike its equivalent sufficiently, the English enough follows an adjective it qualifies. Satio takes up the usual position:
The following couplet is useful:
satio eu = adequate, good enough
All the preceding form demonstratives with para and apo:
Class III. Numeral Articles
A cardinal numeral of Interglossa is an article, i.e. if it stands for a number alone it requires no article of Class II. The numeral vocabulary of natural languages antedates either: (a) the principle of arithmetical position, (b) the algebraic conventions for multiplication (a beside b = a times b), and division (a over b = a divided by b). In view of (a) we need only nine ordinary numerals, supplemented by zero:
(26) zero, zero, no
An zero pre date re a mi = He certainly did not give me it
The couplets zero pe and zero re stand for nobody, none, not … anybody, and nothing, no one, not … anything. Never use no … pe, no … re for not … anyone, not ... anything (see note after (7)).
Zero pe (or re) de bi X means neither X, if we need to be explicit, but zero does for neither as adjective or (with pe or re) as pronoun.
Four other cardinals are useful to specify decimal magnitudes:
The following fraction is useful:
(40) hemi, half
Enumeration follows mathematical usage:
Mono bi hexa tri zero penta = One hundred and twenty-six thousand three hundred and five
Each of the above forms pronouns and demonstratives of the type prescribed:
For numeral multiples and fractions we follow algebraic conventions, using latero (89) and supero (98), i.e. X times Y is X beside Y (X latero Y) and X/Yths of Z is X over Y beside Z (X supero Y latero Z):
By analogy we may legitimately extend the same practice to metrical multiples:
For ordinal relations we may take advantage of a trick of wide currency, illustrated in English by psalm twenty-three, room number four, part III, chapter 6. That is to say, we post-posit the numeral, e.g.:
For so many times in a temporal sense, and for so many apiece, we use respectively chron (62) meaning occasion (definite time), and singulo pe (or re), each:
Class IV. Interrogative, Imperative, Negative and Comparative Particles
As stated (p. 34), the word-order of statements, questions and commands is unchangeable in Interglossa. Appropriate particles at the beginning of a statement give it the sense of a request, a command or a question.
(41) peti for polite imperative is short for:
By itself peti does service for please. For no thanks use peti no. The full form petitio is an amplifier. Thus we have:
Like all amplifiers it may slide into a substantive cluster, and we recognize it as a noun-equivalent by the accompanying article, e.g. plu proximo peti(tio) = some recent requests.
For the impolite imperative we can simply drop out peti tu without change of word-order. We may then say:
Kine antero = Go in front
The need for the strong imperative will be rare, except in history books. An international auxiliary of peaceful communication is not for generals or for conversation with the cat.
Note.—Needless to say, the peti construction, and the contracted form given above, is not co-extensive with all situations involving the so-called imperative of an Aryan verb. The Aryan imperative may merely express a pious hope, aspiration, yearning or desire, which we make explicit as such, e.g.:
Semantics of Interrogation
We may regard any question as a statement accompanied by a request to elicit either:
(a) Confirmation or denial of the statement as a whole, e.g.:
(b) Additional information not explicitly contained in the statement itself, e.g.:
For simple questions, i.e. for questions of class (a) above, we have recourse to the preposited interrogative particle:
(42) que, short for:
Que takes the initial position like peti. The full form (42a), like petitio, is an amplifier:
As an amplifier it may take the place of an epithet or noun-equivalent in a substantive cluster:
The following illustrate the use of que as signpost of the simple question:
The second class of questions, i.e. (b) above, includes those which begin with who, whom, whose, which, what, where, when, why, how. The equivalent for all of these involves quo (24).
For questions involving who, which, what, as subject, the word-order of English and Interglossa is the same, e.g.:
Quo pe habe re = Who has it?
When the topic of interrogation is not the subject, the word-order of Interglossa remains as in the equivalent affirmative statement:
Questions which begin with an interrogative adverb reduce to the same general type. Thus:
The prepositions in the equivalent English substantival phrases are redundant. Accordingly we have:
Such expressions as the above are interrogative qualifiers of what would otherwise be a plain statement. As such they may come at the beginning or at the end (p. 36) of it:
The uses of how are various. For how soon? or how recently? we can use quo chron or quo proximo (121) to elicit the appropriate response. Otherwise we may distinguish between the following situations:
(i) When how signifies by what means? the appropriate construction is quo methodo (302):
Quo methodo tu acte re = How do you do it?
(ii) When how precedes a metrical abstract it is equivalent to quo alone:
(iii) How often? is quo frequo (238) = with what frequency? e.g.:
Tu pre acte re quo frequo = How often did you do so?
(iv) When how precedes a numeral qualifier such as few, many, or when it precedes much and little applied to enumerable objects, we use quo numero (327), e.g.:
(v) When how precedes much, little, or any abstract which is implicitly metrical, it is equivalent to in what measure? or to what extent? For this we have quo metro (114):
The periphrastic interrogative adverbs quo loco, quo causo, etc., can introduce either a noun-clause or a phrase involving an English infinitive-equivalent with an interrogative flavour:
What, which, or whom may also introduce a noun-clause with an interrogative flavour, e.g.:
The interrogative article is not redundant in the preceding examples. Thus:
Mi pre dicte questio; que tu esthe volo re = I asked whether you wanted it
As the object of a noun-clause whom, which, what may mean the person or the thing which is the implicit object of the principal, and it is sometimes more appropriate to translate it by means of a relative construction:
The negative particle is:
(43) no(n), not or no!
The exclamation mark after no signifies that no(n) corresponds to no when the latter is the answer to a question or a signal of denial. It is not the negative article (see zero). It cannot precede a substantive cluster; but it may precede an adverbial particle like the English no in no more than (no major de) or no less than (no minor de). In compounds it is equivalent to in- of incomplete (non-holo), etc., or un- of unequal (non-iso), etc. No(n) can combine with any amplifier to form negative compounds of this type, e.g. no-preparo = unready (138), no-volo = unwilling (128), etc.; and this is the general recipe for making opposites. Admittedly a negative is not necessarily an opposite; but it is the idiom of Interglossa to leave as much as possible to context. If we call a shallow hole a hole that is not deep (no-batho), the assumption is that we should not go out of our way to deny its depth for any other reason. We can always indicate that it is neither one nor the other by saying that it is not very deep (no mega batho).
No uncertainty arises when the notion involved is purely qualitative, e.g. puro—no-puro (clean—dirty), and we can make medium intensity of a metrical amplifier explicit by recourse to meso (91), e.g.:
The usual rule that an amplifier is both an abstract noun and an adjective-equivalent does not hold for the metrical amplifiers alto (150), batho (159) and longo (290), meaning respectively high, deep and long. The corresponding nouns height or level, depth and length or distance convey no information about whether the dimension specified is great or small. Accordingly, we express them by recourse to the construction metro de (extent of), e.g. u metro de alto de Y = the height of Y; u metro de longo trans Y = the width of Y, the breadth of Y.
The idiom of Interglossa prescribes zero constructions wherever the implication is a comprehensive or exclusive negative. Hence the rule: never use no(n) to translate not … one, not … a single, not … anything, not … either. Adherence to this rule prevents ambiguities that constantly arise in English, e.g.:
(a) Does I have not a single thing mean I have more than one thing (mi habe major de mono re), or I have none (mi habe zero re)?
(b) What does I don’t want either a book or a pen mean? If the function of either ... or, like that of allo in Interglossa, is to prescribe the acceptance of one alternative and the rejection of the other, the statement is consistent with the meaning of I want both a book and a pen or nothing at all. Interglossa prohibits allo in a negative statement involving not, and the correct translation for neither … nor is zero … zero, e.g. mi esthe volo zero bibli zero penna.
From a semantic point of view it might seem an advantage to have one form of negative construction (i.e. to use no(n) alone), because no X (zero X) cannot have a logical predicate. A logically self-denying ordinance to prohibit the use of nothing, nobody, etc., would admittedly be a safeguard against such traps as: nothing is better than wisdom; dry bread is better than nothing; therefore dry bread is better than wisdom. Still, syllogistic reasoning is equally inappropriate to other situations involving metrical comparison, e.g. a young elephant is a small elephant; an elephant is an animal; therefore a young elephant is a small animal.We do not deprive ourselves of the immense economy of operating with 0 as a number, because 0 has peculiar logical properties, such as the fact that the ratio of two zeros is not necessarily unity. It would be just as foolish to rule out the highly economical use of nothing and nobody as to put the clock back to the time before arithmetic took advantage of operations with the number 0.
There are three comparative articles:
(44) iso, equal(ly); equality; identical(ly); identity
We use this with the empty particle of general relationship (109) de (= in relation to, with reference to) for the construction so ... as or as ... as (= equally ... in relation to), e.g.:
iso poly domi de = as many houses as
When the word which follows as or so in a construction of this sort is not explicitly metrical, we can also use (113) homo ... de (= similarly ... , in relation to), e.g.:
homo chloro de = as green as
Homo is the usual equivalent of as or like, but if like has the force of equally or just as much as, we can use iso, e.g.:
epi geo iso in urani = on earth as it is in heaven
The usual meaning of even is including (see 105) when it precedes a qualitative attribute; but when even precedes an enumerative, it signifies an equality (as many as) for which we can put iso poly de:
Mi non habe iso poly de tri re = I have not even three (of them)
From iso we have the couplets:
(45) major, more; greater; bigger; larger
major de = bigger than; larger than; more than
(46) minor, less; smaller
minor de = smaller than; less than
Major and minor are comparative particles. They are not articles, nor pronouns. As they stand they do not therefore tally with the various elliptical uses of more and less; nor do they necessarily occupy the same position in the sentence matrix. More may mean extra or additional, an extra number of them, or an additional quantity of it (see 118 below). We rely on context to supply the standard of comparison. Similar remarks apply mutatis mutandis to less. In Interglossa we can make quantity and number explicit by recourse to metro (114) and numero (327). The following paradigms illustrate different types of comparison:
The combinations major de and minor de can qualify an article or numeral, as in:
The following illustrate the uses of major and minor as qualifiers of an adjective-equivalent:
No special form is necessary to do the work of most, nor one for least. We can make the superlative explicit by making the standard of comparison exclusive with residuo (394), i.e.:
We have also at our disposal two equivalent vocables of wide international currency both in statistics and in physical science. Their plural forms are consonant with the phonetic pattern of Interglossa without change; and we may assimilate them, as we can assimilate (p. 239) without change the plural form of any internationally current technical term of which the singular has the ending -um. It is therefore unnecessary to list them by number as items of our essential list of constructed vocables. They appear in the supplementary list of 68 international words taken over as they stand (p. 256), viz.:
An important function of minor is that it provides a convenient form of comparison for opposites, already illustrated on p. 44. Thus with (395) resisto (strong, strength, of materials or aim as opposed to bodily power or intensity) we have:
Class V. Generic Substantives
A limitation to word-economy in most natural languages is paucity of generic terms from which it is possible to build up self-explicit compounds of the type mentioned on p. 17. A constructed language is free from this limitation. We can therefore extend our battery of common nouns beyond the narrow scope of the Basic English equipment without adding to our stock of essential vocables. Many common nouns are word-forms differentiated from others in virtue of human associations which always or almost always appear sufficiently in the context. Though we make a distinction between sheep in the field and sheep on the table by having a separate word mutton, we do not repine lack of a separate word for fish in the sea and fish on the plate.1 We have separate words for flax, thread and linen, though the single vocable cotton suffices for the plant, the spun filament and the material woven from it. The context sufficiently indicates the distinction between beef and cattle or between flax and linen without recourse to separate words. In the same way many class words used in technical discussion sufficiently indicate an object in the context in which it occurs. The single word filament for thread, cotton, string, rope, cord, wire, fishing-line, is explicit enough in most ordinary situations. The fact that we can always use the generic name unless the context fails to divulge the specification, overrides the objection that more explicit compounds may be unwieldy.
Interglossa has no lifeless affixes. With few exceptions the vocables are based on intact roots, but four foregoing words (an, fe, pe, mu) are truncated, and two (peti, que) are optional truncated forms. For equivalents of many substantives we can rely extensively on compounds involving one or other generic terms, which have alternative truncated forms for optional use to short-circuit prolixity. One of these is the “occupational” class (p. 84) based on -pe. This is much more comprehensive than the corresponding -man class of English, including all occupational and personal terms except discipuli (828) (scholar, pupil, student), polizi (843) and secretari (853). Thus we have (inter alia):
1 For cattle, English has in all ten words—ox for transport, cow for milk, bull for breeding, bullock for fattening, calf new-born, heifer young cow, steer young bull, beef cooked adult, veal cooked young.
The reader may ask how we distinguish such a spoken couplet from the corresponding compound, labelled in print as such by a hyphen. The following comments should suffice to dispel this difficulty:
(i) Juxtaposition of an adjective and a noun in an Aryan language is not, as school text-books lead us to believe, the logical operation of limiting a class of things, notions or persons sufficiently labelled by the latter to those of its members who share the common property uniquely specified by the former. An adjective-noun couplet is a semantic unit which we have to interpret in the light of custom and context as we interpret the meaning of a compound. Without the clue which one or the other supplies, what precise meaning we attach to the couplet social worker has as much and as little to do with dictionary definitions of social and worker as has the meaning of brickyard with dictionary definitions of brick and yard.
(ii) Where confusion might arise, we can fall back on any one of three devices:
(a) Since it is always redundant to use the word person in a predicative expression, we need not, and should not, use pe in this situation. We do not say: fe eque u forto religio pe (she is a deeply religious person). We say: fe habe mega religio (she is very religious).
(b) Otherwise we can make use of the full form persona (individual), as in: u forto religio persona habe eco proximo (a very religious person lives hard by).
(c) A high proportion of occupational terms have a special local flavour. For all such, Interglossa prescribes (p. 20) the local name. This is en rapport with educated speech everywhere. Thus the English translation of a French novel takes over curé, which has no precise equivalent within the framework of Anglo-American social custom, without mutilating its meaning by recourse to the equivalent word listed in a pocket dictionary. Since the word religion refers to a great diversity of social habits, and the word priest to officials with a great variety of social functions, we can always sidestep any ambiguity arising from use of the compound religio-pe by using the correct local term.
As stated on p. 84, we can make an analogous class of -re compounds, e.g.:
The following generic substantives or amplifiers likewise form compounds. They come at the head of our list partly for this reason, and partly because they are based on truncated roots or have shortened forms for use in compounds:
(47) cameri or -ca, room, chamber, cabin, hall, compartment
All names of rooms are -ca compounds. With the exception of the first, the antecedent element of such compounds is an amplifier signifying the function or situation of the room:
(48) domi or -do, building; house; erection
As all names of rooms are -ca compounds, all names of man-made buildings are -do compounds, of which the antecedent points to the function or to the location, e.g.:
Since -do compounds are man-made erections, and the antecedent never specifies the material used for making it, we have the full forms.:
(49) fascio or -fa, group, set, bunch, batch, heap, collection
No special rule is necessary for such self-explicit compounds as:
(50) fi, cord, filament, line, rope, string, thread, wire
This is a contraction of the international root fila- of filament. The full form would be a homophone of phylla (602), and is therefore unsuitable. In most situations its generic meaning sufficiently distinguishes the mere specific terms listed above, but we can make such distinctions explicit by compounds or couplets, as under. We list those with a material antecedent with a hyphen, e.g.:
We drop the hyphen in functional couplets such as:
(51)instrumenti or -ru, tool, instrument
The antecedent of a -ru compound always points to its function:
(52) lithi or -li, stone, rock
There are four basic compounds of -li other than precious stones, as below:
Since the popular names of jewels have little relation to their chemical composition, great precision is not essential. We use -li compounds for all translucent jewels:
For non-translucent, ornamental stones we use the full form lithi, e.g.:
(53) loco or -lo, place, region, territory, domain, locality
Important compounds are:
(54) materia or -ma, material, stuff, substance
The antecedent of -ma compounds is an amplifier which denotes its characteristic property, e.g.:
(55) mechani or -me, machine, apparatus, device, engine, mechanism
The antecedent points to the function or the source of power:
(56) mobili or -mo, furniture, movables
From this we can get functional compounds, such as:
(57) texti or -te, fabric, cloth, textile, woven material, tissue, canvas, muslin, etc.
Like others of this class, texti usually suffices for any of the more specific words listed above unless the context demands a more explicit term. We can then make compounds based on (a) material source; (b) usage; (c) any characteristic quality, e.g.:
(58) vasa or -va, vessel, container, jug, mug, cup, bowl, pitcher, etc.
We can make the meaning of vasa more explicit by use of an antecedent pointing to a sufficiently suggestive characteristic, other than the material of which it is composed:
We can use va- for tinned, canned or bottled fruit, etc., e.g.:
(59) vesto or -ve, covering, clothes, vesture, costume, -wear, suit, dress
As an amplifier vesto means the act of covering or the result of the act, in accordance with remarks on p. 19.
(60) zona or -zo, ring, belt, hoop, zone, band
Where the context supplies no clue to a more precise meaning, we can make such compounds as:
Note on SOME, ANY and WHATEVER
We have had occasion (pp. 18-19 and footnote on p. 31) to note that the small number of items essential to acceptable discourse in the Basic English word-list depends far more than most enthusiasts realize on inclusion of highly polyvalent words comparable to the Chinese homophones. This is conspicuously true of prepositions and of other particles which make up the grammatical matrix. Four small words which are pitfalls to the beginner call for special treatment. These are: any, some, only and even together with the periphrasis at all (= whatever). Only and even, come up for discussion under (105) on p. l19.
That the use of some and any causes difficulties to a Frenchman or a German is not surprising when we look at the way in which we use them. For our present purpose we may distinguish the following:
(i) In negative statements or questions involving not … any (or more rarely not ... some) the combination does the work of no (German kein, Swedish ingen), for which our equivalent is zero, e.g.:
An habe zero valuta = He hasn’t any money
(ii) In positive questions either any or some may be replaceable by a bit of or a section of and are then partitive, on all fours with the French de. We can then translate them by mero (or by the corresponding pronouns mero re and mero mu), e.g.:
Que tu habe mero pani = Have you any bread?
(iii) In positive questions either any or some may be empty words, replaceable by a or one before a singular noun or unnecessary before a plural one. We can then translate them by un or plu:
(iv) In positive statements any and some are not interchangeable. Some may be partitive (mero). It may be empty (un or plu). It may imply a contrast (some ... others). When it implies a contrast between one sort of or one class of in contradistinction to all we can translate it by geno, which is roughly equivalent to the French quelque. Thus we have:
(v) In positive statements any is usually replaceable by any ... whatever, which may have the same meaning as any … at all in a positive question. This implies the removal of a limitation equivalent to a single (mono) ... without restriction of choice (minus electio limito) or even a = everyone including (pan pe cleisto u or pan re cleisto u). As such its range extends to all (pan). So we have:
(vi) In a positive question the removal of restriction implicit in any where replaceable by any … whatever (= any ... at all) may mean the same as even a little (iso mega de micro) or even a single (iso mega de mono), fading into a little (micro) or a few (oligo). In general the context makes the qualification sufficiently explicit, and we can then translate any or some by un or plu.
What applies to the articles any or some as articles applies to the pronouns. Thus anyone or anything may mean all persons or all things in one context and at least one person or at least one thing in another. As a pronoun, the meaning of any or of some is often partitive (mero re or mero mu); but something or somebody may mean respectively a class of things (geno re) or a single person (pe alone or mono pe).
Whatever is equally troublesome. It may have the following meanings:
(i) As adjective or pronoun it may be merely an emphatic interrogative like whoever and whichever in analogous situations; and as such is equivalent to quo or quo re, e.g.:
Quo re eque u para re = Whatever is this?
(ii) As adjective or pronoun it may replace each (singulo) or all (pan), as may whoever or whichever, e.g.:
Singulo re; an dicte; habe erro = Whatever he says is wrong
(iii) As an adverbial qualifier of any, its function is purely emphatic in negative statements; and zero X covers the meaning of no X whatever, no X at all, not … any X whatever, not ... any X at all.
(iv) As an adverbial qualifier of any in positive statements or in questions of either sort, it has the same force as at all. Either combination (any ... whatever or any … at all) implies the removal of some limitation; but no single formula conveys what sort of restriction they remove. Usually we can leave the qualification to the context.
The difficulty of finding a suitable equivalent for such words as any, some or whatever is not a difficulty inherent in Interglossa, it is a difficulty inherent in English itself.
Thereason for separating words listed in this chapter from those listed in Chapter VII is that the latter do not transgress the threefold limits: (a) abstract noun, (b) adjective, (c) qualitative adverb. Amplifiers listed here slide into other grammatical niches. They may do the work of prepositions, conjunctions, or verbal auxiliaries.
In comparison with other artificial languages, the most peculiar feature of Interglossa is in line with recent evolution of Anglo-American and with the idiom of Chinese. Interglossa achieves a high grade of word-economy by combining two principles:
(i) Any adverb-preposition is one unit in a cluster of words with a single diffusely abstract focus of meaning distributed in different formal elements according to context as substantive, adjective, adverbial qualifier, or conjunction (link). Although we distinguish between during (prep.) and while (link), one word before does service for preposition-adverb (directive) and link.
(ii) Its rigid word-order and the use of empty particles as signposts of sentence-landscape, leave the translator in no doubt about the choice of the correct formal equivalent to one and the same vocable of Interglossa.
One example will suffice to illustrate word-economy made possible in this way. The semantic content of the word before in a temporal sense is antecedent time. If we can speak of the above statement we could speak with equal propriety of the previous statement as the before statement. If we can speak of the beyond, why not the before-now, i.e. what is previous, the past, the antecedent? If we can say the above-mentioned, why not the before-mentioned for previously mentioned? We have here a cluster of word-forms, past, history, antecedents, antecedent, preceding, previous(ly), former(ly), earlier, all with the same general notion of time antecedent-to-a-fixed point (nu) inherent in the context. The single word pre and its compound pre-nu stand for all these homosemes, and for what is essentially inherent in the simple past flexion of the English verb. The rules for using it are:
(i) Placed between the subject and the verboid, or if the latter has no subject immediately in front of it, pre signifies action or state antecedent to the context of the situation. The couplet therefore has the force of the simple past tense or past participle. As such, pre need not come again in a subordinate clause or in a narrative, when the context makes it clear that the whole situation is past; and it is not necessary if another particle of time points to the past.
(ii) If the pronoun, noun or noun cluster is the fixed point of time reference, pre precedes the article which labels the former or its pronoun-equivalent:
(iii) If before introduces a subordinate clause it does so in accordance with the rule given under punctuation (p. 39), viz.:
Mi pre kine apo; pre fe kine para = I went away before she came here
(iv) After the article or possessive pseudonym we have:
Two devices promote space-economy within the framework of general principles laid down in Chapters I-II:
(a) Abstract words which have no substantival equivalent listed below require no article before a noun-equivalent (p. 84).
(b) Any abstract which stands for a relation (as opposed to a quality or action) can have a prepositional as well as an adjectival value; but not all have noun-equivalents, e.g.:
In what follows, separate columns givepreposition-, conjunction-, adverb-, adjective- and noun1-equivalents.
1 The reader who finds this feature puzzling should try substituting (as often happens in careless or uneducated speech) the abstract noun for the corresponding preposition or conjunction, e.g. time I went to London I got flu shows that when has no function in this context other than to introduce the time concept. Similarly we should immediately recognize position as the equivalent for where if anyone said: I don’t know position he puts it.
We can divide them conveniently as follows: (a) time markers, (b) place markers and vectors, (c) associative particles, (d) auxiliary amplifiers.
The equivalent preposition given in the second column of (a), (b), (c) below does not always correspond with English usage. The value cited is the most characteristic one. In is a place marker, and thus corresponds to the most characteristic value of in, i.e. A is in B when B encloses or surrounds A. So defined, in does fit into a variety of idiomatic situations in which in has no spatial significance, e.g. in winter, in writing, in difficulties, in particular, in case of. Likewise epi is a place marker. As such it is equivalent to on when on points to surface relationship as in on the table or on the wall. Obviously, epi is not equivalent to on in on holiday. Here on signifies contemporaneity, and the equivalent word is tem.
Some English particles have no single characteristic meaning. Thus with may mean in the company of (syn), by means of (per) or because of (causo), as in wrinkled with age. By may mean by means of (per), or near or beside (proximo); and it may also point to the personal agent or source (ex), as in a book by Shaw. For may mean on behalf of, for the benefit of, in support of (pro), with a view to (tendo), or as a means of (functio). As may mean the same as because (causo), while (tem), like (homo), or equally (iso). An interlingua designed in accordance with semantic principles cannot list single equivalents for such words. Any difficulties the beginner has to overcome are difficulties inherent in the native tongue rather than of the constructed language.
Note the following:
Note on Time.—In Aryan languages one word may do for the two concepts of duration or interval (tem), signifying extent of time, and the occasion or instant in the time sequence (chron). Tem and chron tally with the two analogous space markers, viz.: place or territory (loco) and position (topo). Thus tem is Danish tid, and chron is Danish gang. Time markers of Interglossa do not ordinarily require an article where the equivalent Aryan construction is a “noun,” since each has the status of an adverbial particle. Thus it is always redundant to translate on, at or in before any of the above or their compounds. Chron means at in such situations as:
Pan homini habe libero chron u nato = All men are born free (i.e. All men have freedom at birth)
Since there is no international calendar, we use (as in correspondence) numbers to indicate the days and months:
mono tetra di penta mensi = (on) the fourteenth of May
Similarly with daytime:
(b) PLACE MARKERS AND VECTORS
All the abstract words under this heading involve the general notion of position (topo) or direction (tendo). The meaning of (76) and (82) extends to change of any sort. Thus with muto (314) we have muto ex Y ad Z = change from Y to Z. Only topo can replace a substantive. To clarify the meaning of habe couplets such as habe in (be inside), we therefore indicate the abstract content under the heading “noun” with italics and quotes. Where we use the inside, the outside, etc., as nouns, we might equally well write the inner part, the outside part, etc. We can translate such expressions by un in mero de, un extra mero de and analogous constructions, e.g.:
In conformity with Cartesian conventions we can use dextro for positive in contradistinction to (88) laevo = negative. In conformity with widely current political usage we can likewise use dextro and laevo respectively for conservative (right wing) and advanced or progressive (left wing).
un epi mero (de) = the surface (of)
Note.—Ex is also the marker of the personal agent as origin or source, e.g.:
u bibli e Bernard Shaw = a book by Bernard Shaw
Para expresses nearness to the focus of interest. In colloquial discourse this is the locus of speaker or writer. Para then means here. In sustained narrative it is any part of the situation which engages the immediate attention of the reader, then doing the job of there. Mutatis mutandis we may use nu for now or for then.
Note.—Topo is the general particle of space relationship and may do the work of in or on where the context makes the nature of the relationship sufficiently explicit, e.g.:
1 It might be advantageous to reserve ultra for beyond (see p. 238)
topo u via = in the street
(c) ASSOCIATIVE PARTICLES
These include abstracts of instrumentality and association which are not specifically of a temporal or spatial character.
The function of allo is to specify a choice between exclusive possibilities, i.e. when acceptance of one involves rejection of the other or others. For either … or we use allo ... allo. For neither … nor zero … zero. (Similarly we use minus ... minus for without … or. See also footnote to (105)). By itself, neither means none, and is equivalent to zero re or zero pe. By itself, either means either the one or the other = allo mono re (or pe) allo u residuo re (or pe).
Note.—Anti implies logical, physical or affective antagonism.
In general but and although have a reciprocal relation. We can simultaneously eliminate the latter at the beginning of the so-called subordinate clause and introduce the former at the beginning of the so-called principal clause without change of meaning (although she was ill, she went on working = she was ill, but she went on working). The function of although or but, if used with discrimination, is to draw attention to an inherent contrast or antithesis (in Hegelian jargon an internal contradiction). Although anticipates the antithesis from the start:
Anti patho fe pre duro acte ergo = In spite of her illness she went on working
We can delay the signal of forthcoming antithesis by using the construction anti re = in spite of it (but, nevertheless, notwithstanding, all the same), e.g.:
Fe pre habe patho. Anti re, fe pre duro acte ergo = She was ill. All the same, she went on working
no-cleisto = except, exception, excluding
Cleisto and its opposite no-cleisto supply equivalents for the over-worked English words, only and even.1 When even precedes a substantive cluster beginning with an attributive adjective other than a numeral, its usual meaning is all ... including. In the same situation only means no ... except, but English usage offers no clue to whether the inclusion or exception refers to the epithet or to the noun. According as we put the stress in speech on the words green or apples, even green apples may mean:
1 For both ... and or whether ... or whether we use cleisto ... cleisto, which is often equivalent to either … or where no exclusive alternative is implicit.
Similarly, only green apples may mean:
When even and only immediately precede a preposition the meaning is closely akin:
It is sufficiently explicit in this context to use cleisto by itself for even, and no ... no-cleisto for only
When even and only precede a numeral, the latter means no more and no less than, and the usual significance of the former is as many as, see (45) and (44) above. As an adverb qualifying a verb, even may merely mean equally or also, and only may mean merely (no better than). Clearly no explicit single word can convey the widely diverse functions assigned to even and only in English. An only child is u pedio-pe minus sibi (a child without sibs).
anti comparo = contrast, in contrast to
As a preposition-equivalent, de is an empty word, expressing any relation made sufficiently explicit by context. It is the normal possessive particle, e.g.:
plu ostea de plu no-nu zoa = bones of extinct animals
no-duro functio = derelict, desuetude, in abeyance
Note.—Use may also mean method of action or custom (vide infra):
non-harmono = discord, disagreement
homo qualito = likeness, similarity (385)
per via de (= dia) = by way of, through (668) (see p. 238)
Per requires no article before a collective. It takes the place of many Anglo-American prepositions in idiomatic constructions such as:
Note.—For use of plus as equivalent to and, see (123) below. Plus is one of several words which may stand for other. Thus we have (102) allo (alternative), (258) hetero (different), and (394) residuo (remaining). When we use another as a pronoun, the usual meaning is an additional one, i.e. mono plus re (or pe). For an additional, an extra we use mono plus. For few extra, many extra, all additional, oligo plus, poly plus, pan plus. Before a collective extra, additional are equivalent to u plus metro de; and before a plural (the) additional, (some) extra are equivalent to u plus numero de.
Note.—The correct translation of if depends on whether we can replace it by on condition that (conditio), supposing that (postulo) or whether. The last raises a query, and we can represent it by que or omit it altogether:
Mi non habe sapio; (que) fe kine apo = I don’t know whether she is going away
Needless to say, postulo conveys the meaning implicit in the should or were to construction without recourse to a special qualifier of the key verboid.
Note.—Proximo signifies proximity of spatial, temporal, or any other sort of relationship.
no-syn = absent
Note.—Whether we use plus or syn for and is not of great importance. Strictly, we should use plus when and means in addition to (this), syn when and means together with (this). The following constructions are important:
no-tendo = aimless(ness), unintentional
no-verso = irreversible, irrevocable, inalienable
Note.—Verso is the qualifier which often does the work of re-, e.g. in return, regain; but re- may signify repetition, e.g. restate, rewrite, for which we use itero (272).
no-volo = unwilling(ness)
Compound Associative Conjunctions and Subordinate Clauses
(a) To facilitate construction of short sentences sustaining a logical sequence, it is advantageous to have conjunctive adverbs which refer back to the meaning of the previous one, as when we say in English in spite of it. In this construction it (re) stands for what has gone before. The following are samples of many analogous couplets which we can form for use at the beginning of a new sentence:
(b) In a clause of extent, that points to the consequence, hence sequo:
It is rarely necessary to imitate English usage by recourse to the construction iso (or homo) … sequo (so ... that). We can usually express the same thing in a nominal construction by reversing the emphasis:
In general, a nominal construction is the best way of translating a clause of comparison or contrast. For instance we can say:
Similarly we may say:
No semi-colon is necessary to mark the boundary of a clause of comparison, contrast or extent. The wording would be exactly the same if we translated the equivalent English gerundial construction.
We have seen (p. 49) that pre, nu, post, in front of the verboid have the force of tense flexions or tense auxiliaries. The use of other amplifiers as intransitive modal or aspective auxiliaries is in line with this device. At the beginning or end of a statement anyone of the succeeding amplifiers (129-140) is an adverb-equivalent, as specified, qualifying the whole situation which involves the action or state predicated by the verboid. In juxtaposition to the latter the preposited particle limits the meaning of the verboid alone, forming with it a new semantic unit which predicates a judgment concerning the possible occurrence or desirability of the action or state. Two of them (posso and poto) exclude the notion of actual occurrence in a positive statement. We can put them immediately before the verboid or elsewhere without affecting the meaning of an affirmative statement:
When posited as qualifiers of an affirmative statement as a whole, the other members of the ensuing set pass judgment on an actual occurrence. A statement so constructed therefore carries a meaning different from that of one in which the qualifier-verboid couplet merely predicates judgment concerning the occurrence in general. Thus:
The contrast between the two uses comes out more sharply in negative statements. The qualifier of the statement as a whole then passes judgment on the fact that the action did not occur or the state did not exist; and the negative particle is the mark of its non-occurrence or non-existence. When the negative particle qualifies an auxiliary couplet, it denies the valuation which it predicates. Thus we have:
None of the amplifiers listed below has the force of a transitive auxiliary. For all transitive auxiliary constructions we use the appropriate verboid-amplifier couplet. Thus we say:
Anglo-American allows us to express great variety of meaning by relying on the rule of proximity alone. Thus the three following combinations of the same four vocables convey three different sorts of information: (a) only he said that; (b) he only said that; (c) he said only that. In the second, only said is a semantic unit which excludes the possibility that he wrote or cabled it. If we interpret it in this way only is a pure verb qualifier. Even so, few recognize it as such, unless helped by tone or context. Anglo-American has no consistent rule to implement the text-book distinction between an adverb which qualifies a verb and one which qualifies a whole statement. It is immaterial whether we say: (a) often he thought; (b) he often thought; (c) he thought often. Because, and only because, our own language permits this licence, our first reaction to the list of adverbial particles as modal auxiliaries is to regard such a device as a deviation from semantic rectitude. This reaction conceals a misconception about the scope of linguistic engineering. A constructed language of the isolating type is free to exploit the semantic possibilities of word-order to the fullest possible extent in the service of word-economy. Interglossa does so. A vocable of Interglossa occupies its place in the sentence-matrix because it has a definite function there and only there. A qualifier of a statement as a whole must come: (a) like a word-qualifier, immediately before what it qualifies, i.e. at the very beginning; (b) as an afterthought, marked as such by a comma in print, at the very end. Accordingly, the allocation of the same qualifier to a situation immediately in front of the verboid must mean that it passes judgment specifically on the latter. What we predicate of the subject is no longer the action or state implicit in the verboid with or without some goal of action. It now becomes a valuation of a possible happening in contradistinction to the valuation placed on an event, when the same qualifier limits the meaning of a complete statement.
In addition, the following already listed have auxiliary values as under:
(64) duro (aux.) continue to, go on ... (-ing), persist in (-ing)
no-duro (aux.) cease to …, stop … (-ing)
(125) tendo (aux.) intend to
(128) volo (aux.) want to, wish to, would like to
Conditional Use of Auxiliaries.—Auxiliary constructions peculiar to Anglo-American usage are should have, would have, could have, etc., followed by the so-called past participle. There is no single Interglossa construction equivalent to any one of them, because anyone of them can convey several different notions according to the context in which it occurs or the tone of voice of the speaker. He would have liked Y may mean (inter alia):
Similarly, he could have done Y may mean (inter alia):
The amplifiers listed in this chapter can be equivalent to noun or adjective specifying the same abstract property, state or action, and to the corresponding adverb. Where the latter is a -ly derivative it is not necessary to give it. The vocable of Interglossa for any adverb of the -ly type is the same as for its adjectival co-twin. It is commonplace that almost any Anglo-American “noun” can do the job of an adjectival form, as in colour film, trade cycle, conciliation board, tooth paste; but the same abstract notion may be present in several adjectival forms, distinguished by the participial endings -ing, -ed, or by such suffixes as -ful, -some, -ly, -al, -ble. It would be easy to lay down a straightforward rule for choice of an appropriate Anglo-American adjectival form equivalent to a given amplifier, if such affixes had a clear-cut meaning. Not one of them has a clear-cut meaning. Even the -ing, -ed endings do a variety of tasks. While it is true to say that -ing and -ed commonly label active and passive, it is not true to say that they do so invariably. To hang a rope is to suspend it: but a hanging rope is also a suspended one. The three rules we follow in Interglossa are in line with the reservation (pp. 45-47) of specific operators for physical states, actions, communications, and sentiments.
(a) If the amplifier stands for a valuation, e.g. guilt, or for a physical state, e.g. redness or colour, the equivalent adjectival form restricts the class denoted by the substantive it qualifies to those of its members which possess (habe) or retain (tene) the attribute. Thus, the adjectival form corresponding to redness is red, and to colour, coloured. If preposited as a qualifier, an amplifier which stands for a physical state therefore has a passive flavour, and as such does not need ge unless to emphasize that the topic qualified acquired the state at some previous time (e.g. ge thermo = heated).
(b) If the amplifier stands for a physical reaction such as cracking, for an action such as writing or a behaviour pattern (i.e. related class of actions) such as friendship, or for a communication such as warning, its adjectival use limits the class denoted by the substantive it qualifies to those of its members who execute (reacte) the reaction, perform (acte) the action, or transmit (dicte) the message. Thus the adjectival form which corresponds to writing is also writing; for friendliness it is friendly; for advice it is advisory.
(c) The two preceding rules tally with the disappearance of a formal noun-adjective distinction in Anglo-American usage. Where a name stands for a sentiment or physiological state, Anglo-American commonly offers us two adjectival forms, one predicating the property of evoking (e.g. annoying or endearing), the other predicating the property of experiencing (e.g. angry or loving) it. Apart from how often we have recourse to one or the other, there is no obvious reason for preferring the latter to the former, or vice versa. Our one-way traffic regulation regularizes transferred epithet, i.e. an amplifier preposited as a substantive qualifier limits the substantive class:
(a) To members who experience (esthe) the sentiment or physiological state when the former is a creature or a class of creatures;
(b) To members who evoke (stimule) the sentiment when the substantive is not a creature or class of creatures. Hence we have:
philo (noun) love; (adj.) loving (pers.) , endearing (imp.)
algo (noun) pain; (adj.) suffering (pers.) , painful (imp.)
The uncertainties of the affixes mentioned above are numberless. Thus a loving wife is a wife who experiences the sentiment denoted by the root, and an annoying husband is a husband who evokes it. A hateful experience is one which confers or evokes the sentiment of hate, and a colourful picture is one which abundantly possesses the property of colour. A compressed gas possesses the state of compression, and a sounding brass is one which possesses the state of physical vibration. The -ing terminal may merely indicate becoming or beginning. In keeping with rule (a), the adjectival form appropriate to morto (death) is dead. Proto morto means dying. The reason for this chaos of adjectival endings in natural languages is easy to see. The form of words antedates by centuries or by millennia our present knowledge of the qualities for which they stand.
As a corollary of the three rules given, the Interglossa equivalent for many adjectives is a combination of the basic amplifier with a preposited qualifying amplifier or verboid. A hateful person is someone who evokes hatred (su stimule miso). A hateful occurrence is a hate-evoking one (u miso accido). The contents of the adjectival affixes -able and -worthy are as variegated as those of others mentioned. Thus breakable means easily broken (or breaking) = facilo fracto. A better equivalent is sensitivo (de fracto), the part in parentheses being usually made explicit enough by context alone. We can often render negative derivatives with the terminal -able by recourse to the constructions A-resisto or resisto de A (postposited), comparable to our own couplets heat-resistant or resistant to heat, as for instance:
As applied to a person, lovable means endearing = su stimule philo. When we apply endearing to an occurrence or thing which ipso facto cannot experience philo, the operator stimule is redundant. Sometimes -ble points to potentiality (poto ge lecto = readable). Sometimes, like -worthy, it specifies particular valuation. We can then regard the abstract notion as a qualification to the worthiness of the topic and make a couplet of the pattern laudo valo or valo de laudo = praiseworthy. When the abstract notion is an action performed only by a living being, no ambiguity arises from dropping out valo in a substantive cluster of which the terminal element is inanimate, e.g. u bibo (valo) hydro = drinking (i.e. drinkable) water; plu phago phyta edible (food) plants.
The following table, in which A stands for the nominal equivalent (e.g. heat, writing, advice, love) first-given for the amplifiers which follow, summarizes the rules:
A few -o words here listed are not abstracts in the ordinary sense of the term (aero, anemo, hydro). The adjectival equivalent signifies the characteristic property (aerial, windy, aqueous).
Interglossa has two devices for emphatic negation, one attributive, the other predicative. Attributively, we can say that someone or some situation is unhopeful (non-espero) or—with greater emphasis—hopeless, without hope (minus espero). Predicatively, we can say he is not hopeful (an non esthe espero) or he has no hope (an esthe zero espero), the latter being more emphatic because the negation stands out more sharply in the sentence-matrix. The minus construction which is postposited also gives more emphasis to the negation than the no- compound; but the two are not always interchangeable in other respects. Thus no-catalyso (unhelpful) is not a less emphatic way of expressing minus catalyso (helpless). When the amplifier signifies an action or mode of behaviour, as opposed to a state or sentiment, the no- compound is active and the minus couplet may be passive, replacing no ge, to which it is preferable when the context would sufficiently label it as the equivalent.
Thirteen supplementary amplifiers take their place as numbered items of the essential word-list less because they are necessary from a semantic point of view than because they dispense with the need for clumsy expressions:
APPENDIX TO CHAPTER VII
Each operative verboid of Interglossa has a clear-cut semantic domain. To prepare the way for the ensuing treatment of the operative system it will therefore be helpful to make a rough and ready classification of amplifiers listed in this and preceding chapters under the following headings: (a) physical states and qualities; (b) logical (including spatio-temporal) relationships; (c) action and reaction (including motions); (d) explicit modes of human behaviour (including social relations); (e) types of communication (“messages”); (f) personal states (affective and cognitive); (g) valuations (based on personal judgments); (h) collectives. Amplifiers which might fit into more than one class have an asterisk.
(a) Physical States and Qualities
(138), (141)-(145) inclusive, (150), (157), (159), (161), (162), (167), (169), (171), (174), (175), (177), (190), (194), (195), (200), (208), (209), (211), (212),* (213), (216), (223), (227), (228), (232), (234), (239), (240), (246), (261),* (264), (267), (268),* (271), (281), (283),* (291), (292), (293), (295), (297)-(300) inclusive, (307), (311), (312), (316), (318), (321), (329), (336), (338), (339), (341), (342), (344), (345), (347), (349), (352), (357), (359), (364), (365), (382), (384),* (395), (398), (399), (401), (405), (409), (410), (414),* (421), (423), (427), (437), (439), (440), (441), (448), (456), (460), (867).
(b) Logical Relationships
(44)-(46) inclusive, (53), (61)-(127) inclusive, (132), (133), (134), (139), (149), (156), (158), (187), (204), (220),* (229), (207), (235), (236), (238), (245), (248), (259), (261),* (272), (286), (290), (328), (331), (333), (343), (371), (373), (388), (390), (394), (395), (417), (431), (433), (446), (868), (872).
(c) Action and Reaction
(59), (140), (152), (160), (163)-(166), (173), (179), (189), (191), (192), (205), (206), (210), (231), (233), (237), (242), (249), (250), (252), (255), (257), (267), (273), (274), (276), (278), (279), (285), (310), (313), (314), (319), (322), (337), (353), (358), (366), (368), (369), (383), (384),* (387), (388), (391), (393), (397), (400), (403), (412), (413), (418), (426), (434), (442), (443), (444), (447), (451), (453), (457), (459), (462), (861), (863)-(866), (869)-(870), (873).
(d) Explicit Human Behaviour
(151), (153), (154), (168), (176), (180),* (182),* (184),* (185), (193),* (202), (214), (217), (219), (230), (244), (258),* (262), (268),* (269), (270), (275), (280), (282), (294), (301), (302), (303), (304), (320), (326), (340),* (348), (351),* (370), (379), (392), (396),* (402), (409), (411), (414),* (416), (419), (420),* (429), (438),* (455).
(41), (42), (110), (181),* (183),* (184),* (188), (199), (201), (251), (260), (266), (277), (309), (324), (330), (346),* (350),* (360), (375), (376), (378),* (404), (435).
(f) Personal States (Affective and Cognitive)
(125),* (128), (130), (131), (148), (155), (172), (178), (182),* (187), (193),* (203), (221), (226), (241), (258),* (277), (284), (289), (305), (306), (308), (315), (334), (340),* (346),* (350),* (351),* (355), (356), (378),* (381), (396),* (406), (421),* (425), (438),* (452), (458), (862), (871).
(129), (133), (135)-(137) inclusive, (147), (170), (180),* (196), (197), (212),* (215), (218), (220),* (222), (224), (225), (247), (252), (253), (258),* (277), (283),* (296), (325), (335), (354), (367), (372), (422), (449).
(49), (146), (198),* (243), (254), (263), (287), (288), (316), (323), (327), (361), (362), (363), (374), (377), (380), (386), (415), (424), (428), (431), (432), (436), (445), (450), (454), (460).
Essential characteristics of the verboid system of Interglossa have come up for discussion in Chapter III. Here follows a more detailed treatment with a summary of equivalent constructions for Anglo-American verbs.
(463) acouste or audie, hear; hearing
The only amplifiers with which acouste forms operative couplets are names for sounds or sound-producing events, e.g.:
(464) acte, do; perform(ance); behave; act; behaviour; deed; conduct
The wide operative range of acte depends on two types of construction:
(a) Instrumental use in conformity with the general formula:
Acte per Z de Y = Act on Y by means of Z (= Perform with Z in relation to Y)
In this construction Z is an instrument, e.g. a comb. Thus we have:
Acte per cteni de tricha = Comb the hair (748) (545)
(b) Non-instrumental use with an amplifier (A) which may be any one of the numbered items in classes (c) and (d) on pp. 169-170, i.e. (i) a simple action (e.g. running); (ii) a mode of behaviour (e.g. friendliness); (iii) a physical reaction (e.g. fracture); (iv) any type of motion (e.g. rotation). With such amplifiers acte forms couplets with the meaning X performs A on Y or X does A to Y, X displays the mode of behaviour A towards Y, or, if the meaning is inherently intransitive (motion or reaction), X does A. So we have:
If the amplifier signifies a motion or physical reaction, the acte couplet is always intransitive. The corresponding transitive couplet involves stimule (p. 47). Otherwise the object (Y) of an acte operative couplet is the person or thing changed (actually or potentially) as the result of the action; and if the thing or person changed is also the subject, no specification of an object is necessary. A substantive may follow a couplet which is intransitive in this sense without the intervention of a preposition-equivalent pointing to a relationship sufficiently suggested by the context. In accordance with current Anglo-American usage we may thus say:
The same remarks apply to what Jespersen calls the object of result, or any more or less cognate object of the equivalent Anglo-American verb, e.g.:
An pre acte dromo u competo = He ran a race
By the same token we can put:
Fe acte grapho auto nomino in bibli (323) (814) = She is writing her name in the book
The amplifiers grapho and lecto commonly enter into many such constructions with the semi-cognate objects historo (260), bibli (814), gramma (833), etc.; but the object in the sense defined above is the person who receives the communication. In other words, we can regard a construction such as acte grapho u gramma (write a letter) as a compound operator capable of taking its own personal object in accordance with the pattern:
Fe post acte grapho mi u gramma = She will write me a letter
By the same token the pseudonyms re and mu can replace such substantives as bibli or gramma, e.g.:
It should scarcely be necessary to point out that the distinction between an explicit form of behaviour and a sentiment is not clear-cut or final. Consequently there are situations in which decision in favour of acte or esthe is a matter of personal judgment. Likewise, the distinction between a passive state and a type of motion depends on whether we look on a situation from an everyday or from an ultramicroscopic point of view. By motion in this context we signify visible motion, in contradistinction to the molecular motion of heat or the wave motion of a sound. Again, there is room for personal taste and judgment concerning choice between acte and habe (p. 185). In what follows the writer has checked a personal inclination to adopt forms of expression too greatly in advance of current habits of discourse.
(a) Instrumental Constructions
By itself, acte per S de Y means the same as use S for Y; or if there is no explicit object:
acte per S = use S
Among single Anglo-American verbs covered by this formula, we have:
We can use the instrumental construction to cover the meaning of shoot when the instrument is a missile, e.g.:
acte per sagitta de Y = shoot Y (with an arrow) (771)
Similarly acte per means play when what follows is a musical instrument—a construction on all fours with Anglo-American use of perform in the same context—e.g.:
acte per lyra = play the harp (759)
To act by force or to use force is to compel. Hence we have:
acte per dyno de Y = force Y to ..., compel Y to ...
The corresponding passive construction is to perform some action A on Y (acte A Y) in response to force (causo u dyno):
Fe pre acte unio mu causo u dyno = She was forced to meet them; she had to meet them (emphat.); she was compelled to meet them
(b) Simple Operative Constructions
In accordance with the formula given above, acte couplets with simple amplifiers appear in the table on pp. 206-217 at the end of this chapter.
(c) Complex Operative Constructions
We can make three useful constructions with acte semao per (signal by means of) and acte semao de (give a sign of);
The following constructions do not occur in the table of acte couplets on pp. 206-217:
Note.—The use of acte in an infinitive construction is redundant. Thus we say:
(465) balle, dispatch; send; throw; cast
The meaning of balle is motion conferred on the object by the subject and directed away from the latter. For instance:
With amplifiers equivalent to preposition-adverbs, we have:
With collective amplifiers, aero, fumo, hydro, vaporo, we have:
With substantives it enters into several constructions equivalent to single Anglo-American verbs based on:
balle Y ex auto = throw Y off; cast Y off; shed Y; get rid of Y; spit out Y
The last two words are usually redundant:
No ambiguity would arise from shortening the foregoing to balle feci, balle ova, etc. Note also:
No ambiguity would arise from shortening these to balle sperma, balle stalagmo.
(466) date, give, confer, furnish, provide, provision, gift, donation
u date-pe = donor
Date is the causative operator for use with an amplifier (A) which signifies a physical condition or a logical relation, i.e. classes (a) and (b) on p. 169. We can also combine it with a collective of class (h). The formula is X confers A on Y. Thus with baro (157) we have:
X date baro Y = X compresses Y (= X confers pressure on Y)
With metrical or numerical attributes we can use compound constructions analogous to:
X date major (metro de) longo Y = X lengthens Y (= X gives more length to Y)
Where the context makes the dimension or direction explicit, the second amplifier is redundant, and we can simply put:
Date does most of the work of the Basic English operator make (to give heat = to make hot); and is always equivalent to it, when the amplifier stands for a colour, e.g.:
date rhodo Y = make Y pink (398)
In accordance with the formula given above, the direct object of a date couplet is the indirect object of the equivalent Anglo-American verb. When there are two objects the prescribed pattern is:
Amplifiers which go with date may be physical states or logical categories, e.g. (105) cleisto (the state of inclusion in a larger whole):
The following constructions call for special comment:
All date couplets are transitive, though the object may be implicit. Usually they are causative. The meaning of date couplets with appropriate amplifiers is in the list on pp. 196-206, at the end of this chapter.
(467) detecte, find (out); discover(y); detect(ion)
The formula for a couplet involving detecte and an amplifier (A) is: X finds the A of Y. If A is a metrical property (e.g. length) this is the same as X measures the A of Y or X finds how A Y is. If A is a physical state (electrification, heat) it is the same as: X sees if V is A, in which A is the adjectival equivalent. If A is a spatially localized reaction (breaking) or result of an action (puncture), it is the same as: locate the A of Y. Thus we have:
Important constructions involving qualifying amplifiers are:
The amplifiers indicated by number below form detecte couplets which do service for single Anglo-American verbs in accordance with the following paradigm based on (100) topo:
detecte topo Y = locate Y (= find the position of Y)
Detecte couplets do the work of all numerical calculation, e.g.:
(468) dicte, say; tell; communicate; express
u dicte-pe = the speaker
Dicte is the transitive operator for use with any amplifier (A) which stands for an act of communication; but we can extend its use to convey expression of any communicable sentiment or valuation, i.e. a sentiment or valuation which has communicative rank in a particular context. The object is the person who receives the communication. Thus the general formula is:
X dicte A Y de Z = X communicates the A about Z to Y, or X expresses A about Z to Y
Hence the direct object of a single Anglo-American verb equivalent to a dicte couplet may be a word connected with the latter by the empty particle de or other preposition-equivalent, e.g.:
The object nexus may be more complex, e.g.:
X dicte aetio Y anti Z causo P = X blames Z for P to Y; X accuses Z of P to Y (147)
More usually with (147) aetio anti (accusation) the object is implicit, and we have:
dicte aetio anti Z causo P = blame Z of P; accuse Z of P; reprimand Z because of P
With impero (266) we have positive and negative couplets:
To say no about something is to refuse, decline, reject or deny, according to the context. Accordingly we have:
dicte no de Z = refuse Z; reject Z; deny Z; decline Z
(469) eque, be (something or somebody)
proto eque = become (something or somebody) (139)
Eque and proto eque respectively mean be or become only when the complement is substantival, i.e. when they respectively signify being or beginning to be: (a) a particular thing or person; (b) a particular example of a class of things or persons, e.g.:
Otherwise we usually express be in one of two ways:
(a) Use of habe as copula between topic and attribute, e.g.:
re habe thermo = it is hot (i.e. it has heat)
(b) Use of habe bio (creatures) and habe accido (things or situations) to signify existence or occurrence:
Note the following useful constructions:
(470) esthe, experience, feel(ing)
In accordance with the rule given on p. 47, an operative couplet must involve an amplifier (A) which stands for a personal state (affective or cognitive). Its meaning is: experience the sentiment A in relation to the object Y which follows, or (if there is no object) simply: experience the sentiment A. Thus we have:
Some Anglo-American verbs correspond to negative constructions:
It is permissible to use esthe with amplifiers not placed in class (f) on p. 170, if the context endows them with affective significance. Thus we may say:
Note the special construction:
esthe u perde de = miss (feel the loss of)
(471) facte, make; construct(ion); manufacture; devise
Facte means make only when make is replaceable by construct; and hence forms couplets only with amplifiers which can have a concrete meaning:
Facte provides equivalents for several Anglo-American verbs in combination with a substantival object:
(472) ge, that has got; that has been
It is necessary to add only three comments to previous remarks upon the use of ge (pp. 51-52):
(a) Ge gives any amplifier—simple or complex—the meaning equivalent to that of the corresponding passive participle. The provision of a separative passive particle with this function permits recourse to constructions which the grammatical etiquette of Anglo-American usage excludes from the repertoire of Basic English. The Anglo-American flexion which endows a verbal root with a passive meaning in an adjectival context cannot attach itself to an intransitive verb root in the same situation. If we split a transitive verb (e.g. leave) into an intransitive one with an adverbial qualifier (e.g. go away without), we then have to restrict ourselves to the active domain. For to leave a book in a train it is permissible to put go away from the train without a book; but it is not in keeping with the Anglo-American idiom to paraphrase a book left in a train by the expression a book gone away from the train without. That we cannot do so is merely the penalty of having the passive flexion glued to the verb itself. If we have an independent passive particle, there is nothing to prohibit its association with any verbal nexus which may have a transitive meaning. if taken as a whole. Thus we can legitimately say:
Thus we may put:
(b) The correspondence between ge and the passive flexion is not one to one. If an amplifier stands for a passive state (e.g. heat), its use as an adjectival qualifier (p. 131) predicates that the substantive qualified possesses the state; and its meaning may be inherently passive. Thus a hot fluid is a fluid which has been heated. The adjectival meaning given for each of the amplifiers in Chapter VI shows whether it is or is not necessary to preposit ge in order to give the epithet a passive content. All amplifiers which stand for actions require ge to that end. Thus we have:
(c) Since ge means su pre gene (that has got), there is nothing to prevent the use of ge as a substantive qualifier, e.g.:
Hypo ge astra syn phylla urani = Beneath a starred and leafy sky
(473) gene, get; acquire; receive; receipt or acquisition (in the abstract sense)
The literal significance of gene is complementary to that of date, and it has a complementary metaphorical extension of meaning like the Basic English get. To get cold is to acquire the property of coldness, hence to become cold. Gene is equivalent to become only when associated with an abstraction. When become expresses incipient identification, we use the couplet proto eque (469).
Gene is the operator which makes it possible to dispense with the intransitive Aryan verb-forms corresponding to the causative ones made by combination of
The last illustrates the rule that a gene couplet can do service as the passive equivalent of the date construction with the same amplifier; but its use as a passive operator is not restricted to the semantic domain of date. Like its opposite perde, gene can combine with any amplifier to form the equivalent date passive construction. Remarks concerning date major and date couplets with metrical attributes apply mutatis mutandis to gene major. According to context we have:
gene major= enlarge; increase; gain; multiply; grow; add to itself; get quicker; steepen; heighten, etc.
The intransitive equivalents of date (physio de) liquo, etc., are:
Gene couplets convey the passive meaning of corresponding constructions with acte, dicte and stimule. When the amplifier is a physical state, we can then express the passive by means of a habe couplet; but it is better to use the gene construction when an explicit agent follows, e.g.:
There is a list of gene couplets on pp. 196-206 at the end of this chapter.
(474) habe, have; possession
The value given above is the literal one referring to possession of things or persons:
Just as we speak of an attribute of a thing as one of its properties, we may extend the literal meaning of habe to the possession of abstract qualities and relationships. This bas a consequence that will be less novel to a Swede or to a Frenchman (cf. j’ai froid, etc.), than to an American or Britisher. Habe is the universal copula connecting attribute and epithet. Sometimes this is self-evident. A thing has rigidity when it is rigid, and it has superiority to something when it is greater than it. Hence we have:
Thus the couplet habe eco means inhabit, and as such does service in many situations where the English idiom there is, there are, there were, etc., crops up, e.g.:
Zero ophidia habe eco Island = There are no snakes in Iceland
The couplets (53) habe loco (has locality) and (100) habe topo (has position) mean is at or is in, and naturally require no other preposition-equivalent after them:
In a negative construction the use of zero is more emphatic than no, e.g.:
The significance of operator-amplifier couplets of habe should offer no difficulty when the amplifier signifies a quality or state. Such a couplet may correspond to a single intransitive verb or to a pseudo-passive construction, e.g.:
To have life is good New Testament English; but the use of habe with prepositional amplifiers which have no equivalent abstract noun (see p. 113), more particularly with the place-markers, does not lend itself to direct transliteration. In stands for the “state of being inside” (p. 114). Hence habe in = be in(side). Accordingly we have:
Some of the above correspond to single English verbs:
Some habe couplets do service for single Anglo-American verbs if we reverse the subject-object relation, as with habe necesso (be necessary):
X habe necesso pro Y = Y needs X (= X is necessary on behalf of Y)
It is better to express the same relation by one or other of the following constructions:
Like have, habe stands for temporary (tenure) as well as for legal possession, and thus overlaps the domain of hold (cf. tener in Spanish and Portuguese), predicating nothing more than close association of the subject and object. To make more explicit the legal relation implicit in belong, we can use eque u propria de (847), e.g.:
U domi eque u propria de an = The house is his property
In the same way, X belongs to the society is X is a member of the society, i.e.:
X eque u mero-pe de grego
A construction for hold X is Habe X in. … Thus we have:
Since habe denotes temporary association, we can express wear in two ways analogous to the English constructions she was in a green frock (as above), or she had on a green frock, i.e.:
We can express lack by habe zero, if the object is positive; but an alternative construction is appropriate if the object is negative:
When keep is intransitive, it is equivalent to duro habe, e.g.:
With ortho (335) and horizo (269) we get constructions equivalent to stand and lie, e.g.:
With prepositional amplifiers habe may be equivalent to lie. Thus to be between (habe inter) is to lie between; to be north (of) (habe boreo) is to lie north (of), e.g.:
Two other habe constructions call for comment:
(a) Habe satio minus(have sufficiency without) is the construction for to be able to spare, e.g.:
Que tu habe satio minus re = Can you spare this?
(b) Habe cleisto in iso geno(have inclusion in the same class) is the construction for logical relationships, e.g.:
A construction which economizes space is consistent with the rule for postposition of the ordinal (p. 89):
Re habe ordino N = it is Nth on the list; it is the Nth; it is Nth in order (i.e. it has rank N)
In speaking of a situation we can say re habe frigo (it is cold), as we may also say:
Re habe (or acte) pluvio = It is raining
Of thunder (urani bronto) and lightning (urani pyro) it is more appropriate to put:
Many habe couplets have a passive meaning, more especially if the amplifier stands for a sustained state; and in some situations it is a matter of taste whether we use gene on the one hand or habe on the other. Generally speaking, it is best to use gene A eX (with a personal agent) or gene A per (instrumental object) in preference to habe A eX (or per), i.e. gene is the more appropriate passive operator when there is an explicit agent or instrumental object. Not all habe couplets are passive or intransitive. Thus habe homo means resemble (= is like); and we can always omit a preposition-equivalent after a habe couplet which indicates the relationship sufficiently without it, i.e. whenever we might be tempted to put in the empty particle de (in relation to). The following list of habe couplets omits all simple copulative constructions such as habe chloro = be green:
(475) kine, go; come; move; motion
The semantic content of this operator is simply change of position of the subject, e.g.:
Na kine e London a Paris = We are going from London to Paris
Besides the simple constructions kine ex = go from, step off, and kine ad = go to or go towards, we have:
The combination kine para means come, but come often obtrudes into contexts in which its semantic content is exactly the same as that of go. The fact that it is necessary to include it in the Basic English word-list as an operator is an illustration both of the limitations which natural language structure imposes on the Basic method, and of the ingenuity with which its inventor has made the best of a bad job. The following is typical of the interchangeability of go and come:
For row and sail we use kine with per copa (745) or per vela (783). For float we can use habe epi hydro, for fly kine in aero, and for hop kine per mono poda. Kine ad-hypo (descend) may mean set:
Un heli kine ad-hypo = The sun is setting, the setting sun
The construction kine a-supero (ascend, rise) does not mean get up (gene ortho). Thus:
(476) mote, shift ; remove; move (trans.); put; place; set
In contradistinction to the intransitive operator kine which predicates movement of the subject, mote, tracte and balle predicate motion of the object initiated by the subject. Mote stands for induced motion without specific reference to its direction. Tracte implies motion directed towards the subject, balle motion directed away from the object. The general formula for mote is:
P mote Q ex R ad S = P shifts Q from R to S
It can signify take when take means remove without implying that the motion is self-directed:
P mote Q apo R= P removes Q from R, P takes Q from R
In combination with a large class of directive amplifiers, mote does the work of put, place, set, e.g.:
As in English, the preposition need have no object-equivalent:
The following mote constructions cover the meaning of separate verbs:
The idiom of Interglossa does not tolerate such teleological usage as P put out his hand. The correct equivalent is P’s hand went forward:
The following construction is operative:
X mote vesto apo auto = X undresses himself (or herself)
(477) perde, lose ; forfeit
u perde-pe= loser
The meaning of a perde couplet is opposite to that of a gene couplet with the same amplifier, e.g.:
Thus perde couplets are essentially intransitive, reflexive or passive, without restriction of the semantic domain of the amplifier. If the amplifier (A) signifies a motion, its perde couplet signifies the A of X comes to a standstill; the A of X ceases; or the A of X stops, e.g.:
X perde gyro = X stops revolving; X ceases to rotate; X stops spinning (= X loses rotary motion)
Though the literal meaning of a perde couplet is intransitive, we can treat it as transitive, i.e. omit a preposition-equivalent between the verboid nexus and the substantive which follows, when it predicates a type of relationship so general that the only appropriate link would be de (in relation to). The same remarks apply to gene or habe couplets. Thus we can say:
Perde tacto Y = Lose contact with Y (124)
The couplets perde metro and perde numero do service for the intransitive verbs diminish, decrease, dwindle, according as they refer to measurement or enumeration. With metrical amplifiers we get equivalents for such intransitive verbs as shrink = perde volumo (459) and shorten = perde longo (290).
Where the agent of a passive perde construction is specified, the appropriate link is causo (pers.) or per (imp.)
A list of perde couplets is on p. 196 at the end of this chapter.
(478) reacte, heed; respond to; react with; response; reaction
Reacte means: give the response appropriate to the situation and is therefore roughly equivalent to the verb heed of Bible English. Like heed it can mean, according to context, answer, obey, listen, yield, acknowledge, submit, etc. Its usefulness depends on the fact that we never need to use an amplifier as specified below, if the context sufficiently indicates the type of reaction. In accordance with the formula on p. 47, we have the following explicit combinations:
(479) stimule, evoke; excite; stimulate; influence; (adj.) stimulating; inspiring; exciting
no-stimule = boring; boredom; (dull)
The general formula for operative couplets of stimule with an amplifier (A) is: X evokes the response A from Y; or if there is no explicit object: X evokes the response A. The response may be: (a) a sentiment or physiological state (e.g. hope, pain); (b) an immediate1 physical reaction (e.g. cracking) as opposed to a sustained condition or state; (c) an action (e.g. payment).
1 Remarks with reference to choice of acte and esthe or acte and habe (p. 173) apply mutatis mutandis to choice of stimule and date when the amplifier signifies a physical process. Stimule generally implies initiating, date initiating and sustaining, e.g. stimule phono u campani (676) or simply stimule u campani = (ring a bell) or date phono (= make a noise); but the distinction is not always as clear; and the choice of date or stimule is a matter of personal judgment.
Thus we have:
The meaning may be expressible in Anglo-American only by a causative construction involving make, etc., e.g.:
It is not necessary to make the response explicit in:
If the amplifier is a motion or physical reaction, the stimule couplet is the transitive counterpart of the acte couplet, e.g.:
A list of stimule couplets is on p. 206 at the end of this chapter.
(480) tene, keep (tr.); maintain; retain; sustain; conserve; conservation; maintenance
u tene-re= support; prop; rail; bulwark; scaffolding
By itself tene simply means keep; though the converse is not always true, e.g.:
As an operator in combination with an amplifier (A) signifying a state or relationship it is also transitive. Tene A Y means keep Y A or maintain (or conserve) the A of Y. The advantage of including tene in our list of operators is not that its couplets cover the meaning of many single verbs of other languages. They do not do so. Indeed, tene is not really necessary on grounds of word-economy. Thus to keep a thing hot is merely to prevent a thing from losing heat. What tene does for us is to short-circuit many long-winded expressions. It is shorter to say keep Y in Z than to say prevent Y from getting outside Z. Paradigms for most tene couplets are:
The following amplifiers and their opposites conform to this pattern, i.e. tene A Y = keep Y A (adjectival equivalent for the amplifier given in Chapter VI):
(138), (143), (161), (171), (190), (196), (200), (213), (214), (232), (247), (248), (261), (263), (267), (268), (281), (284), (285), (321), (336), (349), (352), (356), (359), (364), (365),(367), (369), (382), (384), (391), (395), (398), (399), (401), (405), (407), (410), (414), (416), (420), (427), (433), (434), (437), (438), (442), (443), (446), (448), (452), (456), (458).
The following constructions do not tally precisely with the Basic English paradigm:
The following involve qualifying amplifiers or phrases:
The reflexive construction tene A auto (keep oneself A) means the same as duro habe; but is more active in content, and therefore more appropriate in certain situations, e.g.:
Tene couplets do service for a few single Anglo-American verbs other than soak, shun, avoid, notably:
With the negative particle we have the following constructions:
There is no objection to the use of tene with ge couplets:
(481) tracte, draw; pull; take
u tracte-re = a drawer (of a chest)
Since tracte means motion of the object initiated by the subject and directed away from the latter, it means take when take has the force of draw or pull, but not when take means carry (acte phoro), nor in a host of idioms (e.g. take trouble) which Basic English incorporates in its catholic outfit. It enters into non-operative constructions with place-markers, like mote or balle, e. g.:
The construction tracte Y in auto covers the operations of eating and drinking or breathing (taking air in), and the qualification in auto is redundant if the context supplies the necessary clue. Thus acte bibo = tracte liquo; acte phago = tracte u phago-ma; acte pneumo = tracte aero. Hence we get:
tracte toxo = poison oneself (= take poison)
This construction is an economy of space when we use eat or drink transitively, e.g.:
tracte u crea =
The importance of tracte resides in the operative use of tracte ... apo. The formula tracte A apo Y means remove the A of Y, e.g.:
tracte thermo apo Y = cool Y
Thus tracte ... apo and perde respectively stand in the same relation to date and gene. Any tracte ... apo construction has the opposite meaning to a date couplet with the same amplifier; but there is no restriction on its semantic domain. By the same token, a perde couplet is the intransitive, passive, or reflexive equivalent of a tracte ... apo construction.
Thus tracte metro apo Y and tracte numero apo Y respectively mean decrease Y, diminish Y, reduce Y, make Y less, make Y smaller, according as they refer to measurement or enumeration. Likewise we may put:
tracte longo apo Y = shorten Y
There is a list of tracte … apo couplets on p. 196 at the end of this chapter.
(482) vise, see ; look at; vision
Vise can operate only with amplifiers which stand for:
(a) photic phenomena:
(b) visible result of an action or reaction:
TABLE OF COUPLETS WITH DATE, GENE, PERDE AND TRACTE … APO
Note.—Gene and perde can combine with amplifiers of any class to make passive equivalents of single Aryan verbs; and the ensuing list therefore omits some such constructions. When the agent is specified, the appropriate equivalent for by is per impersonal (i.e. the means). When by refers to the personal agent, the appropriate equivalent after a gene couplet is ex, after a perde couplet, causo. The range of tracte … apo is likewise unrestricted by the semantic domain of the amplifier. It can operate with an action or personal state.
TABLE OF COUPLETS WITH ACTE, DICTE, STIMULE AND ESTHE
No one who has given any thought to semantic issues would be so foolish as to assert that there is a clear-cut division between abstract words and names for things, or between names for things and names for classes of things. With that reservation we can say that amplifiers are names for abstracts and that substantives are names for things or persons. If our list of the former admittedly contains collectives which have equal title to rank as concrete entities alongside many items in the list which follows, a sufficient justification is that they are specially liable to enter into constructions for which some languages have single verbs. Existing international names for many concrete entities are suitable for use as they stand, and it will not be necessary to enter them as numbered items in our list of essential substantives. Those mentioned in this chapter appear in a separate table at the end of the Basic word-list on p. 255.
In conformity with the principle stated on p. 17, Interglossa makes full use of generic substantives which sufficiently label a thing or person in a given context without recourse to compound formation or use of a qualifying epithet. Thus vecti (782) for a lever, means any sort of lever, including a piano key, bicycle pedal, starting-handle of automobile, etc. We need to use the qualifier dactyli in u dactyli vecti when, and only when, the context does not make it sufficiently clear that the type of lever under discussion is a piano key. We need scarcely ever do so in a sentence or paragraph containing the word piano. This instruction applies mutatis mutandis to all qualified substantives listed below.
(a) Parts of the Body (68): From the international vocabulary of comparative anatomy and medicine, we can adopt without change:
Nearly all the numbered items below are familiar to anyone who has a little knowledge of hygiene or school biology:
(b) Zoological and Botanical Terms (80)
Since there is an existing international vocabulary of zoological and botanical names, it is difficult to know which words to adapt (see p. 240) and which to accept, as they stand. We have to be guided by: (a) human interest of the item itself; (b) degree of correspondence between technical terms and categories of everyday speech; (c) geographical distribution of the type itself. The type may be actually specific, e.g. the horse (Equus caballus) or the ass (Equus asinus); and if we followed international practice this would involve recourse to the binomial epithet. More often a common name cuts across species, genera, or even classes. There is no need to add to our list items of the existing international vocabulary of Horticulture. Such words as rosa, viola, azalea, are on the lips of people wherever commercial distribution of horticultural products goes on; and many are, like the foregoing, compatible with the phonetic pattern of Interglossa without change. If they are not, we can adapt them to it by applying the rules on p. 239, e.g. Lilium becomes lilia (plural form); Gladiolus becomes gladioli; Rhododendron becomes rhodedendra, and Meconopsis becomes meconopsi. Anyone who wishes to write poetry in Interglossa will find enough of them in a seed-catalogue. The following are internationally current in the form given, and need not appear as numbered items in our list of essential words:
With these current international words at our disposal the following will suffice for everyday use:
(c) Geographical Names (38)
(d) Food, Clothes and Furniture (34)
Articles of food, clothes and furniture vary greatly in different countries; and it is permissible (p. 20) to use local names for specifically local ones, e.g. frankfurter, cognac, omelette. We can form many essential terms by compound formation with -ve, -mo, -zo (pp. 101-105). In addition the following are useful:
(e) Architectural Terms; Shapes and Units (30)
In this context we have two current international words at our disposal:
(f) Instruments (51)
The following are internationally current as they stand:
(g) Substances and Manufactured Articles, other than Foods and Clothes (25)
In accordance with the rule on p. 239, Interglossa adopts -a (plural) form for any internationally current term which ends with -um, e.g. zinca (zinc). This covers nearly all the metals in the periodic table, and we need therefore list only the more common ones in what follows. The three next items are of sufficiently international rank to list without number in accordance with previous usage:
For alloys we can use contractions in accordance with modern usage (e.g. magal for magnesium-aluminium alloys). Thus we have:
(h) Human Affairs (52)
We may adopt as they stand:
THE ETYMOLOGY OF INTERGLOSSA
X. Expansion of Vocabulary; Conventional Formulae… 237
XI. Samples of Translation from English to Interglossa… 242
XII. Alphabetical List of Vocables; and Mnemotechnic Notes… 249
EXPANSION OF VOCABULARY; CONVENTIONAL FORMULAE
The preceding schema of Part II sets out the essential vocabulary of Interglossa. It lists all the words the beginner needs for fluent self-expression about everyday issues, if supplemented by internationally current technical terms, or by local names for local things and local institutions, where necessity arises. It does not set out to make full provisionfor the requirements of certain domains of technical discourse, such as law and architecture, which have no truly international vocabulary in the sense that medicine, engineering, cartography or horticulture have one. For such it will be necessary to draw up small residual batteries of technical terms. The fact that our essential word-list does not furnish us with snappy expressions to distinguish a felony from a misdemeanour in the legal sense need not therefore trouble us. In everyday life few people other than lawyers use such words in accordance with dictionary definitions dictated by law-court practice; and distinctions dear to lawyers of one country may have no local relevance in another. Except when we use technical terms of wide international currency, our vocabulary of daily use, even that of highly educated people, falls far short of a precision proportionate to its diversity. Indeed, few people with a literary education use so common a word as animal in the same way as biologists, i.e. for any member of the animal kingdom including Homo sapiens. More usually the animal of a lawyer, of a novelist or of a classical scholar, is a mammal other than a human being.
Thus a language designed to reduce to a minimum the necessary equipment for unaffected daily discourse about matters of common concern for people of different nationalities need not keep inside the strait-jacket of word-economy on every conceivable occasion. For stylistic reasons alone, a residual battery is desirable; and a living language must have space for growth. We have therefore to make room for assimilation of internationally current words1 and of additional internationally current roots in conformity with the principles of sentence-landscape laid down in Chapter II.
1 Lott, de Wahl, Jespersen and the I.A.L.A. have done all the necessary spadework of assembling the raw materials for such residual batteries from internationally current words and roots.
Some provisional rules of expansion are as follows:
(i) The number of pseudonyms, of articles, of verboids and of amplifiers which can do service as modal auxiliaries or preposition-equivalents is fixed. Suggested exceptions are: (a) separation of (99) tele (far from, distant) from ultra (beyond); (b) addition of:
dia (= per via de) = through
(ii) No words are admissible if they are homophones of any words on the essential list on pp. 249 et seq.
(iii) Abstract words with the following Anglo-American terminals can become amplifiers if they have international currency:
(a) -ion words drop the -n, as when we make natio from nation. Hence acceleration, etc., become:
(b) -sm words add -o, so that we have for communism, socialism, materialism:
(c) -graph and -log words add -o to these syllables in place of -y, -ic, etc.:
(iv) Any well-established roots of international technical terms can become amplifiers signifying actions, states, qualities or processes by addition of -o to the stem, e.g.:
(a) With date:
(b) With acte:
(d) With habe:
(v) Occupational (i.e. personal agent) terms related to (ii) (b) above (i.e. -sm words) may take -sti for -sm, e.g.:
(vi) Occupational terms based on amplifiers other than those which end in -smo are -pe compounds, e.g.:
(vii) Substantives which correspond to local things, offices and institutions or place-names, retain the local form or its equivalent in Roman script, e.g.:
(viii) Technical terms of which the form has been fixed by international agreement (e.g. binomial, botanical, and zoological epithets and names of elements) may retain their existing form.
(ix) A semi-technical substantive, of which the precise form (terminal or spelling) is subject to minor local variation, undergoes one or other of the following changes on assimilation:
(a) Whole words which end in -um (cf. tympanum or ovum) or -on (cf. piston) take the plural -a form, e.g.:
Note.—Some English words of which the German form retains the Latin -ium have the terminal -y, c.f. Laboratorium—laboratory = u laboratoria.
(b) Whole words which end in -us take -i instead, e.g.:
(c) Whole words which end in -e have the -a form, e.g.:
These rules suffice for adapting international names of plant or animal genera to daily use, when we refer to them frequently, e.g.:
(x) The rules for forming substantives from any roots available in the international vocabulary of technics are two:
(a) If the root comes from a Latin or Greek noun of which the nominative singular ends in -m or -n, -a or -e, add -a to the stem, e.g.:
Our choice of terminals -i or -a for the substantives listed by number in Chapter IX is generally consonant with the preceding conventions of international technology; but it is occasionally necessary to transgress the rules to avoid the use of homophones. For example -ptera, which occurs in the names of nearly all-orders of insects such as Lepidoptera, would be a homophone of terra (663). The terminal of pteri (535) is thus to prevent confusion with terra in speech.
We have here discussed residual word-lists with an eye on root material of wide international currency at present available; and all the roots employed in the preceding are widely current in international technical, more especially biological, terms. From the same source we have an ample choice of synonyms, e.g. for the seasons:
Other synonyms worth considering as alternatives to words on our essential list of numbered items are:
The introduction of aepyo (in Aepyornis, the fossil tallest bird) for tall or high and dolicho (in dolichocephalic) for long would permit the reservation of alto and longo respectively for height or level and length (see remarks on p. 94).
It is necessary to have certain conventional phrases for conversation or correspondence. Essential ones are:
For the beginning of a letter:
For the end of a letter:
SAMPLES OF TRANSLATION FROM ENGLISH TO INTERGLOSSA
The translations of the first three samples which follow are not based on the original sources. With the aid of the English version of (d) the reader can judge how far the word-economy of Interglossa is also compatible with economy of space.
(a) Canto 23
1. U Theo eque mi Ovi-pe. Mi post habe pan necesso Re.
2. An date preparo mi Clinica in plu chloro Agri. An acte controlo mi Pedi littora paco Hydro.
3. An date sano mi Logo. An acte dirigo Mi a Via de Verito pro an Nomino.
4. Cleisto chron Mi acte grado in Valli de Umbra de Morto; Mi non esthe phobo u Malo; causo Tu habe syn Mi. Tu Rhabdi plus tu Ovi-ru stimule consolo Mi.
5. Tu date preparo u Trapeza pro Mi contra mi Anti-pe. Tu stimule rheo un Olea epi mi Cephali. Mi Calyci acte rheo supero Ora.
6. Certo, un Eu plus u Pardo post kine retro Mi pan Di de Bio. Plus Re, Mi habe eco in Domi de Theo holo Tem.
(b) U Petitio de Christi
Na Parenta in Urani:
Na dicte volo; tu Nomino gene revero;
Plus tu Crati habe accido; plus u Demo acte harmono tu Tendo epi Geo homo in Urani.
Na dicte petitio: Tu date plu di Pani a Na; plus Tu acte pardo plu malo Acte de Na; metro Na acte pardo Mu; Su acte malo de Na.
Peti Tu non acte dirigo Na a plu malo Offero; Hetero, Tu date libero Na apo Malo.
Causo Tu tene u Crati plus u Dyno plus un eu Famo pan Tem.—Amen.
(c) U Proto plus U Fino de communisti Manifesto
U Mytho-pe stimule phobo Europa—u Communismo. Singulo Crati de palaeo Europa eque u Mero-pe de hagio Grego tendo u Balle Pe apo, u Papa syn Tsar, Metternich syn Guizot, plu Radicalisti de France syn plu espio Polizi de Deutschland.
Quo loco un anti Partio habe eco; Su no gene aetio e Crati causo auto Communismo. Quo loco un anti Partio habe eco; Su no dicte protesto per iso pyro Verba allo de plu major laevo Partio allo de Mu major dextro comparo Auto.
Causo Re, Na vise bi Sequo:
(i) Pan europa Crati nu dicte confessio; u Communismo habe gravo.
(ii) Harmono u nun Occasio, plu Communisti debito date publico mu Plano; plus Mu debito date phanero mu Credo contra holo Geo. Mu necesso acte necro u para infanti-ca Historo de communismo Mytho per auto Manifesto.
Sequo, plu Communisti de plu hetero Natio acte unio in London. Plus Mu pre facte u para Manifesto tendo u Typo per plu Glossa de England, France, Deutschland, Italia, Nederland syn Danmark.
Per oligo verba, mu Plano eque u para Re.
Plu Communisti in pan Loco acte catalyso singulo laevo Partio anti u nu Civilisatio plus u nu politica Systemo.
Syn singulo homo Partio, Mu date phanero u duco Gravo de propria Privilegio, cleisto major cleisto minor ge maturo.
Fino, Mu acte ergo tendo u Zygo de plu democrati Partio de singulo Natio pan-lo.
Plu Communisti esthe arrogo de No-crypto de plu Credo syn plu Plano de Auto. Phanero, Mu dicte; plu Tendo de Mu poto gene profito per zero Methodo no-cleisto u violo Victo anti pan nu grego Physio.
Plu archo Classi debito esthe phobo u communisti Revolutio. Plu Proletari poto perde zero Re no-cleisto plu Catena de Auto. U Geo posso eque u Profito.
Pan Proletari de pan Natio: gene zygo.
(d) Un Atlantic Promisso
U President de United States syn duco Commissari-pe, Mr. Churchill, ge electio e regi Crati de United Kingdom, pre acte unio. Plus Mu esthe credo; Mu debito date publico plu communo Plano de singulo Natio; Su date eu baso un Espero de major eu Geo post nu.
Mono: Bi para Natio tentato gene zero major Terra zero hetero Profito.
Bi: Mu vole vise zero terra Muto no-cleisto harmono plu Volo, libero ge dicte, de singulo loco Demo.
Tri: Mu esthe revero u Privilegio de Electio e singulo Demo de geno Crati; Mu volo habe. Plus Mu volo vise u Verso de natio Privilegio plus Auto-crati pro singulo Demo; Su pre perde Mu per Violo.
Tetra: Harmono plu nu Promisso de Auto, Mu tentato acte catalyso pan Natio, cleisto mega cleisto micro, cleisto victo cleisto no-victo, de Gene occasio de Vendo allo de Merco syn iso Privilegio, plus de Habe u communo Via a plu geo Proto-ma necesso de Pluto.
Penta: Mu volo stimule communo de Ergo e pan Natio de Industri plus de Vendo tendo u major eu ergo Normo pro pan Pe plus u major Pluto plus u ge societo Immuno pro singulo Homini.
Hexa: Post fino Necro de nazi Oppresso, Mu esthe espero de Vise u Paco; Su date posso pan Natio de no-viro Eco in mu terra Limito; plus Su stimule assuro de pan Homini in pan Loco duro habe bio minus Phobo minus No-pluto.
Hepta: Geno para Paco debito acte catalyso pan Homini de non-inhibito Itinero trans plu mega Mari plus plu Oceani.
Octa: Causo plu Baso, cleisto de Politica cleisto de Persona, Mu esthe credo; pan Natio de Geo necesso date fino u Violo. Causo zero post nu Paco poto habe duro; tem plu Natio duro tene plu Arma-ru de Mari plus de Terra plus de Aero tendo u Violo extra plu Terra de Auto; Mu esthe credo u Necesso de tracte plu Arma-ru apo plu iso Natio pre Proto de Systemo de universo Immuno. Harmono Re, Mu acte catalyso plus Mu stimule pan hetero Plano de tracte u fracto Masso de plu Arma-ru apo plu Homini; Su esthe volo u Paco.
(d) The Atlantic Charter
The President of the United States and the Prime Minister, Mr. Churchill, representing His Majesty’s Government in the United Kingdom, being met together, deem it right to make known certain common principles in the national policies of their respective countries on which they base their hopes for a better future for the world:
First: Their countries seek no aggrandisement, territorial or other.
Second: They desire to see no territorial changes that do not accord with the freely expressed wishes of the peoples concerned.
Third: They respect the right of all peoples to choose the form of government under which they will live; and they wish to see sovereign rights and self-government restored to those who have been forcibly deprived of them.
Fourth: They will endeavour, with due respect for their existing obligations, to further the enjoyment by all States, great or small, victor or vanquished, of access, on equal terms, to the trade and to the raw materials of the world which are needed for their economic prosperity.
Fifth: They desire to bring about the fullest collaboration between all nations in the economic field, with the object of securing for all improved labour standards, economic advancement, and social security.
Sixth: After the final destruction of Nazi tyranny, they hope to see established a peace which will afford to all nations the means of dwelling in safety within their own boundaries and which will afford assurance that all the men in all the lands may live out their lives in freedom from fear and want.
Seventh: Such a peace should enable all men to traverse the high seas and oceans without hindrance.
Eighth: They believe all the nations of the world, for realistic as well as spiritual reasons, must come to the abandonment of the use of force. Since no future peace can be maintained if land, sea or air armaments continue to be employed by nations which threaten, or may threaten, aggression outside of their frontiers, they believe, pending the establishment of a wider and permanent system of general security, that the disarmament of such nations is essential. They will likewise aid and encourage all other practicable measures which will lighten for peace-loving peoples the crushing burden of armaments.
(e) U Mytho Historo ex Alexander Woollcott (From While Rome Burns (Penguin Series).)
U para Historo dicte de Cosette syn Anthropi de Saint Cyr; homo Mu pre dicte Re; plus homo Mu pre duro dicte de Re in plu fumo Popotes de francais Arma poly Anni. Tem Pe pre acouste u minor no-callo Mixo de plu xeno Glossa in plu via Phago-do; plu Verba de aperatif Hora necesso gene tropo a Cosette, allo proto allo fino. Harmono pan Historo, Mlle. Cosette de Variétés eque u Gyna; Pe esthe maxima volo in holo France. Plu Urba-pe de Fe date publico syn Hedo; Fe non eque u claustro Amico-fe de geno Regi. Mlle. Cosette eque u communo Du Barry, u chère amie de Democrati.
U Proto de Fe habe homo Nebuli. Mero Demo dicte: Fe pre gene nato e plu Pisci-pe de Plonbazlanec littora Mari de Brittany. Plu hetero Pe dicte electio un hetero Historo. Harmono Re, Fe eque un Infanti de famo Dramo-fe no ge gameo de forto famo Regi. Assuro, Fe nun eque u natio Mytho. U francais Demo, holo Tem syn Esthe nocuo, pre poto gene reparo de Vulno de Auto-revero causo un eu Famo de Fe. Pe pre acte secto plu Picto de Fe e L’Illustration tendo Adhesio per Acu epi arma-do Mura. Frequo, Re pre date prospecto Fe, chic ge Sedi epi Trapeza de geno Phago-do. Pan francais Pedio-an vise Fe tem Soporo. Singulo francais Pedio-fe esthe holo logo auto Amico-pe; Su pheno dicte; causo Mi non espero gene Cosette; peti Tu kine a Mi proximo Potami; chron un Heli kine ad-hypo. Fe esthe sapio u Significo holo. Fe no dicte aetio An.
Pan Pe pre vise plu Picto de micro Domi de Cosette topo Saint Cloud, plu pendo Viti, un alto horti Mura, un Avi-do syn poly micro vibro Phono. Anti plu apo Mura, alto supero Espero, Mu esthe arrogo causo plu duro Micro-re de Mytho. Mu dicte; zero Anthropi no-cleisto An; Su acte phoro penta kilo franc; pre poto gene eco mono Nocti in Domi. Holo Re pre habe accido tem deca fino Anni de centi Anni pre nu; chron u franc pre eque mono franc. Causo u gluco Zygo de Accido, major frequo pre nu, un Anthropi pre eque un Anthropi.
U rura Mixo de Tracte syn No-dissipo de Cosette date pleno plu Cadets de Saint Cyr per non-activo Non-hedo. Mu dicte de Fe holo hemi-photo Hora de Libero apo Scholo. Causo un Arma-pe gene un homo micro Pecunio; zero Pe; Su post necesso acte controlo mega Révanche; posso acte phoro a Milito u Mnemo de Gyna, major callo de singulo residuo Fe in holo France. Pan Pe esthe credo; Re habe mal-accido. Assuro Re habe zero Gluco. Fino, mono Pe dicte per turbo Voco syn plu pyro Oculi. Kilo Discipuli habe eco in Saint Cyr. Postulo satio Tem, singulo Pe habe satio Cerebra de gene penta Franc.
Causo plu para Verba, u communo Cosette Divino-valuta proto gene accido syn Phobo de plu necesso Methodo, syn plu homo Acte de Sparta, syn plu homo damon-syn-pythias Credito, plus plu homo phanero Gramma de pseudo Petitio a plu parenta Parenta plus a plu fe parenti Sibi. Zero chron Saint Cyr pre habe un homo Accido. U debito Hora, singulo Anthropi habe penta franc, allo de Auto allo de hetero Pe.
Tem u billeta Electio habe duro; u no-logo Scholo-pe kine ad-in. An dicte a palaeo General de an detecte. U General acouste. An reacte Re forto. An tene paco Re mega Tem. Fino, An dicte:
Pan Pe de Bio-tem post volo eque u Pedio-pe; Su gene victo de communo Divino-Valuta. Plus Re, u para Pedio-pe; Su date nato un homo Proposo; post eque u Marechal de France.
Post Re, An proto acte riso causo u Picto de Pedio-pe syn plu astra Oculi kine a prosceni Porta de Variétés syn zero Re no-cleisto u Pedio plus Valuta. U Pecunio de Paris Itinero non habe in Detecte numero de An. An habe zero Argenta de equi Vagoni, de Flora-fa, de posso phago Unio. Fino, u Commandant dicte; An volo date pleno u Vacuo ex auto parenta Marsupia.
An non habe satio Valuta de plu residuo Re. Balle a Mi u Pedio-pe: Su gene victo; pre Itinero a Paris.
Post meso-di, u Cadet de Vendée acte visito u Commandant. An pheno habe forto systemo syn erythro Poda-ve plus cyano Testa. An habe plu leuco Chiri-ve minus Stigmo; plus u Lophi de Mitra date mega assuro Auto. Holo Tern, u Cardia pheno acte vibro in Ora. U Commandant dicte zero Verba. Vice Re, An date ad An micro Bursa syn plu aura Louis per mono chiri. An dicte eu volo per Osculo epi bi Bucca. Post Re, An duro habe ortho proximo Fenestra syn bi liquo Oculi syn riso Facia. An duro vise u Lophi perde prospecto epi Dendra-via.
Post-eo, plu heli Radio, ge secto per jalousies, facte u Carta de Photo epi Tapea de Cosette. Fe gene hemi ortho syn Cogito de Duro de neo Di. Micro Cadet de Fe habe horizo syn gluco Stato de Infanti, minus soporo Picto. Causo un homo no-frequo Pedio; Fe esthe amico. Necesso, Fe proto esthe cogito de auto Pedio, de plu lyso Methodo; Fe pre kine a-supero u classi Scala per. Nu, Fe esthe cogito de plu pedio Di de Infanti. Fe esthe mnemo; An nu acte itinero meso Mu. Celero, Fe proto esthe miro. Causo Fe eque geno Gyna; Su acte; Fe mote An per Chiri. Fe dicte:
Mi Palaeo-pe; acouste. Quo Methodo u Saint Cyr Cadet poto gene penta kilo Franc pro Auto.
Ge questio minus pre Sympto, An perde sopho. Plu Verba de communo Divino-valuta gene rheo. Posso, An esthe cogito; Re no nu poto acte nocuo. Tem Re, Fe duro acouste syn Libido. Fe dicte laudo An per plu micro In-pneumo. Fe date phanero auto Miro per heli Vibro de Riso. Causo Re, An gene thermo de Historo. Chron An proto dicte de palaeo Commandant; Fe gene ortho. Fe acte grado per longo Kine proximo plus apo. U Reti-te de Vesto acte vibro retro Fe. Plu Lacrima date pleno plu iodeo Oculi. Fe dicte:
Saint Cyr pre date a Mi u maxima gluco Verba de Laudo de holo Bio de Mi. Nu-di, Mi eque u Gyna, major arrogo de residuo Pe in France. Verito, Mi debito acte congruo. Tu post kine verso. Tu dicte a pan Pe; Cosette eque u Gyna; Su reacte. Tem Tu eque u palaeo Anthropi in Vendée; Tu dicte plu para Verba a tu fili-Fili. Mono chron, tem Pedio, Tu pre gene u Date, maxima premio in France. Plus Re. Tu no pre necesso acte pecunio. Zero sou.
Post Re, Fe acte foramino u Theca; topo An vise Fe date crypto plu Billeta per Cleidi pre-nocti. Fe dicte syn callo Kine:
Mi date a Tu holo Valuta de Tu.
Fe date ad An penta Franc verso.
I. ALPHABETIC LIST
International Words mentioned in the Text (74)
The reader can amplify the ensuing notes abundantly by reference to the three-shilling Everyman’s English Dictionary (Dent), Webster, the Concise Oxford, or any technical glossary such as Beadnell’s inexpensive Dictionary of Scientific Terms in the Thinker’s Library (Watts). International terms not liable to local variation of spelling appear in black type.
For (1) [mi], (2) [tu], (3) [na], see note on pp. 81-82.
Two other specimens of translation from English into Interglossa here follow. The first is based on the original text of the Unanimous Declaration of the Thirteen United States in America. The second follows that of the Declaration of the Rights of Man and of Citizens by the National Assembly of France, as rendered in Postgate’s Revolution from 1789 to 1896.
U Manifesto e mono Voco de mono tri ge zygo Natio in America
Tem u Rheo de homini Accido, Mono Demo posso esthe necesso de Fracto de plu politica Copula inter Auto syn plu hetero Demo. Harmono plu Nomo de Cosmi plus de Theo, Mu gene lyso plus gene occasio de plu iso Privilegio de plu residuo Natio de Geo. Un homo Chron, Mu debito dicte baso de Lyso harmono u congruo Revero pro plu Credo de Homini.
Na esthe credo; plu para Nomo habe phanero Verito. Chron u Proto, pan Homini habe iso. U Theo date a singulo Homini plu no-verso Privilegio, cleisto de Bio, cleisto de Libero, cleisto de tentato gene hedo. Plu Homini acte societo plu Crati tendo un Immuno de plu iso Privilegio; plus pan Crati debito gene archo e Volo de Demo. Postulo u Crati non acte harmono plu para Tendo; u Demo debito acte per Privilegio allo de Muto allo de Necro Re. Post Re, Mu debito acte societo u neo Crati harmono plu para Nomo syn plu geno de Archo; su pheno date offero de immuno plus de Hedo syn maxima Fortuno.
Harmono u Sapio de pre Accido, u Sopho acte inhibito u Muto de Crati, mega tem ge revero, causo plu no-gravo plus no-duro Baso. Tem Mu poto acte tolero vice acte necro plu societo Organa; su non habe alieno; plu Homini duro esthe algo. Anti Re, Mu permito balle, plus Mu debito balle, apo Mu u Crati; plus Mu debito acte societo plu neo Geno de Immuno; chron u longo Serio de Oppresso syn Clepto tendo mono Sequo date digito u Viro de Helo. Minus Protesto, plu para Coloni pre acte tolero major de satio Tem. Na nu necesso gene u neo geno de Crati.
(Here follows the list of grievances.)
Manifesto de Privilegio de Demo syn Homini e natio Commita de France
U No-sapio de plu Privilegio de Homini, plus Non-activo pro Mu, plus Arrogo anti Mu, eque solo Proto de communo Mal-accido plus de Auto-profito e plu Crati. Causo Re, plu Electio-pe de Demo de France pre acte judico de Dicte per solemno Manifesto de plu para hagio plus no-verso Privilegio. Per no-muto Mnemo de iso Manifesto, plu Mero-pe de homini Grego post reacte debito plus post acte harmono plu Privilegio de Auto. Causo u duro Posso de Scopo de plu Acte de Lego plus Controlo e Crati comparo plu debito Tendo de plu societo Organa, u debito Archo post gene major revero. Causo plu para elemento Nomo minus Baso de Protesto date digito plu neo Privilegio de Demo; Mu post tene immuno u Systemo de Lego plus universo Hedo holo Tem. Harmono plu para Baso, u natio Commita esthe logo plus dicte serio de plu hagio Privilegio de Demo syn Homini contra Theo syn Espero de Laudo e Theo.
(1) Chron u Nato, plu Homini habe iso; plus Mu duro habe libero plus iso de Privilegio. Causo Re, zero Functio no-cleisto u communo Functio debito date normo de plu hetero Ordino de plu Persona.
(2) U Tendo de pan politica Organa eque un Immuno pro plu no-verso Privilegio de Homini, harmono plu Nomo de Cosmi. Plu para Privilegio eque u Libero, u Propria, un Immuno plus u Resisto de Oppresso.
(3) U Demo debito eque u Proto de holo Archo. Zero Persona, zero Fascio de Persona, debito habe archo ex hetero Baso.
(4) U politica Libero eque u Privilegio de singulo geno de Acte; su no stimule nocuo de plu residuo Persona. Solo Limito de debito Utilo de Privilegio de singulo Homini eque u Necesso de tene Immuno plu iso Privilegio de singulo residuo Persona. U Lego debito acte limito plu Privilegio de Persona harmono u para Nomo.
(5) U Lego debito dicte impero anti zero geno de Acte no-cleisto un Acte anti Grego. Plu Persona no debito acte inhibito Recipro no-cleisto chron u Lego dicte impero anti plu iso Acte. Minus Impero de Lego, zero Persona debito acte causo u Dyno.
(6) U Lego dicte volo de Grego. Allo Auto allo per Electio-pe, singulo Natio-pe debito habe Privilegio de Electio de plu neo Lego. Cleisto de Profito cleisto de Peno, u Lego debito acte per iso Methodo de singulo Persona. Causo u Lego acte de singulo Persona per iso Methodo; singulo Pe debito habe iso occasio de Ergo plus de Ordino plus de Laudo harmono plu idio Poto de Auto minus Hetero no-cleisto harmono plu Experto plus eu Qualito de Auto.
(7) Minus Archo de Lego minus Methodo harmono Re, zero Homini debito gene aetio, zero Homini debito gene captivo, zero Homini debito duro habe eco Peno-do. Plu Persona; su acte catalyso, allo dicte petitio allo acte harmono, plu Impero minus Archo de Lego; debito gene peno. Chron u Lego dicte impero de Captivo allo acte captivo u Natio-pe; un iso Persona debito reacte impero minus Attendo minus Resisto.
(8) U Lego no debito acte peno major de phanero Necesso. Zero Persona debito gene peno no-cleisto harmono u Lego, ge publico pre Mal-acte, plus harmono u Methodo de Lego.
(9) U Lego debito acte harmono u Postulo de Non-aetio pre Judico anti; plus debito acte minus Severo major de Necesso tendo u tene ge captivo un iso Persona pre Judico.
(10) Chron u Publico de Credo, cleisto religio Credo, non acte anti u societo Organa, ge immuno e Lego; zero Homini debito gene oppresso causo un iso Credo.
(11) U Publico de Cogito plus Credo minus Inhibito eque u forto valo Privilegio de Homini, Singulo Natio-pe permito dicte, singulo Natio-pe permito acte grapho, singulo Natio-pe permito date publico auto Credo conditio de acte per iso Libero harmono plu Limito de Lego.
(12) Un Arma syn Polizi necesso tene immuno plu Privilegio de Homini cleisto Natio-pe. Plu para Organa de Dyno no debito acte pro idio Profito de plu Persona; su habe onero de Mu; vice pro Demo.
(13) U Crati necesso gene pecunio pro plu Organa de Dyno plus pro plu hetero Onero per Fisco. Singulo Mero-pe de Natio necesso acte pecunio harmono auto Poto.
(14) Allo per auto Voco allo per Voco de Electio-pe, singulo Natio-pe debito habe privilegio de Judico de plu Fisco, cleisto de Summatio, cleisto de persona Metro, cleisto de Functio de Duro.
(15) U Natio debito habe occasio de Examino de plu Acte e singulo Persona; su gene archo allo gene onero e Natio.
(16) U Demo; su non habe plu para Poto plus un iso Immuno de plu Privilegio; debito gene u neo Systemo de Lego.
(17) U Privilegio de Propria habe hagio plus no-verso. Chron u para Privilegio non acte anti communo Necesso ge dicte per Lego; zero Persona debito perde Re. Chron u Lego tracte u Propria apo Persona, u Lego debito acte pecunio de Re.