The argument brought against the ‘Roman pronunciation’ of Latin is twofold: the impossibility of perfect theoretical knowledge, and the difficulty of practical attainment.

If to know the main features of the classic pronunciation of Latin were impossible, then our obvious course would be to refuse the attempt; to regard the language as in reality dead, and to make no pretence of reading it. This is in fact what the English scholars generally do. But if we may know substantially the sounds of the tongue in which Cicero spoke and Horace sung, shall we give up the delights of the melody and the rhythm and content ourselves with the thought form? Poetry especially does not exist apart from sound; sense alone will not constitute it, nor even sense and form without sound.

But if it is true that the task of practical acquisition is, if not impossible, extremely difficult, ‘the work of a lifetime,’ as the objectors say, do the results justify the expenditure of time and labor?

The position of the English-speaking peoples is not the same in this as that of Europeans. Europeans have not the same necessity to urge them to the ‘Roman pronunciation.’ Their own languages represent the Latin more or less adequately, in vowel sounds, in accent, and even, to some extent, in quantity; so that with them, all is not lost iv if they translate the sounds into their own tongues; while with us, nothing is left—sound, accent, quantity, all is gone; none of these is reproduced, or even suggested, in English.

We believe a great part of our difficulty, in this country, lies in the fact that so few of those who study and teach Latin really know what the ‘Roman pronunciation’ is, or how to use it. Inquiries are constantly being made by teachers, Why is this so? What authority is there for this? What reason for that?

In the hope of giving help to those who desire to know the Why and the How this little compendium is made; in the interest of time-and-labor-saving uniformity, and in the belief that what cannot be fully known or perfectly acquired does still not prevent our perceiving, and showing in some worthy manner and to, some satisfactory degree, how, as well as what, the honey-tongued orators and divine poets of Rome spoke or sung.

In the following pages free use has been made of the highest English authorities, of Oxford and Cambridge. Quotations will be found from Prof. H. A. J. Munro’s pamphlet on “Pronunciation of Latin,” and from Prof. A. J. Ellis’ book on “Quantitative Pronunciation of Latin”; also from the pamphlet issued by the Cambridge (Eng.) Philological Society, on the “Pronunciation of Latin in the Augustan Period.”

In the present compendium the chief points of divergence from the general American understanding of the ‘Roman’ method are in respect of the diphthong ae and the consonantal u. In these cases the pronunciation herein recommended for the ae is that favored by Roby, Munro, and Ellis, and adopted by the Cambridge Philological Society; for the v, or u consonant, that advocated by Corssen, A. J. Ellis, and Robinson Ellis.

In general, the greater part of our knowledge of the pronunciation of Latin comes from the Latin grammarians, whose authority varies greatly in value; or through incidental statements and expressions of the classic writers themselves; or from monumental inscriptions. Of these three, the first is inferior to the other two in quality, but they in turn are comparatively meagre in quantity.

In the first place, we know (a most important piece of knowledge) that, as a rule, Latin was pronounced as written. This is evident from the fact, among others, that the same exceptions recur, and are mentioned over and over again, in the grammarians, and that so much is made of comparatively, and confessedly, insignificant points. Such, we may be sure, would not have been the case had exceptions been numerous. Then we have the authority of Quintilian—than whom is no higher. He speaks of the subtleties of the grammarians:

And says:

2 But after citing some of those idiosyncrasies which appear on the pages of all the grammarians, he finally sums up the matter in the following significant words:

This is still a characteristic of the Italian language, so that one may by books, getting the rules from the grammarians, learn to pronounce the language with a good degree of correctness.

On this point Professor Munro says:

“We see in the first volume of the Corpus Inscr. Latin. a map, as it were, of the language spread open before us, and feel sure that change of spelling meant systematical change of pronunciation: coira, coera, cura; aiquos, aequos, aecus; queicumque, quicumque, etc., etc.”

And again:

“We know exactly how Cicero or Quintilian did or could spell; we know the syllable on which they placed the accent of almost every word; and in almost every case we already follow them in this. I have the conviction that in their best days philological people took vast pains to make the writing exactly reproduce the sounding; and that if Quintilian or Tacitus spelt a word differently from Cicero or Livy, he also spoke it so far differently.”

Three chief factors are essential to the Latin language, and each of these must be known with some good degree of certainty, if we would lay claim to an understanding of Roman pronunciation.

These are:

(1) Sounds of the letters (vowels, diphthongs, consonants);

(2) Quantity;

(3) Accent.

The vowels are five: a, e, i, o, u.

These when uttered alone are always long.

A is uttered with the mouth widely opened, the tongue suspended and not touching the teeth:

E is uttered with the mouth less widely open, and the lips drawn back and inward:

I will voice itself with the mouth half closed and the teeth gently pressed by the tongue:

O (long) will give the “tragic sound” through rounded opening, with lips protruded, the tongue pendulous in the roof of the mouth:

U is uttered with the lips protruding and approaching each other, like the Greek ου:

Of these five vowels the grammarians say that three (a, i, u) do not change their quality with their quantity:

But two (e, o) change their quality:

It would thus seem that the long e of the Latin in its prolongation draws into the i sound, somewhat as if i were subjoined, as in the English vein or Italian fedele.

The grammarians speak of the obscure sound of i and u, short and unaccented in the middle of a word; so that in a number of words i and u were written indifferently, even by classic writers, as optimus or optumus, maximus or maxumus. This is but a simple and natural thing. The same obscurity occurs often in English, as, for instance, in words ending in able or ible. How easy, for instance, to confuse the sound and spelling in such words as detestable and digestible.

Priscian says:

From this it would seem that in the positions above mentioned vi short—and with some speakers fi short—had an obscure, somewhat thickened, sound, not unlike that heard in the English words virgin, firm, a not unnatural obscuration. As Donatus says of it:

Sometimes, apparently, this tendency ran into excess, and the long i was also obscured; while sometimes the short i was pronounced too distinctly. This vice is commented on by the grammarians, under the name iotacism:

The grammarians also note the peculiar relation of u to q, as in the following passage:

In Marius Victorinus we find diphthongs thus defined:

And more fully in the following paragraph:

Of these diphthongs eu occurs,—except in Greek words,—only in heus, heu, eheu; in seu, ceu, neu. In neuter and neutiquam the e is probably elided.

Diphthongs ending in i, viz., ei, oi, ui, occur only in a few interjections and in cases of contraction.

While in pronouncing the diphthong the sound of both vowels was to some extent preserved, there are many indications that (in accordance with the custom of making a vowel before another vowel short) the first vowel of the diphthong was hastened over and the second received the stress. As in modern Greek we find all diphthongs that end in iota pronounced as simple i, so in Latin there are numerous instances, before and during the classic period, of the use of e for ae or oe, and it is to be noted that in the latest spelling e generally prevails.

Munro says:

“In Lucilius’s time the rustics said Cecilius pretor for Caecilius praetor; in two Samothracian inscriptions older than B.C. 100 (the sound of ai by that time verging to an open e), we find muste piei and muste: in similar inscriptions μύσται piei, and mystae: Paeligni is reproduced in Strabo by Πελιγνόι: Cicero, Virgil, Festus, and Servius all alike give caestos for κεστός: by the first century, perhaps sooner, e was very frequently put for ae in words like taeter: we often find teter, erumna, mestus, presto and the like: soon inscriptions and MSS. began pertinaciously to offer ae for ĕ: praetum, praeces, quaerella, aegestas and the like, the ae representing a short and very open e: sometimes it stands for a long e, as often in plaenus, the liquid before and after making perhaps the e more open (σκηνή is always scaena): and it is from this form plaenus that in Italian, contrary to the usual law of long Latin e, we have pièno with open e. With such pedigree then, and with the genuine Latin ae always represented in Italian by open e, can we hesitate to pronounce the ae with this open e sound?”

The argument sometimes used, for pronouncing ae like ai, that in the poets we occasionally find ai in the genitive singular of the first declension, appears to have little weight in view of the following explanation:

Of oe Munro says:

“When hateful barbarisms like coelum, coena, moestus are eliminated, oe occurs very rarely in Latin: coepi, poena, moenia, coetus, proelia, besides archaisms coera, moerus, etc., where oe, coming from oi, passed into u. If we must have a simple sound, I should take the open e sound which I have given to ae: but I should prefer one like the German ö. Their rarity, however, makes the sound of oe, eu, ui of less importance.”

Of au Munro says:

“Here, too, au has a curious analogy with ae: The Latin au becomes in Italian open o: òro òde: I would pronounce thus in Latin: plòstrum, Clòdius, còrus. Perhaps, too, the fact that gloria, vittoria and the common termination -orio, have in Italian the open o, might show that the corresponding ō in Latin was open by coming between two liquids, or before one: compare plenus above.” “I should prefer,” he says, (to represent the Latin au,) “the Italian au, which gives more of the u than our owl, cow.”

B has, in general, the same sound as in English.

10 B before s or t is sharpened to p: thus urbs is pronounced urps; obtinuit, optinuit. Some words, indeed, are written either way; as obses, or opses; obsonium, or opsonium; obtingo, or optingo; and Quintilian says it is a question whether the change should be indicated in writing or not:

This change, however, is both so slight and so natural that attention need scarcely be called to it. Indeed if quantity is properly observed, one can hardly go wrong. If, for instance, you attempt, in saying obtinuit, to give its normal sound to b, you can scarcely avoid making a false quantity (the first syllable too long), while if you observe the quantity (first syllable short) your b will change itself to p.

C appears to have but one sound, the hard, as in sceptic:

Not only do we find no hint in the grammarians of any sound akin to the soft c in English, as in sceptre, but they all speak of c and k and q as identical, or substantially so, in sound; and Quintilian expressly states that the sound of c is always the same. Speaking of k as superfluous, he says:

11 And Priscian declares:

Without the best of evidence we should hardly believe that words written indifferently with ae or e after c would be so differently pronounced by those using the diphthong and those using the simple vowel, that, to take the instance already given, in the time of Lucilius, the rustic said Sesilius for Kaekilius. Nor does it seem probable that in different cases the same word would vary so greatly, or that in the numerous compounds where after c the a weakens to i the sound of the c was also changed from k to s, as “kapio” “insipio”; “kado,” “insido.”

Quintilian, noting the changes of fashion in the sounding of the h, enumerates, among other instances of excessive use of the aspirate, the words choronae (for coronae), chenturiones (for centuriones), praechones (for praecones), as if the three words were alike in their initial sound.

Alluding to inscriptions (first volume), where we have pulcher and pulcer, Gracchis and Graccis, Mr. Munro says: “I do not well see how the aspirate could have been attached to the c, if c had not a k sound, or how in this case c before e or i could have differed from c before a, o, u.”

Professor Munro also cites an inscription (844 of the “Corpus Inscr.,” vol. I.) bearing on the case in another way. In this inscription we have the word dekembres. “This,” says Mr. Munro, “is one of nearly two hundred short, plebeian, often half-barbarous, very old inscriptions on a collection of ollae. The k before e, or any letter except a, is solecistic, just as in no. 831 is the c, instead of k, for calendas. From this I would infer that, as in the latter 12 the writer saw no difference between c and k, so to the writer of the former k was the same as c before e.”

Again he says:

“And finally, what is to me most convincing of all, I do not well understand how in a people of grammarians, when for seven hundred years, from Ennius to Priscian, the most distinguished writers were also the most minute philologers, not one, so far as we know, should have hinted at any difference, if such existed.”

As to the peculiar effect of c final in certain particles to “lengthen” the vowel before it, this c is doubtless the remnant of the intensive enclitic ce, and the so-called ‘length’ is not in the vowel, but in the more forcible utterance of the c. It is true that Priscian says:

And Probus speaks of c as often prolonging the vowel before it. But Victorinus, more philosophically, attributes the length to the “double” sound of the consonant:

And he adds that you do not get that more emphatic sound in, for instance, the conjunction nec.

And again:

Pompeius, commenting upon certain vices of speech, says that some persons bring out the final c in certain words too heavily, pronouncing sic ludit as sic cludit; while others, on 13 the contrary, touch it so lightly that when the following word begins with c you hear but a single c:

D, in general, is pronounced as in English, except that the tongue should touch the teeth rather than the palate.

But when certain words in common use ending in d were followed by words beginning with a consonant, the sound of the d was sharpened to t; and indeed the word was often, especially by the earlier writers, written with t, as, for instance, set, haut, aput:

F is pronounced as in English except that it should be brought out more forcibly, with more breath.

14 Marius Victorinus says that f was used in Latin words as ph in foreign.

Diomedes (of the fourth century) says the same:

And Priscian makes a similar statement:

From the following words of Quintilian we may judge the breathing to have been quite pronounced:

G, no less than c, appears to have had but one sound, the hard, as in the English word get.

Diomedes speaks of g as a new consonant, whose place had earlier been filled by c:

15 Victorinus thus refers to the old custom still in use of writing C and Cn, as initials, in certain names, even where the names were pronounced as with G.

H has the same sound as in English. The grammarians never regarded it as a consonant,—at least in more than name,—but merely as representing the rough breathing of the Greeks.

Victorinus thus speaks of its nature:

By the best authorities h was looked upon as a mere mark of aspiration. Victorinus says that Nigidius Figulus so regarded it:

There appears to have been the same difference of opinion and usage among the Romans as with us in the matter of sounding the h.

Quintilian says that the fashion changed with the age:

In the epigram above referred to Catullus thus satirizes the excessive use of the aspirate:

On the other hand Quintilian seems disposed to smile at the excess of ‘culture’ which drops its h’s, to class this with other affected ‘niceties’ of speech, and to regard the whole matter as of slight importance:

Cicero confesses that he himself changed his practice in regard to the aspirate. He had been accustomed to sound it only with vowels, and to follow the fathers, who never used it with a consonant; but at length, yielding to the importunity of his ear, he conceded the right of usage to the people, and ‘kept his learning to himself.’

Gellius speaks of the ancients as having employed the h merely to add a certain force and life to the word, in imitation of the Attic tongue, and enumerates some of these words. Thus, he says, they said lachrymas; thus, sepulchrum, aheneum, vehemens, inchoare, helvari, hallucinari, honera, honustum.

And he tells an interesting anecdote about a manuscript of Vergil:

I consonant has the sound of i in the English word onion.

The grammarians all express themselves in nearly the same terms as to its character:

The grammarians speak of i consonant as different in sound and effect from the vowel i; and, as they do not say how it differs, we naturally infer the variation to be that which follows in the nature of things from its position and office, as in the kindred Romance languages.

Priscian says:

It would seem to be by reason of this twofold nature (vowel and consonant) that i has its ‘lengthening’ power. Probus explains the matter thus:

Again in the commentaries on Donatus we find:

19 Priscian tells us that earlier it was, as we know, the custom to write two i’s:

And Quintilian says:

This doubling of the sound of i, natural, even unavoidable, between vowels, gives us the consonant effect (as vowel, uniting with the preceding, as consonant, introducing the following, vowel).

K has the same sound as in English.

The grammarians generally agree that k is a superfluous, or at least unnecessary, letter, its place being filled by c. Diomedes says:

And again:

Its only use is as an initial and sign of certain words, and it is followed by short a only.

Victorinus says:

Priscian says:

20 And Quintilian speaks of it as a mere sign, but says some think it should be used when a follows, as initial:

And:

This use of k, as an initial, and in certain words, was regarded somewhat in the light of a literary ‘fancy.’ Priscian says of it:

L is pronounced as in English, only more distinctly and with the tongue more nearly approaching the teeth. The sound is thus given by Victorinus:

But it varies according to its position in the force and distinctness with which it is uttered.

Pliny and others recognize three degrees of force:

Priscian says:

21 Pompeius, in his commentaries on Donatus, makes nearly the same statement, when treating of ‘labdacism’:

In another place he speaks of the Africans as ‘abounding’ in this vice, and of their pronouncing Metellus and Catullus; Metelus, Catulus:

M is pronounced as in English, except before q, where it has a nasal sound, and when final.

But this ‘mooing’ sound, in which so many of their words ended, was not altogether pleasing to the Roman ear. Quintilian exclaims against it:

22 The offensive sound was therefore gotten rid of, as far as possible, by obscuring the m at the end of a word. Priscian speaks of three sounds of m,—at the beginning, in the middle, and at the end of a word:

This ‘obscuring’ led in verse to the cutting off of the final syllable in m when the following word began with a vowel,—as Priscian remarks in the same connection:

Yet, he adds, the ancients did not always withdraw the sound:

The m was not, however, entirely ignored. Thus Quintilian says:

It is a significant fact in this connection that m is the only one of the liquids (semivowels) that does not allow a long vowel before it. Priscian, mentioning several peculiarities of this semivowel, thus speaks of this one:

That the m was really sounded we may infer from Pompeius (on Donatus) where, treating of myotacism, he calls it the careless pronunciation of m between two vowels (at the end of one word and the beginning of another), the running of the words together in such a way that m seems to begin the second, rather than to end the first:

He also warns against the vice of dropping the m altogether. One must neither say homine mamicum, nor homine amicum:

From such passages it would seem that the final syllable ending in m is to be lightly and rapidly pronounced, the m not to be run over upon the following word.

Some hint of the sound may perhaps be got from the Englishman’s pronunciation of such words as Birmingham (Birminghm), Sydenham (Sydenhm), Blenheim (Blenhm).

N, except when followed by f or s, is pronounced as in English, only that it is more dental.

24 Naturally, as with us, it is more emphatic at the beginning and end of words than in the middle (as, Do not give the tendrils the wrong turn. Is not the sin condemned?)

Priscian says:

As in English, before a guttural (c, g, q, x), n is so affected as to leave its proper sound incomplete (the tongue not touching the roof of the mouth) while it draws the guttural, so to speak, into itself, as in the English words concord, anger, sinker, relinquish, anxious.

Not only the Greeks, but some of the early Romans, wrote g, instead of n, in this position, and gave to the letter so used a new name, agma. Priscian says:

This custom did not, however, prevail among the Romans, and Marius Victorinus gives it as his opinion that it is 25 better to use n than g, as more correct to the ear, and avoiding ambiguity (the gg being then left for the natural expression of double g).

N before f or s seems to have become a mere nasal, lengthening the preceding vowel.

Cicero speaks of this as justified by the ear and by custom, rather than by reason:

In Donatus we have the same fact stated, with the same reason:

Thus we find numeral adverbs and others ending either in iens or ies, as centiens or centies, decies or deciens, millies or milliens, quotiens or quoties, totiens or toties. Other words, in like manner, participles and nouns, are written either with or without the n before s, as contunsum or contusum, obtunsus or obtusus, thesaurus or thensaurus (the ens is regularly represented in Greek by ης); infans or infas, frons or fros. In late Latin the n was frequently dropped in participle endings.

Donatus says that this nasal sound of n should be strenuously observed:

Gn in the terminations gnus, gna, gnum, has, according to Priscian, the power to lengthen the penultimate vowel.

(Perhaps the liquid sound, as in cañon.)

P is pronounced as in English.

Q has the sound of English q in the words quire, quick.

Priscian says:

And again:

Marius Victorinus says:

27 And again:

The grammarians tell us that k and q are always found at the beginning of a syllable:

They say also that the use of q was more free among the earlier Romans, who placed it as initial wherever u followed,—as they placed k wherever ă followed,—but that in the later, established, usage, its presence was conditioned upon a vowel after the u in the same syllable:

Diomedes says:

R is trilled, as in Italian or French:

S seems to have had, almost, if not quite, invariably the sharp sound of the English s in sing, hiss.

In Greek words written also with z, as Smyrna (also written Zmyrna), it probably had the z sound, and possibly in a few Latin words, as rosa, miser, but this is not certain.

Marius Victorinus thus sets forth the difference between s and x (cs):

Donatus, according to Pompeius, complains of the Greeks as sounding the s too feebly:

This would indicate that the Romans pronounced the sibilant distinctly,—yet not too emphatically, for Quintilian says, ‘the master of his art (of speaking) will not fondly prolong or dally with his s’:

T is pronounced like the English t pure, except that the tongue should approach the teeth more nearly.

From the same writer we learn that some pronounced the t too heavily, giving it a ‘thick sound’:

29 By which we understand that the t was wrongly uttered with a kind of effort, such as prevented its gliding on to the i.

Th nearly as in then, not as in thin.

U (consonant) or V.

That the letter u performed the office of both vowel and consonant all the grammarians agree, and state the fact in nearly the same terms. Priscian says that they (i and u) seem quite other letters when used as consonants, and that it makes a great difference in which of these ways they are used:

The grammarians also state that this consonant u was represented by the Greek digamma, which the Romans called vau also.

Marius Victorinus says:

Now it is contended by some that this digamma, or vau, was merely taken as a symbol, somewhat arbitrarily perhaps, and that it did not indicate a particular sound, but might stand for anything which the Romans chose to represent by it; and that therefore it gives us no certain indication of what the Latin u consonant was.

But we are expressly told that it had the force and sound of the Greek digamma.

In Marius Victorinus we find:

Priscian explains more fully:

What then was the sound of this Aeolic digamma or βαυ?

Priscian says:

The Latin u consonant is here distinctly stated to be akin to the Greek digamma (ϝ) in sound.

Now the office of the Greek digamma was apparently manifold. It stood for ς, β (Eng. v), γ, χ, φ, and for the breathings ‘rough’ and ‘smooth.’ Sometimes the sound of the digamma is given, we are told, where the character itself 31 is not written. It is said that in the neighborhood of Olympia it is to-day pronounced, though not written, between two vowels as β (Eng. v). Which of these various sounds should be given the digamma appears to have been determined by the law of euphony. It was sometimes written but not sounded (like our h).

The question then is, which of these various sounds of the digamma is represented by the Latin u consonant, or does it represent all, or none, of these.

Speaking of f, Priscian says:

And again:

32 It is significant here that Cicero speaks of the change from du to b as a contraction. He says:

One cannot but feel in reading the numerous passages in the grammarians that treat of the sound of u consonant, that if its sound had been no other than the natural sound of u with consonantal force, they never would have spent so much time and labor in explaining and elucidating it. Why did they not turn it off with the simple explanation which they give to the consonantal i—that of double i? What more natural than to speak of consonant u as “double u” (as we English do w). But on the contrary they expressly declare it to have a sound distinct and peculiar. Quintilian says that even if the form of the Aeolic digamma is rejected by the Romans, yet its force pursues them:

He gives it as his opinion that it would have been well to have adopted the vau, and says that neither by the old way of writing (by uo), nor by the modern way (by uu), is at all produced the sound which we perceive:

33 And again still more distinctly:

This need of a new symbol, recognized by authorities like Cicero and Quintilian, is not an insignificant point in the argument.

Marius Victorinus says that Cicero adds u (consonant) to the other five consonants that are understood to assimilate certain other consonants coming before them:

He proceeds to illustrate with the proposition ob:

Let any one, keeping in mind the distinctness with which the Romans uttered doubled consonants, attempt to pronounce ovvius on the theory of consonant u like English (w) (!).

By the advocates of the w sound of the v much stress is laid upon the fact that the poets occasionally change the consonant into the vowel u, and vice versa; as Horace, Epode VIII. 2:

34 Or Lucretius, in II. 232:

Such single instances suggest, indeed, a common origin in the u and v, and a poet’s license, archaistic perhaps; but no more determine the ordinary value of the letter than, say, in the English poets the rhyming of wĭnd with mīnd, or the making a distinct syllable of the ed in participle endings.

Another argument used in support of the w sound is taken from the words of Nigidius Figulus.

He was contending, we are told, that words and names come into being not by chance, or arbitrarily, but by nature; and he takes, among other examples, the words vos and nos, tu and ego, tibi and mihi:

But a little careful examination will show that this passage favors the other side rather.

The first part of the description: “labias sensim primores emovemus,” will apply to either sound, vos or wos, although better, as will appear upon consulting the mirror, to vos than to wos; but the second: “ac spiritum atque animam porro versum et ad eos quibuscum sermonicamur intendimus,” 35 will certainly apply far better to vos than to wos. In wos we get the “projectis labiis” to some extent, although not so marked as in vos; but we do not get anything like the same “profuso intentoque flatu vocis” as in vos.

The same may be said of the argument drawn from the anecdote related by Cicero in his de Divinatione:

Now when we remember that Caunos, whence these particular figs came, was a Greek town; that the fig-seller was very likely a Greek himself (Brundisium being a Greek port so to speak), but at any rate probably pronounced the name as it was doubtless always heard; and that u in such a connection is at present pronounced like our f or v, and we know of no time when it was pronounced like our u, it is difficult to avoid the conclusion that the fig-seller was crying “Cafneas!”—a sound far more suggestive of Cave-ne-eas! than “Cauneas!” of Cawe ne eas!

But beyond the testimony, direct and indirect, of grammarians and classic writers, an argument against the w sound appears in the fact that this sound is not found in Greek (from which the vau is borrowed), nor in Italian or kindred Romance languages.

The initial u in Italian represents not Latin u consonant, but some other letter, as h, in uomo (for homo). On the other hand we find the v sound, as vedova (from vidua),—notice the two v sounds,—or the u sometimes changed to b, as serbare from servare; bibita and bevanda, both from bibo.

In French we find the Latin u consonant passing into f, as ovum into œuf; novem into neuf.

It seems not improbable that in Cicero’s time and later the consonant u represented some variation of sound, that its value varied in the direction of b or f, and possibly, in some Greek words especially, it was more vocalized, as in vae! (Greek ουάι). Yet here it is worthy of note that the corresponding words in Italian are not written with u but with gu, as guai!

In considering the sound of Latin u consonant we must always keep in mind that the question is one of time,—not, was u ever pronounced as English w; but, was it so pronounced in the time of Cicero and Virgil. Professor Ellis well says: “Any one who wishes to arrive at a conclusion respecting the Latin consonantal u must learn to pronounce and distinguish readily the four series of sounds: ŭa ŭe ŭi ŭo, wa we wi wo wu, v’a v’e v’i v’o v’u, va ve vi vo vu.”

Now the question is: At what point along this line do we find the u consonant of the golden age? Roby, though not agreeing with Ellis in rejecting the English w sound, as the representative of that period, declares himself “quite content to think that a labial v was provincially contemporary and in the end generally superseded it.”

But ‘provincialisms’ do not seem sufficient to account for the use of β for u consonant in inscriptions and in writers of the first century. For instance, Nerva and Severus in contemporary inscriptions are written both with ου and with β: Νέρουα, Νέρβα; Σεουῆρος, Σεβῆρος. And in Plutarch we find numerous instances of β taking the place of ου.

It is true that the instances in which we find β taking the place of ου in the first century, and earlier, are decidedly in the minority, but when we recollect that ου was the original and natural representative of the Latin u, the fact that a 37 change was made at all is of great weight, and one instance of β for u would outweigh a dozen instances of the old form, ou. That the letter should be changed in the Greek, even when it had not been in the Latin, seems to make it certain that the ‘Greek ear,’ at least, had detected a real variation of sound from the original u, and one that approached, at least, their β (Eng. v).

Nor, in this connection, should we fail to notice the words in Latin where u consonant is represented by b, such as bubile from bovile, defervi and deferbui from deferveo.

In concluding the argument for the labial v sound of consonantal u, it may be proper to suggest a fact which should have no weight against a conclusive argument on the other side, but which might, perhaps, be allowed to turn the scale nicely balanced. The w sound is not only unfamiliar but nearly, if not quite, impossible, to the lips of any European people except the English, and would therefore of necessity have to be left out of any universally adopted scheme of Latin pronunciation. Professor Ellis pertinently says: “As a matter of practical convenience English speakers should abstain from w in Latin, because no Continental nation can adopt a sound they cannot pronounce.”

X has the same sound as in English.

Marius Victorinus says:

Again:

38 And:

X suffers a long vowel before it, being composed of the c (the only mute that allows a long vowel before it) and the s.

Z probably had a sound akin to ds in English. After giving the sound of x as cs, Marius Victorinus goes on to speak of z thus:

A syllable in Latin may consist of from one to six letters, as a, ab, ars, Mars, stans, stirps.

In dividing into syllables, a consonant between two vowels belongs to the vowel following it. When there are two consonants, the first goes with the vowel before, the second with the vowel after, unless the consonants form such a combination as may stand at the beginning of a word (Latin or Greek), that is, as may be uttered with a single impulse, as one letter; in which case they go, as one, with the vowel following. An apparent exception is made in the case of compound words. These are divided into their component parts when these parts remain intact.

On these points Priscian says:

Each letter has its ‘time,’ or ‘times.’ Thus a short vowel has the time of one beat (mora); a long vowel, of two beats; a single consonant, of a half beat; a double consonant, of one beat. Theoretically, therefore, a syllable may have as many as three, or even four, tempora; but practically only two are recognized. All over two are disregarded and each syllable is simply counted ‘short’ (one beat) or ‘long’ (two beats).

Priscian says:

The grammarians tell us that every syllable has three dimensions, length, breadth and height, or tenor, spiritus, tempus:

Diomedes says:

And Cicero:

40 The grammarians recognize three accents; but practically we need take account of but two, inasmuch as the third is merely negative. The syllable having the grave accent is, as we should say, unaccented.

The same writer thus gives the place of each accent:

Priscian thus defines the accents:

Then after giving the place of the accent he notes some disturbing influences, which cause exceptions to the general rule:

He also states the law that determines the kind of accent to be used:

In the matter of exceptions to the rule that accent does not fall on the ultimate, we find a somewhat wide divergence of opinion among the grammarians. Some of them give numerous exceptions, particularly in the distinguishing of parts of speech, as, for instance, between the same word used as adverb or preposition, as ánte and anté; or between 43 the same form as occurring in nouns and verbs, as réges and regés; and in final syllables contracted or curtailed, as finīt (for finivit).

But since on this point the grammarians do not agree among themselves, either as to number or class of exceptions, or even as to the manner of making them, we may treat this matter as of no great importance (as in English, we please ourselves in saying pérfect or perféct). And here it may be said that due attention to the quantity will of itself often regulate the accent in doubtful cases; as when we say doce, if we duly shorten the o and lengthen the e the effect will be correct, whether the ear of the grammarian detect accent on the final syllable, or not. For as Quintilian well says:

But besides the length of the syllable, and the place and quality of the accent, another matter claims attention.

In English all that is required is to know the place of the accent, which is simply distinguished by greater stress of voice. This peculiarity of our language makes it more difficult for us than for other peoples to get the Latin accent, which is one of pitch.

In Latin the acute accent means that on the syllable thus accented you raise the pitch; the grave indicates merely the lower tone; the circumflex, that the voice is first raised, then depressed, on the same syllable. To quote again the passage from Priscian:

44 In conclusion of this part of the work the following anecdotes from Aulus Gellius are given, as serving to show that to the rules of classic Roman pronunciation there were exceptions, apparently more or less arbitrary, some—perhaps many—of which we may not now hope to discover; and as serving still more usefully to show, by the stress laid upon points of comparative insignificance, that exceptions were rare, such as even scholars could afford to disagree upon, and not such as to affect the general tenor of the language. So that we are encouraged to believe that, as the English language may be well and even elegantly spoken by those whose speech still includes scores, if not hundreds, of variations in pronunciation, in sounds of letters or in accent, so we may hope to pronounce the Latin with some good degree of satisfaction, whether, for instance, we say quiêsco or quiésco, ăctito or āctito:

The directions now to be given may be fittingly introduced by a few paragraphs from Professor Munro’s pamphlet on the pronunciation of Latin, already more than once quoted from. He says—and part of this has been cited before:

“We know exactly how Cicero or Quintilian did or could spell; we know the syllable on which they placed the accent of almost every word; and in almost every case we already follow them in this. I have the conviction that in their best days philological people took vast pains to make the writing exactly reproduce the sounding; and that if Quintilian or Tacitus spelt a word differently from Cicero or Livy, he also spoke it so far differently. With the same amount of evidence, direct and indirect, we have for Latin, it would not, I think, be worth anybody’s while to try to recover the pronunciation of French or English; it might, I think, be worth his while to try to recover that of German or Italian, in which sound and spelling accord more nearly, and accent obeys more determinable laws.”

“I am convinced,” he says in another place, “that the mainstay of an efficient reform is the adoption essentially of the Italian vowel system: it combines beauty, firmness and precision in a degree not equalled by any other system of which I have any knowledge. The little ragged boys in the streets of Rome and Florence enunciate their vowels in a style of which princes might be proud.”

And again:

“I do not propose that every one should learn Italian in order to learn Latin. What I would suggest is, that those who know Italian should make use of their knowledge and should in many points take Italian sounds for the model to be followed; that those who do not know it should try to learn from others the sounds required, or such an approximation to them as may be possible in each case.”

We may then sum up the results at which we have arrived in the following directions:

First of all pay particular attention to the vowel sounds, to make them full and distinct, taking the Italian model, if you know Italian, and always observing strictly the quantity.

Pronounce

Let i in vĭ before d, t, m, r or x, in the first syllable of a word, be pronounced quite obscurely, somewhat as first i in virgin.

In the matter of diphthongs, be sure to take always the correct spelling, to begin with, and thus avoid what Munro 48 justly terms “hateful barbarisms like coelum, coena, moestus.” Much time is wasted by students and bad habits are acquired in not finding, at the outset, the right spelling of each word and holding to it. This each student must do for himself, consulting a good dictionary, as editors and editions are not always to be depended on. Here it is the diphthongs that present the chief difficulty and call for the greatest care.

In pronouncing diphthongs sound both vowels, but glide so rapidly from the first to the second as to offer to the ear but a single sound. In the publication of the Cambridge (Eng.) Philological Society on “Pronunciation of Latin in the Augustan Period,” the following directions are given:

“The pronunciation of these diphthongs, of which the last three are extremely rare, is best learnt by first sounding each vowel separately and then running them together, ae as ah-eh, au as ah-oo, oe as o-eh, ei as eh-ee, eu as eh-oo, and ui as oo-ee.”

Thus:

In the pronunciation of consonants certain points claim special attention. And first among these is the sounding of the doubled consonants. Whoever has heard Italian spoken recognizes one of its greatest beauties to be the distinctness, yet smoothness, with which its ll and rr and cc—in short, all its doubled consonants—are pronounced. No feature of the language is more charming. And one who attempts the same in Latin and perseveres, with whatever difficulty and pains, will be amply rewarded in the music of the language.

A good working rule for pronouncing doubled consonants is to hold the first until ready to pronounce the second: as in the words we’ll lie till late, not to be pronounced as we lie till eight.

Next in importance, and, in New England at least, first in difficulty, is the trilling of the r. There can be no approximation to a satisfactory pronunciation of Latin until this r is acquired; but the satisfaction in the result when accomplished is well worth all the pains taken.

Another point to be observed is that the dentals t, d, n, l, require that the tongue touch the teeth, rather than the palate. Munro says: “d and t we treat with our usual slovenliness, and force them up to the roof of our mouth: we should make them real dentals, as no doubt the Romans made them, and then we shall see how readily ad at, apud aput, illud illut and the like interchange.” This requires care, but amply repays the effort.

It is necessary also to remember that n before a guttural is pronounced as in the same position in English, e.g., in ancora as in anchor; in anxius as in anxious; in relinquo as in relinquish.

Remember to make n before f or s a mere nasal, having as little prominence otherwise as possible, and to carefully lengthen the preceding vowel.

Studiously observe the length of the vowel before the terminations gnus, gna, gnum.

Remember that the final syllable in m, when not elided, is to be pronounced as lightly and rapidly as possible, the more lightly and indistinctly the better.

Remember that s must not be pronounced as z, except where it represents z in Greek words, as Smyrna (Zmyrna), Smaragdus (Zmaragdus), otherwise always pronounce as in sis.

Remember in pronouncing v to direct the lower lip toward the upper lip, avoiding the upper teeth.

In general, in pronouncing the consonants conform to the following scheme:

As Professor Ellis well puts it: “No relaxation of the organs, no puff of wind or grunt of voice should intervene between the two parts of a doubled consonant, which should more resemble separated parts of one articulation than two separate articulations.”

“Duplication of consonants is consequently regarded simply as the energetic utterance of a single consonant.”

Professor Ellis believes that the m was always omitted in speaking and the following consonant pronounced as if doubled (quorum pars as quoruppars). Final m at the end 52 of a sentence he thinks was not heard at all. Where a vowel followed he thinks that the m was not heard, the vowel before being slurred on to the initial vowel of the following word.

The Cambridge (Eng.) Philological Society, however, takes the view that “final vowels (or diphthongs) when followed by vowels (or diphthongs) were not cut off, but lightly run on to the following word, as in Italian. But if the vowel was the same the effect was that of a single sound.”

Professor Munro says:

“In respect of elision I would only say that, by comparing Plautus with Ovid, we may see how much the elaborate cultivation of the language had tended to a more distinct sounding of final syllables; and that but for Virgil’s powerful influence the elision of long vowels would have almost ceased. Clearly we must not altogether pass over the elided vowel or syllable in m, except perhaps in the case of ĕ in common words, que, neque, and the like.”

This view, held by the Cambridge Philological Society and by Professor Munro, is the one generally accepted; the practice recommended by them is the one generally in use, and that which seems safe and suitable to follow. That is: Do not altogether pass over the elided vowel or syllable in m, except in cases of very close connection, in compound words or phrases, or when the final and initial vowel are the same, or in the case of ĕ final in common words, as que, neque, and the like; but let the final vowel run lightly on to the following vowel as in Italian, and touch lightly and obscurely the final syllable in m. The o or e of proin, proinde, prout, dein, deinde, neuter, neutiquam, when not forming a distinct syllable, are to be treated as cases of elision between two words.

In the pronunciation of Latin the observance of quantity and of pitch are the two most difficult points of attainment; and they are the crucial test of good reading.

The observance of quantity is no less important in prose than in verse. A little reflection will convince the dullest mind that the Romans did not pronounce a word one way in prose and another in verse; that we have not in poetry and prose two languages. Cicero and Quintilian both enjoin a due admixture of long and short syllables in prose as well as verse; and any one who takes delight in reading Latin will heartily agree with Professor Munro when he says: “For myself, by observing quantity, I seem to feel more keenly the beauty of Cicero’s style and Livy’s, as well as Virgil’s and Horace’s.”

Therefore until one feels at home with the quantities, let him observe the rule of beating time in reading, to make sure that the long syllables get twice the time of the short ones. In this way he will soon have the pronunciation of each word correctly fixed in mind, and will not be obliged to think of his quantities in verse more than in prose. A long step has been taken in the enjoyment of Latin poetry when the reader does not have to be thinking of the ‘feet.’

Young students particularly should be especially careful in the final syllable of the verse. Since, so far as the measure is concerned, there is no difference there between the long and the short syllable, the reader is apt to be careless as to the length of the syllable itself, and to make all final syllables long, even to the mispronouncing of the word, thereby both making a false quantity and otherwise injuring the effect of the verse, by importing into it a monotony foreign to the original. Does not Cicero himself say that 54 a short syllable at the end of the verse is as if you ‘stood’ (came to a stand), but a long one as if you ‘sat down’?

It is, in fact, in the pronouncing of final syllables everywhere that the most serious and persistent faults are found, būs for bŭs being one of the worst and most common cases. How much of the teacher’s time might be spared, for better things, if he did not have to correct būs into bŭs!

The disposition to neglect the double and doubled consonants is another serious fault, as well as the slovenly pronunciation of two consonants, where the reader fails to give the time necessary to speak each distinctly, making false quantity and mispronunciation at the same time.

In general, if two symbols are written we are to infer that two sounds were intended. The only exception to this is in the case of a few words where the spelling varies, as casso or caso. In such cases we may suppose that the doubled consonant was only designed to indicate length.

Another, apparent, exception is in the case of a mute followed by a liquid; but the mute and liquid are regularly sounded as one, and therefore do not affect the length of the preceding vowel. Sometimes, however, for the sake of time, the verse requires them to be pronounced separately. In this case each is to be given distinctly; the mute and liquid must not coalesce. For it must not be forgotten that, as a rule, the vowel before a mute followed by a liquid is short, in which case it must on no account be lengthened. Thus, ordinarily, we say pă-tris, but the verse may require pat-ris.

Although the vowel before two consonants is generally short, we find, in some instances, a long vowel in this position. For example, it would appear that the vowel of the supine and cognate parts of the verb is long if the vowel of the present indicative, though short, is followed by a medial (b, g, d, z), as āctus, lēctus, from ăgo, lĕgo.

Let it be remembered in the matter of i consonant between two vowels, that we have really the force of two ii’s, as originally written, one, vowel, making a diphthong with the preceding, the other, consonant, introducing the new syllable; and that the same is true of the compounds of jacio, which should be written with a single i but pronounced as with two, as obicit (objicit).

The question of accent presents little difficulty as to place, but some as to quality, and much as to kind.

As to quality, it must be remembered that while the acute accent is found on syllables either short or long (by nature or position), and on either the penult or the antepenult, the circumflex is found only on long vowels, and (in words of more than one syllable) only on the penult, and then only in case the ultima is short. Thus, spês, but dúx; lûnă, but lúnā; legâtus, but legáti. In these examples the length of the syllable is the same and of course remains the same in inflection, but the quality of the accent changes. In the one case the voice is both raised and depressed on the same syllable, in the other it is only raised. As Professor Ellis puts it: “If the last syllable but one is long, it is spoken with a raised pitch, which is maintained throughout if its vowel is short, as: véntōs, or if the last syllable is long, as: fāmāe; but sinks immediately if its own vowel is long, and at the same time the vowel of the last syllable is short, as fâmă, to be distinguished from fā́mā.”

But when we come to the question of the kind of accent, we come upon the most serious matter practically in the pronunciation of Latin, and this because of a difficulty peculiar to the English speaking peoples. The English accent is one of stress, whereas the Roman is one of pitch.

No one will disagree with Professor Ellis when he “assumes,” in his Quantitative Pronunciation of Latin, “that the Augustan Romans had no force accent, that is, that they did not, as we do, distinguish one syllable in every word invariably by pronouncing it with greater force, that is, with greater loudness, than the others, but that the force varied according to the feeling of the moment, or the beat of the timekeeper in singing, and was used for purposes of expression; just as with us, musical pitch is free, that is, just as we may pronounce the same word with different musical pitches for its different syllables, and in fact are obliged to vary the musical pitch in interrogations and replies. The fixity of musical pitch and freedom of degrees of force in Latin, and the freedom of musical pitch and fixity of degrees of force in English sharply distinguish the two pronunciations even irrespective of quantity.”

But this pitch accent, while alien to us, is not impossible of acquisition, and it is essential to any adequate rendering of any Latin writer, whether of prose or verse. Nor will the attainment be a work of indefinite time if one pursues with constancy some such course as the following, recommended by Professor Ellis:

“The place of raised pitch,” he says, “must be strictly observed, and for this purpose the verses had better be first read in a kind of sing-song, the high pitched syllables being all of one pitch and the low pitched syllables being all of one pitch also, but about a musical ‘fifth’ lower than the other, as if the latter were sung to the lowest note of the fourth string of a violin, and the former were sung to the lowest note of its third string.”

In the foregoing pages an effort has been made to bring together compactly and to set forth concisely the nature of 57 the ‘Roman method’ of pronouncing Latin; the reasons for adopting, and the simplest means of acquiring it. No attempt has been made at a philosophical or exhaustive treatment of the subject; but at the same time it is hoped that nothing unphilosophical has crept in, or anything been omitted, which might have been given, to render the subject intelligible and enable the intelligent reader to understand the points and be able to give a reason for each usage herein recommended.

The main object in view in preparing this little book has been to help the teachers of Latin in the secondary schools, to furnish them something not too voluminous, yet as satisfactory as the nature of the case allows, upon a subject which the present diversity of opinion and practice has rendered unnecessarily obscure.

To these teachers, then, a word from Professor Ellis may be fitly spoken in conclusion:

“To teach a person to read prose well, even in his own language, is difficult, partly because he has seldom heard prose well read, though he is constantly hearing prose around him, intonated, but unrhythmical. In the case of a dead language, like the Latin, which the pupil never hears spoken, and seldom hears read, except by himself or his equally ignorant and hobbling fellow-scholars, this difficulty is inordinately increased. Let me once more impress on every teacher of Latin the duty of himself learning to read Latin readily according to accent and quantity; the duty of his reading out to his pupils, of his setting them a pattern, of his hearing that they follow it, of his correcting their mistakes, of his leading them into right habits. If the quantitative pronunciation be adopted, no one will be fit to become a classical teacher who cannot read a simple Latin sentence decently, with a strict observance of that 58 quantity by which alone the greatest of Latin orators regulated his own rhythms.”

“All pronunciation is acquired by imitation, and it is not till after hearing a sound many times that we are able to grasp it sufficiently well to imitate. It is a mistake constantly made by teachers of language to suppose that a pupil knows by once hearing unfamiliar sounds, or even unfamiliar combinations of familiar sounds. When pupils are made to imitate too soon, they acquire an erroneous pronunciation, which they afterward hear constantly from themselves actually or mentally, and believe that they hear from the teacher during the small fraction of a second that each sound lasts, and hence the habits of these organs become fixed.”

The following direction is of the utmost importance (Curwen’s “Standard Course,” p. 3): “The teacher never sings (speaks) with his pupils, but sings (utters, reads, dictates) to them a brief and soft pattern. The first art of the pupil is to listen well to the pattern, and then to imitate it exactly. He that listens best sings (speaks) best.”