been swamped by the first sentence. When words pass from one language into another they are put through a transforming process before they can be naturalized. The republic of letters is, however, cosmopolitan and nationality counts for little; hence a term that is of interest only to savants needs to undergo but slight changes in order to be accepted everywhere. With popular words the case is different. An instructive example of this double genealogy is our familiar term "alms." It came into the English through the Anglo-Saxon from the Greek, in which language it has six syllables and is fairly well represented by our "eleemosynary," the form coined and introduced by scholars. The shorter word is the result of a gradual abridgment until but one syllable remains after it has been handed down by oral tradition through several centuries. If we trace this word in all its ramifications and transmutations in the languages of modern Europe we may see what strange freaks the laws of euphony play among the different nations. In Old Bulgarian it becomes almuzhina, in Polish jalmuzlma, in Hungarian alamizna, in Spanish limosna, in Portuguese esmola, in French aumône.
The ancient Greek philosophers must have given the phenomena of human speech a good deal of thought. As some of them came in contact with many tribes speaking different tongues, it would have been strange if they had not done so. As the problem presented itself to them it was whether language is a natural product of the human psyche, or the result of convention, a sort of social contract. Their speculations are, however, all lost and we have only the dialogue of Plato entitled "Cratylus" to give us an inkling of the discussions that had preceded the time of its composition.
Plato does not seem to have had a glimpse of the possibility that language might be an organic growth. He was unable to conceive that a work of such artistic excellence could be constructed by people so low in the scale of civilization that they had no conception of art. Too little was known in his day about the primitive instinct of men. Herein there is still much that is mysterious, if facts can be so designated. We know what is; how it came to be is veiled from our sight. As for Plato, there is no evidence in his writings that he knew any language but Greek. He shared the weakness common to his countrymen. In all Greek literature there are to be found comparatively few words that give the names of objects in other languages. From the era of Alexander's conquests until that of Constantine every intelligent person in the Roman empire spoke Greek; but not vice versa. Although Plutarch lived for some time in Rome and delivered lectures in that city, he knew Latin very imperfectly. Plato is willing to admit that words are subject to many changes and put on many disguises.
